#Anyways I can’t fucking wait for future updates

[ironunderstands]

These Aventurine, Topaz and Jade comparisons are getting out of hand…

As much as I adore both of them, I think it’s very disingenuous to compare Aventurine and Topaz’s lore and be like “but they are the same!!!! If people like Aventurine and dislike Topaz that’s just misogyny!!! and like… no?

Topaz’s whole thing is that she doesn’t know the extent of the IPC’s evil, and believes that what she’s doing is genuinely the right thing to do. Even if she never had a choice in joining the IPC, she (incorrectly) believes what they did to her and her planet is justified, logical and moral, and for those reasons she stands with them. Part of this is likely IPC brainwashing, as she was probably very young when she became an indentured servant to them, and someone living on a planet on the brink of destruction would likely view anyone who stepped up to save them as heroes (imo the IPC likely waited for the point of no return to establish contact so her people had no other choice to except).

However Topaz got best end of the proverbial stick, her planet and its people were deemed useful by the IPC, and didn’t fight back, even if in the end they were still exploited.

Unfortunately, we have seen through Boothill, Belabog and Aventurine what happens when that isn’t the case.

Boothill’s planet got bombed and people genocided because they had a resource useful to the IPC, but were unwilling to cooperate with them or hand over their home, so the IPC decided to eradicate them.

Belabog had a debt owed to the IPC that was ridiculously high and very unfair to expect them to pay back, and had Topaz not convinced the higher ups to give them some time (which she got demoted for), the IPC would have taken Belabog by force

That leaves us with Aventurine, whose story is in no way on the same level of bad as Topaz’s. Unlike her, he has witnessed and experienced firsthand the truly awful shit the IPC can do.

They took custody of Sigonia and promised to offer the Avgin aid in their fight against the Katacans, at the very least protect them from harm. (Sidenote, since the IPC held control over Sigonia, they should have stopped the fighting in the first place). However, they simply stood by and did nothing, resulting in the deaths of around 6,000 Avgin, with around 3,000 went missing (or injured, I don’t remember, either way it’s bad).

But wait! It gets worse! Aventurine when he was still known as Kakavasha referred to the IPC as “the men in black/the men in black suits”, and his first master says he bought Aventurine from “the men in black/the men in black suits”, likely mocking the way he referred to them. Therefore THE IPC TOOK PART AND LIKELY EVEN CREATED A FUCKING SLAVE TRADE IN SIGONIA

Look being made into an indentured servant isn’t fun, but idk personally I’d take that any day of the week OVER BEING ENSLAVED

That’s not even to mention how horrible of a reputation Sigonian’s have in the galaxy, one likely spread by/resulting from the IPC themselves, as at least on Aventurines planet they do not have the mobility to make a name for themselves. (Honestly it’s a mini theory of mine that Aventurines scam is what partly contributed to this reputation, and his status as a slave is something the IPC conveniently left out in their broadcast about it-)

But, you might be saying, didn’t Aventurine have a choice to join the masked fools and leave the IPC, isn’t he free now? And to that I say, it’s complicated.

Considering the amount of suicidal shit Aventurine has done while being part of the IPC, he clearly hasn’t been having a fun time as a member of one, so why does he stick around, especially with the Fools invite? Even if he was a slave, does that absolve him of the crimes he’s committing now? What could justify his actions?

Revenge, plan and simple.

This is going to delve into some spoiler territory for the end of the Penacony 2.2 quest, something which I didn’t feel like mentioning earlier because I’m sorry but everyone and their mother already knows Boothill’s lore. Now, let’s get into it.

Aventurine accepts Jades offer to join the IPC, and when he becomes a Stoneheart, the first thing he asks about is the fate of the Avgin, to which he then learns that besides him, they are all dead. You see, from birth Kakavasha was pushed onto a pedestal as the savior of the Avgin, but now that there are no more Avgin to save, his primary motivator in becoming a Stoneheart (beyond not being enslaved anymore) is gone.

So what does he do now?

Simple, try to kill the motherfuckers behind it.

That’s why he takes on such risky gambles still, and why he wagers and wants Diamond to promote him to rank p46. The higher Aventurine gets the closer he gets to his goal of taking down the IPC for good.

Which is why his meeting with Boothill is so meaningful. I think Boothill is going to “kidnap” him and together they are gonna take down the wicked bitch that is Oswaldo Schneider for his literal crimes against humanity.

Mark my words, an IPC downfall is going to happen, and I think Topaz, Aventurine, Boothill and Ratio are going to be at the forefront of it.

However, Topaz and Ratio (and by extension the rest of the galaxy) have to learn/realize the true horrors of the IPC (although I can sense Ratio doesn’t really like them, and he’s learned a lot from Aventurine, I doubt he knows the full extent of the situation or is in any way happy about it). Therefore? Topaz mental breakdown arc? Ratio lore? PLEASE??!? The IP3 compliment one another so well and god I can’t wait for that to come to fruition.

I really want to see a Topaz and Ratio centered story leading up to an IPC smackdown, and I think we are gonna learn a lot more about how shitty they are in the later half of 2.2 and in 2.3 when the interlude and Jades release arrive.

As for the aforementioned Jade, she’s gonna need a Aventurine squared amount of trauma or reasoning behind her actions to seem in any way sympathetic, because right now she just seems like an evil bitch (in a semi good way, I will always respect the commitment to the bit) who loves her job and would make Machiavelli weep over how hard her ends are trying to justify her means.

[burntblueberrywaffles]

The Snowbaird fanfic rec list!

As usual, if anyone is interested in joining the snowbaird discord, just shoot me a dm for an invite!

Before we start, some notes:

As we all know Snowbaird is fucked up and toxic 😌😌 but there are;;; levels to it so for easy navigation I have color coded this fic rec! Blue is for fics that are less toxic (now that doesn’t necessarily mean there’s NO toxicity but it definitely stands on the sweeter side of the Snowbaird spectrum) whereas red stand for "god these fucked up bitches 😍😍" (though for me a big no no is loveless Snowbaird, so even the more toxic fics in this list they do love each other!) - Ive also added an orange category for the mid level fics/ones where I couldn’t quite decide where they would rank- still, do keep in mind that those rankings are based on my personal judgement (plus I’m going off memory for some of the fics) so they may not be fully accurate.

Im also adding a "heavy smut" mention to some of these fic - that means the smut takes center stage in the fic and is pretty much unavoidable to properly read the story, a lot of the other fics on this list will still contain smut, but to a lesser extent/in a way where it’s not an integral part of the plot - remember to read the tags and curate your reading experience!

Sadly several of these are incomplete - I have added a mention of when the last update was posted as of today (april 22, 2024)!

Anyways, now that all of that is out of the way, here are the recs!

Capitol AUs

Helpless, Tender, Open by perfectlystill

When his heartbeat stutters beneath her touch, when his mouth falls open, breathing heavy, Lucy Gray pops open her clutch. She’s the one pouring antidote down his throat.

Complete

if i'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? by eecwritess

It had been fifteen years since Lucy Gray Baird had escaped Coriolanus Snow at the cabin in District Twelve. But now, she had been captured. Brought back to the Capitol after all these years to be punished as a Rebel. But President Snow...well, he has offered to save her. Under one condition.

Heavy smut - complete

Songbirds, Snakes, and Wedding Rings by celestscrystal

“Even she can’t charm your way out of that predicament.” Dr. Gaul taunted. He was losing her. He could already see the disinterest in her eyes. Highbottom had been long gone, his plans at sabotage were shattered, now he was just waiting to leave. Coriolanus had to make this work. His Lucy Gray must be kept alive. He had one final idea to convince them. It was his most dangerous idea yet. “I could marry her.” In which Coriolanus was never sent to district 12 and instead got away with a slap on the wrist. However, Lucy Gray would not be granted the same fate. In order to save her, Coriolanus marries her. Clashes ensue in a tale of enemies, passion, and lovers. Updates every Saturday/Sunday!

Incomplete but is getting weekly updates! I really love this one :D

Burn by vvitchimage

Life in the wilderness is harsher than Lucy Gray Baird had imagined. Sick and almost dead, she's forced to return home to the only person capable of taking care of her.

vvitchimage is definitely one of my favourite Snowbaird authors so you will see more of her works down this list; the way she writes the toxicity is just chefs kiss 🤌 Heavy smut - complete

Safe and close at hand by framboise

In which Coriolanus Snow is handsomely rewarded for his tribute winning the Games and in turn handsomely rewards his prize, Lucy Gray, herself. He's gone solemn now in the afterglow, serious. He cares for his own, Snow, she sees that with his family, and now she is one of them. Not his family, but something he owns. His prize, his ward, his girl. Is she to be his mistress then? she thinks hazily as she slips towards sleep. Is that the future for her? To escape from the viper's den into the viper's mansion? She shivers and he drags her closer, one large hand tucked around her hip. Well, she can't escape now even if she wants to, she thinks, sinking into the softness of the plush mattress, burrowing back into the heat and warmth of her jailor.

complete

the girl and the prize by merkstave

In Lucy Gray’s defense, it was never supposed to go down like this anyway. She was just supposed to seduce him, to weasel herself into the snake pit that was Coriolanus’ bed so that he’d keep her around long enough for her to formulate an escape plan. She’d meet with Highbottom and he’d help her like he said he would after she was crowned victor and she’d be back to being a faceless girl amongst the cover of the districts. She just had to say the word and the dean of Heavensbee Academy would make her disappear. She’d be back to singing in bars in no time, back to her old life on the run. That had been nine months ago. And here she was, in her warden’s bed, naked and with his cum stuck to her inner thighs. +++ Lucy Gray is given to Coriolanus as his ward after the games. It's supposed to be a temporary arrangement, nothing more than means to an end. However, nothing is ever easy, especially at the hands of a Snow.

Sadly incomplete but the 4 chapters we did get are SO!!! Truly the delicious kind of toxicity 🤌🤌 (last updated: Jan 15, 2024)

All Of That Ultraviolence by ggs_29

He was well dressed in a suit that fit, hair combed back, still just as handsome as before, if not more so. A full pantry suited him well, helping him to fill out the spaces that were too thin on his figure, and building up the hard earned muscles of his peacekeeping stint. Today, he sits behind his desk in a fine dress shirt, a button undone on top, and his cuffs rolled up his muscular arms. Lucy remembers Barb Azure’s old tales, about a pagan creature from a time before Panem, a fallen angel; the most beautiful of them all, but so easy to succumb to the temptation of power and glory; “ You can leave us now, Heavensbee.” Coriolanus says, holding his gaze on her, and his eyes are dark, predatory. Fuck. “Of course Mr. President; Madame Snow.” Hilarius shoots her a look filled to the brim with trepidation, and suddenly, she is back there again, paralyzed with fear. A girl of six and ten whose name had just been reaped. They’d been found out.

heavy smut - complete

Peacekeeper Coryo AUs

This Little Life of Ours by voiceinthecrowd

"I'll sing for you soon," she promises, hand threading through blonde curls. “I’ll write you into all my songs." “Maybe even write a Ballad of Coriolanus Snow”, she whispers, gasping as her boy manages to pull her even closer. It isn't the immortality he's been looking for. It certainly isn't the marble presidential busts he tells her about when they both can't sleep; how their stony eyes would bore into the souls of passing Capitol children; a young, hungry boy in Academy rouge. But presidents die and statues crumble. Coryo might not know it yet, but it’s stories and songs that persist. His ancient heroes and her whispered poems. They’re all stories, and Lucy Gray is determined to give Coryo the greatest story of them all. He’ll understand, one day. She’ll make it up to him, the dreams he’s left behind for her. He hasn't lost everything in Twelve. Lucy Gray will prove it. In which Lucy Gray stays for Coriolanus, and Coriolanus stays for Lucy Gray.

foaming at the mouth over this fic. complete

i wouldn’t mind the hanging, but the laying in the grave so long by rainfrog

He’s a Peacekeeper since the beginning. And she’s still that Covey girl who falls in love.

SO GOOD; this fic is 2,4k words long and NOT ONE OF THEM IS WASTED truly so many excellent lines in there 💯💯 - complete

Deal with the Devil by vvitchimage

Lucy Gray had lived in the cabin for months after her falling out with Coriolanus Snow. When spring comes, he returns to take over Hoff's place in the Peacekeepers. The day she's found, Lucy Gray has to strike a deal with the devil.

Heavy smut - incomplete but is still being updated! (last update april 18, 2024)

persimmons and soup beans by kayladevitoo

Coriolanus Snow moved up in the Peacekeeper ranks in District 12, becoming an officer. He shares breakfast with Lucy Gray after a night shift — soup beans and a persimmon.

short and sweet - complete

Chaos and control by Anonymous

Her name was Lucy Gray Baird, and she and her group were called the Covey. Technically, they weren't from the Districts; as it turned out, they were a group of traveling musicians who got stuck in the Twelfth when inter-District travel was banned. This somehow reassured him – that she wasn't from the Districts, that he hadn't gone crazy falling for a girl from the Districts – she wasn't one of those responsible for the war. So he no longer felt guilty about his dreams, sometimes strange, sometimes blatantly indecent, in which she was always the main character. 18 years old Coriolanus Snow, an orphan, who lost his mother, his father and grandmother during the war now is a Cadet Peacekeeper in the District 12, preparing to become an officer. Here he meets the most beautiful girl in the world

This fic is not as Snowbaird centric as the rest of this list, but god is it fantastic. This Anonymous author is simply incredible 💯 - complete

Modern AUs

Free Ride by betts

“Does Lucy Gray like you back?” Tigris asked. Coriolanus hadn’t actually considered that. He’d just assumed she didn’t and never would. He’d grown up with anything he could ever want given to him instantly, but now everything he wanted was impossibly far out of reach. Lucy Gray was no exception. Or: Coriolanus is a full-time university student, restaurant server, administrative assistant, and on the weekends he cleans and presses gowns. Occasionally he sleeps. So he really doesn't have time to be giving the weird bartender a ride home every night. And he definitely doesn't have time to become obsessed with her.

having really enjoyed Betts' Anidala fic Lemon, I knew we were in for a treat when i recognized her in the Snowbaird tag AND I WAS RIGHT, such an amazing take on modern!coryo - complete

I'm yours to keep and I'm yours to lose by fkevin073

Their lips slide together, then their tongues curl and she moans, a light, heady thing, come alight with the realization that she is finally, finally home. It’s tender at first, but at the sound of her moan Coriolanus grabs her chin in between his fingers and plunders her mouth harshly. As if this is a punishment. You left me, every kiss he gives her, takes from her, breathes. You left me. And Lucy Gray— Well. For her this isn’t a punishment at all. Or: Lucy Gray and Coriolanus can't seem to let each other go.

THIS IS SO!!!!! see this is the kind of ploltline I might not love in other circumstances, but THE WRITING IS SO INCREDIBLE that it just hits - complete

when the sun goes down by astradeluna

small-town girl lucy gray baird moves from district twelve to the capitol to attend the university to study music. this is her first time leaving home and although the prospect of starting over is terrifying, she’s still excited to make the most out of the opportunity. that being said, after a shitty breakup with her shitty ex, the last thing she wants is to meet someone, but then she crosses paths with coriolanus snow, an arrogant but ambitious government major, who seems to get under her skin with ease and he brings out a part of herself that she never knew existed

incomplete and the story hadn’t gotten to much development in the relationship yet but GOD I still need to put this here bc THE WAY the dynamics were so perfectly transcribed to this modern setting were just chefs kiss. Forever hoping this fic will return from war and get an update 🙏🙏 (last updated: Dec 20, 2023)

Other

Your Selfish Ways by thpsyche

Ten years since her disappearance from District 12 Lucy Gray decides it’s time to return, finding a shelter and a silent life. All would be well if it weren’t for the mysterious encounters of a man cloaked in darkness. A deal is struck, twice a month she would give up to him in return for his silence of her existence. Only one condition: she’s to not ask or look at him. - For the snowbaird week 2024| Day 2 – Myth.

GOD THIS FUCKING FIC - IM FUCKING OBSESSED WITH IT;;; EROS AND PSYCHE INSPIRED AU MY BELOVED - I have reread many times;;; if you see a thumbs up crying cat pfp going insane in the comments that would be me;;;; I am not normal about this 🙈 - complete

doomsday is close at hand by fkevin073

But on the first train of her nineteenth year, as the snows settle on the ground and ice curls in their lungs, something new comes with the train to arrive in District 12. A man by the name of Coriolanus Snow. (But Lucy Gray doesn’t find that out until later, of course) - Or: Coriolanus Snow arrives in District 12, and finds his very own songbird, ready to break free.

incomplete but according to @fkevin073 's tumblr it is not abandoned and she has just been busy;;; truly such a good fic I love it sm (last updated feb 14, 2024)

When I'm Pure Like a Dove, When I've Learned How to Love by Realmermaid333

Lucy Gray and Coriolanus bask in sunlight by the edge of the lake, enjoying each other's presence and calming each other's fears.

Short and sweet - the kind of softness we need more of for Snowbaird 🥺🥺🥺 - Complete

Saving Each Other by flipflop_diva

Lucy Gray had already accepted that she was going to die here in the arena, that sometime in the next few days she would meet her end. But then something else happened — and now there were two of them to carry on the fight. (An AU in which Coriolanus goes to save Sejanus and doesn't escape the arena.)

complete

Silent songbird by KitKatKatherine

Coriolanus Snow thought he knew everything that had happened to him these last few months. Lucy left him, he got into the academy, and Gaul was overseeing his studies. It’s not until he wakes up in the hospital and experiences a rather concerning conversation that he questions everything he once thought to be solid, reason logic. Vowing to never once again help Gaul, and capital be damned, he turns his charms on his own people, and becomes their worst nightmare.

Now, this fic does get quite dark; the author gives trigger warning on specific chapters but if you would like to be warned before getting any investment in the fic, feel free to dm me for details ❤️ - that said, it’s a great fic, I thought the take on disability was lovely and the way it portrayed Coriolanus realizing how rotten the system is and redeeming himself was great; incomplete but worth a read (last updated: Jan 13, 2024)

This is Not a Love Song by FrostedGemstones22

Lucy Gray and Coriolanus never go to the cabin, so they never find the guns. They decide to travel together, but Lucy Gray isn't so easily fooled. Truth is; he needs her, and she needs him. Common ground has to be found somewhere. Speculation about if they traveled up to find District 13.

THIS FIC IS SO EXCELLENT and definetely the best take I have seen on a district 13 AU - incomplete but absolutely worth reading (last updated: Jan 22, 2024)

in the woods somewhere by OfPearlsAndSunsets

Sejanus. She must have figured out that Sejanus was the third person Coriolanus had killed. She wouldn’t have known the particulars, but surely she could have pieced it all together. Still, to think he’d kill her? After everything they’d been through? He looked down at the loaded gun in his hands. Maybe he should have left it in the shed. It's as if he was hunting her. He thought about the knife and how it paled in comparison to the weapon he was carrying. What are you doing, Coriolanus? Something inside of him asks, and then demands. Put it down. He does.

Complete

Monster by Lululemonee

Coriolanus Snow if given both a gift and a curse when he meets his tribute for the 10th Hunger Games. She changed his life in ways which he never could have imagined. She's a dream and a nightmare rolled into one. And she is keeping him with her for the ride. I am very bad at summaries. This was inspired but the music video for "Scars" by Hazey Eyes which stars Tom Blyth and is sooooo good.

Complete

Deep in the Meadow by vvitchimage

Lucy Gray's reunion with Coriolanus in the meadow ends with him protecting her from her jilted ex.

Heavy smut - complete

BONUS:

Two different tribute!Coryo AUs! Are they Snowbaird centered? Not at all, there’s only a few crumbs if you squint BUT they slap SO HARD I truly recommend! (both are complete)

for cassius, no one wept by marianara_sauce

"Why don't we start from the beginning?" "Where else would we start?" She grins at him, rouge cheeks almost glowing. "Stories can start in all kinds of places. They can go in any kind of order, too. Just like songs." He watches her carefully, this relentlessly bright girl no longer in her rainbow dress. His eyes glance down to the form, blank spaces taking over most of the page. Name. District. Age. Family. It's not necessarily chronological. But her dark eyes don't look away from him, even as her grin softens. "Alright," he says. He steeples his hands together, and the chains rattle. "I'm Coriolanus Snow. District 12." (Or, the world in which Snow is a tribute instead of a mentor.)

Hail Panem by Anonymous

"Hail Panem! Those marching to their death salute you!" AU where Coriolanus Snow is a tribute from District Twelve who takes part in the Hunger Games

And that is all! There are a lot of other lovely Snowbaird fics of course but I tried focusing on my absolute favourites ❤️

Do let me know if you liked the list and if you’re a fan of any of these fic feel free to come scream about it with me!

+ Once again noting that my DMs are wide open to anyone wanting to join the Snowbaird discord! It is genuinely an online space I love and I’m always happy to meet more shippers 🫶🫶

[britany1997]

Ahhhhh hi hi hi

I love y’all, but I’m not back yet so don’t freak out

Anyways, thanks to everyone who commented nice things and sent me sweet messages and still enjoys my work:) forehead kisses for all of you:)

Some updates in my life:

-therapy is great. Don’t know why I didn’t do it before. Oh yes I do, pride. Don’t be stupid like me kids. I’m working my shit out

-I got my grades back for this semester and somehow ended up with 3 A+, 2 being the highest grades in my class (which was cool) my GPA this semester was like a 4.13, crazy

-my real life is really great right now and I’m happy doing what I’m doing. After I graduate I’m going to have a place at my dream job and I can’t wait.

All that said, I’d like to keep working through my stuff, keep making amazing grades, and keep enjoying life offline. So for the foreseeable future, I’m not coming back. I still plan to, just not soon. Maybe after school but idk.

I hope this isn’t terribly disappointing:( I wanna be happy, I hope y’all understand.

HOWEVER, I did write a mirror fucking scene for FYFNO that I’m gonna post tonight because y’all deserve it😤 (it’s short but hot)

[only-angel-28]

mastermind, part eight

two updates in 24 hours omg...

kinda shitty idk i dont rlly like this one but dw guys the next few will be better😍🙏💯

anyways enjoy this one and lmk what you think munchkins<33

warnings: barley any angst, swearing

mastermind, masterlist

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Beep.

I turn my head to look at the digital clock on my bedside. The red numbers reading 11:55.

Thoughts frenzy in my mind.

Should I go?

Is it a trap?

Will it put the others at risk?

My mind debates with itself for a few more minutes, dodging back and forth as my heart battles with the conscience in my mind.

11:56

11:57

11:58

11:59.

Fuck it.

I throw the duvet off of myself, slipping into my coat and shoes before apparating to Spinners’ End.

Nervousness chews at me as I walk up the hill to the lone tree on top. I see a tall figure in the moonlight, leaning on the tree smoking a cigarette.

Fuck.

Anxiety and hurt flow though me, chilling me to the bone alongside the cold weather.

I take a deep breath, rubbing my hands together in a weak attempt to warm them up and walk to the figure. The light from the cigarette illuminating his sharp features as he raises it to his mouth.

“Hey.” I say simply, causing him to turn around in alarm. He drops the cigarette and breathes heavily, staring at me with an ache in his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers out breathily, his eyes fixed on mine.

I take a long look at him, noticing the circles around his eyes suggesting he hasn’t been sleeping well, and the sunken look of his cheekbones and neck revealing he hasn’t been eating routinely either.

“I…” He starts off quietly and clears his throat, not taking his eyes off me once, “Are you alright?”

I scoff and release a humourless laugh, “As if you fucking care Nott.”

He visibly flinches at the name. Hurt flashes though his eyes as he looks down in shame.

I sigh, looking down at my shoes and up at him again, “What do you want Nott? Why this secret meeting?”

“I needed to see you,” He responds plainly and adds on after seeing my pointed look, “And I need your help.”

“With what?” “I need to get out if that house, of that group, of that.” He says, frustrated, “I never wanted any of this but now I need your help getting out of it. I know I hurt you darling, and trust me I’ll never forgive myself for it but please, you’re the only one who can help me.”

I look up to the sky, debating his words. I won’t forgive him, I can’t but I can’t deny him of help either.         I look up to see his blue eyes trained on me.

I sigh and answer, “I will help you. Not because I’m forgiving you Nott, I won’t forgive you. I can’t do that, you’ve hurt me too much. But I’m not going to depreive you of a better future either.”

Relief floods his body and it’s visible in the sigh he lets out and the big smile that appears on his face.

“I’ll need to tell Sirius and the others.”

“Oh no don’t worry, Draco’s already spoken to Sirius.”

I raise my eyebrows at his bravery. I decide to let it go becuase I’m cold and tired and tell him to follow me home.

“Come on then.” I grumble.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

The preparations for the wedding are in full swing now, with Bill and Fleur arriving later today. The wedding was planned to be in a few months but with the upcoming war and constant fear from all around us, we’ve decided to do it as soon as possible.

“Alright, everyone ready?” Mr Weasley shouts from his place at the foot of the tent, “Wands at the ready, and up!”

We all raise our wands and help Mr Weasley raise the tent for the wedding. It’s beautiful, pale white with lavender embellishments. And its huge inside, big enough to fit all our guests and then some.

I head up the stairs to help Hermione and Ginny get Fleur ready.

“Oh you look absolutely dazzling Fleur!” I squeal along with the giggling girls as Fleur comes out in her wedding dress.

“Just wait till Bill sees you, we'll need to get Madam Pomfrey!” Ginny adds.

“Merci les filles!” Fleur thanks as Hermione finishes her hair with a big smile.

Theres a knock on the door and I open it to reveal Mrs Weasley, “Oh Fleur darling you look beautiful! Girls what are you doing?! Go get ready, hurry up now the guests will be arriving any minute now!” Mrs Weasley pushes, Hermione, Ginny and I out the room to get ready.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

I’ve been avoiding Theodore all day today, at breakfast when he tried to sit next to me I shoved Harry down immediately to take up the seat. I avoided any eye contact he tried to make and ignored the numerous conversations people were having with him, everyones already loving him, especially Mrs Weasley, Sirius and Remus. Even Ron’s taken a liking to him. A Slytherin and Ron getting along? Unheard of.

I slip into my bridesmaid dress and call out for Hermione or Ginny to zip up my dress. Theres no response which concludes me to go looking around the house awkwardly, searching for someone to help me. My attention is drawn to outside, where almost everyone is setting up the last few flower bouquets and decorations. I walk into the kitchen to hopefully find Ron avoiding doing any jobs but am met with another figure.

Fuck.

I clear my throat to tear Theodore’s attention from the tea he was making from everyone, making him snap his head up. I see him looking at me up and down and I turn around before he has a chance to charm me with his eyes again.

“Zip me up will you?” I say, pulling my hair to the side to expose my back.

I hear Theodore’s footsteps come close to me and feel his cold fingers on the small of my back, taking hold of the zip and starting to pull up slowly.

I can feel his breath on my neck as he leans in and I can feel the heat from his body on my back, contrasting with the cold of his hands.

He reaches the top of the dress and before I can feel the brush of his soft lips on my neck, I walk away muttering a soft, “Thanks.”

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

The wedding is going  beautifully with the odd mishap here and there but its nothing Mrs Weasley can’t fix in the flick of her wand. Hermione, Ginny and I walk up the aisle, waiting for Fleur alongside Bill and his best men. We walk up slowly and in order and I catch Theodore’s eye as I reach the aisle. Something flashes in his eyes as he stares up at me from his place in the back of the room but my attention is diverted when everyone in front of him stands up, hiding him from my vision. Fleur walks up the aisle gracefully in her stunning white dress. Hermione starts to cry and I give her a handkerchief I had brought for this very situation. I can’t control my smile as Bill and Fleur take vows and first dance.

The whole wedding seems magical and is in full swing by now. People are chatting, drinking, swapping war stories or either making out in a dark corner. I excuse myself from a conversation by a dull man, something about the history of transfiguration and its impact on society, and go to the bar to get a drink.

“Firewhiskey please.” I say to the bartender, he doesn’t bother to look up at me as he passes me a glass.

“Hello.” A strong French accent catches me by surprise and I look to my left to find the voice.

A handsome young man, brunette with blue eyes and sharp features stares down at me from his height with a dimpled smile. I smile back and reply, “Hello.”

“I apologise Miss, but I feel as though we have met before? At the Triwizard Tournament a few years back?”

“Ah yes! You’re Thomas, aren't you?” My memory jogs back up to me as I take a sip of the whiskey in my hand as Thomas nods and says,

“Oui, my apologies, yes, I am Thomas. Y/n right?” he speaks in his deep voice, his accent already taking me in a trance the second he said my name.

“Yes that’s right. How’ve you been Thomas?” I reply, trying to flirt with him.

Thomas and I had gone out a few times in fourth year, he’d taken me to my first Yule Ball and we had shared a kiss under the mistletoe, but in all the frenzy of Voldemort coming back and Cedric Diggory dying, we’d lost contact of one another.

“I am very well thank you, how about you? Still so bad at dancing?” He jokes, remarking the moment at the Yule Ball when I had slightly tripped over myself in the middle of our dance.

I laugh and respond, “Why don’t we find out?”

He raises a brow at me and smirks, holding his hand out to me. I down the drink in my hand, placing the empty glass on the counter top and take his hand, smirking as he leads us to the dance floor.

We dance well, joking around and coming closer and closer each second until my eyes catch anothers on the other side of the room.

Theodore’s blue eyes burn holes though me as he doesnt look away. Not once though the many dances and talks Thomas and I share. Thomas excuses himself to leave for the restroom when Theodore makes him trip up and spill his glass of wine on himself and I gladly let him go, planning to talk to Theodore about his problem instead.

I walk over to him and see him drinking a glass of firewhiskey, leaning on one of the pillars, looking handsome as ever in his black and white robes and neat hair.

“What’s your issue?!” I shout roughly at him, seeing the shadow of a hidden smirk on his pink lips.

He sips his drink and replies plainly, “I don’t have an issue.”

“Oh come off it Nott. What are you playing at?” “I already told you, I dont have a problem. Go dance with Mr. Baguette again.”

I give him a disgusted look and shake my head before he pulls me behind the curtain with him by my arm, bringing me impossible close to him.

“What are you doing Theodore?” I whisper, the proximity of our bodies making my face flush and breath get shorter.

His dark eyes dart between my lips and eyes and I begin to realise the situation at hand. “Are you jealous Nott?” I say with a smirk, bringing my hands slowly up his bicep and seeing his eyes dart faster and breath get heavier.

“Of course I’m not. What do I have to be jealous of?” he replies, his hands going to the back of my neck, up to my hair and the other tightening its grip on the small of my back.

“You tell me.”

“Who were you dancing with? What’s his name” Theodore whispers.

“Thomas.”

A laugh escapes from Theodore as he leans his head back, making my eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I’m sorry, what’s so funny?” He gives me a look as to say, seriously?

“Darling…you can’t be that blind.”

I give him another confused look to which he replies, “He’s exactly like me.”

I push him off of me at that and rip the curtain away, now back in the dark corner in which Theodore follows.

“No think about it,” He carries on, “He’s got blue eyes and brown hair, he’s almost as tall as me, european too except I’m not a fucking frenchie. And he’s had his eyes on you this whole time. If you ask me darling I think you’re the one here who’s jealous.”

“What? Of course I’m not.” I say in absurdity.

“So you’d be fine if I made out with that girl over there.” He points to a veela across the room, making my hands form into fists and anger rise up in my chest.

“Yes. I would.” I grit out between my teeth, seeing his satisfied smirk only makes me angrier, “You know, I don’t get it. You leave me alone without any real communication for months, and then Draco shows up with some stupid note of yours and you ask for my help and you expect me to just be fine with everything. Like oh no Theo, you shattered my heart and broke my trust but don’t worry it’s all good, lets go have a picnic at the beach?” I finish my rant sarcastically, looking at Theodore to find the smugness wiped clear off his face, replaces by a cold hard expression.

“You know, I tried to make things fine between us, I did send you letters when I could and you know why I had to leave. I’ve already told you that I’m sorry for leaving, and I am, but if you want to keep being like this then fine. I will too.” he replies back coldly.

We stare at each other with fire behind our eyes, filled with frustration from the person in front of us and I’m about to make a snide remark until my voice is cut off by Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice, the patronus silencing any other conversations and stealing everyones attention.

“The ministry has fallen. The Minister of Magic, is dead. They are coming. They are coming. They are coming.”

The patronus dies out, causing eveyrone to run and apparate left and right in fear.

Everything after the announcement is a blur. My breath gets heavier as I stay there, stunned. I’m broken out of my trance as I see Harry, Hermione and Ron try running towards one another. A hand grabs mine and I look up to find Theodore leading me towards the three, we’re all being pushed by Remus whos yelling at us to, “GO! GO!”. All of us have got our wands out by now and are summoning our patronus’ to fight back at the dementors taking swings at us until Hermione apparates us to a busy road.

We all yelp and run out of the way of a honking London bus, trying to comprehend the last sixty seconds as we breath heavily.

Theodore’s hand has a strong grip on mine as we all walk to the footpath, trying to find somehwere to change per Hermione’s demand. The busy city rages on, the bright billboards showing ads and people walking quickly here and there. We get many odd looks plus a few wolf whistles from a couple of drunk men on the street, to which Harry, Ron and Theodore stop, reaching for their wands or fists until Hermione and I remind them what’s more important.

“Where are we Hermione?” Ron asks, almost getting trampled on by a group of tourists. “Shaftsbury Avenue. I use to come to the theatre  here with mum and dad.” Hermione replies, “I don’t know why I thought of it, it just popped into my head.”

We walk into a dark, empty ally and Hermione reaches into her small bag, it engulfs her entire arm as she pulls out ordinary clothes for each of us.

“How the ruddy…” Ron starts, as we all change into our clothes. “Undetectable extension charm.”

“Bloody brilliant you are.” Ron compliments Hermione, making Harry and I smirk as we change our shoes.

“Always the tone of surprise.”

“Come on,” Theodore says, walking up the ally a bit after we’ve all changed, “Let’s go here for a while. We can figure out what to do next.”

We all follow him to a depressive cafe. Blue lights everywhere and its mainly empty, spare the moody waitress.

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚

part eight done!! like i said, lowkey shitty but done whatsoever

lmk what you think and feel free to give me requests<33

taglist:

@timmytime17 @cherry-hoe @jetblackpayne @ash-tarte @coolestgirlhere @ama1a2 @kezibear 

[sunflowerharrington]

it’s that time again, “angels”. i’m back with another eddie fic, and this time it’s dm!eddie so you’re in for a treat, babes

Those Were Expensive!!

🧸 dungeon master!eddie munson x fem!reader (no descriptions of reader, this is friendly for everyone)

🧸 choking, face sitting, oral (female receiving), dom!eddie, sex, p in v, unprotected (wrap before you tap. but reader is on the pill in this), eddie’s kinda angry tho

🧸 @eddiebillysteve @wzrlds @quickiesgirl @steveslittlesunflower @myobmaya @eddies-bat @gods-favorite-asthmatic @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @thisishellfire please let me know if you’d like to be taken off or added for future updates 💋

🧸 surprisingly i haven’t mentioned this idea to maya like i have with every other one so this is a surprise(-ish) for everyone (?) anyways, enjoy! this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote months ago for a different fandom.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, voice thick with lust as you both stumbled into the dimly lit room, kicking the door closed as he pulled at the hem of your shirt, trying to lift it off. he pinned you against the door, pressing his body harshly against yours, peppering love bites all over your neck and breasts. occasionally finding a new spot to make you shiver.

and it worked like a dream. every suck, every bite, every lick had your knees weak, and he knew it. you whined as his hands found your breasts, groping harshly at the flesh, leaving little furrows in your skin from his black-painted nails.

the metal from his chain bracelet nips at your skin as his hands roam freely, eliciting a short whimper from the back of your throat.

as your shirt that left nothing to the imagination hit the floor, he immediately got to work in clasping your bra with his skilled fingers. as he discarded the bra on the floor with your shirt, he pulled his lips off your skin.

“you still want this?”

“yes, of course,” you whined, grasping at his broad shoulders, trying to find purchase for your fingers, your pulse racing as you nodded. you began working on his belt, swiftly unbuckling it, clutching it in your left hand as he pressed you harder against the wall.

he grazed his lower lip between his teeth, chocolate button eyes burning into yours. and damn. hot fucking damn. the way his brows were slightly creased in a frown and the way his eyes narrowed made you want to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness, even though you had nothing to be sorry for.

well, except when you teased him in school today; parading around the school in jason carver’s letterman jacket like it was marilyn monroe’s pink ball gown, your red lips wrapping delicately around your lollipop, releasing it with a ‘pop’.

“you think it’s funny, hm?” he asked, voice muffled by your lips, quieter than the little yelp you let out when his fingernails dug into your thighs. “teasin’ me like that all day?”

he leaned back in, his lips finally claiming yours, tongues dancing a dangerous tango. you gasped into his mouth, the vibration sending blood flow straight to his already painfully hard cock, straining against the fabric of his underwear.

“come with me, big boy. i’ll make it up to you,” you purrs, pulling him closer to you by grabbing his shirt.

you dropped the belt to the ground with a clang, working on helping him rid himself of his clothing.

i wonder what would happen if i asked him to whip me with it?

after you both have undressed (except he asked you to leave your panties on, for now), he pressed one chaste kiss to your lips. “jump for me, babe.”

and you did, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing your thighs tightly to hold on, making him smile against your lips. “what?”

“nothing, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “i just can’t wait ‘till you do that to my face, that’s all.”

you gasped at his sudden burst of confidence, whining in reply, panties soaked just thinking about what he is planning on doing to you once he gets his tongue off your neck and between your legs. “please…”

“please what?”

“want you so bad, baby boy,” you whispered, and he began walking backwards towards the throne in the centre of the room, your lips never leaving his. you waited impatiently for him to place you down on the seat, but instead he turned around and sat down, your knees pressed against the backboard and your legs pressed against the arms of the throne.

“fuck, eddie,” you moan into his mouth, not being able to resist rocking your hips against his, letting the shaft of his cock slide across your soaking slit, the only barrier between you being the thin lace of your panties.

next thing you knew, you heard the sound of fabric ripping and a cold gust of air against your core. “eddie, those were expensive!”

but you didn’t really care, the feeling of his twitching cock pressing against your inner thigh overpowering your need to be upset at him for ripping your panties off. and holy shit, he felt good.

“not yet,” he said sternly, standing back up, and in one swift motion you were straddling his naked body on the d&d table, his feet planted firmly on the floor.

when you settled back over his throbbing cock, he grabbed you by the waist, pulling, leading you up his body.

“wh- eds, what are you doing?” you asked as you move, curiosity getting the better of you.

“let me taste you, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with lust and honey, a fire rumbling in the back of his throat.

your eyes went round and dark, and you knew it. and you felt your cheeks beginning to burn a bright scarlet as you stared down at his pretty face, not quite sure if he really meant what you thought he did.

“fuck, how long do we have until the campaign starts and i have to be outta here—“ you asked, cut off by eddie weaving his ring-clad fingers through your hair, pulling you down to meet him in a kiss, your puffy lips pressing against his.

“don’t worry about the time, lover, those little shits can wait. my girl is more important.”

i’m more important than his ‘cult of vecna’ campaign?

he pulled away from your lips, watching as your pupils blew, almost coloring your entire iris, and he looked back at his own reflection through them.

“come on, sweetheart. if i suffocate… at least i’ll die happy,” he says with a wink.

you swallowed a laugh and repositioned yourself over his face, his lips mere centimetres away from your pussy. you swore you could heard him moan a quiet “oh fuck” when he saw how soaked you were for him. just for him. grabbing your hips with authority, gripping them tightly, pulling you down on him until you were sitting on his face.

“shit,” you exhale out as his skilled tongue began circling your clit, sucking it into his mouth, letting out a cry when he grazed it between his teeth. “fuck, eds. you’re gonna be the death of me.”

he started lapping up your wetness, licking long stripes over your core and lips, and when his tongue pushed inside of you, you felt like you were about to explode, gripping his curls with your clenched fists as your thighs began to shake. point proven.

“eddie,” you moaned, and you felt his lips curling up into a smile; the way his name rolled off your tongue, the way it sounded like his favourite song… the way it got him rock hard in innocent situations.

the way it got him in so much trouble.

as he worked you with his mouth, your hips started moving of their own accord, and soon you began grinding down, fucking his face as his lips found your clit again, licking and sucking hard, his fingers moving upwards to tease your pussy.

“fuck, baby. i’m close! s- so close,” you whine, bracing yourself against the edge of the table with your hands gripping the surface, knuckles white, and you felt him smile under you as you both started moving faster. and you found yourself squeezing your thighs around his face as they started to shake. again, proving his point from earlier.

he groaned against your core as you came, the vibrations from his voice only making it feel better than you ever thought possible. you found yourself shouting a string of curses as the pleasure ripped through your muscles in euphoria.

you happily slid back down his body, now sitting on his lap, your juices dripping down his chin, glistening in the light, the biggest grin on his face. he swallowed proudly, licking his lips, wiping away any cum that didn’t make it into his mouth and sucking it off his fingers while maintaining direct eye contact with you.

“fuck, that’s so hot,” you said, watching as he gazed into your half-lidded (e/c) eyes.

you rolled over and sat next to him, smiling as he jumped up and fell onto his throne, his dick slapping against his stomach as he did. then you eagerly joined him after he beckoned you over with his index finger.

“you got a condom? i— i left mine at home.”

“i’m on the pill,” you breathed out, straddling his hips again. lining yourself up, feeling him stretch your walls so deliciously as you sank down.

“do you still want me?”

“always, princess,” he breathed out, catching your lips in another kiss as you adjusted to his size.

his heavy balls slapped against your skin as his hips bucked up against yours, making you sigh out in pleasure, in euphoria, holding onto his shoulders for some leverage as you began moving your hips up and down.

his large, needy hands cup your breasts, feeling them bounce up and down in time with your hips, flicking your nipples and rolling them between his fingers. the combination of the way his cock hits your sweet spot just right and the way his thumb circles your clit has you coming around him.

your second orgasm was longer, more drawn out than the other, the best you ever had. you whines as you felt eddie’s cum painting your walls, with him letting out a guttural moan as he did.

“fuck baby, you were so good for me.”

thankfully, the guys were late for their little game of d&d, so you and eddie had time to set it up. you were about to sneak out, fully clothed again and wearing eddie’s shirt (he kept hold of your panties, for… reasons he never said. perv, you thought), when eddie grabbed your wrist, pulling you flush against him.

“you’re staying here, sweetheart. we need a princess for my campaign,” he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “and you’re the most perfect princess.”

“ugh, you’re such a cheeseball, pretty boy,” you giggled, just as the door swung open, revealing an excited group of hellfire members in the doorway.

they introduced themselves as jeff, gareth, adam, dustin, mike and erica.

“absolutely not,” eddie said from his spot on the throne.

“you asked for a sub and we delivered,” dustin argued, a calm tone to his voice.

“this is hellfire, not babysitting club.”

“i’m eleven you long-haired freak…”

and then eddie and erica proceeded to have a childish little bicker until— “welcome to hellfire,” eddie smiled, extending his hand, something catching your eye.

eddie’s rings were still wet. you thought he’d at least wash his hands after fucking you into oblivion. erica did a double take, and you held your breath as you waited for her to call him out.

she looked at you and then back at eddie. “nothing can be worse than what i found under lucas’ bed.”

“crusty sock and a picture of max, got it,” eddie laughed under his breath, with jeff and gareth joining in.

then his demeanour completely changed, and he was no longer your eddie. no longer your pussy drunk eddie munson. now he was the dungeon master.

you zoned out as he droned on about his campaign, with you snapping back to reality when mike banged his fists on the table. “bullshit! why do i always die?”

“because it’s karma for being a little bitch to will, you lanky bastard,” erica retorted, slipping in a “just the facts,” before mike could (attempt to) clap back.

you stand up, sauntering over to the table, standing in between gareth and jeff. “if you idiots win… one of you; not dustin, mike or erica, gets to do whatever they want with me, since i’m single. but if you lose… you don’t. and your master,” you began, circling the table to stand behind the man in question, placing your hands on his shoulders, running your nails down his arms as you speak, “…gets to claim me, and he gets to do whatever the hell he wants to me. i think that sounds like a fair deal. and that way, it’ll make the game more exciting. higher stakes.”

“absolutely not,” eddie replied, pointing an authoritative finger at you. “you don’t get to make the rules of this campaign, princess. i do.”

you leaned down to kiss him on the cheek, pressing your breasts against the back of his neck, your breath ghosting his skin as you did. smiling as you watched his jaw clench tighter.

“what are you gonna do if i don’t stop?” you asked.

the final straw.

the thing that pushed him over the edge.

“we’re taking a time-out,” eddie announced, completely ignoring you.

the guys and erica huddled into a circle, their arms over each others’ shoulders as eddie grabbed you by the wrist again, this time much tighter. in an instant he pushed you down so you were sitting on his throne, feeling your stomach drop through the earth as eddie glared at you.

did you take it too far?

“i don’t care if those little shits win. you’re coming home with me after, and i am going to fuck you all night until you can’t walk, do you understand?” he hissed in your ear.

you smiled sweetly up at him, running your hands down his bare chest, pulling him closer by the collar of his jacket. “i’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

he leaned over the throne, capturing you between his body and the cushioned seat and backboard, using his other hand to wrap his fingers tightly around your neck, chuckling as he watched a slight pout grow on your lips.

“does my pretty girl like that, hm? do you like when i choke you like this? no? awwwh, poor baby,” he teased, pouting his lips mockingly to mirror yours, chuckling as you furrow your brows into an even more prominent frown. “who’s got the high ground now, y/l/n?”

fuck, why was that so hot?

something about the way he talked to you like that in front of everyone made you want him to rip your clothes off. made you want to drop to your knees and beg him to fuck you. oh, you were so wet for him all over again, moisture pooling between your legs as he let go of your neck, moving to grip one of your inner thighs, and you didn’t even have your panties to hide that.

maybe wearing a skirt was a bad idea after all.

you moved to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, blocking out the sounds of the other members’ protests. needless to say the campaign ended much earlier than anyone wanted it to. he needed to get you alone as soon as fucking possible.

and he kept his word; wearing it like a badge of fucking honour, ruining you all night long, all the way into the next morning. a monday, so you’d have to walk from side to side around school all day, crossing your legs to keep your pussy from pulsing too much as you awaited the next time your pretty boy would come to mark you as his and show you exactly who you belong to.

[childotkw]

The second chapter of ruination!!!

I’d never thought I would be so excited to see a boy in agony!!

Seriously though, I’ve fully committed to loving Lucerys through what ever rage filled-feral era he goes into after getting off this HELL island. honestly he deserves it!

I’m back to sketching the dragons and this time it’s Vhagar and Cannibal!

I’ve looked into the history of the dragons around the time of hotd and apparently cannibal is the second largest dragon at the time?? and I’m so excited to see Ameonds reaction to Lucerys returning, not only not dead, but also on atop this massive black beast!

Anyway, the newest update was fantastic, I was in love with Aemonds angst-attack during the feast and reading him trying to rationalize being confident in his actions over “killing” his nephew is heartbreaking.

Can’t wait to see what you break me with next, soooo looking forward to any and all updates!

Oh my god!!! Oh my god!! ASDGFWRSGJNLEORVINSDFG!??? Holy shit.

Okay okay okay okay - first, thank you! I'm really happy you liked the update! We do love to cause characters pain on my blog, and I'm always happy to provide angst. Poor Lucerys will need all the thoughts and prays because he's gonna Do The Thing next chapter. I just hope it lives up to the hype hahah

And Aemond is so much fun to write! I'm trying to toe the line between making him sympathetic but not victimise him because he absolutely fucked up and there will be no shifting of the blame, no siree.

BUT

ANYWAY

ONTO THE ARTWORK

my love, you gift me such BEAUTY???? I've been staring at it for like, ten goddamn minutes just going "omg" over and over! It's so fucking good!

I love your style so much! And Cannibal's tail?????? AMAZING. Boy can do some damage with that. Like, just imagining him using that as a mace against other dragons and shredding them with the spikes is both horrifying and makes me go yyeess. Also, Vhagar is stunning. The details - particularly around her head - are incredible!

Thank you so much 💕💕💕💕💕💕 I wasn't expecting this, and I'm blown away by your talent!

I think you're right about Cannibal's size as well! He's the largest wild dragon, and he's almost (or he is, I don't think anyone actually knows his age?) as old as Vhagar so their size is pretty comparable. Which just makes any future encounters between them, and between Lucerys and Aemond, super intriguing. Aemond is not going to know what hits him lmao

[moonhoures]

📰 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄: 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒!

literally me rn 👆🏻

anyways, hello my loves! i’m here to give you some updates on where this blog stands and is (hopefully!) going 🤭

first, what the fuck happened? 🫣

it’s been pretty much exactly a year since i dipped from this account (again). i’m sorry about that. i got a little overwhelmed and frankly just didn’t feel motivated or excited to write for a long time. i tried writing a few things (and got a little far tbh) but i just wasn’t satisfied with any of it. i even had a terrible moment or two where i got very close to deleting this account entirely but i decided against it as i’m really proud of some of the things i put out, and i would’ve been really sad to see it go. i also love all of you very much and appreciate everything you guys have done for or said to me, and i would’ve felt really guilty taking this blog away from you guys. so i promise i won’t be doing that any time soon!

second, first love 🥰

i’m sure most of you have seen my teaser for first love part 5 by now (which, yes, will unfortunately be the last part for the series 😓) but!! i have like 1 or 2 small things i plan on posting before hand to keep you guys fed since it won’t be posted for another month or so. i’ve been working on it as much as i can for the past couple months, but i do work basically every day so i can only write so much 🫤 but yeah, that’s how first love is! i’ll explain some more on it when i can!!

third, asks/messages 💬

i’ve gotten so many sweet messages since i went MIA (a little under 40 😭). i’m sorry to keep all of you waiting, but i promise i’ll try to answer them soon! i did get some negative comments about my absence and such, but i won’t be answering any of those publicly. i don’t want to feed into them. i understand i’ve done this multiple times & it’s annoying, and i apologize for that. writing is a big passion of mine (as is interacting with all of you!) but it can get draining running this account sometimes. i’m trying my best, and i appreciate your patience with me. i’m definitely undeserving of it.

fourth, also! ☝🏻

i have decided that from now on i will not be taking requests. as much as i love writing specific stuff that you guys want, it does give me a little anxiety. so i will only be taking very limited requests for drabble games and stuff like that in the future. i hope you guys understand 🫶🏻

i also decided to delete my twitter account (well, it kind of got hacked? i think? idk i had trouble with it and basically can’t get back in and don’t want to create a whole new one) so i wont be answering asks with twitter links anymore for this reason.

fifth, comebacks?! 🤩

i’ve recently tried to catch up on some of the comebacks i missed. txt’s temptation ep, monsta x’s reason ep, enhypen’s dark blood ep, and skz’s 5 star album have been in my rotation lately and i love them!! (duh) so if any of you want to stop by my inbox and fangirl over them with me i’d absolutely love that 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

lastly, a thank you 💌

thanks to all of you that continued to follow me, leave likes/reblogs/comments, and message me while i was gone. you guys truly don’t understand how much your support for me means. like i said, i was close to deleting this account all together, but i decided against it, and it was largely because of you. i decided to keep writing because of you. re-reading all of the precious comments you’ve left me on my older work motivated me and inspired me to continue writing first love which sparked my joy again. so, thank you. i also hope some of you read this and it encourages you to leave love for other writers like myself. you could be the one that changes someone’s entire outlook on their account and keep them going. at the very least, you’ll make their day 💕

also, thank you for 4,000 followers??? um what the fuck??? i’ve never had so many people supporting me, i’m actually losing my marbles rn please help me find them??? (that was such a lame joke, okay i’m going to bed soon 😭🥱 ily bye)

i love you. i love you. i love you. more content is coming soon. promise. 😚💗

[bettsfic]

Betts, I’m having a really hard time writing my fic. It’s incredibly long which doesn’t help but even updating the next chapter feels impossible. I’m so amazed—not only by how often you’re able to update, but by the sheer quality of your writing. I have a tendency to get too flowery and incoherent, so I’m scared to rush. But this unfortunately means I update every few months. All of my readers have virtually abandoned my story and I can’t blame them. Can I get some advice on how you’ve built the skills needed to update fast with good writing? Any suggestions you might have?

i can't remember if i've talked about this yet, but i was on a med to help with my sensory issues and it really, really fucked with me. and even though i was like, twitching a lot and had restless legs and fatigue, i stayed on it because it was doing what it set out to do: light and sound didn't bother me at all (i didn't even need to put on headphones when the lawn was mowed), and i wasn't snappish and mean like i get sometimes when i'm not masking. i was able to do everything i needed to do in a day with ease, without even making a detailed to do list (a thing i've done nearly every day since i was 18). i could make difficult phone calls. i could change my routine at a moment's notice or go somewhere when i felt like it without having to gear up for it. in other words, it had taken away a lot of my autism symptoms. for six months it was like someone else was living in my body. someone it turns out i didn't like at all.

i wasn't writing. i couldn't write. normally my brain is so full of words, if i don't get them down it can sometimes become physically painful. i've suspected for a long time i have hypergraphia, because the words don't even have to be coherent, they just have to be out. before i started writing fiction, i wrote a lot of flat-out nonsense. when i was a teenager, i kept long-running notebooks with friends. i was on AIM all the time. i religiously journaled and kept a blog detailing my daily life. and then when texting became a thing, my life got immeasurably better. i have always, always preferred writing to speaking, and i feel like i can't actually know a person until i've read their writing. i remember when i first got an email address and my dad sent me an email, i was like, ah! i can finally see you! and you're way weirder than i thought!

anyway it took a long time but eventually i found fanfic and now everyone who's ever known me can breathe a lot easier since i'm no longer texting them a million times a day with totally banal thoughts.

which is all to say, when i was on that med, my brain was utterly silent. it was terrifying. it felt like i'd had a major piece of me cut off and there was a time i was honestly so scared i'd never write again, that whatever spark i had was gone. i was so bored i contemplated going out, like actually leaving my house, for fun, and i was like, oh so this is why people do things.

because there were no words happening, when i did sit down to write (which was the one thing i still had to schedule, the opposite of how it usually is, and by that i mean i'm writing all the time by default and have to schedule everything else like eating and running errands), it was tedious, because i had to make them up on the spot instead of them just being there. it's the difference between buying apples and picking them yourself. when you buy them, there's a whole little mountain to choose from. you don't have to take a single step. but picking them yourself, you've gotta go out and find them, and it takes a lot longer.

there were other things i couldn't do either, like conflict and scene crafting. i couldn't really see the future of a given story, whereas before, i didn't even have to think about it. it was just all there waiting for me and all i had to do was put it on the page.

of course, there is a horrific downside to this, and that is that i'm virtually unfunctional in day to day life while i'm in the process of writing something. that's why i love residencies so much. they're made specifically for people with maladaptive behaviors like mine, like, here's a room, here's a desk, here's a hundred bucks for groceries, have at it.

i signed my apartment lease in april and i still haven't unpacked. some days i sit down at my desk at 10am and i blink and it's 2am and i don't know what happened, but i have 10k new words that i had absolutely no control over creating. thankfully i've developed good habits to make sure i get all the work done i have to get done, but it's always a struggle and honestly i can't see myself ever being able to work a full-time job again, unless i go back on that awful med.

the point is, for six months i wasn't writing, and because i wasn't writing i fell into a very deep depression. coupled with the fact nothing was in my brain, i wasn't talking much to anyone, wasn't engaging much online, wasn't reading, wasn't cooking, wasn't cleaning. all i could do was sleep and watch youtube videos. the highlight of my day was my coaching calls and the work i was doing for ofic, where i could feel a little like myself again.

as you can see from this very long post, i got taken off that med and put on a new one that's rendered me once more a ball of words and nothing else. my psychiatrist, bless her, didn't even question me when i said i preferred to be an obsessive maladaptive daydreamer who doesn't live in reality than...whatever i'd turned into. a task-doer i guess. i think what i'm going through now, the 200k in a few months thing, is all the build-up of being on that med.

anyway, everyone's brain is different and therefore their relationship and approach to writing is different. i think we have far less control over these things than we think. or at least i do. i certainly know some ass-in-chair 8am writers for whom writing is genuinely work like any other, and they have daily word goals and once they hit them they go outside and run a marathon or whatever.

other than those few people, i don't think any writer is happy with the pace at which they write. i would love to have the patience you do to get flowery with my writing, but my sentences have always been spare and simple. i've learned to make that work to my advantage i think, but it still remains: i am never going to be a writer of pretty things. and that made me sad for a long time, but it also makes me appreciate a beautiful, complex sentence so much more, because it's something i can't really do.

i don't think writing slow is a weakness and i don't think writing fast is a strength. our minds move at the pace they move and there's not much we can do about it. i think a lot about a girl i used to know in the MFA who wrote microfiction, and her daily word count goal was six. six words. i think about donna tartt, one of my favorite authors, and how she's published one book a decade, three books in a career. and i also think about those writers who churn out book after book after book and even if they're good quality, they're all kind of the same, and that's because writing speed is directly related to the speed at which you make decisions. if you're always falling back on the same story structures, sentence structures, scene pacing, and character archetypes, yeah, you can write pretty fast. writing, at its simplest, is deciding what word comes next, over and over and over again. and so i write fic fast because my writing style is just my inner monologue, the characters are already established, and in terms of plot all i really have to do is figure out the happily ever after.

but it also took me 3 years to write my short story collection. i have novels i've been working on for 5 or 6 years now. i have hundreds of thousands of words of prose in various WIPs that will have to be completely rewritten because of how sloppy they are and how they don't get the work done i want them to be doing. so i definitely understand what it is to write slow, and how frustrating it can be when you're just eager to be finished.

i'm sorry your readers have abandoned your story and i'm sorry i don't have more practical advice for you. my only real advice is to relish in the process and enjoy any minute you spend crafting a sentence you can be proud of.

[ziracona]

Hey folks! As always, Tumblr gets the update first. Time to make a break for Chaldea. [Fate/GO AU – The Kid (pt: 1, … 22,23, 24, 25, ?)]{Some spoilers for original Grand Order run/through Temple of Time, vaguer situational spoilers for later arcs}

-

“How’s it coming?”

I glance up at the beautiful dark-skinned queen above me. Her head is tilted, eyeing the makeshift workshop I’ve essentially pulled out of a steamer trunk.

I wish I’d gotten the chance to know you better. I guess I should be thanking my lucky stars one of the people here seems to know me at all, though.

“Pretty good!” I say, which is true mostly. I bite through a thread, and hold up a little white jacket. “I don’t have time to make it very versatile,” I add, thinking about the last one of these I made. About how many. About the first one, too. About the little girl who wore them, and is out there right now, about to wear one for the first time again. “Really, there was only time to focus on its ability to help focus precise magical energy. I’d prefer to give her something better, but, I guess I’ll have to wait on that.”

Queen Makeda smiles.

“Is it weird?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Probably,” she agrees happily, “But which part?”

“The seeing the future. That’s one of the few Caster skills I don’t possesses in any form,” I say, “But, you just looked at the next two weeks. Did you already have this conversation?”

She looks at me very quietly and very thoughtfully. Maybe it was a dangerous question for me to ask? She did say even talking about what is seen, even seeing it, can change the outcome.

But, she blinks, and the smile comes back. “No, not this conversation. This one is new. …It is weird,” she adds, “when I go through one that is not.”

I bet, I think. Huh, so in the events she saw, I didn’t ask. She must have said something different afterwords, about not wanting to share too much, which prompted me to ask, which—Mmm, this kind of magecraft makes your head hurt. Best to drop it, for now.

“They about ready?” I ask, standing up with my coat. For all of this conversation being new, she didn’t show up until I was on the last stitch of my mystic code, so some of what’s happening must be in line with what she knew to expect. That’s…probably a good thing, I decide, favoring some optimism.

Queen Makeda nods. “Memory partition went smoothly. That Archer was a caster in life, so while he’s not really good at this, and hasn’t done it before, it was easier to explain the theory of the process to him, and get it done, than it would be with your standard Archer.”

“I wonder if he could be summoned as one?” I wonder as I straighten up to follow her, “A caster, I mean.”

“Hm. I guess he could,” she says like she doesn’t expect it to happen, “He’s not a normal heroic spirit, though. He belongs to the Counter-Force, so, the rules might just not really apply like they should.”

“Speaking of,” I say, eyeing the area around us, and finding it blissfully free of other heroic spirits—I guess they’ve gone to try and help Roman and Ritsuka, “I know why you’re here—or, on the throne, I guess I should say—but what are you going to tell him?”

Queen Makeda eyes me, then looks straight forward. “That I can’t explain it yet.”

“Mmmm,” I agree with a smile, “Passing the buck to future you. God’s best temporary solution.”

That merits a little chuckle.

“And you?” she asks. I feel her eyes on me, but keep mine ahead.

“I’ve told him I think as much as I can. Right now, anyway. Maybe more of the particulars will help as we go, but..." But I have no idea what the fuck is going on, I think in my head.

Obviously, this didn’t happen the first time. Which means this is…an alternative timeline? An alternate reality?

Why? I guess I know why I’ve still got my memories, as almost impossible as that is, but. “Why do you remember?” I ask Queen Makeda.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her turn her head and raise an eyebrow, and then she faces forward like me as we walk, voice low, so no one we pass might hear. “I put myself on the throne. I make my own rules.”

A simple answer. I can’t know her details, but it’s true she chose to become a heroic spirit. Gave up an afterlife of freedom to join us in the shit, because Solomon was lost. I guess it’s easy enough to believe she could at least cut herself a better deal. And if she’s lying for some reason, and I can’t see why she would, I guess it doesn’t matter now anyway. If there is one single thing I can count on from the Queen of Sheba, it’s that as long as I’m with Archaman, she’s not against me. Something we have in common.

“So.” I stare forward, let out a breath. One of us has to say it. “What is this?”

She pauses in her step. I wait a pace, for her to match my stride again, and she does. She doesn’t look over.

“I don’t know.” I can hear in her voice she doesn’t like the answer. “I shouldn’t be here yet, and neither should you. It’s not our timeline. No…it’s not…our first timeline.”

Not our first?

I guess there’s the semantics of real and not real if you look at it as ours or not.

“So. An alternate reality?” I hazard. “A singularity?” God, I hope not.

“…”

I steal a look, and the line of her mouth is set. I didn’t expect her to look any specific way at all, I think, but somehow, it still wasn’t like that.

“…In our worst case, I think we have to consider it could be a Lostbelt…” she says finally, voice bitterly sad.

“A what?” I ask, glancing over, brow knit.

She looks back genuinely surprised, and then like she’s mentally kicking herself. “Oh, of course. You died before- …” She lets out a breath, and stops walking. “Could you…?”

I throw up a bounded field for sound, and across the plane of swords, just barely in line of sight, I see Mozart’s head shoot up, and him give me a look. God damn that little Caster is adept at sensing things.

“The singularities you repaired? The ones Goetia caused? They were made to make the timestream unstable, to destroy things with pinpoint attacks at major events in history. A Lostbelt is a similar concept, but instead of a specific time targeted for its significance, made to cause massive damage to the flow of time and the world as it was, it’s more like…You know how the basic theory of time itself, is that we stand on a point in a river? Time behind you is set. You’ve done it. But ahead of you, it splits, into billions of possible little streams.”

“Entropy,” I agree, “People misdefine it as the state of extant decay, but it’s not. It’s the lessening of futures, in a sense. Of potential futures. The more defined, final state of something, the lessening of potentials, as the energy of an object is spent from the potential, into the concrete.”

“Exactly,” agrees Queen Makeda, “Time can be viewed, in a sense, as just another object experiencing Entropy, experiencing a lessening of potential futures, as the energy for them is transferred from potential, into the existing world around us. A decision tree becoming set. A Lostbelt, is what happened when you died. It’s a calculated attack on the Earth—or, the original Earth—our Earth. Our…everything: history, lives, everyone who ever lived, everything ever gained, or lost, or sacrificed for, experienced, made. All of it. By going back to an earlier branch on the decision tree of time, as it were, and—with massive magical cost—diverting the flow of time into a different branch. A ‘Lostbelt.’ A world that was lost, that shouldn’t be, grown out of a decision that wasn’t made.”

“…And like time…” I say.

“…Only one branch can, in the end, be chosen,” she finishes with me. Our eyes meet, and I see the weight of it all.

It hurts. I wish to God I was still with Ritsuka. I—in a sense, no, in two very real senses, both here and there, I am. But, in a sense that hurts me right now, I’m also not. Not for either of them.

“…You think that’s what this is?” I ask, gesturing to the world around us. Shit, if it is, then…? What do we even do? Try to destroy it? I…

I can see Roman, up ahead, talking to Ritsuka. Congratulating her, tapping her shoulder, all excited and goofy and somehow full of hope still, after all the world has put him through. All he knows is waiting ahead, for it to ask of him and take. I can’t stand it. She’s a baby again, like when I first saw her. Not the young woman I left, whose last expression was horror and pain, who I left alone. The kid, the one who looked at me with the same surprise this one did, when I first met her, and then gave me a grin. Not broken yet.

They’re standing by Emiya, and I am struck by the look in his eyes. He must be exhausted. He usually hides it well--…hid, it well, in Chaldea. He made food for people. He was like a mom to the kids. But occasionally, in the worst of it, I’ve seen this look on him before. He had it when he was first summoned, and he had it at the Temple of Time; again, in Shinjuku, looking in a broken mirror. It’s a look like he’s trying to beat himself over an anvil into a shape that can hold up, hold out, just one more day. Something alive and dead, more than any heroic spirit I’ve ever known. I am struck by the look, because I have seen Ritsuka wear its shadow too, after the Temple of Time. I didn’t think about it before, but watching her now, without a hint of it on her face, I see its absence in his shadow.

I can’t, I think, an agony in my chest, I can’t kill them. I wouldn’t stand against my own, either. If they were attacked, I would protect them. But…to work against…any Roman, any Ritsuka. I just…

Could the universe really be so cruel? I wonder, knowing the answer, Would you dare to give me such a task after the last one? Could you really do that to him, to her? I look at Roman, Makeda.

“…No,” says the Queen of Sheba.

I turn to her.

“…'No’?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t rule it out. I know it’s possible, but…It’s…wrong, too.”

Wrong? “How so?” I ask, hope starting to spike.

She gives me a sorry smile. “I’m really not sure what specifics it’s safe to tell you, so I’m not going to share most until we’ve made that death-defying jump in your Shadow Border. All I can say is that I don’t think it’s a Lostbelt. I don’t know, because I only looked two weeks in the future, but…” She considers, bites a lip. “People are…missing.”

“People are missing,” I echo, trying to guess.

“And other people…are here. Who shouldn’t be. Not in a ‘this is another time,’ or ‘another version of time,’ way either. It’s…specific. Targeted, almost. Like….” Whatever it’s like, she doesn’t say. She looks past me, at some of the civilians, and I turn to look with her. It hasn’t even occurred to me that they might be significant, beyond me being glad we saved some people, of course. But, she’s picking specific ones out of the crowd one by one at lightning speed like she’s checking her answers on a math problem, and her expression says whatever she expected, she was right.

She turns back to me.

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to you more, eventually, but.” She shakes her head.

“Right. The jump.” I agree. “We do need to survive that part.”

She puts a hand on my shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think this is Lostbelt. I don’t think it’s a Singularity either. I think it’s something very, very different.”

“Not an alternate universe then, old fashioned, pure and simple?” I ask hopefully.

She shakes her head, then hesitates and tilts it, thinking. “Maybe, but not pure and simple, if it is.”

“Can you…if not with the why, give me a hint at least to the what?” I ask.

She has taken a few steps already, but right at the edge of the bounded field I threw up, she pauses and turns to look at me. She thinks, and thinks again. Then meets my gaze with an expression I don’t know a way to describe. “In a word, ‘Life.’”

————————————

“You said that this whole…everything happening early, you think it’s simultaneity?” says Da Vinci with a grunt of effort on the last word.

Together, she and the Doctor lift a piece of armor plating, and I hold it in place at the top, from on the roof of what we’ve got of the car, as Robin attaches it.

I’m amazed at how strong she is, after the effort all four of them in the memory-transfer…walk…whatever it was, expended that hour they did it. I’ve never seen pure concentration leave anyone looking so drained—for his part, Emiya’s barely on his feet. He’s still going, waving his hands, summoning piece after piece after piece of this thing, with no end, but he looks like he’s about to throw up, and we spirits aren’t really supposed to do that anymore.

When they’d just finished, Da Vinci didn’t look a whole lot better, and neither did our two Masters, but she’s bounced back, hard. So has the Doctor—or, well, he’s putting a really brave face on and doing pretty well at least. My lord has insisted on helping, despite how much we tried to make her rest, but she looks even worse than Emiya, so she’s been asked to sort the smaller bolts and wires and circuits. Which she’s doing, with the dedication of a woman restoring a priceless painting.

She’s really something, I think, watching her carefully sort parts of the dashboard Emiya has made, hands shaking, but not dropping a single bolt.

I smile. It…feels a little odd on my face, after the last…I…I have no idea how long I was in there, I realize. Time blurred so much with half a neck, I couldn’t even guess. But surely weeks, maybe months. Still, everyone else is bouncing back from hardships so dedicatedly, I have to try and not let them down. And, I do feel more and more like my old self. It’s strange, to be part of a team this big as a heroic spirit, but I am used to it very much from my time alive. It makes me happy to be able to do it again.

“Kotarou, can you attach this to the top?” calls up Billy. He tosses some kind of antenna my way, and I catch it, pretty easily find the slot where it’s meant to go, and give him a nod.

“Well,” manages the Doctor, out of breath, as the piece of plating he was securing is welded in place and he’s free to let go, “It’s the only thing that makes sense—well, no, it still doesn’t. But, it’s the closest I can get.”

“I understand that,” says Da Vinci thoughtfully, turning and looking for her next part, and crying out an ‘Ah-ah-ahhhh!’ of extreme dislike as she sees Cu Chulainn going past with what I guess is a really delicate piece, and she snags the crystal-looking device from his hands and hugs it to her chest. He sighs in annoyance at her, but shrugs, and goes back to get something different. “—but,” she continues, turning back to the Doctor, who is on his way now to attaching a hubcap to one of the wheels, “That’s…well, it isn’t how simultaneity works.”

“Oh?” says David, sliding half out from where he’s welding part of the undercarriage.

“Yes.” She turns back to the Doctor. “Simultaneity doesn’t work in events causally connected.”

“That’s what I thought,” says one of the human civilians. The doctor and Da Vinci both look at her in surprise, having forgotten she was there. I didn’t. There were only a few of the humans who had skills that they were able to talk their way into being considered both useful and trustworthy enough to help in building this car, and who Queen Makeda OK’d from her look into the future, and she’s one of those few. She was also the girl who brought Miss Da Vinci a sketchbook to work on when this plan was pitched, and I noticed back when she did that that there were a lot of schematics drawn on the pad, meaning she must do some kind of scientific work. She’s been awful quiet since being handed transistors to affix to part of the cab, but I can tell she’s been listening.

I don’t really think she’s a threat—I mean, I don’t think any of the humans here are. Even if they ordinarily might be, it would be hard for any of them to have an allegiance counter to continuing to be alive. Just, it’s my job to protect my lord, so it’s better to be careful and not need it after all, than ignore potential threats no matter how unlikely, and later wish you hadn’t.

“Well,” says the doctor, stopping what he was doing and wiping his forehead with a sleeve. I guess he and Da Vinci reached the same conclusion as me, regarding the young woman because neither one seems deterred in talking by being reminded she exists. “As a theory, yes. But not if an active force faster than the speed of light is in play.”

The human girl tilts her head, thinking about that.

“Did you catch her name?” I ask Billy and David mentally, since they’re the two close enough to know who I’m talking about.

“No—sorry,” says Billy sheepishly, and a half-second later David very proudly says, “Well I did—It was Adele.”

Adele, Adele, I think, committing it to memory with the face.

“Okay. Sure…” says Da Vinci slowly, considering the point as Doctor Romani goes back to work, “But in that case, what would that force be? It can’t simply be an…aberration in perspective, you seeing, or, experiencing events two months before they happen. Either you would have to be…living, or something, at a speed faster than the natural state of existence itself, or he and you would have to be traveling normally, but the incineration itself, would have to be happening at a speed so much faster than light that…”

He's nodding.

“But…this didn’t happen the-“ She stops mid-sentence and rolls in her lips in with a whoops look on her face.

He turns his head to watch her.

She gives a ‘haha ^u^' ‘ look back. I don’t know what either of them are thinking, but after a moment, she sighs, and says, “…You know I’m from a time in your future. I know from you, that this isn’t the way it happened.”

…But…then.

“…So, something changed…” he says with interest, brows furrowing. He sets down his wrench and turns, still sitting, to face her.

“Not just one thing. Unless it changed quite a while ago, and it butterfly effected a lot,” she says, voice lower. I can hear her from up top, and David can, I’m sure, from under the car, but I’m not sure anyone else could at all, even Adele – maybe Billy though.

“…You couldn’t say what?” he asks her.

She thinks, then slowly shakes her head. I am very sure it’s the truth, because she looks so genuinely annoyed by her answer.

“Maybe not as much as I think,” she offers after a moment, letting out a breath. Absently, she tosses the crystal in her hands from resting most of its weight in one palm, to the other. “For all I know, it felt like this to anyone caught outside in the incineration of humanity. It took a whole year the first time, for it to finish, from Chaldea’s perspective, once it began. Maybe the only real difference is that you weren’t in the same place.”

The Doctor thinks, then nods. “I hope you’re right,” he says, offering her a slightly worried smile, “I think that’s the best case answer for us all.” He goes back to his work on the tire, and then adds, “I wouldn’t worry about the displacement itself as being the root issue—the entire incineration is based on disrupting time. Of course some things would, or at least could, get severely broken. I think we’re better off trying to figure out the why here. That’s the part that worries me.”

Da Vinci nods to herself. She glances at him and watches him fondly, like a family member, and then smiles. “Well, you gave me a lot to think about. Thank you.”

“Keep me posted, if you figure anything o—”

“—Oy, lovebirds! He seems fine with a walk and talk, but you gonna stand there with an engine component all day, or get back to it? We’re on a schedule,” snaps Cu Chulainn as he passes Da Vinci, deeply peeved.

As interested as I am in their conversation, I think I’m with him on this one. I’m not sure how much longer Emiya can hold out, and I don’t want to find the answer to that the hard way. My Lord looks so hopeful and calm right now, working on her part of the Border, but I still remember the look on her face when we thought it was a bomb, back in the city, and there was nothing we could do about it. I don’t want to lose again. Not for this Master.

“Sor-ry for breathing for thirty seconds,” says Da Vinci, both very wrong about the amount of time that took, and clearly not actually mad at all. She hefts her crystal and vanishes inside the border after him.

It’s a lot of work, finishing the border, but with all three of the casters working together, the initial memory-transfer went fast enough that at least we aren’t under a time crunch. I mean—w-we are, but, not a worse than expected one. All told, there’s a lot less panic than I expected from the situation.

I mean, I know I’m off my game—I’m still trying to, in an almost literal sense, put my head back on straight. I almost wish the throne took memories passively during a summon right now, because I’d love to spend less time thinking about the last month—it’s slowing me down, and I can’t be like that. I have to be at maximum efficiency always, for any lord worth serving. And with the entire world at stake?

It's…terrifying. I mean, thank luck it’s not just me, not by a long shot, but this? …Heroic spirits are used to threats, but aside from maybe the Counter Force agent, we mostly don’t get called in on retainer for End of the World on this scale. I really want to do a good job. And yet, it’s not as bad or as terrifying, as it should be. Maybe because it’s so many of us? I think that at first, but, no. I don’t really think that’s it either. As the Border comes together, and I watch, and work, I think it’s for a lot of reasons. It’s like…watching a weaver finish a blanket, pulling on the loom, threads lining up and winding together just right, to make the correct image when it’s finished. Doctor Romani is capable and calm, friendly, a little bit humorous. It’s hard to imagine a more likable man to follow, even if he doesn’t always exude battle confidence. That makes sense to me though, I mean, he’s medical staff. His job is a good bedside manner. His job is to heal.

Wait, that’s not right, I think, helping Robin lower the last part of the engine into the front while Billy starts to secure it, He’s not. Not really. But then again, yes, he is. He’s just a lot of things, now, I guess.

I should be reassured to have what (although he hasn’t mentioned it) if my memories from the throne are right, and despite how ruined my head is right now, I’m pretty sure they are, a Grand Caster with us. Even without his spirit origin, his knowledge alone should be the most comprehensive a person could wish for. But, funny enough, that knowledge is not what’s helping the most. It helped, sure—his memory partition idea worked wonders, and the Border, a chain summon—but it’s his demeanor that’s making this run smooth. It’s the Doctor-ness. And he and his new caster—or, Da Vinci—they work like two shoes in the same set. Even though he doesn’t know her, her knowledge of him seems to be enough to find a rhythm immediately, and I guess, him being a former spirit, a relationship only one party remembers being picked up again is hardly news.

On top of that, Ritsuka is great, not just as a master, but she is spending a lot of time working with the civilians. They were angry, and scared, and who could blame them for it? Now, the ones who can help are attaching drive chairs to the Border, and the ones who can’t are helping take care of the injured, or keeping the few kids here calm, working out a shift schedule for sleeping, handing out food. I think my new lord would make a great community organizer.

Probably most important, and largely because of her and the first young civilian man who started trying to help her out there, whom I've heard her call Patxi, their mood has changed. Or, maybe their outlook. In only a few hours, they’ve become hopeful, and united. It’s a real sight.

And then, of course, there’s the other spirits. It would always be reassuring to have a reliable seer, so the Queen is very welcome, as is her assurance we’re going to make it through this. But the others? It’s funny. Like they mentioned right before the world ended, they seem to have, except for me, all come in sets. It can’t be coincidence. I believe in chance and fate both, a give and take of free will and destiny at war, but I know enough to know when something was happenstance for sure, and when it definitely wasn’t. One or two of us would be nothing, but the entire set? That’s too much coincidence to be coincidence. Especially with the Doctor pulling his own set immediately here. The Archer, Emiya, and his Lancer—they know each other. Despite their bickering, Cu Chulainn is like a hawk, trying to make sure the man stays alive, and Emiya always relies on him first, if anyone, in battle. I think maybe they were rivals, based on the sort of strange…frenemyship, that they have going. Billy and Robin are best friends, excited to be together. And then of course, Salieri and Mozart are tied by life and death both, even by nature, on Salieri’s end. It would be hard for anyone to be more connected, except perhaps David and the Doctor, by blood.

It has been helpful, in a way that cannot be accounted for in any other means. There is a trust that doesn’t need building, at least within sets, the ability to predict and work together has at least halved our difficulty and time on most of what we’ve been trying to do.

Which leaves me.

I am not at all unhappy to be here—I am very, very lucky. Not just to be rescued, but, to be working with someone like Miss Fujimaru. But…I don’t fit. I’ve met Robin, once, but I don’t remember it. I think it must have just been a mage ritual, and probably one of us killed the other. It was nothing of significance. Nothing with grudge, or friendship. Business, and fast, and impersonal, and not one that left anything but an echo on either of our memories. So then…why?

As the hours slip past a full day, and into the second, I keep wondering this.

I feel like…there must be an answer. How can everyone come in sets, but me? How can everyone have a clear purpose here, but me? I see the two new Casters whispering together some, and I hear the Queen of Sheba say something about fate, like a pattern, like a game of chess. I don’t hear the context.

But I think. I am always thinking. It is my duty, because I have someone to keep safe.

So, if it is a tapestry someone wove, like my instincts told me, then what thread am I? If it is a game of chess, if there is a reason, or a pattern, or fate. If there is anything at work here, but chance, and I feel so, so deeply certain in my gut that there is, then…why me?

I cannot find an answer. I look from every angle. Connection first, then purpose. Billy was the first. Emiya had the reality marble, and got Ritsuka her crest. Robin Hood I am told by Billy, kept Ritsuka alive by figuring out a way to make her invisible, and Cu Chulainn kept everyone alive at Ur Shanabi. Doctor Romani has knowledge. King David saved his life. Mozart made the summons here possible. Salieri saved Mozart. Sheba and Da Vinci are saving us now. So, why me?

I helped, in Mercury’s battleground. I am helping now. But, would they have needed me? Besides which, if I hadn’t been at Mercury, they wouldn’t have needed me for help with the aftermath at all. Everyone else was at Ur Shanabi. I was the only reason they went to Mercury. So why? Why me?

It’s not some…feeling of inadequacy. I’m an assassin; I know I’m weaker than most classes, and that’s okay. I am what I am, and I have my strengths as well as weakness. We all do. It’s just…I’m afraid, that if there is a reason, which there must be, I’m missing it. And that that is a mistake. That because of it, I will make some…error, in someone else’s cosmic chess game I just can’t quite make out, and it will cost the best master I’ve ever had. It…disquiets me. So, I keep thinking. I keep thinking, and thinking, and thinking, but I don’t find.

A few hours before the border’s completion, which should land a good ten hours before our deadline, still lost in these thoughts, I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Sorry. Am I in the way?” I ask Da Vinci, who stands behind me.

“Yeah—if you could scoot a little,” she says, reaching over and past me onto the dashboard, affixing a screen to it. I duck out of the way and take a step back, reminding myself to finish connecting the wires I was halfway through whenever she’s finished.

It takes a few seconds, and she straightens up and turns, and as she does she glances at me, then gives me a long once-over.

“…What?” I ask a little nervously, all things considered.

“Nothing,” she says, what sounds honestly, “It’s just interesting.”

Interesting? “Me being here?” I guess.

She begins to step past me, then pauses, glancing past, to the people in the back of the Border, attaching seatbelts to the many, many rows of seats. Maybe, I think, looking for people she doesn’t want to overhear.

“Yeah,” she says, satisfied by who she sees, or, doesn’t, “I told you I know all of you, except the Avenger.”

I give a nod. “I’m…sorry,” I think to add, after a second, “That I don’t remember you.”

She smiles. “Eh, it hasn’t happened to you yet. I don’t think you could. Although I’ll be very offended if you forget me now.” She preens happily.

I smile on impulse. A very interesting woman.

“Okay.” Ritsuka’s voice, from outside, and a second later, she steps in. “I think all that’s left is the protective coating, and the seats, right?” she asks, spotting Da Vinci.

Da Vinci gives a nod. Ritsuka beams, relieved. “Well, and a few wires and such on the dash, but it’s easy stuff left,” adds Da Vinci.

Right. I step past her and resume my own work.

“What else can I do?” asks Ritsuka, “Should I help with the seats, or mapping out where people are going to go?”

“Mmmm,” considered Da Vinci, “Do mapping—you’ve talked to the civilians probably the most, so you’ve got a good idea of family units that’ll put up a fight about being separated.”

“You got it,” says Ritsuka.

She starts to go, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Da Vinci watching her. “Ritsuka,” she calls, when my lord is almost out the door. Ritsuka pauses on the step up, and glances back. “What would you say is the reason everyone is working so hard here? You too?” She sounds as if she’s puzzling something big slowly out in her head.

“The reason?” echoes Ritsuka, brow furrowing. She starts to answer, but then, seeing the look on Da Vinci’s face, she pauses to think harder about the answer.

Watching her, I feel a flicker inside my head, and I’m suddenly getting memories that aren’t mine—they’re hers. I have no skill like this. Maybe it’s the mystic code Da Vinci made for the memory transfer, that she’s still wearing, linking up on accident somehow, or maybe she’s thinking so hard she’s thinking at me on accident, with the link between Servant and Master, I-I don’t know, but either way, I see a sudden flood of thoughts like a flurry of snapshots and six second clips.

I see Patxi, who was the first of the civilians inside Blade Works to start helping her, offering her a hand and telling her to stand up and fight for it. I see her memory of Cu Chulainn ready to go ahead and die, because he was free, and Emiya pushing for them to get the Doctor to save him. Salieri, and Mozart, and the things they say to each other all strung together, heavy and light and a little jarring. The way Billy reacted, to what must have been finding Robin in Ur Shanabi, pistol whipping someone into a wall and sliding to a rest by the bed. And then I see her point of view of the way Billy talked to me. It makes the bottom of my stomach drop out, seeing my head half off in that trap in her memory, but she remembers it so much clearer than I do, and there’s something I’m deeply grateful to see, in the way Billy looks sick, taking a knee by me. She thinks of what I said to her, when she freed me, like it’s as important as these other memories. I see someone I think is the cowboy, in a trap very different from mine. Then memories of mages, things they said to her at Ur Shanabi about us being dead familiars, followed by a pile of memories of the ways we talk to each other, and to her. It almost breaks me, to see it like this. I don’t know if I’ve seen anything as beautiful, since I died, as the way this girl remembers us.

She thinks then of what must be her mom and dad, and a brother, they look so much like her. Eating a meal, fishing, her and the brother play-fighting over a game. And she replays moments of fear, again and again. Some of them I haven’t even heard the other spirits talk about. I see monsters, of all kinds, and humans with guns, mages, and threats, and I feel pain as her hand breaks, and she’s thrown back, as she falls, and the overwhelming terror she felt in the city, when the skyline began to dissolve.

And still. Those memories are tempered, by memories of everyone else here. Of their fear, and of their hope. Adele with her sketch book running up to help, with no idea what monsters who ruined her world we might be. Of Patxi helping her organize. Of the people sharing snacks, and bandaids, and ripping up shirts to hold a broken bone in place with one of the sheathes of a sword from this empty reality marble holding us up as the last bastion on earth.

The moment of connection breaks as she refocuses on Da Vinci, and I cannot look away, nor do I want to. There is a feeling in my chest I didn’t know before.

“Isn't it obvious?” says Ritsuka. “To live.”

.

—————————

.

“Preliminary systems, online!” calls Da Vinci.

“…Did you really have to put that right here?” I ask, feeling the most uncomfortable I think I’ve ever felt in my life.

“YES,” comes her absolutely untruthful reply.

I do my best not to look at it as I flip the last of the ignition switches, and slide forward to lock the captain’s chair into jump position. To help power the border’s calculations, and to operate a jump with as much precision as possible, Da Vinci has constructed and entered some horrible human-sized tank of bio-gel and hooked herself up to this massive apparatus, and the biometrics-to-mechanics streamline I get, but why she had to bolt the damn thing to floor literally three feet from me so there’s a giant glowing blue vat of scantily clad genius woman looking down on me at all times, I cannot begin to understand. Honestly, at this point, I think she and Makeda both are just having fun kicking the shit out of my walking corpse.

Well, I think, closing my eyes and trying to regain a little composure, At least if we all die in a few seconds, you can look her in the face and say something snippy with your last breath.

Weirdly comforting.

“Wonderful! And we’re almost ten hours ahead of schedule!” says my father happily, sliding into the co-pilot’s seat and swiveling it into the lock position beside me.

“Get out of that. It’s for Makeda,” I say.

“What? Why?” he asks, trying so hard to look hurt, “She can’t have any more experience driving a modern vehicle than I do.”

“The only heroic spirit here with any experience driving modern vehicles is Emiya,” I say flatly, “Makeda can look into the future.”

He clicks his tongue in disappointment and, when he can’t figure out how to un-lock the seat, just unbuckles the strap and crawls off over the top.

I put my head in my hands.

“There, there,” comes Makeda’s voice.

Dammit. Didn’t want her to see that.

I feel her hand on my shoulder, a reassuring squeeze, and then she taps the unlock on the seat, and slides into place on my left side, reaching up to flip her array of switches in the same sequence I just set mine.

“This is your technical advisor speaking,” comes Da Vinci’s voice through the P.A. system she’s using while inside the biogel vat, “We’re about to take off for Zero Sail. Everyone, if you could please take your seats, buckle-up, make sure all carry-on objects are stored in the proper bins, and lock your tray tables in the upright position.”

“That last part’s a joke,” I say, tapping the P.A. button myself, “There are no tray tables, but please do buckle up.”

The border is using a very basic, but sturdy, space warping spell to be bigger on the inside than its shell. This thing is massive and built like a tank, but it’s hardly a size to accommodate our over 200 passenger loadout, so thank heaven that was already part of the original design.

Beside me, Makeda checks a screen on the console, watching an array of 196 passenger seats to make sure they all indicate safety measures met, plus one in the back, and eight up front, for the heroic spirits and Ritsuka, the captain and co-captain seats for Makeda and me, and then of course Da Vinci’s weird little gel tube. Two-Hundred and Eight. That’s all of us, I think as I watch all but the last one, Emiya’s, lock one by one into flight ready.

“We’re sure about this?” I ask Makeda, even though I was the one who made this call in the first place.

She nods. “You could leave him, and have Ritsuka use her last command seal to call him after us, but you don’t need it. Running out of energy to sustain a reality marble causes it to end, as does any other means of countering it, such as breaking the user’s cast, or countering it. Dragging the caster into the void sea is an unusual way to do it, but it’ll break the cast, and it won’t break the cast until we’re all out of it, because being out of it is what will cause him to drop the reality marble. Just like you said.”

I take a breath. At the very back, I see the light indicating Emiya’s seat’s flight readiness turn green.

“I saw it, too,” says Makeda, knowing what I was hoping she’d say.

It’s weak to want that kind of reassurance. I know it. But the day I’ve had…

“Thank you,” I say, meaning it, and I give her a shaky smile. She returns it, hers like a sunbeam.

“Aaaaalright!” calls Da Vinci over the P.A., “Please stay calm, and at no point try to leave your seats until the ride is over. Keep in mind, this is a hell of journey we’re about to take, and it involves an unrecommended amount of screwing with physics and magecraft, so it is absolutely imperative that if you seem to see yourself leaving your body and floating up, you make the conscious choice to go back down into it! It’s your body folks. Just keep thinking that, and you’ll all be fine.”

“Yeah,” I click on the P.A. myself, “Uh. This is the resident doctor speaking. Please, do your best to focus on your breathing, and the reality around you. If you feel inclined to shut your eyes, think about the sensation of your hands against the armrests, and focus on that. Please ask the names of the people immediately to your sides, and if they begin to look unwell right after the jump, say their name until you get a response. So long as we do that, I promise, everything is going to be okay. This will be a little bit bumpy, because we’re driving a tank over a hill of swords, but don’t worry. There’s no physical obstacle ahead. Just stay calm, focus together, and it’ll all be alright.”

I feel eyes on me and glance over as I turn off the P.A., and I see Da Vinci looking happily down at me.

It’s so strange. I truly can’t doubt her account that she knows me. Everything about her makes me sure it’s true. But, it’s still strange. Even as a heroic—well—having been a heroic spirit, still, the sensation of someone knowing you deeply, when you don’t know them, it’s not a thing you can encounter enough for it not to feel strange to you.

At least it seems like I made a good impression, I think, and I start the ignition.

“Here we go,” I say to Makeda.

“Here we go,” she echoes with considerably more enthusiasm, closing her hands around the co-pilot steering wheel.

I flex my fingers once, then do the same, and hit the gas.

We take off with enormous speed, zero to one-hundred, and I hear shouts and screams form behind me, but it’s surprise, not fear. They’re holding together well—amazingly well, for what they’ve all been through.

The adults are, at least. A few of the children seem to not be taking it so well. I--I wish I’d had something to give them, to make it easier. If we’d had more time, I-

“OooooH, the wheels on the bus go round-and-round!” a boy’s voice starts to sing at full volume.

I think it’s the Russian boy who’s been helping Ritsuka so much—Patxi. The song is absolutely too young to be the mood choice for the age of the kids with us, but every one of them knows it, and after a second, I hear several terrified children’s voices, and motivated parents, join in just the same. The space behind me becomes just a blur of sound to me after a few seconds as the engine kicks up a gear and roars, but I can tell it’s worked, and I’m glad for it.

There’s a sudden calmness with the thought. I almost laugh.

She was right, I think, glancing at Makeda as we near our target speed, tearing through these mountains of sand and sword, Of course we were going to make it like this.

“Speed!” I call to Da Vinci.

“Understood! Expanding Void-Reality Observation Device: Paper Moon!” calls Da Vinci through the P.A., “Destination: Chaldea Base, Antarctica! Expanding Logic Formula on the Shadow Border’s external armor; removing existence verification for Reality Space—now! Future Prediction: hypothetically prove mirror world plane in twenty seconds! Relaxing space-time friction decompression for 0.4 seconds. Systems all Green.”

This is it. I close my fingers hard around the wheel and focus on my own existence with every fiber of my being.

“Shadow Border, untether from reality! Void Space Dive, Zero Sail: unfurl!”

There is a sensation like one gets if they drive over a hill to quick, or drop fast on a roller coaster, but not just in my stomach. It comes from every direction at once, like a wave of queasiness, and I see myself floating above my body and force myself to focus on going back in. Not. How. I’m. Dying!

“Holding!” calls Da Vinci’s voice, “Zero Sail successful! Emerging again from void space in thirty seconds! Everybody hang tight—we’re almost there!”

This has got to be the most agonizing thirty seconds of my life, I think, trying not to vomit. Despite the abject terror, I feel a strange thrill with it though. I’m no adrenaline junkie, so it kind of shocks me. I think it must just be that as backed into a corner as I am right now, I’ve felt this way for years now. And this is the first time I’m jumping into hell with a group of people I trust, to rely on. Somehow, even in the middle of this, that feels good.

Behind me, I heard the song stop when we jumped, and shouts with it, but there is sound from our citizen passengers again. They’re doing what I told them. I hear a lot of voices calling a symphony of names and reassurances. I hear Ritsuka’s voice, and Kotarou, just behind me, among them.

Beside me, I look up and see Da Vinci’s eyes practically glowing, a grin plastered on her face. Of course, I think, weirdly reassured by that, How else can a genius get her kicks? Makeda doesn’t look any more normal, though. When I glance at her, she’s also beaming adrenaline rush at the dashboard, fingers dug into the console and eyes sparkling. Aaaand how can a prophet get hers.

I sigh. Well. We’re doing this.

And somehow, that must be time, all together, because I hear Da Vinci call out:

“Annnnd, four, three, two, one! Begin jump out!”

The Border makes a horrible sound, but seemingly encouraged by it, Da Vinci calls, “Activating Paper Moon! Initiate planet navigational chart plus/minus convergence. Commencing Shadow Border docking sequence into reality boundary: disengage mirror world plane voyage! –Though the stratum divides, I continue to exist. Reapplying timeflow attraction from Reality Space. 0.09 second difference between target coordinates and current recognition—hell yes! Almost perfect! Here we go people; Emerging from Void Space! Ten seconds to arrival in Reality Space again!”

Ten, I think, Nine, Eight, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, Two—

There is a flash of light so intense I have to shut my eyes, and the same sickening stomach-drop all along your body sensation as when we went in, and the next second there is a physical thud, and I’m opening my eyes and fighting for my life to pull the border even as it hits solid ground and drifts, hard, exiting into reality at speed.

“Zero sail complete!” comes Da Vinci’s voice, “Reality Space entered successfully! Congrats everyone, we lived!”

“AH!” I scream, Makeda with me, as we are greeted with the sight of conference room wall coming up on us at almost two-hundred miles an hour.

WE’RE INSIDE! FUCK! OF COURSE WE’RE INSIDE!! THERE WAS NO WAY TO KNOW THE OUTSIDE IS INTACT! DAMN IT!!

I slam the gas to get traction as I yank the wheel. “THE DOOR!” I call to Makeda. She gets it and drags her wheel with me, and we barely make the conference room door, flattening six tables and any number of chairs in our way, taking half the door frame with us, and shooting out into the hallway at the most horrible speed possible. We slam the breaks with some room to do it now, but the end of the hall is coming up too fast, and I call out, “LEFT!” as I spot a hallway branch up ahead. We hit it with so much speed we’re driving on the wall for a second as we pull almost a ninety-degree turn to keep from going through the wall, tire tracks on the blue-white, sterile Chaldea Security Base walls. I hear all kinds of sirens going off in the building, and shouts, from inside and out. Oh God, help.

Having foresight I forget in the moment, Makeda slams on the horn as we tear down the hallway, and I see three staff members physically fling themselves through doorways to avoid being roadkill. Shitshitshitshit—

We’re down to almost eighty now, and slowing. Where are we—think! Oh thank heaven—that’s the hall to the command room up ahead.

“LAY ON THE HORN!” I call, swapping sole driver control to my wheel and dragging us left, hard, and then through a sturdy pair of double doors that thank God aren’t locked, and blow open, before slamming the wheel to the side as hard as I can and pulling the break, letting the border drift to a stop in the center of the massive room, destroying two work stations and a massive screen on the way as I wince.

Finally, the horrible thing stops, in the literal smoke of its rampage, on the center of the command room floor.

“…Did we survive?” calls Amadeus from behind me.

“Yes!” I manage, looking over my shoulder, and then at Makeda’s screen. Seats all still green. “Anyone hurt?”

There’s chatter, but no ‘yes,’ so I take that as a good sign, and collapse in relief against my console, turning the engine off.

There’s a whoop from Billy, and the entire machine erupts in cheers behind me.

“Congratulations on a successful voyage everyone! Welcome back,” comes Da Vinci’s exceptionally pleased voice from the P.A.

Collapsed and glad to be, I feel Makeda put a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks,” comes my muffled voice from through my arm.

“Told you we’d make it,” I hear her say proudly.

Yeah. You did. Have I ever been this tired before? No, I don’t think so. We really made it. I stay in my puddle of relieved, exhausted nerves, until I hear someone say, ‘Can we go out?’, and everything terrible reboots at speed and I shoot up.

“No! No—wait!” I call, tripping over myself in my hurry to unbuckle. I get caught going over the seat and have to hop to right myself. “Hang on! We uh—we just tore through the indoor halls of a security organization in an unregistered, military vehicle that sort of teleported inside a bounded field! Let me go out first—they know me. I can, uh, talk them into—” I had been going to say ‘not shooting us’, but there’s 196 scared civilians staring at me, so I manage, “Uh—cooling off about that. Give me a second.”

I hold up a hand towards the passengers, glance back at Makeda and my new Technical Advisor, then walk to the side door.

Oh, Olga Marie is going to have my head for this. I wish I’d thought about that part and what to say, just a little.

Taking a breath, I open the door.

To my absolute lack of shock, there are about fifty staff members with guns trained on me.

“Wait wait! It’s me!” I call, hands immediately up.

“…Doctor Archaman?” call one of them.

He lowers his gun, and I recognize him.

“Duston?” ask, taken aback. W-What is an engineer doing security’s job fo- …

No, I recognize more than just him. As the others slowly follow suit, I realize I know almost everyone here at a glance. Four of them work in the medbay.

“How did you get-?” asks Dustin, looking from me to the Border, “When did you get…?”

“What is going on?” I ask genuinely, taking a step out, “Where-“

Immediately I am doubled-over by an immense pain in my head, a wave of thoughts and images and feelings that aren’t mine—or—they are? A-Are they? W-what---what is…?

I must have fallen, because the next thing I’m aware of is my father holding me, trying to help me up, Dustin a foot away now, asking if I’m alright. I don’t know how either of them got where they are.

What’s happening, I think, blinking, trying to clear my head, That can’t have. W-Which can’t have…?

I look up, and no, my father’s really here. That must have…have all happened. He’s holding my arm. Behind him, I see the Shadow Border, see Makeda at the top of the steps, with Ritsuka. But then. …

“Where’s Mash?” I manage as I make it back to my feet, leaning on my father.

“She’s in her room, resting after the Rayshift,” says Dustin, “Like you told her to.”

Oh no. But. That can’t. That’s not…

Whatever hit me before, I feel it building up in my head, and I almost lose my footing, dig my fingers into my father’s arm to keep upright.

“Rayshift?” Da Vinci’s voice. Still wet and barely dressed, I see her in my periphery stepping off the Shadow Border behind me.

I give her a panicked look, kind of hoping somehow she can explain to me what just happened, because my mind is failing to pull an explanation.

“I don’t…understand…?” says Dustin, looking from me, to the Shadow Border, then at the staff around him. “Who is that—who are they? And…Sir?”

The pain swells in my head, a barrage now. It feels like the jump in the Border did, when I was looking down at my body, but in reverse. Like I’m too much jammed in at once. I know what’s happening then, and simultaneously, I don’t.

“I-I’m sorry.” I manage to find my father’s face through the way my head is swimming, and I focus on him. Do my best to lean into him. “I can't explain fast enough. I’m going to be alright—I won’t die; don’t worry. But I think I am going to faint now, and I might be out for a couple of hours. Thank you.”

I go out with the words like a light, my last thought how hard the floors are here, and that I sincerely hope he will catch me.

.

————————————————

.

.

Timeline: Two Months, Eighteen Days, Twelve Hours Forward. Coordinates: -4.R48X91, -R1.559X48 Graph: 10912.1313

.

Blood tastes like nothing in my mouth; I only know it from its smell:

Sharp, harsh, and routine.

“Got another one not burned out just yet.” The voice is casual, and close, but clipped too. Mercenaries, or military, something with practice and rank and an order. I know he’s talking about me.

“Leave it,” says the leader, “The more juice we get out of this, the better.”

“You sure?” asks the first man. I feel a boot nudge my right shoulder. Despite the injury there it aggravates, it doesn’t even rate in my head as pain against the background of everything else. “Can’t be too careful with a Servant.”

“It’s an Archer,” comes the second voice again. Closer. “They’re just like this. Burn out slower than the rest, without a source sustaining them. It’s not a skill to be worried about. He’s won’t get up and shoot you.” A gun fires, and I feel a bullet shatter my right shoulder. Usually a human weapon shouldn’t do that to me, but he’s not wrong. I’m all but dead already. And that one, I do feel.

“See?” comes the leader’s voice again. “Come on. We’re breaking camp. Just leave the system up and running. We’ll skim off what we can on the way. We’ll probably get a decent amount, even if they’re up less than another half hour.”

There are more orders barked, unimportant exchanges, sounds, and a small group moves out around me and leaves.

It becomes almost quiet.

Minutes pass. Just the sound of trees somewhere lush and a little humid. Bugs, some small creatures in the underbrush. And the churning, loud, irritating thud of the engine in their magecraft machine kicking over and over, the thrum of the stakes still operational.

It’s not just mine, I think slowly, trying and failing, like I have been since waking, to get my vision to clear.It’s been three fourths of an hour, but still, I can hear the thrum of stakes other than the one through me. He said ‘another.’ But how many now? I listen, try to hear it past the much louder machine. Focus on frequency. …Three. I hear three distinct, operational stakes. There are two more of us still breathing.

Almost as I think it, though, I hear a whir, and a thrumming stake winds down.

One more.

Me, and one other.

I can barely remember what happened. We were summoned into the middle of it. Chaos. Like being materialized into a woodchipper. Sounds and light, magecraft resonating inside my head. I can’t imagine what it even was, or why. This isn’t supposed to happen. How can they have known?

It’s what I keep thinking. They didn’t summon us. I know, because I didn’t accept a contract. I heard no order given to a single one of us, no command seal, no nothing. It was Alaya. I was brought by the world, by the Counter-Force. We all were. So how. How could they possibly know when and where it would drop us?

It isn’t…it can’t happen. But I can’t ignore the fact it has.

And every last one of us, we’ve failed.

Me and the other poor bastard here still bleeding out too.

I don’t even know who the others were. I didn’t have time to know.

They can’t have known. You can’t set a trap like that at a summon you didn’t create. How. How?!

The Counter Force has one fucking job. I am angry with it. It failed here.

There’s no point in cursing it, but there is nothing left to do but curse.

How was it so effective?! As many of us as there were, how did that trap account for everything Alaya brought? How can they have known?

There’s no point in wondering that either. There’s no point in anything. Even this clinging to life.

And still.

Still, won’t any living thing try to survive? Even half living. Even un-alive?

I guess I don’t really need a point. I don’t usually have one anyway.

I am on my stomach, a rod the width of a tank barrel, clear through my back, about six feet up and another four at least past me into the ground, pinning me. There are sigils in it, sigils in the carved lines on the ground, diverting the magic it leeches out of me to whatever machine is making the thudding fifteen feet off. I can’t even turn my head far enough to see past a few inches off the ground. I can only see part of a tent, and two empty poles, where things like me have already died and vanished. The last of us is past my feet, and no matter how I contort myself, there is no way to turn my head to see them. I could call out, I guess, but what would be the point? We will both die anyway. We will both forget this ever happened in a few minutes. I can’t even be sure they’d be awake to hear me in the first place, and the effort would only kill me sooner.

No point at all.

The second to last hum is gone, then, and any decision beyond that is made for me.

Just me, I realize with an emptiness as the air here grows closer to silence and I feel a presence fade completely.

At least once I am gone, it will be quiet here.

For a moment, I blearily watch my arm and hand, the deep gold crackles along darkened skin, like some sick joke, the way it could evoke kintsugi in the mind, and is the opposite.

What was ever the point?

Obstinate despite the impossibility for some reason, I take a breath and reach up behind me with my left arm, until I find the stake. Agonizingly, I force myself to lift the now badly damaged right arm too. Torn up from the summoned, clinging to materialization by a thread, I just barely get both hands up behind my back, and wrap them around the edges of the pillar sucking what’s left of my materialization away. It’s sharp. What does it matter, I think, and I pray the kind of prayer someone who doesn’t believe in praying anymore gives when facing the barrel of a gun, and I dig my fingers into the cool stone and rip up with all my might.

The pillar slices through my fingers.

I cry out and drag my hands back down, shaking. I feel the tears like a heartbeat in my hand, sharp and ragged. My right hand is severed, only a thumb I can feel left on it now, and as I drag my left back into focus by my head, I see on it the stubs of four fingers and the thumb, cut clean through, and lacerations across the palm that almost sliced it in half completely. I no longer have the appendages to try again.

That really is it, then.

Exhausted, I relax the muscles I still have, and I wait, the thudding of the machine sucking my last dregs of energy away impossible to truly turn out.

My vision blurs, and I let it. There’s no reason to expend the energy now, to try. I can’t get free, and I can’t win a fight. It’s time to let go.

It’s only death, I think. Death is hardly a friend, but it is old, and I know it better than even myself at this point. So, I wait as the blood pools.

…and wait...

The curse of being an Archer class persists. What must be another quarter hour slips through me, before I begin to see the half a hand I have left turning transparent at last.

Thank God, I think in nothing but exhaustion.

It is then that I hear something coming through the trees. It’s east, from behind and to the right of me. Before, I could have turned my head, but even that much effort now would kill me. That shouldn’t matter, but I am too tired to care.

I wait, and listen.

Movement, branches and leaves, and then footfalls. Not before. Before, it was flying or riding. But about fifteen feet off, it begins to walk.

I can feel energy too. Whatever is coming, it’s strong.

It approaches me from behind, and stops by my back for a moment, then a bare foot steps into my twelve inches of blurry vision, and then another. There are intricate spirals of gold wound around the ankles. I try to look up at their owner, but I no longer have the strength to lift my head.

“Oh? Well look at that. You’re still alive after all. Thirteen heroic spirits, and you’re the last one standing. You must be pretty tough, to survive that long like this, in spite of how you look.”

A woman’s voice.

She takes a knee, and I see dark hair, and find the energy to force my head up by an inch. I still can’t see shit, and despite all my effort, I cannot lift my head higher. She reaches down and takes my head in her hand and tilts it for me then, and it’s no longer an issue.

“Mm. You’re in some trouble here, huh?” she asks carelessly.

I glare at her. If I had the strength, I would spit. Sadly, I do not.

“Oooh, what a scary look!” says the woman who looks like a blurry, glowy nothing to me with the sun behind her and my eyes failing. She’s having fun with this. I really wishI could spit. “You know, you should be a little more courteous. I was planning on helping you, if you were nice.”

I hate that I feel a twinge of hope at that.

I’m not stupid. I know she’s fucking with me. Kicking me around because I’m helpless, and it disgusts me, but hope is instinctive. Even in me, occasionally. Something in my expression must betray me for a microsecond, because I see the blurry shape of a face smile.

I swallow, which hurts, and give her the most withering look I can, which probably isn’t much, about to black out.

“Well, as fun as you are to play with, I think you’re going to vanish if I really take my time. –You can hear me, yeah? I know you’re basically a walking corpse, but-” She wipes some of the blood on my face back with a palm, leaning closer, and then stops mid-sentence.

I’m too tired to try and react at all.

“H-Hey, don’t actually die, okay! Here.”

I don’t really process the words.

She takes my discorporating, shred of a left hand, and I feel something smooth and resonating against my palm as she forces what’s left of fingers shut around it.

“Okay! No more time to waste messing around!” I hear her voice like an echo as she stands. There is a sudden sharp, awful pain in my torso, and then I yell with a voice I didn’t think I still had as the pillar is ripped out of me and up. I hear it thud after enough time to mean she must have launched it several yards somehow, but I can’t put more meaning to that past the pain and instinctive jerking of body parts trying to work with a substantial piece of itself missing. I roll onto my side and curl up, fingers closing around the thing placed in my palm and crushing it until I feel it shatter, shards of glass or rock digging into my palm. A massive bust of magical energy accompanies it, rocketing up my arm and into my chest. I feel my about done-in core re-stabilize, body parts re-construct out of new ether, pain subside. And with it, as it repairs itself, my head clears.

After a few seconds, the hole in me closes, and I roll onto my back and take a shaky breath, staring up at cracks of bright blue sky past palm fronds.

“Wow, you made it after all,” comes the woman’s voice, pleased.

I’m exhausted, but with my broken shoulder only cracked now, I push myself up onto my elbows and turn to look.

She’s tall, pale, --Japanese, I think, with massive dark brown, almost black hair that floats around her in a nonexistent wind, and glowing gold eyes. She has summoned something like an intricate floating gold longbow the size of a kayak, and is sitting on its curve as if it were a mount.

“Hm.” She smiles at me, very proud of herself. “So, can you walk yet?”

I spit out some blood.

She laughs and flicks a wrist, summoning a glowing red gemstone, which she slings at me with the casual force of a baseball. I catch it on instinct and look down. There are shards of one just like it still embedded in my hand. I can see the shards shrinking as my fingers re-grow, a transitive alchemy. I know what this is, then.

“Why?” I ask, lowering the hand with the gemstone brimming with magical energy.

“I want a bodyguard,” she says carelessly, leaning forward on the tip of her bow, “And you seem capable enough, so long as you’re not dead.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“You’re a servant. Those jerks with the guns killed all the other ones, and it’s not like I can just go and pick another one up at the nearest mall. My options are limited.” She makes a casual gesture with her hand, all confidence. “Yours too, for that matter.”

“You’re a heroic spirit,” I say. I was too dead to sense before what exactly she was, but I can now. And a high class one, by the feel. Divine, at a guess.

“So?” she says, “All that matters is I’ve got enough magic to keep you, me, and a couple more going, if I wanted to. I’m independent. You need a master.”

“Is that an offer?” I say, a little taken aback. Not unheard of, but it’s not exactly standard for a spirit to bind another spirit to itself.

“Obviously,” she says. She hops off her bow and walks over, crouches down with her arms on her knees, and tilts her head at me, hair billowing out behind her. She studies me a few seconds, and her eyes flicker, turn a deep red, and there’s something about them that I feel strangely towards. Strangely and intensely, like I can’t even remember feeling before, ever. Then they’re gold again, and she breaks her eye contact and shrugs, and I’m left completely unable to tell what just happened. “So, are you ready to go?”

I wonder if I even can walk yet.

Probably, if I have to. She wasn’t kidding about the quantity or quality of magic in the gemstones she’s packing, at least.

“What makes you so sure I’ll follow you,” I say dismissively, pulling myself up off my shoulders to sit at her level. Ow.

She snorts. “Of course you will. It’s not like you have any better offers. Plus, you want revenge on the people who did this to you, don’t you?”

Yes.

“You need me at least as much as I need you.” She becomes suddenly flustered. “You need me more!—I don’t need a bodyguard, I just want one! But you, you need not to be dead. So?”

I watch her. She’s…familiar, somehow. But I have the memory of a block of wood, now. Even day to day. I wish I at least had a better impression if it was good, bad, or neutral familiar.

“Well?” she prompts, crossing her arms in a huff after about ten seconds of silence.

“You did a bad job of that. If you wanted to make me be your servant, you should have forced me into a contract before you gave me the gemstones,” I point out.

She clicks her tongue and snorts in disgust. “And what kind of bodyguard would that get me? If I made you a thrall, you’d be chomping at the bit to stab me in the back at the first opportunity you could survive! No. You don’t want someone with a dagger to their throat as the guy protecting you; the only kind of bodyguard worth anything is one who actually wants to take a blade for you. Or at least is willing to. Anything else is a waste of time.  I’d rather have someone owe me a debt any day, than be holding a loaded bow to them. A bow only works until you mess up. A debt sometimes works even after you do.”

There is an inarguable logic to that. It’s an unusual thing for a person to say, admitting to pragmatism rather than acting out of the goodness of their heart, but then, I guess she’s not trying to make me feel indebted. She’s talking about debt as if it’s a physical object, like the stone I’m holding. And in its own way, I guess she’s right. Whatever else is true about her, I think she means what she’s said, and my personal way of thinking or not, it’s a level of candor I can deal with it. And, I do owe her. Her pointing that out doesn’t change it.

“Fair enough,” I decide.

I drag myself to my feet, a little unsteady, and she hops up and reaches out a hand like she might catch me, then sighs and deflates as I steady my stance and blink down at my damaged limbs.

“No wonder you’re taking so long. You don’t just hold the gem. You either focus on it and suck the magic out, or you crush it to activate it.” She’s pointing to the gem I’m still holding. “Just holding it won’t do anything.”

I glance down at the red stone, pulsing slowly like a heart in my palm.

“…” When I look up, she’s watching me carefully. “I have more,” she says, almost a smile playing across her lips this time, “If you want to hold onto one for insurance, in case you have a reason to ditch me later, that’s fine, but use one of them so we can get going. Jeeze.” She summons and tosses me another little gemstone, a blue one this time, but with much the same feel to it in my hand. This one, I crush.

The energy surges through me like the pulse of an AED, just like the first, and I feel less severe wounds close, stiffness lift, senses sharpen.

“Good boy,” says the woman, very visibly pleased, “Okay then. Follow me.”

That would usually piss me off to a violent level, but the woman doesn’t reek elitism when she talks. Just a careless, playfulness, like this is a game we are both playing, and she is quite enjoying. She floats back up to her giant bow, and begins to ride it casually. I decide to let being talked to like a dog slide, all things considered, and fall into step just behind and to the side.

Very strange, how things turn out…

“What do I call you,” I ask after a moment. That’s strange, too. Usually, I wouldn’t feel the need to ask someone that. Maybe…maybe I did meet her before, on another summon. It wouldn’t be a surprise. I barely remember any of my own life. I’m lucky to know my name. Every summon is a blur. All but one, which I wish I could forget. Still, I don’t have nothing. Even I get echoes here and there.

“Ishtar,” says Ishtar, glancing at me, “Or ‘My Goddess,’ or ‘My Lady,’ would do too, I guess, or ‘Lady Ishtar.’ ‘Queen of the Heavens.’ ‘Goddess of War. Justice. Fertility. Love, Law.’”

I get it, okay. What a pain.

“…And you?”

I look over in surprise, but of course that’s the natural thing to be asked here. “I don’t have one,” I reply.

She double takes and stops walking, or, floating, and crinkles her brow at me. “Yes you do.”

? “No,” I say, “Not anymore.”

“Well, I’m not calling you nothing,” she huffs.

“I’m an Archer,” I offer.

“So am I; I’m not calling you my own class,” she says in even more disgust, arms folding over her chest.

I sigh internally. Okay. Then… “…I’m an Alter,” I offer after a moment of consideration.

She is about to shoot that down too on instinct, but then thinks it over, and sighs. “That’s the best you can do? You won’t give me, your Master, your True Name?”

You haven’t made me forge a binding contract yet, ‘Master,’ I think, but I say, “I don’t really have one to give anymore.”

“That’s…depressing.” She looks me up and down again. “What happened to you? Not the mage trap thing. Before that. I have literally never seen a gallu look so burned out. You look like if a heroic spirit had to solo bottleneck the exit to Kur for a thousand years.”

Thanks. I shrug.

“You’re not much for conversation, huh?” she says, genuinely disappointed.

I almost laugh.

She can tell, I guess, because she smiles at me. “Well, I will for both of us then, ‘Alter.’ But you’ve gotta get a better name sometime. I wouldn’t even call my dog just, ‘Dog.’ Everything deserves some kind of a true name.”

I gesture to the jungle ahead, and she gives a sigh and starts moving again.

It occurs to me then.

“Where exactly are we going?” That you’d want or need a body guard for, too?

“Oh! Right.” She looks over her shoulder at me with those glowing gold eyes, and they flash like the sun itself for an instant. “Hunting.”

[b1mb0y]

PLEASE READ BEFORE REQUESTING

Please read this over before requesting!! Keep in mind that this may get updated, so make sure to check in before leaving a message!! Things to know 1. I only write bsd x readers I’m not in a lot of fandoms, and I’m trying to start off small 2. My name is Valentine, I use any pronouns 3. Constructive criticism is welcomedI haven’t written fanfic in a while, so I’ll be rusty. Please tell me how I could improve my writing in the future. I’ll appreciate it a lot. 4. I’m bad at English, please be patient with me.I’m dyslexic, so I’m so fucking sorry if whatever I type out gives you a stroke. 5. I love interactions!!I’d appreciate comments and reblogs since it shows that people are enjoying the things I write. Requesting rules 1. Be patientI have a life outside of writing, so I can’t just pump out fanfics like a machine. My life will get busy sometimes, and I’m so sorry if I keep you waiting for a long time. 2. Don’t request when I'm not open.If my bio says that requests are closed and you request anyway, I’ll just delete it and pretend I never saw it. 3. First come, first serve The sooner you request, the higher your request will be prioritized 4. The more detail, the better I can work with vague requests, but I’d prefer it a lot more if there was detail added to it. 5. Don’t request anything problematic This includes but is not limited to r*pe, *ncest, smut of minors, etc. What I will and won’t write Wills 100%: -*MENTIONS OF* r*pe, s/a, any sort of trauma -Almost anything I haven’t specified I wont write -Headcanons!! (Ex. Reader x Trans man Kunikida w/o top or bottom surgery) -Threesomes or more -LGBTQ+ themes (Ex: Bisexual reader, Dazai x Male reader) -Reader specifications (Ex: Chubby Reader, Intersex reader, reader w/ vitiligo, the list goes on!!) Maybes (Depending on how strong this subject is): -Yandere -Piss

-Weaponplay (Knifeplay, gunplay, etc.) -Wedgie -Abilityplay????

Won’ts 0%:-Char x char -Minors in romance or smut -R*pe, s/a -Scat-Vore -Oc inserts

[sailor-aviator]

How are you doing, Love? x

I’m thriving, bestie 😎

Read: In all honesty, I’m feeling very overwhelmed by work rn and feeling kind of stagnant in life in general and kind of wanting to go off the deep end and just do something really spontaneous and crazy, but I can’t do that because it could be detrimental to my future and security in the long run. I also feel like my friends are pulling away from me sometimes, but that could also just be me needing a vacation at some point. I also wanna write, but because work has been so overwhelming I’ve often just felt too tired to do much of anything besides lay in bed and just stare at the ceiling because I feel like a failure both at work and on here sometimes. I wanna get all of these updates out for you guys because I love writing and I love that you guys love the stories but also I feel like you guys get pissed off with me sometimes because I’m NOT updating as much as I used to, and my people pleasing ass can’t stand the thought of disappointing people even though I’m trying to be better about that and know that, realistically, the people who are here don’t mind if updates take a while and I’m forever grateful for that, but then I want to show how grateful I am by giving y’all an update and then it becomes this never ending cycle of self acceptance and self deprecation. And I oftentimes feel like I’m screaming into a void and no one can hear me so I have to just keep trucking on because that’s life and most people feel this way, so why should I be any different? And then I’m always so tired and I feel like I can’t complain about shit because it’s going to piss someone off and then I’m going to get crazy fucking people in my inbox yelling at me for god only knows what and then claiming they aren’t trying to start fights with me even though, hooo boy, does it feel like they are. And then it feels like sometimes I should just delete this fucking blog because sometimes the negative anons do become overwhelming even though I have fairly thick skin and every time I give an honest thought or opinion on here, I’m sitting here waiting for someone to put words into my mouth. And I know that I can just turn anon off but then I miss out on the genuinely great interactions with the overwhelming number of positive ones, and so I truck on and try to ignore the bad eggs, but it makes me sad that there are people lurking about that just want to ruin the fandom experience for everyone else, but I’m also so thankful for my mutuals on here that have my back and I want to give everyone who has ever said anything nice to me a smooch on the forehead.

Anyway, I’m great! How about you?

[bepoets]

odd numbers (In Dreams (I'll Meet You In Warm Conversation) )

Unwritten/Unpublished Fic Asks

Thank you, Trish!!🫶

Okay first of all, for those who don’t know, “In Dreams (I Meet You in Warm Conversation)” is my very lengthy title for a tedbecca soulmate au I’m writing where Ted and Rebecca meet each other in their dreams long before they meet in person! Everyone cross your fingers that eventually I finish it because it is one of my favorite things I’ve ever written!!

1. What are you most excited about when you start to write it/publish it?

Are y’all gonna think I sound a little conceited if I say getting comments,,, I’m Sorry!! It’s true!! I love validation!!! There is no cooler feeling than getting comments from my friends being excited about something I made!!! That’s so fun to me!!!

3. If unwritten, when do you think you will start writing it?

Technically Some of it is written!! But I’m going to try and work on it this month, like hardcore sit-down-and-focus-and-write-time type work on it.

5. Is there any scene you're excited about writing?

Honestly every single dream sequence!! They’re so fun, and so full of little references to their future in ways that I just think are really cool!! Also writing Ted and Rebecca at a variety of ages is both nerve wracking and exciting and I cannot get enough of it. There is one dream sequence in particular that I cannot wait to write, it’s a little heavy but I’ve got it pretty well planned out so I can’t wait to tackle it!!

7. What are your plans for -Rebecca-?

My plans follow pretty closely to canon for s1 so far. Seeing as Ted and Rebecca don’t realize they’re dreaming with each other even after they’ve met in person because of … reasons !!!

Anyway!!! It sticks pretty close to the canon of s1 but I do have plans for Rebecca having a silly little tizzy when she realizes the person she’s been dreaming of for decades is Ted. Very much Rebecca dancing and yelling “top of the pops!” in s1e9 vibes but like … More. I really love when that woman is a little insane🥰

9. Is there anything in the fic you're not so excited about writing?

I’m pretty excited to write all of it!! I’ve been in love with this idea for so long I just want it to meet my little daydream expectations!! However, there are some parts where I have multiple options for how things could go and I’m not looking forward to choosing one because I love them all so much

11. Is there any scene you can't wait for people to react to when reading? Why?

A couple different ones!! I think their first dream meeting is very sweet and soft, and I’m really hopeful people that people will enjoy that!! As well as the big emotional dream sequence. Also I just love seeing the different things that people end up loving that I didn’t anticipate so like…all of them, all the scenes

13. Is there any unwritten/unpublished fics you haven't mentioned you're gonna do?

Considering I haven’t mentioned any of my unwritten/unpublished fics on tumblr the answer is so fucking many❤️ my brain won’t slow down it’s so many ideas and so little words!!! But there are a select few that I’m really really trying to push through and finish soon!!

15. Do you have any unwritten scene that you think about a lot?

For “In Dreams” I am literally always thinking about Rebecca’s inner monologue for when she meets Ted in person for the first time. It’s always there. Rattling around in my brain. It’s not written down but I have replayed it - at minimum - seven million times while folding laundry.

17. When publishing it, will you have a posting schedule or will you just update whenever?

I don’t intend to post it until it’s all written, but who knows!! If I do wait until it’s complete and it’s long enough for chapters like I’m planning it to be then I’ll post them 1 day at a time most likely! Or maybe once every other day.

19. Is there any scene that you feel is really planned out/going to be really planned out?

I have every dream they share before meeting in person very planned out!! In detail!!! Some of them are only planned out in my head but they are Planned!!! What I absolutely need to make very planned out is the reveal but that is a problem for future Brooklyn 😌

21. Is there any unwritten fic that you don't know if you ever will write?

For like a year and a half I’ve had a notes app page in my tedbecca fic plans folder that literally just says a lyric from the song “Marbles” by The Amazing Devil. (For those curious the lyric is “All the bastards applaud when I show that I’m flawed / You’re not flawed, darling, you’re just a little underrehearsed”) And I have tried so hard to figure out how I want to incorporate that or turn it into a fic and I really don’t think I’ll be able to!!! But damn do I love it!! So even if a fic never comes out of it, it’s still a nice lyric to think about and cry over!!

[bonesandthebees]

Greetings once again, Bee! I am loving TAGD so much rn and i look forward to each update!!! My asks have been minimal of late bc college takes a significant amount of time and effort but i’m here now!

Ok, so something I’ve been thinking about for the past several chapters (that I haven't really seen anyone else talk about that I know of) is how “I'm just a vessel for Clara and my purpose is to fulfill her will” makes Wilbur not take responsibility for his actions.

Right now, all of the focus of Wilbur’s lost identity is how all the abuse hurt him and fucked him up. Right now, the story is about Wil realizing that being snatched off the street, stripped of his identity and personhood, and forced to be the most devoted follower/leader of a religion he never really understood, cared about, or that cared about him was super fucked up, and it’s about how the deathlings are also starting to realize this and how it affects how Wil acts/thinks.

But in the chapter after Wil tries to escape and almost kills Tommy, when he’s having all the conversations about it, I realized just how much of “I’m not a person I’m Clara’s vessel” can be used to justify/excuse Wil’s actions and absolve him of responsibility. And I think this could be a future hurdle for Wil to clear as he regains his identity.

Bc from what we’ve seen of Clara’s visions, they don’t seem to instruct, warn, or even imply that they can be avoided. Like those prophecies in Greek mythology where people attempt to avoid the bad thing and it happens anyways, or their attempts to avoid fate actually cause it. Clara just shows what is going to happen, and just because someone acts according to the info provided by her, doesn’t mean that she told them to do that.

This even plays into the slightly unhealthy, codependent crimeboys dynamic that we love so much, bc when Tommy figures out that Wil tried to escape because of a vision, he almost immediately stops being mad about yesterday’s murder attempt (doesn’t necessarily forgive him, but still drops the subject and starts semi-defending Wil to the rest of the deathlings when it gets brought up).

Part of being a person with agency is that your actions are your own, and with that freedom comes accountability, both of which were taken from Wil when he became the Pythia

anyways, thank you so much for taking the time to write all these stories!!! can’t wait to see where you take this one!

- 💜

oh that's SUCH an interesting way to look at it. it's so true though! in a way being the pythia absolves wilbur of any responsibility for his actions because well clara told him to do it, y'know? though technically clara's purpose for showing visions can be as a guide for what to do, or it can also be a guide for what NOT to do. so you can change a vision and sometimes that's the point of her showing the pythia the vision. but the thing is is like you said, it heavily depends on how the pythia interprets it. she gives the information and lets the pythia decide how to use it.

also I'll tell you now when I post the next chapter here soon it's actually going to play a bit more into the whole "wilbur avoids taking responsibility for his actions" thing.

so glad you're enjoying it's always a pleasure to see you in the inbox purple heart anon!! best of luck with college <33

[sunflowerharrington]

🧸 LISTEN UP FELLOW EDDIE MUNSON SLUTS, I HAVE TO SHARE SOMETHING

it’s nothing much, just a little smut before bed lmfao. inspired by my chats with @myobmaya (sorry not sorry for @/ing you babes)

@friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @sympathyforher @gods-favorite-asthmatic @taecube @wzrlds @eddiebillysteve @quickiesgirl @eddies-bat dm comment or ask in my inbox to be added or taken off my taglist for updates on my future ST fics!

ps this is not the dom!dm!eddie smut i was talking about, that’ll be out after my steve etl smut

Neighbours Know My Name - EM

eddie catches you walking out of ms o’donnell’s class and asks you to meet him in the forest at lunch to talk. you’re sitting with your friends at lunch and before you know it it’s time to get back to work, completely forgetting about eddie. and he’s like super mad, like as mad as i was when max and eds died, because you accidentally bailed on him.

after work when you’re on your way to your car he stops you, not saying a word for a while. then he leans down and kisses you, soft, slow and sweet. he’d calmly ask you why you bailed on him and wouldn’t believe you when you say you totally forgot.

and then a switch flicks in his mind.

“oh so you’re lying to me now too?” and now he’s got you pressed against the door of the driver’s side of your car.

he totally spits in your mouth at some point if you’re into that (even if you’re not he does it anyway and if any drips out of your mouth he smacks your ass, hard) maybe pulling your hair to get you to look him in the eye… you know, the usual. and getting you to call him master, he fucking eats that shit up and it makes his ego skyrocket.

“i was gonna just kiss you,” he says, pulling you against him, opening the door to the backseat. “but now I’m gonna fuck you until the only word you can remember is my name. and then you’ll never forget about me again…”

smacks your ass again when you call him eddie instead of master but he doesn’t correct you, he waits for you to correct yourself.

fucks you so dumb you can’t even remember your own name. the only words leaving your lips being a mix of “please” “eddie” “daddy” “sir” and “master”

he goes fucking feral when you call him sir and/or master

doesn’t pull out. “if you wanna keep calling me daddy like a little fucking slut, i’ll make you a mommy, you got that you little bitch?”

um yeah… this one time he’s so angry that he can’t even stop the disgustingly hot words from escaping his plush lips…

the kids complain about the noise later that night coming from his bedroom in the trailer while they’re all having a sleepover to keep safe from the vecnabus:

el asks about the happy screams. max interrupts her before she can ask if it’s the same thing billy used to do with girls, and steve. erica asks too many questions and calls you two “disgusting nerds, but it’s not as bad as what i found under lucas’ bed”. lucas is begging erica to shut the fuck up, later agreeing with her. will couldn’t really care less, he’s just happy for you and steve. dustin is in the bathroom throwing up because apparently his dad isn’t allowed to find somebody that isn’t steve. mike agrees with will because he obviously does because he’s in luuuuuurve.

steve wishes it was him who got to ruin you, as do robin and nancy. argyle has no idea what’s going on and jonathan’s still trying to figure out why joyce had to go see the britanicas so he’s not focussed on what happened with you and eddie. murray will be proud when he gets home. joyce and hop will be too until hop finds out your door was only open two inches (THREE INCH MINIMUM), and joyce will also make sure you two are doing it safely. you’re not because eddie wants to fuck a baby into you but shhh don’t tell joyce she’ll freak the fuck out (but then she’ll also be happy). wayne will ask why you guys hadn’t fucked sooner and billy will be smiling down at you two from heaven, proud of his little bitches (you guys all used to have threesomes but more on that later)(steve joined in sometimes)

and the neighbours knock around complaining about the noise but y’all just blame it on the wind.

even better if you’re the local vicar / priest’s daughter 👀🥵😩

that’s it, i’m done. i’m too far gone. i’m such a slut for munson it’s not even funny. it’s 2am and i need to sleep but i CAN’T

[rjalker]

Here’s how to make The Murderbot Diaries 80 percent less casually transmisic, for each book and short story published so far as of January 25th, 2023. (Main books 1-6, and 2 short stories)

This post will be updated to include any future books once I've read them.

(If this is the first post of mine you're seeing and you're thinking, aghast or maybe offended, "What??? The Murderbot Diaries is transmisic????? What are you talking about????" Here's a link to my tag for reading these books. It contains all my posts I've made about the series except for a few random unimportant ones. Skim through them until you come to the ones talking about the transmisia in the series. I'll add links to this post with the important ones tomorrow.)

This post is literally just me picking out a section from each book and adding in things to explicitly establish Murderbot’s pronouns, normalize the characters asking eachother what their pronouns are/listing them in their fucking brainchip social media profiles, and maybe even more importantly, making it so that sex is not equated with gender.

I'm trying not to make this post any longer than it already is, so here's the tiny version: Murderbot and all the other bots and constructs so far being agender because they're all robots (shut up if you're going to argue semantics) who don't have genitals is transmisic. There only being one explicitly nonbinary human so far is transmisic. Go search my blog for a more in-depth explanation or wait until I've added links to this.

Dialogue that was spoken though the feed is marked with :: as quotation marks, rather than being italicized, to make it easier to read.

Anyways as a reminder, even if it's not intentional, malicious transmisia, it's still transmisia. I like Martha Well's style of writing. But it has a lot of problems that I'm hoping she'll fix.

She especially has a problem with biological essentialism and gender essentialism, which is exemplified in her The Books of The Raksura.

So to demonstrate how Literally Easy it would be to fix most of the transmisia in The Murderbot Diaries, here's some sections from each book/short story where I've added in and changed things so that it's not transmisic and actually represents the way trans people (and their allies) live and interact.

also, when the characters ask what pronouns Murderbot would prefer rather than asking what its pronouns are, that is 100% intentional to fit the theme of this post. Which is that even people who have the best intentions can be unintentionally transmisic and that everyone always has room to learn more.

So.

Here you go:

___

Prequel: The Future of Work: Compulsory

Words added: 150.

(You can read this short story here. Archived version here. Just the text can be found on a tumblr post here. Be warned that the first two links have eye-straining neon art at the top that moves, which is why I made the tumblr post.) 

Asa took her arm gently. “They can’t talk,” he told her.

She shook her head as her friends steered her toward the access bridge. “No, it talked. I heard it.”

That still came as a pleasant surprise every time it happened. 

The Company had assigned me different pronouns when I was constructed, and I’d always hated them. And I hated the gender they’d assigned me, too. So the second thing I’d done after hacking my governer module (the first was downloading media) was hack into the Company’s systems to change my pronoun and gender assignments.

Now, my pronouns were listed as it/its/itself, and my gender was listed as “indeterminate”. None of the humans got paid enough to bother memorizing our assigned pronouns or genders, so none of them had noticed the change. And every time they rented me out, the humans doing the renting got a copy of my relevant info, including my assigned gender and pronouns.

Maybe someday the euphoria of being referred to the way I enjoyed would dissipate, but apparently that day was not today.

___

Book one: All Systems Red

Words added: 79

Then Mensah said quietly, “SecUnit, do you have a name? Pronouns you would prefer?”

 "My pronouns are what was listed on my contract when you rented me." I said, "It, its, itself."

I didn't explain how I'd gotten those pronouns. They didn't need to know that I'd hacked into the Company's system to overwrite the ones I'd originally been assigned. I'd changed my gender assignment at the same time. And they didn't need to know that either. I didn't want them to know that.

As for having a name, I wasn’t sure what she wanted. “No.”

___

Book two: Artificial Condition

Words added: 22

They had listed themselves as unaffiliated guest workers, but you could list yourself as anything, there was no identity check. Two had listed their gender as female, and they both used she/her/hers/herself pronouns. The other one had listed ter gender as tercera, which was a gender signifier used in the group of non-corporate political entities known as the Divarti Cluster. Ter pronouns were te/ter/ter/terself.

(To initiate the meeting, I’d had to make an entry on the social feed, too. The system was extremely vulnerable to hacking, so I had backdated my entry to look like I had come in on an earlier passenger transport, listed my job as “security consultant,” my pronouns as "it/its/itself", which was the format humans used, and listed my gender as "indeterminate". Posing as its own captain, ART gave me a prior employment reference.)

___

Book three: Rogue Protocol

Words added: 135

Her gaze went to Wilken’s back again, but on our private channel she said, ::I’ve never worked with a SecUnit before—I’ve never seen or interacted with a SecUnit before—so please tell me if you need any information or instruction from me. I know you already know my name, but I’m going to introduce myself properly anyways. My name is Don Abene, and my pronouns are she/her/hers/herself. You can call me Abene if you'd like. Do you have a name, or designation? What pronouns would you prefer?::

While I’d had several humans now ask me for my name and pronouns, I had never had a human ask me how to give me orders before. It was an interesting novelty. ::I have standing orders from Rin to assist you. I can do the rest.:: I said, answering the first part of her question, as for the second half... ::It is best if you refer to me as SecUnit, and my pronouns are it/its/itself.:: It wasn’t technically lying, since she’d asked ‘do you have a name’, not ‘what is your name’.

Not that it would matter if I was lying, anyways, considering all the other lies I was telling at the point, but still. Old habits die hard.

___

Book four: Exit Strategy

Words added: 36

I pulled a selection of video from the trip with Ayres and the others on the way to HaveRatton, mostly exchanges I’d tagged so I could critique my performance later. (A few times I’d broken up fights, been forced to give relationship advice, the infamous Cracker Wrapper in the Sink Incident, and the time near the start of the trip where I’d had to explain to a confused but enthusiastic group of depressingly young humans how to properly use it/its/itself pronouns when talking about me.) I cut it together, labeled it “Murderbot Impersonates an Augmented Human Security Consultant,” and sent it to Gurathin.

___

Book four and a half: Home: Habitat, Range, Niche, Territory

Words added: 347

(You can read this short story here. Archived version here. Don’t scroll down to the comments at the bottom unless you want to see people misgendering Murderbot.)

Instead Ephraim asks her, “Can you separate that person from the purpose they were created for?”

Anger flares automatically, despite her best efforts to stifle it. But this is not an insult she will let stand, she can’t.

Ephraim should know better. He does know better, and his motive is clear: Refer to it as ‘they’ rather than its actual pronouns, to make a show of being respectful, the way this whole thing is a show of him being respectful, while denying it the same rights that every other person, including bots, was given without question. It was a transparent farce, and that just made her all the madder.

“Its pronouns are it/its/itself.” She snapped, and the only reason she managed to stay seated instead of storming out of the room in a fury was because SecUnit was still pinging her with armament request forms, getting more absurd by the second. None of its anger leaked into the messages, even though she knew it had to be listening. She wasn’t the one being insulted, so that meant it was her responsibility to shut the idea that this was at all acceptable down forever.

She continued angrily, “You know this, and I know you wouldn’t even think to use the wrong pronouns for anyone else, not a human, not a bot. So why should a construct be the exception? You say SecUnit is ‘a product of surveillance capitalism and authoritarian enforcement’, but how is that any different from any other refugees we take in from the Corporation Rim? Why should we not extend the same rights we grant bots to constructs? Why do you think it’s okay to use the wrong pronouns for a construct when I know for a fact that it wouldn’t even occur to you to do this to any other person? Use its correct pronouns or do not dare to speak about it at all: it/its/itself.”

Ephraim, for his part, looked suitably ashamed and guilty. “You’re right, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

But not ashamed enough, apparently, because he simply repeated the question: “Can you separate that person from the purpose it was created for?”

___

Book five: Network Effect

Words added: 494

There was no planetary feed (stupid planet) but Stupid Boat had its own rudimentary feed that was heavy with games and pornography but light on anything that might be helpful for a security assessment, like who these people were and what they wanted. Even the individual humans’ feed signatures only contained info about their pronouns and sexual availability, which I didn’t give a damn about. 

...

She smiled. “Thank you.” Then she added, “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m being rude, interrogating you before I’ve even introduced myself. Forgive me. My name is Farai, my pronouns are she/her/her/hers. What about you?”

I said, “Call me SecUnit. My pronouns are it/its/itself.”

She smiled again. “It’s nice to meet you, SecUnit. Thank you again.”

...

She yawned. “Okay, third mom.” I froze, confused and annoyed, and almost lost all the data I'd just finished tagging. I put that on pause and said firmly, "I'm not your third mom. I'm not anyone's mom. I'm not any kind of gender that can be called a mom. Don't call me that." Amena jolted a little and blinked, looking startled, then frowned, shaking her head slowly, clearly confused. "Wait, what? Don't call you what? What did I say?" Okay, so, she hadn't been deep in thought, she was literally falling asleep standing up. That made it a little less annoying. But only a little. "You called me your third mom." I said, trying to actively remove some of the anger from my voice but probably failing miserably. My emotions were shot, okay? And so were hers. I got confirmation that she hadn't meant to call me that when, a few seconds after I spoke--yes, it was taking way longer than normal for her to process information. She really needed to go to sleep--her eye got wide and her face flushed red. I didn't need to be an expert on human body language to know that meant she was embarrassed. This was further confirmed when she stammered out, "I--I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that, I don't--I mean I don't really see you as my third mom, or a mom, or--" She waved one hand in a frantic gesture. "I don't see you as any gender that's normally a mom. I know your gender is indeterminate, I'm sorry, I think I just fell asleep and was half dreaming, so when you told me to go to bed I thought 'oh that's what my moms are always telling me', but your voice was different from both of theirs so my brain sort of just said 'oh yeah that's your third mom telling you to go to sleep'. But it's not because I see you as a mom! I think I would have called anyone who told me to go to bed right then my third mom. But I'm really sorry it happened, and I promise it won't happen again..." Her voice started trailing off at the end despite starting out strong, and I could tell she was starting to fall asleep again. "I forgive you." I said, since it was true and I really didn't want to hurt her feelings, "Just--go to sleep. It's harder to keep you alive if you're sleep deprived." Instead of making another gendered comment, she gave me two sleepy thumbs up, then turned and trudged away down the corridor. I followed her with two drones, just in case.

___

Book six: Fugitive Telemetry

Words added: 5

Senior Indah said, “The feed ID doesn’t need to say anything other than what everyone else’s says, just name, pronouns, and…” She trailed off. She was looking at me and I was looking at her.

...

I posted a feed ID with the name = SecUnit, pronouns = it/its/itself, gender = not applicable, and no other information.

Indah had blinked, then said, “Well, I suppose that will have to do.”

___

And there you go. 80% of the transmisia has now been removed.

[hekaates]

open letter to ems (part ii) — @officialjimmybuffet

Hey bitch. Happy birthday

First time it’s just a letter, second it’s a pattern, how long until it counts as tradition?

Maybe it’s weird but I started to write this letter on December 13th, 2022. 179 days until your birthday but I felt the need to start writing this, felt the need to put my sentiments into words.

Yesterday I sent you 18 audios, several minutes each of course, explaining you in deep detail the plot of the first Avatar movie. I watched it alone after my mom went to sleep and to be frank Im kind of glad she did or else she’ll catch me crying over the scenery of a planet that doesn’t exist, from a movie that I’m pretty sure doesn’t pass the Belchdel test (update: it does not, everything is about Jake Sully and his terrible habits). It’s sitting in the bathroom floor all alone, waiting for people to stop screaming at each other that makes me realize how much I needed you in my life, how much I need, and will need someone who understands and compliments (as in complementary) me as well as you do. I like Avatar because I’m insane, but also because I see someone so lost and so insane in their own world they have to go literally to another planet to find a home, because somehow they do and I think, fuck maybe I could to. Looking back at it, the fact Jakes best friend is a short haired ginger scientist (healthcare science is a science right?) might make it even more close to home. (I hope in the end of this story, I don’t turn blue and you die and come back reincarnated as my daughter, but if you do it’d be hilarious and pretty on brand for us).

Everytime I remember you exist I am no longer alone. One time we were talking about the saints (this phrase in itself explains our relationship better than any other thing I can say here) and we said: I’d pick your saint if you pick mine. I remember the first time I wrote it, I looked at the screen, I looked at me and I looked at you (the only way I can, deep inside my mind) and I realize that with no other person this sentiment would make sense, no other person could I send a message at 22h explaining the in-depth history of Brazilian reality shows and make it so that I’m not insane or annoying or terrible, no other person would I search the deep webs of Wikipedia to find out what Saint was killed on June 10 (ps. It’s Saint Olivia, that’s my sisters name).

Saint Emma is the keeper of pharmacy, Saint Luisa the keeper of grief, somewhere along the lines God made it so we can meet and this would make a little bit too much sense.

I want to thank you for always holding my hand, even if have never touched, even if we never do. Times passed, I forget to write and now your birthday is in 4 days and now it is in 2 days and I find myself plagued by a loneliness only you can fill (I think this is the gayest sentence I’ve ever wrote and that’s saying something). Right now I look at the sun and it’s 4pm here so it means that in the other side of the world it’s 3pm and you are looking at the same sun, as the sunlight burns the right side of my face I can’t help but wonder if right now, in the other side of the hemisphere, it burns the left side of your face, that in the sunlight our faces meet and become one (again, really going for the gayness vibe rn).

The only future I am content with is the one I have you by my side, it’s the one I can call you to spend christmas with my family be it next to a British young star celebrity or not (but like if god wants him to spend several christmases with me then like I can’t say no right that’s on God not me right anyways I’m getting of track-) In the good ending it’s Christmas afternoon and I’m sitting by the pool showing you how to open an earl fruit or a persimmon while my siblings play with the speaker. In the good ending we’re in a club in New Jersey and I have no idea how to order a drink, in the good ending, when the movie is about to be done I grab your hand and say “hey.”

So, yeah.

Hey.