#Cooking up a fic with the same premise

[unicornpopcorn14]

Do you ever stop and think of how Chuuya's life before the PM was one of constant violence and brutality?

And how he might have been touch-averse early on in his life for how every touch he's known was vicious and barbaric?

Do you ever think about how this might be Chuuya's first experience of actual, gentle touch since he'd been picked up by the sheep??

Do you ever consider that the reason he looks so shocked aside from his ability getting swept away, is because this isn't a chokehold or a preparation to attack, but a mere hold?

Do you ever think about how No Longer Human might have taught him that gentle touch can be just as powerful as violent ones??

Oh, by the way,

Do you ever stop and consider that the reason Chuuya was reeling every time him and Dazai closed proximity isn't only because he doesn't stand Dazai but also because he absolutely hates the contact?

Do you ever think of how Dazai might have known how much Chuuya wasn't used to gentle touch and tormented him by doing shit like this just so he can see Chuuya's visceral reactions every time?

Do you ever imagine Chuuya trying to get used to gentle touch and even try to initiate some as payback?

And how he's come to appreciate and embrace it by doing so?

[theminecraftbee]

so, first, accountability statement: I plan on trying to finish the “zedaph steals a baby” fic by the end of the month and god is that one-line summary no longer accurate but we’re sticking to it, said here publicly so now I have to do it. obviously I also have recursive exchange and the writing I have for hotguy comics zine, but I am not SUPER worried about either of those time/inspiration-wise at the moment and also for Reasons I know it won’t be long until I have more free writing time after that, SO.

various items that are on my potential writing docket, I am curious which of these appeal most:

I dust off the supervillain support group au. two ways this could go: I chip away at the second arc of my original outline and acknowledge this will be like a 300k fic I’m not ready to feel “done” with or “ready to post” with for ages, or I re-work it into something a little more doable and less ambitious keeping the same premise (ren runs a support group for supervillains, doc pov as he starts to heal and redeem himself). this MAY honestly be a target for “if I don’t hate the first 50k on re-reading it and I can actually make my brain write the second arc, do a slower release schedule and then start releasing chapters before I’m done writing”? but this ALSO runs the risk of “I stopped writing it, which is often a sign I was having trouble writing it”.

pearl monster au, which has been cooking in my head for a long while. the basic premise is “one day, pearl, with no memory of how or why this happened, wakes up in a facility as a monster and must try to figure out how she got there, escape, and find her way home, even knowing she may be irrevocably changed”. now with bonus season 10 fish flavor to add to this creature design I’ve been iterating on in my head for forever! this one is ALSO an experiment for me in “can I write a fic where I can’t write dialogue for basically the entire first act”, which would be interesting to see from me, you know?

the related “bigb folklore au”, where after secret life bigb is woken up by Cat and Dog by the tracks of the King Snake, which bigb can recognize as the railroad track, and decides to journey down the railroad to see if he can figure out what the fuck is going on. I need to do video review of life series bigb for this one. this is my excuse to get Weird and Metaphorical and also assign everyone to various animals for no reason, along with using some very specific aesthetic I have wanted to use for some worldbuilding but hadn’t gotten around to yet in any of my stuff. man walks through the desert with animal, confronts train that might be the watchers, might be death, and might just be a train. also, realizes that “confront” is the operative word there and has to deal with that. you know how it is.

““office au””, in air quotes because it’s not REALLY what anyone going to an office au is looking for so much as an excuse to write weird horror. iskall, normal-ish software developer man in a boring office job who does game jams in his free time, goes to work one day to work in his boring downtown office on a payment system for a client. and then things, uh, Take A Turn. this would be a LITTLE me going “what if I wrote an au with a guy who works in tech but like, the boring side of tech I’m in. like, banks and consulting and manufacturing and shit. where you sit in meetings all day and tweak java 8 code even though that language is ten years out of date. but THEN. something exciting happens in the worst way possible.” I’m doing to iskall what I did to mumbo stuffed bird is what I’m saying. it’d be fun.

DO ANY OF THESE PARTICULARLY INTEREST ANYONE. your input will be valued. like 50% chance i get hit with a strong bolt of inspiration then IGNORE that input but it’ll be valued all the same,

[alexiswritingstuff]

Just wanted to let you know that I've been binge reading all of your writings and I love them so much, keep up the good work! :)

I know you might have a lot of Gus requests, so it's okay if you put this one on the back burner for a bit. But I read the "Not So Scary After All" work and I was wondering if you could write a sort of sequel to it?

Maybe Jesse keeps trying to tell GN reader how obvious it is that he likes them. How he's seen him try not to smile when talking to reader, the softer tone of voice, things like that.

Reader obviously doesn't believe him and thinks that Gus is just being nice to his employees, especially the ones that are responsible for the cooks.

Anyways, after a few days of Jesse pestering the reader about it something happens to make them realize he might be right. I was thinking maybe they would make another mistake with the cook and Walter is there to see it. Maybe he gets mad, a little TOO mad, and Gus walks in 🤭 Or anything else works too! I just love the premise of a protective Gus that doesn't like to show how protective he actually is

First of all, thank you for the comment about my writings, I'm glad you have enjoyed them so far! Initially I didn't think about writing a part two, so I hope this does it justice, as well as that I hope it was what you were looking for!

Thank you for sending this in!

Not so scary after all. 2/2

Pairing: Gustavo x gender neutral reader.

Other appearances: Jesse Pinkman, Walter White.

Warnings: arguing, walter being a douche.

also be aware of spelling mistakes, or other errors. I do read these over but I can tend to miss stuff either way!

A/N: my brain has been fixated on other characters recently, so if these guys seem ooc then that may be why. It's hard to write scenes where gustavo is interested in another person because we barely get to see that in either show, so I also hope my portrayal of him just generally feels correct.

I hope you enjoy!

more Gustavo fics.

Taglist- @sukunamybeloved - @viviennemuerte - @miwagila - @marksassybanana

previous part.

It never mattered how many times you had gone through the same routine. Surprisingly, considering your line of work, waking up in the morning was always the most jarring part. 

You could’ve had a great nights sleep, not woken up at any point, had no distractions or noisy neighbours. Yet the second you were in that car to get to the laundromat, it was like you had to force your eyes to stay open. 

Which was apparently the same for Jesse too as there was a series of mumbles and grumbles that would fill the car every few seconds. 

Each time you spared a glance to the passenger seat he would be leant further and further into window, his head bobbing whenever there was a difference in ground level or direction of the wheels. 

It had you amused, but also a little concerned, “Did you wake up too early, or too late?”

Seeking no comfort from the hardness of the glass, and after his temple ended up smacking right into it, Jesse got himself to sit upright in a speed that closely resembled one of those stairlifts. 

He groaned, having to make consistent attempts to keep his body from just slumping all together, “Both?” His hands raised to his head, the sides of his fingers beginning to rub at his eyes as if it would rid them of their tiredness.

In all honesty, outside of the cooking sessions and other shenanigans you found yourself in, you and Jesse never really... hung out. There would be times where you had lunch together, or had to show up to his house if there was something to drop off.

But that was mostly it.

And there wasn’t exactly a reason as to why. You had absolutely nothing against Pinkman, it was like the opposite. The more you spent time with him, the more you felt like some kind of guardian watching over some kid. Even if he also was an adult.

“You had breakfast, though, right?” Your gaze was trained on the lane ahead despite your ongoing conversation.

You had just turned onto a state road, meaning that, regardless of it being early in the morning, people were up and about. Trying to get to their jobs.

It always made it seem busier than it was.

At first, in response to your question, Jesse simply emitted another mumble of something. He was thinking, the intensity in which he rubbed at his eyes increasing for a moment, and then his hands dropped. “Oh,”

“Shit, I don’t... I don’t know.”

You supressed the urge to sigh. It had already happened a few times. Depending on what he did the night before, there would be some mornings where his mind was rattled enough that he would almost forget where he even was, so.

You came prepared. 

“Well, I guess luck is on your side today.” you commented, flexing your fingers against the grips of the steering wheel, “There should be a sandwich or something in the back.”

By now Jesse’s head was leaning into the headrest, definitely having the same problem of trying to keep his eyes open like you did. The heat outside probably wasn’t a helpful factor either. “Seriously?”

You didn’t want to take your attention off of the road. The cars in front were starting to slow, and you needed to keep note of the distance from the ones at the back. “Check.” you told him, adjusting the rear view mirror for better visibility.

Jesse sort of rolled his head to the side after a moment, his chin almost knocking into the bone of his shoulder as his gaze cast onto the few items that were in the back seats.

He lazily blinked for a good few seconds, his eyes trying to adjust to the redirection of a sunlight beam. And then he saw it. Right in the middle.

A brown bag.

“No way.”

The next move he made was so fast that the seatbelt strapped around him had immediately stalled against his body, attempting to keep him in place at the assumption of sudden danger.

But that wasn’t enough to stop him at all. 

He pushed against it once, then twice, and then one more time before simply manoeuvring himself around the belt so that the top half would basically be protecting the car seat instead of him. 

When Jesse leaned himself between your seat and his, it was so much harder to keep your attention on the road. He was reaching out, arm extended as far as it could go and waving almost madly, until eventually, he grabbed the bag.

Jesse practically had to shove himself backwards to sit upright again, but soon he was able to resume his previous position with a big sigh of relief. Your head could only shake. 

Now, there was this sound a rustling paper that filled the entire car as you moved onto the accompanying lane. Something that was definitely not supporting your concentration. “Damn.”

His voice was muffled, the noises coming out of his mouth barely even sounding like a word which in turn made you send him a look.

He had finally gotten to the sandwich. “You make this?”

“Nah, I had too many errands to run.” you informed with a slight sigh, finally beginning to let yourself relax in your seat, “Would’ve done it if I had the time, but I think that is better anyway.”

Jesse didn’t even have to speak for you to know his response. He had taken another bite, nodding his head just slightly in proper approval. If his eyes were closed it would look like he was in pure bliss.

After relentlessly chewing for a hot minute, he attempted to swallow it down, “I didn’t-- I didn’t take you as an early riser.” Yet his voice was still almost unintelligible.

“Well, believe it or not, other people are in fact active in the mornings.” you pointed out, slightly leaning to the side for further emphasis on who the comment was aimed at in a way that had Jesse rolling his eyes. 

You swear you saw a clump of crumbs fly from his mouth when he next spoke, “Yeah, yeah-- You sure your too many errands wasn’t just you making sure that you looked good for a certain Fring?”

Your head snapped in his direction in a way that had looking back to the road immediately after, and probably almost gave you whiplash. But you saw it either way.

That damn grin had taken over his lips.

Again. 

“Please don’t do this right now.”

Jesse had to clear his throat to stop himself from almost choking, “Aw come on, man, it’s-- There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you did.” Your head shook like it had done before, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

It was always so stupid to you how the indirect mention of someone made your body react the way it did. You were only trying to get to work, yet your heart was acting as if you had just gone for a run. 

“But I do.” The look you sent Jesse almost had him wanting to put his hands up if he wasn’t so focused on his sandwich, “What? I do-- Look, I may not have that much experience, or whatever, but there is totally something going on.”

“Definitely on his end at least.” He moved the sandwich around in his hands, trying to locate the best part to bite as he had finally swallowed the last one, “I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve seen him give you the look.”

Your eyebrows furrowed within seconds, “The... The what now?” You tried to turn in his direction for confirmation, but he seemed a bit too busy to notice your movement.

Due to a junction being up ahead, your foot had moved onto the foot break, watching the lights fully change the closer you drew.

“The look.” Jesse finally repeated, his mouth full all over again in a way that needed real concentration to understand the words coming out of it, “Yeah, he gives you the look, like, all the time.”

Soon, the car in front of you had fully stopped, and then so did yours as you put it into first gear, keeping your feet on the first two pedals.

The moment the car had stopped moving, you turned to Jesse within seconds, eyebrows furrowed more than they had ever been. “What is the look?”

Pinkman gave you a simple glance at first, thinking that you were just messing around as he kept munching away... But no matter how much time went by, you didn't move. Still watching him.

His chewing slowed when his head turned back in your direction. He just blinked for a moment. “You don’t know... You don’t know what the look is?”

Your chin lowered, your eyelids slightly doing the same, “Does it sound like I know what it is?”

“Okay, but... how?” Despite Jesse’s previous complete interest in his sandwich, it lowered with his hands to his lap. There was utter confusion written all over his face while he remained smacking away. “How do you not-- How old are you?”

Your attention went to the road ahead all over again, the back of your head sinking into the headrest as a huff left your lips, “Older than you.” you pointed out, trying to sound more authoritative, but that just seemed to spark an already lit flame. 

“Then how do you not see it, huh? I mean, even I can tell that it’s pretty obvious-- And not just because of the look either,” Jesse fully twisted in his seat so that he faced you, “He like... He wants to actually, like, talk to you, and shit-- I’ve seen him smile-- genuinely smile at you, okay?"

“Now, if he was doing it to me? I would... Man, I would be terrified-- But it’s you, it’s... different.” You were trying so hard not to shake your head again, but Jesse’s voice practically being right in your right ear was making it a lot more difficult. “It’s something else--”

“It’s not...” You regripped the steering wheel, “You do realise we’re talking Gustavo Fring, right?” Your head attempted to turn back to Jesse, though your eyes were trying to keep the attention on the road as one of the final vehicles seemed to cross through the junction. 

“Exactly!” Jesse practically threw his arms up, almost losing his grasp on the sandwich in the process, “You should be caring about this more than you do.”

Your head shook as your gaze fully went back to the road, your foot readying to release the clutch while your fingers tapped against the steering wheel in anticipation. 

You were trying to find something to zone in on, something to distract yourself from the kid sitting in your passenger seat as he was still eagerly trying to get you to see the things the way he did. But you weren’t giving it to him. 

“Fine then.” Jesse reached behind him, grabbing the top half of the seatbelt, pulling it until it was in front of him again, before he ducked himself beneath. 

“But I’m telling you, Y/n.” It was back, slinging diagonally across his torso by the time he was seated properly, and also by the time the lights had finally turned green.

“You’ll see.”

~

There was something about this day that was starting to feel a little familiar. 

You and Jesse had arrived ages ago. You had gone down the windy red stairs, did the whole thing of taking off unnecessary clothing so that you wouldn’t completely boil in the obnoxiously yellow protective suit you would put on next. 

And at first, once you were all geared up, the two of you stood in front of the machines. Your heads were raised, eyes cast up to the walkway above as you awaited the arrival of your usual partner at their usual time...

But the door never opened. 

There was no proper estimate for how long the two of you just stayed waiting as you had set your watch to the side, and the clock was on the other side of the room, however, there was one thing you knew for sure. Someone was late. 

Eventually, the two of you were trying to compensate, finding something useful to do while giving the benefit of the doubt that maybe it was just tough traffic or something going on that made them lose track of time.

Though, the ability to sympathise got smaller and smaller the more minutes began to turn into full on hours. 

You found yourself at your usual table with your hand supporting the weight of your head, attempting to occupy your mind by looking over the paperwork from passed cooks. A habit that you only recently developed. 

“Dude,” you heard somewhere to your side before there was an exasperated sigh, and a quick creaking of a chair, “What the hell is taking him so long?”

Earlier, Jesse had taken one of the other wheeled chairs from the table connected to yours and had rolled somewhere, enough so that you could only see him from the corner of your eye.

His body was slumped back, the seat beneath him creaking with every move that he made. And considering that he didn’t have anything to do, that was like every. Single. Second. 

He had tried out the difference created when he would shift his weight, tested what it would feel like to have his legs hanging over the left side of the chair and then the right, he had pushed his feet onto the floor to roll himself backwards and forwards against the smooth tiles.

And now, as apparently none of that had seemed to have settle his mind, Jesse had resorted to zipping and unzipping the protective suit he was so ready to take off by now. Over, and over... And over again. “Okay,”

“That’s it.”

The pencil held in your gasp was cast to the side of the notepad, you were barely looking at this point, before your hands moved to the edge of the table so that you could push against it enough that your chair started to roll.

You stood up, winding round the seat that was still on the move as you began to walk towards one of the pathways between the machines. Jesse fully planted his feet on the ground, “Yo, Y/n, where are you going?” 

Your fingers grasped onto the zip of your suit and you yanked it down as far as you could without having to bend for the rest, beginning to pulling your arms out one after the other moments after. 

You moved round that damn settling tank and soon ended up at the wall where you would keep or hang up your loose items. “I...” you began, your voice becoming strained as you bent down to free your feet of those big welly boots, “am going to find out what the hell is going on.”

The squeak of a chair echoed somewhere to the back of the room. “Well, don’t-- Don’t leave me in here by myself.” 

Finally, after one last tussle, your, once worn, protective suit was now sprawled on the ground beside the clothing rack. You moved to your usual shoes, putting either feet in their respective ware before tying the laces to make sure they wouldn’t fall off. 

Before Jesse could even appear by your side to complete the same process, you were on the move once again, directing towards those windy red stairs that always made you feel like you were going to fall up and/or down them. 

“Y/n, wait, dude, wait-- Just give me a minute.” You could hear the hurried rustling of plastic suit echoing through the steps you took on the metal staircase. 

Eventually, when your movements had allowed you to arrive at the cat walk, you found yourself complying to Jesse’s words... While the man himself was still trying, and failing, to get the suit off. 

It gave you a moment to catch a breath you hadn’t been able to take all day. You were stood high, looking down at the problems below, and not drowning neck deep in it like you usually did. 

A deep breath sucked into your nostrils as you let your eyes fall closed, the air of the lab starting to cool the warmth that had festered across your skin--

A sharp whistle squealed through from your left before it bounced around each wall one after the other. 

Your eyes had snapped open as soon as the sound appeared, but it wasn’t until your head had started to turn that your brain realised what it had come from. 

It was the door.

Your body twisted in the direction of the man who was almost stumbling across the cat walk, a series of huffs and puffs spluttering from his mouth that would have you worrying any other day. 

But as of now, all you did was cross your arms over your chest.

“Yo, Mr. White! What the hell took you so long, dude?”

“Sorry, sorry,” he began through a slight wheeze that ended with him doing this horrendous cough. And once he was about three steps in front of you, he stilled his apparently over exhausted body, using a hand to shift his weight onto the railing, “There was... car trouble, and stuff with the kids, you-- you know kids.”

“You would think, maybe, after the first one that it was going to get easier and then...”

In the midst of Mr. White stabilising himself, his head had turned to the right in at attempt to locate Jesse, which wasn’t hard to do considering the fact that he was still taking off that damn suit, to further emphasis his... guilt?

But instead, after he did a sort of double take, he began to slowly face you once again, “Why aren’t any of the machines on, why... Why aren’t you wearing your suit?”

“We were waiting for you. I was just about to try and find at least someone to tell us where you were.”

“Wait... Wait a minute,” Mr. White started, holding his hands up while he took a step closer. “You didn’t start?” His chin slightly lowered in a way that made his eyes peer at you over his glasses. 

“No?” you stated simply, your eyebrows furrowing at the sudden change to his demeanour, “After last time... We didn’t think you wanted us to do it by ourselves.”

“But that was-- That was last time, Y/n.” With every word that the man spoke, his hands rose higher and higher until they were inches away from touching his face, “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?”

The urge to scoff was stronger than ever, and you had to hold it back more than you ever had in your life, “I think I should be asking you that question.”

The man before you began shaking his head in a way that was almost not visible. “I told you... I was having problems with my car.” For a moment his expression remained the way it was, a visible attempt at holding back what you were guessing was anger. 

But then it failed. 

“I have... a family to take care of...” His hands dropped to his sides. When he next spoke the corners of his mouth slightly downturned like there was utter distaste for the words coming out of his mouth, “They are not going to be put at expense because, again, you weren’t able to do a simple job.”

Regardless of how loud it usually was when someone walked up the windy stairs, right now, as Jesse began to do just that, it was barely audible to your ears. The sound fading more and more the longer you stared at the man before you. “Guys, can we just--”

“I am doing my job just fine, Mr. White.” you started up with this lack of emotion to your voice, trying to make it as clear as possible that you wanted to get this over and done with, “We just didn’t want to do another batch all by ourselves, simply, because you couldn’t be bothered to show up.” Though it seemed your mouth had other plans. 

There was something that almost satisfactory when you saw a side of his face twitch. But soon, it was one that ended with this sort of smile curling at his lips, his eyebrows raising more than you had ever seen in your time working with him. “Oh.”

“So, you want me to apologise for making a singular mistake? Is that it?” He took yet another step towards you, “You know what, how about we count how many times you have made-- No, caused, a mistake, hmm?”

You couldn’t count the amount of voices that were telling you to take a step back, to move away the closer he got to stand directly in front of you, “But that wasn’t only my fault-- There’s a big difference between actually trying and just not showing up.” 

Your feet remained planted on the ground beneath. Your arms were held tighter than ever across your torso as you tried to maintain the blankest expression possible.  

“Dude, both of you just... just chill out, please.” Jesse tried to insist as he walked up the last few steps, but no one paid any attention to his words, “We can-- We can work this out--”

“You allowed a contamination,” Mr. White began, narrowing his eyes as if in disbelief, “How did you-- Did they not teach you to read, or listen, to instructions in school?”

“My education has nothing to do with this.” you insisted without missing a beat. And regardless of your attempts to keep your composure, it was inevitable that something began slipping into your voice.

You had been up early.

You had been running back and forth to make sure that certain things were sorted for certain people, had to drive all the way to downtown to pick up Jesse and then all the way back up to get here. To work.  

And then, while at work, you weren’t even able do your damn job because your other partner, that was supposed to be there at a specific time by contract, just didn’t show up. 

Which then lead you and Jesse to have to stand and do absolute jack shit for hours on end. 

Walter just shook his head again, even raising his hands like he was about to shove you or something, though he might have wanted to simply point a finger, “Well, apparently it does, because if you still aren’t competent enough to follow something so basic, then--”

“What is going on here?”

Within the next second, the man in front of you had twisted round in a way that almost gave you whiplash just from watching. He stepped to the side, and moved backwards until he was practically next to you. “Oh, Gus, I, uh... We were just... Slow start.”

But, of course, he was still a little ahead. 

Your feet, however, hadn’t moved an inch. In fact the only move you made was to let your arms finally fall free to your sides as you stared onwards. 

It was Gustavo. He was stood in the doorframe, one hand pressing against the weighted metal so that he had enough time to take in his surroundings. And then he took the final step inside. 

It was only when the door closed behind him that you realised you hadn’t even heard it open in the first place. 

The lab was back to what it had been minutes ago. Silent. No sound at all filtering throughout the entire room. 

Gustavo stilled himself not far from the door he had walked through, but enough so that you could feel his presence as well as see it. His arms were unmoving by his sides, a trait that would’ve carried out through his entire body if he hadn’t started moving his head. 

Like Walter had done when he arrived, Gustavo looked at the room below. He studied it, looked from one section to the other while noting the quietness that was effecting even him. 

And then he turned back to the people across from him, the expression on his face unwavering, “Why is that? There’s nothing in the machines.”

“You know, ex-- exactly.” the man to your side suddenly spoke up, snapping your attention from the other guy you wanted to look at a little longer. “I had... countless problems with a lot of things this morning, and I wasn’t able to arrive on time.”

Walter sort of took a step forward, but instead of what you would naturally think of when someone carried out such a movement, he didn’t properly face Gustavo. 

He stood side on, his body turned towards the machines so he could look at you or his boss with a simple movement of his head. And as of now, you seemed to be his main target. “Apparently they couldn’t be bothered to start the batch themselves.”

“That’s not true.” You mirrored his stance, faced directly towards him, instead of the man who was just trying to seek answers, as your eyebrows furrowed as much as they could. 

Walter tilted his head, “You sure?” he asked, using the most condescending voice that would of set you off had you already lost the grasp on your, slowly dissipating, self control. 

“Yes, I don’t understand--” Your hand rose to your face, fingers pressing into the skin beneath before dragging down to your chin. And then they dropped. You took in a deep breath. “Look... I admit it, sure, we could have started the cook. But.”

“Me and Jesse both thought it was smarter to wait after the previous mistake,” you began, emphasising your point by gesturing to the dude who was now stood behind, and his eyes sort of widened at the sudden attention. 

This time it was you who took the step forward. “But yet again,” You made sure to hold yourself back from blinking as you stared right at the man who was trying so hard not to cut you off, your fists clenched at your sides. “You. Weren’t. Here.”

Your heart was thudding in your ears, a sound louder than any other thing in the room. The exhaustion was rampant through your body, continuously attacking system, and at this point testing your patience that had already become thin. 

The ability to control anything was about one minute away from collapsing. 

“Why were you late, Mr. White?”

When Gustavo’s voice caught your ears, you hadn’t even bothered to look his way despite the fact that Walter did. In fact, he took the chance to move away from you, which almost made him bump into the other railing. 

“Car troubles, and, uh... family stuff, too, you know... all that.” he informed, his voice and the look of his face switching into one that you could instantly tell was the fakest attempt of trying to get sympathy. 

“And you didn’t inform anyone of these... troubles?”

Your head turned in about a second, your gaze snapping to the man who hadn’t moved a singular inch since the last time you properly saw him. His attention was only on Walter, his eyes now slightly narrowed. 

“What...” Mr. White started, the shock clear within his voice and the expression on his face, “Are you... Are you trying to say that this is my fault?”

“I am not saying anything, Mr. White.” Gustavo’s turned in the mans direction with such slowness that had a look of regret taking over anything else that was threatening to appear on Walters face. And once he stilled, he had even slightly tilted it to the side, “I am simply asking questions to understand why a job hasn’t been completed.”

Walter let out this sort of scoff of a sound as he gestured with his hands like before, “Well, then your asking the wrong person, Gus.” 

He pointed towards you, this time not even bothering to look unless it was to make sure his finger was actually aimed in your direction, “They... They have been here for who knows how long, I... I-- I mean, the batch could’ve finished by now, if they just--”

“You are putting the blame... on them?” Gustavo’s voice was low, deep in pitch that it was almost gravelly and harsh to any ears that heard it. There was no direct tone, or emotion clear within it. But paired with the slow step forward, anyone could tell that it wasn’t good. 

“You are putting the blame on a person who was actively trying to solve a problem that you created... because you weren’t competent enough to make a phone call?”

You were use to his intimidation tactics. In all honesty, usually, it seemed even more affective when he wasn’t using them, like when he wore that smile that never really reached his eyes. 

But this...

This was different. 

When Gustavo wanted to intimidate someone, or remind them of their place in the bigger picture. He had relationships to maintain, an act to keep up so that nothing could expose him and/or his business, so he never risked insulting a person in case it would backfire, create unnecessary problems.

Gustavo Fring wasn’t a man who directly insulted someone unless he was going to gain something from it... Well, apparently, until now. 

For the next few seconds it seemed that Mr. White couldn’t find the exact reaction he had. His lips twitched almost every way that they could, his mouth would open and close again and again like he was mimicking a fish, all the while his head began to shake once again, “I don’t... I don’t know what to say-- I can’t... Gus, I just--”

“I have heard all I needed.” There were no movements that accompanied his words. No change to his voice a part from a mild show of a tested patience. Gustavo just stared at the man before him, unblinking, “You still have plenty time to cook.”

“You can’t be serious--”

“That’s what you came here to do... Is it not?” Gustavo pointed out simply, his head tilting to the side in a way that almost made him look like a puppy. But his face said all that it needed to. 

Walter sort of cowered, avoiding the mans gaze as he took a moment to think, “I... I-- Well... Yes, but--”

In about a second, though there was almost nothing displayed on Gustavo’s face, everything sort of... dropped? His eyelids lowered in a way that wasn’t enough to hide his eyes but it was still visible, his jaw unclenched, his lips almost looked like they were turning down the way. 

But again. Not once did he blink. 

“Then cook.”

For a solid ten seconds, there was just utter silence. Someone could have drop a pin on the other side of the room, and it would still echo like any other sound. No one moved. No one twitched. No one spoke.

Walter took in a deep breath, his shoulders deflating when it made its way back out. And then he turned, beginning to do just as Gustavo said this time without any argument.

But the moment you started to do to the same thing--

“Not you.”

You froze. Your body hadn’t even managed to twist yet, so after sending a look to Jesse who sent one right back, you simply rocked back on your feet, resuming the same position you were in before. 

His eyes were only on yours. The first time he had fully looked at you since he had entered the room. 

“We have... other matters to discuss.”

~

After you left the room, it was practically silent when you began to walk.

There was the usual sounds that occurred from the machines within the laundromat, and the workers who you were still not sure knew about the giant meth lab beneath there feet, but between you and Gustavo there was nothing. 

No exchange of words and barely even the sound of your own footsteps. 

He was a few steps ahead of you, which may have been one of the main reasons, as he lead you across the paths that had big machines towering over you on each side. 

There would be a few moments were you had to duck, or even completely manoeuvre, around certain objects that were hung, either needing to dry or they were connected to a moving system that would bring clothes from one section to another.  

You had no idea where you were going. The second the two of you had officially exited the lab, his lips had became sealed. He just started walking, and of course, you only had one response to that. 

Your gaze pretty much remained on Gustavo’s back no matter how far you went, only fleeting to make sure that you weren’t going to bump into anything, as you followed the man in front of you like a lost duckling... Though, you felt more like a child getting ready to be told off. 

Eventually, after stopping yourself from getting caught up in the thoughts swirling through your mind, you found yourself walking out of the big vertical door. The entrance of the laundromat. 

If your heart wasn’t pounding before it sure was now. And no matter how badly you wanted to just focus on the feeling of fresh air after being stuck in an underground room for what felt like, and probably was, about five hours... Gustavo stopped walking. 

He was stood at the edge of the paved platform, hands moving to clasp behind his back as he resumed that usual straight posture. 

Your steps grew slower the more close you got to standing by his side. You wanted to gage his mood, predict what was about to happen or what he was going to say, which was a bit difficult considering that you could only see the back of his head. 

You cleared your throat when you had arrived to the right of him. Your eyes were slightly narrowed, adjusting to the sudden presence of the sun, while you gently leaned back and forth on your feet. 

“Sir, I... I’m really sorry about this... Again,” you had begun, but almost immediately your speech planned in your head seemed to have fallen apart. 

You turned your head to the side, trying to properly convey your apology through your face more than your words. “I know it doesn’t help the business, but I really, really, don’t know why this keeps happening--”

“Y/n.” 

You had already been looking at Gustavo throughout your words. And maybe it was because you were too caught up in your mind, or because originally the man before you had been gazing into the distance with the usual expression that barely gave you anything to work with. 

But now he was looking right back at you. 

“Yes?” you answered subconsciously in a way that had your mouth snapping shut immediately after realising that you didn’t need to actually do that. 

This time, Gustavo’s chin lowered, “I’m not going to scold you, Y/n.” His gaze was the most gentle you had ever seen it, along with sound of his voice. He may have said the words simply, and matter of factly, but his face told you otherwise. 

You sort of just stood there for a moment, blinking at him. “You... You’re...” And then your eyebrows furrowed all over again, your body turning so that you faced him directly, “You’re not?”

Gustavo kept looking at you, and finally, since thatsituation with Mr. White, you weren’t presented with an expression of judgement. It wasn’t a look that visibly told that they thought whatever they were seeing was utter stupidity. 

He took in a breath, letting his eyes fall back on the busy town ahead for a split second, before they were back on your own, “I want you to go home.” 

His voice was lighter, the expression on his face no longer holding the tension that had clung to his skin. 

Your lips parted, even if no sound initially came out. You stared back at him for a moment, your eyes a little wider than they were before, almost unblinking, “Did I mess up that badly?”

Gustavo’s eyebrows furrowed so quickly that you hadn’t caught onto it until he turned his body in your direction, “Forgive my phrasing.” he started, his hands remaining behind his back no matter the change of position, “This is not a punishment.” 

With his next words, Gustavo made sure that you were looking at him, right into his eyes, just in case his meaning was conveyed through his voice, “You are not in trouble for the wrongdoings of another man.”

... Were you missing something? Why would Gustavo take you out of the lab? 

I mean, sure, you made the deduction that not starting the batch might’ve not been such a great idea, and honestly at some point expected to get a good talking too because of it. Maybe it would be the final straw... 

But here you were. Theman himself, the big boss, stood right in front of you. Directly telling you that you’re not in trouble.

“Then... I’m going to have to say that I don’t understand, Sir.” The muscles beneath your brows were getting a good work out from consistently changing between being normal and then furrowed within, practically, every thirty seconds, “We still have a batch to do, a deadline to follow.”

Influenced yet again by a man stood before you, “And who is that for?” 

Your whole body felt like it wanted to deflate, fall limp and just collapse on the ground. This time it wasn’t in anger, or fear, or annoyance. It was because after everything, you could exhale the nerves that had clung to your insides. There was no use for them now. 

You lightly nodded your head, the fact of not being in trouble officially processing in a way that had your gaze lowering, “... You.”

Gustavo wanted to smile. He wanted to display his pride of finally cracking the code that was your mind, having created even a bit of equal understanding, but he could still see the ghost of the previous expression that held your face hostage. The genuine concern over possible harming his business.

And him. 

“I am not asking you to leave because I think that you are bad at your job, or that you don’t do anything for this business-- Because that would be entirely wrong.” he started up with this new voice that was difficult to ignore, “I am simply saying that you have the day off.”

“It is... normal in a workplace, is it not?”

By the time your eyes met Gustavo’s, your brows had furrowed once again, though now, it was for a very different reason, “I mean... Yes-- But not in this business, just...” 

There was a huff of air that passed through your lips. Theexhaustion from earlier was presenting itself back into your system, making the want to talk become a lot less than before, “Let me-- Let me go back in there, we can work, we can... we can get it done.”

Gustavo’s head began shaking before you had even finished your sentence, “I can’t do that.”

“And why not?” you questioned, leaning back slightly so that you could fully take in his demeaner, analyse any look that took over his face, “I thought you said that I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“You didn’t.” he insisted almost immediately, the expression he wore going blank the way it usually did. But now wasn’t the time. “Then...” You took in yet another breath to cut off your words, trying to suppress the urges to sigh, scoff, or the sudden want to raise your voice, “Why?”

To say this day felt long was truly an understatement. Things just kept happening one after the other and still you were left in the dark. No answer as to why things progressed into the situations they had. 

“Y/n, I am not... risking the loss of more time to arguing.” It was like you could visibly see the words he chose to say. The pure caution, decisions careful enough so that he wouldn’t set off the things he could see getting ready in your eyes, “I know that if you go back in there, Mr. White will not... let go. Not unless I place someone in there to stand and watch at all times.”

“All I am telling you is that you are free to go while I... sort things out.” Gustavo somehow made himself stand taller, trying to prove the confidence in which was already heard in his voice and to also prepare for the possibility of you finally reacting in the way that your body had wanted to for hours. 

But despite what he had envisioned playing out, or tried to predict, it was pretty much the opposite. In fact, the only proper reaction to his words was your shoulders deflating, ridding your muscles of its constant worry. 

And then you crossed your arms over your chest, sniffing as you did so, “And what about Jesse... Mr. White? What-- What about them?” you questioned, waiting for the words to settle before you looked back into those other pair of eyes, only to find that the look from earlier had repossessed his face, “It may not seem like it, but I assure you, Y/n.”

“Mr. Pinkman and Mr. White can handle it themselves.”

For the first time throughout the entire day, you felt the want to smile. “Okay then.” You nodded your head once, your grip tightening on your arms as you took a step backwards, “Thank you, uh... Mr. Fring. It seems you have saved me again.”

“Gus. Call me Gus, and please, there is no need to thank me.” Gustavo started up before you could even try to turn in the direction of your car, “It comes under being an employee.”

Your body stilled after about one more steps backwards, your eyes narrowing at the man before you, playfully, “Then how come I haven’t heard you getting protective when someone else makes a mistake?”

Gustavo mirrored the look on your face, “I wasn’t... I wasn’t being... protective?” In his case, however, he wasn’t doing it in a teasing sort of manner, he was just genuinely confused at the comment. “I simply understood the situation and acted accordingly.”

Your arms loosened in your hold until they lowered to your sides once again, “And yet you defended me.” If you were close enough to Gustavo you would probably have started circling him, “Even though I was in the wrong... both times.”

Gustavo unfurrowed his brows, “You weren’t in the wrong just because some man has an incorrect idea of authority… and a very poor concept of time.” His tone was the flattest you had ever heard it. There was no emotion behind it until the words of... slight insult. 

The urge to smile grew stronger that had you pressing your lips together to stop yourself from letting out a laugh. “Still,” Though, after a moment, you managed to compose yourself, “If you hadn’t arrived when you did...”

Gustavo huffed air through his nose, bowing his head a tad before he let it shake a few times. When he looked back up it was clear that he was trying to hold back whatever was wanting to take over his face, but you could see it in his eyes. 

“Go home.”

There was this feeling of giddiness begging to erupt in your chest. It spread a warmth to every part of your body until it was a collective feeling. It caught you of guard, causing the smile you were trying to hide begin to curl at your lips.

So, after a sharp breath and a nod as a thanks, you sort of ducked away, twisting yourself around so that you could make your way towards your car. 

However, the nearer that you got to the vehicle, it seemed there was a thought pushing itself further and further to the centre of your mind. It may have been more of a feeling, as you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted to go back to your house.

I mean, sure, being able to take a nice long shower, grab a bite to eat, and completely flop on your bed sounded... Well, pretty nice actually. 

But the next session for a batch was now going to be days away. 

Days from your work and a certain Fring. 

You had completely stilled about a step away from your car. There was a quiet breath that huffed through your nose, one that only you could hear, “You know what, actually.”and then you turned on your heel, the concrete practically scuffing under your shoe. “I’ve worked for you for quite some time now, and yet…”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been inside your restaurant.”

The man your eyes managed to focus on seemed to be closer than he was the last time you saw him. A fact that made your brain almost completely miss the words that came out of his mouth. “Well, it’s not an obligation.” 

There was something about the look on his face. Something about the way he pressed his lips together immediately after he finished speaking. He may have assured that the visit wasn’t needed, but... there might have still been a want. 

“What hours is it open?” you asked, the sound of your voice almost echoing through the parking area, even if the noises from the active laundromat were louder. 

Gustavo’s head slightly rose after a moment, one of his brows slightly twitching as he processed your question. And then he cleared his throat, “That would depend on the day.” he informed, readjusting the hands he still held behind his back. 

You hummed in response, letting your gaze fall into the distance as you thought.

Honestly, after the past few hours you could barely remember what part of the week you were in right now. So, instead, you thought back to what a usual week would look like. 

What was the day that was perfectly set between the times you would possibly be able to see Gustavo at work? Right in the middle?

“How about Thursday?” you suggested, now watching as Gustavo began to make his way across the concrete, slightly nodding his head, “Then... Seven to ten, I believe.” 

“All right,” you breathed out, the speed in which your heart beat increased the more the man approached. “One less lunch to plan for the week.” You practically gulped as you reached backwards, fingers patting against the cool metal of the vehicle for a moment until they located the handle. 

Gustavo stilled himself about three steps in front of you, the look on his face signalling that he was thinking about something as he wasn’t making direct eye contact, “Actually... I would suggest to come around dinner time.” 

Just as you were about to tug on the handle, your hand froze, along with pretty much every other part of your body. 

The man was now looking right at you, his voice sort of timid in a way that caught you even more off guard. And apparently himself too. “It’s... more quiet.” He cleared his throat, “Less people around.”

Your arm slowly moved back to your side, releasing the warm handle from any sort of grasp. 

There was a fight going on in your chest. A want to give into the urge of running away like you would’ve done in a situation close to this as a kid. But you weren’t a child anymore, far from it. 

It took a good moment for any sound to be able to roll off of your tongue. And as soon as something eventually had, it was like your lungs remembered how to properly function. “Will you be there?” 

You felt younger. The two of you may have been stood pretty much right in front of the other, yet neither of you could maintain eye contact longer than a few seconds before you collectively had to look away, no matter how confident either one of you tried to seem.

Gustavo cleared his throat, though it sounded like it had barely done anything. “I believe so.” he finally confirmed, and regardless of the fact that his voice was still quiet, there was this tone that took over his words. 

“Well, good...” That giddy feeling returned, even if it had probably never left. “I think I probably would still go if you weren’t there, but... it would be a lot less... fun.”

The man before you let the slightest smile curl at a side of his mouth, “Well, we wouldn’t want that now would we?” He sounded more breathy this time, a natural progression from his already quiet voice. But it wasn’t because of nerves, or a reaction of his lungs, which you had initially thought. It was intentional.  

“Not at all.” Your voice in question was more full than his, however, there was this slight whisper to it, as if Gustavo should be the only person allowed to hear it. 

“Then it’s settled,” he began, slightly lowering his head in away that had your back pressing into your car. His normal tone had seeped back through his words like he was back in boss mode. But not quite Gustavo Fring just yet. “How does... eight o’clock sound? Unless you eat earlier?”

Your head shook practically without a second of hesitance. The ability to move your lips was barely thereso you resorted to moving to the side, finally pulling on the handle of your car door until it swung out far enough that you could stand behind it. 

You could see Gustavo raise his eyebrows just the slightest as the door had created a sort of separation, and it had you biting back a grin. “It’s perfect.” you insisted, trying to sound as neutral as possible despite the, possibly, clear ways you felt at that moment. 

And then you lowered yourself into the car, having to slightly shifted backwards a little bit to properly get into the drivers seat before you swung your legs inside.  

Your hand grasped the inside of your door, your fingers making certain that they had a good grip, before your eyes landed on the figure through the glass of the window that hadn’t moved an inch.

And then you smiled. 

“Gus.”

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

About to post the first chapter of a fic that's so. It's just SO

I already mentioned this one over on the Gentlebeard fic hangout community (click the link on desktop or let me know if you want an invite) and here's a little preview for everyone who missed it because this one is SO GOOD guys you don't even knoooow

The premise of the AU is Ed and Stede are paranormal investigators, and most cases they get called to are nonsense, but when newlyweds Lucius and Pete call them out to the expansive property they were able to buy surprisingly cheaply, they're thrust straight into a mystery: what happened to Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate, and why are their ghosts so angry? The fic weaves modern AU scenes with canon-era scenes and it's very bittersweet and, in a word, haunting.

This one deals heavily with themes of grief, mourning, and the inevitability of knowing all stories ultimately must end the same way, so head's up there, and our canon-era boys end in tragedy in their time but - look at me - there's a happy ending. Here are the final entries from the Gentleman Pirate's journal, kept at the local maritime museum Stede sometimes visited as a child. He could never look at them for too long because the vaguely familiar handwriting unsettled him too much. (Behind a cut because they're SAD but if I'm sad I want you all to suffer with me lol)

I watched you dance in the clouds this morning. I wish you were in our kitchen again, dancing across the floor as we make breakfast. Our cat misses you. I yelled at her this morning because she wouldn’t stop crying for you. I feel awful about it now. I can’t stop thinking about how cold you must be right now. How much you’d hate the dirt.

I hate that we didn’t get our rings back. I can’t stand to look at my hand without it.

I keep thinking every sound I hear is just you. Walking around the house. Working in the library. Cooking in the kitchen. Nothing but ghosts of you, everywhere.

Please wait for me. I’ll be home soon. The grave in the garden won’t be satisfied until you’re in my arms again.

[fastcardotmp3]

🎊 december bookshelf 🎊

november recs | recs tag

Happy (almost) New Year! Here are some bits of brilliance I'm closing out the year in reading, and here's to everything that you guys have made this year. I'm so grateful to exist in a space with so much talent and so many big hearts willing to share in it, and I can't wait to read what you have cooked up for 2024 🥂 love, dot

🎊 INCENDIUM by @stargazersteddie- I have always been and will always be a weird dragon kid at heart and this fic was tailor made for the weird dragon kids of the world LIKE! dragon shapeshifter eddie is SUCH a concept and then to add dragon hunter steve to the mix? to add a genuinely intriguing corrupted corporation claiming to help people? to add ronance espionage and secrets in the woods and-? you know? a treat of a journey really and truly.

🎊 captain's log webcomic by @rogue-alien - That sweet spot where beautiful, perfectly representative art meets a brilliant premise in which Dustin finds a bunch of old "Captain's Log" tapes Eddie recorded before he died and things develop from there. Truly makes my day every time I see this has updated with a new page and as a comic book lover I'm fully enamored with everything about this

🎊 if you wanted, you could do no harm by @eskawrites - I'm a lover of a road trip story in which everything becomes clear because the scenery has changed and this is SUCH a beautiful depiction of that. getting to live inside Nancy's head as she goes from knowing she has to get out of Hawkins but not necessarily why to finding this sense of peace within herself and the things she both can control (kissing the girl who made sure she wasn't alone for the journey) and can't control (the big unknowable that is life) was a delight and a joy <3

🎊 mark it on the starmap with an x by @cheatghost - the Eddie POV "show me the place (where he inserted the blade)" sequel/ companion piece of my DREAMS. I love an Eddie character study with my whole heart and the way lou explores him in this particular circumstance, being blocked off from the joy he built for himself and leaning on Wayne and almost being forced into adapting without getting a say in the matter? Brilliant, immaculate, perfect, HELP ME.

🎊 max the bloody handed by @hellsfireclub - KAS!MAX!!! Beautiful Lucas POV as things fall into disarray, as his sense of something's wrong gets proven right, and with such a cool and eerie tone the whole way through. also Lucas with a crossbow which you KNOW is everything To Me.

🎊 this time of the year by @gothbat99 - robin HEARS nancy even when nancy isn't saying anything aloud and robin KNOWS that nancy needs a moment to let her brain go quiet and just be and I'm beside myself!! sweet and warm and tinged with the inevitable grief of the holiday season what if I cry huh?

🎊 The Future is the Same (but i have to try) by @fragilecapric0rnn - such an intriguing world built in so few words but the thing that has me on the FLOOR is the nancy and steve reckless grieving power duo of it all LIKE. designed for me specifically perhaps??? the characterization, the looming danger of every choice they make, the impulsive nature of it all!!! brilliant!

🎊 crash by @cheatghost (yes, again! sue me!) - i say 'designed for me specifically' a lot but this time it's actually TRUE and let me tell you!!! the psychic damage incurred was IMMENSE!! the nancy character study of all time, the cyclical/non-linear journey through grief and catharsis and hope and acceptance of my dreams, i'm never going to stop thinking about this fic you HAVE to read it, it's imperative To Me okay? okay. okay okay.

PS. don't forget to tip your writer in kudos and comments if you read and enjoy these! it's talking to each other about the works we create that makes this fandom world go round 💖

[purereflectionsworld]

WIP Wednesday (belated)

Thank you so much for tagging me, @sparkleplatypuswriter ! So very excited about the Aleida chapter of your Brazil fic ❤️ - WIP linked here! I think a lot of lovely FAM writers have been tagged already but maybe not @caffeinatedcrab and @flamingo24 ?

So after I re-watched the sweet scene in the “Leningrad” episode of For All Mankind where Margo is laser focused on trying to catch a good glimpse of Aleida on the video feed, clearly missing her desperately, my brain cooked up a little scene set partway through “Legacy.” The premise is that Margo is trying to respect Aleida’s desire for her to stay clear of her personal life, but she can’t help it when an opportunity to snoop just a little bit falls into her lap. Here is a snippet from that scene. It may very well show up in an epilogue/flash forward in my current Margo-Aleida fic (link here) or somewhere else.

*

You don’t get to ask me about my family or my son again. Understand?

It takes a day for Margo to recover from those words. What’s most painful to her is the way Aleida delivered them, with such quiet conviction. It would have been easier, somehow, had she yelled.

By the second day, the resignation has settled in. She’s going to respect Aleida’s request not to pry into her family life. She owes her that, at least. Aleida won’t have to worry about her fishing for details from her ex-colleagues, either. No one at NASA will even talk to Margo, except Eli Hobson. And  she’s noticed that Hobson gets skittish if she ever so much as brings up Aleida in conversation. It’s clear that he’s aware of their tension.

But still, she wonders.

Aleida’s vivid description of the post-bombing aftermath - back in that Leningrad hotel room - had glaringly left out any indication of how Aleida’s own personal life had evolved since that day. Margo is now certain that this omission was entirely intentional.

Of course, Margo remembers that Aleida had been separated from Victor at the time of the bombing. She has spent more time than she’d ever admit carefully studying the ring Aleida currently wears on her left hand, and she’s 95% sure it’s the same one she was wearing in 1995. But there are only so many ways a low-profile gold wedding band can look, and the 5% sliver of doubt eats at her. Of course, it shouldn’t matter who Aleida is with now, as long as she is happy, and co-parenting Javi with a reasonable degree of success. But when she recalls the look on Victor’s face when they’d spoke of Aleida, that night she’d first met him in the JSC lobby and he’d feared their relationship might be over - and the look on his face at their wedding, watching Aleida walk down the aisle toward him - she feels strangely unsettled. 

On the second day of asteroid capture mission discussions at NASA’s office, seating arrangements have become rather less formal. Aleida arrives just in time for the meeting, and the only seat left is directly next to Margo. She slips into the chair but doesn’t look at Margo once for the entire first hour. 

Hobson calls a five minute break, and Aleida excuses herself to the restroom. Margo stays in her seat chatting with Hobson, who’s on Aleida’s other side. As Hobson drones on and on, she sees a sudden flash of light, and realizes that Aleida’s cell phone - sitting face up on top of her notes - has lit up with a text message. When she glances down and sees the sender’s name in capital letters - VIC - she can’t resist. She’s desperate to see whether it’s the going to the grocery store before I come home tonight, do you need anything type of message, or the going on a work trip in two weeks, know it’s not your scheduled week but can you take Javi type of message. 

It turns out to be a different type of message entirely. *

[gaypiece]

"This One's Mine" pt1

This is another one of my lil daydreams based on the premise of my fic Another Life, but this is NOT part of the main timeline of that story. P.S. I wasn't gonna make this multiple parts but it's getting long and I haven't posted my writing in a while so here we are

synopsis: the Heart Pirates and Straw Hats run into each other, initiating Rain’s first meeting with the crew he had admired for so long.

word count: 2.2k

pairing: trafalgar law x named self insert

CW: named self insert who is also a trans catboy, (accidental) misgendering, mutual pining, jealous/possessive Law

After being underwater for a handful of weeks, I was delighted to learn that we would soon be stopping to resupply. I was starting to go stir crazy after being cooped up for so long. I desperately needed sunlight and fresh air. We all did. Even the Captain, though he wouldn’t admit to it.

Law had been extra grumpy lately, his increased irritability making the whole crew miserable. No one knew what had caused the change. His mood swings were nothing irregular, nor his cold demeanor, but I was surprised at the way he was acting toward me.

We had grown much closer in recent months, taking comfort in each other’s peaceful introvertedness. I had been spending much of my free time with him in his office, the both of us quietly doing our own tasks with the occasional bout of conversation. I would regularly ask about what he was working on, and listen intently as he rambled about whatever research he was doing, even if I didn’t understand all of it. He would do the same for me, though I’m sure he was hardly interested in my crafts or fiction novels.

The longer this went on, the more comfortable we grew together. Eventually, he began to linger closer to me, both in his office or otherwise. He would often sit in the kitchen with me when it was my turn to cook, not only keeping me company but also (sometimes feigning reluctance) taste testing for me. We sat together during most mealtimes, me seeking him out if he didn’t do so first. In his office, he had begun to lounge with me in the comfy little alcove that I had all but claimed. Occasionally, I would give him small, affectionate touches, such as a hand on his shoulder, or teasingly bumping my hip into him. He was extremely awkward about the physical affection at first, blushing like mad whenever it happened. Worried I was making him uncomfortable, I stopped. A few days later, he hesitantly placed a hand on my head while passing by me in the hall as I swept. I wasn’t expecting it, nearly jumping out of my skin at the contact, then blushing harder than he ever had when I realized what had happened.

“S-sorry,” he muttered, moving to dart away in his embarrassment.

“No, it’s okay!” I put a hand on his arm, partially to stop him, partially just to return the touch. “You just startled me,” I giggled, ducking my head to hide my flushed cheeks.

I wasn’t sure if it was my blush or my laugh that caused his mouth to quirk up into his usual half-smile. Once again, he placed a hand on my head, this time giving my ear a small rub, before walking away. I thought my heart would explode. Physical affection became more commonplace between us after that occurrence.

Although my senseless crush on him persisted, I knew better than to perceive Law’s touches as anything more than platonic. For one thing, he was my Captain. I knew it would be unwise for us to be in any sort of relationship, should things go wrong between us. Certainly, he would agree, if the matter were proposed to him. Additionally, I didn’t think that he could ever view me that way. The idea that he might have romantic feelings for someone like me was almost comical. Therefore, I kept my feelings hidden as best I could.

Despite how close Law and I had gotten, he suddenly started acting cold and distant toward me. He acted almost the same as he had when I first joined the crew: like he wanted nothing to do with me. He wouldn’t even answer the door when I went to his office, knocking rhythmically as I always did. I didn’t have a clue as to what caused the change, only suspicions. I knew Law well enough to understand that he would probably talk about it when he was ready. That, or he would work past it on his own and eventually start talking to me again. Or, at least I hoped he would.

Secretly, I wondered if I did something wrong. Maybe I overstepped a boundary or said something that upset him.

Though I tried my best to ignore it, the distance that Law had put between us made me gloomy. He was the only one that I felt I could speak to freely, him being the only person on the crew who knew where I truly came from. The loneliness weighed me down. I could only hope that being able to step out of the submarine would lift my spirits.

I exited the ship beside Ikkaku, the two of us being the last to leave. We were surprised to find a crowd that didn’t just consist of our crew waiting ashore. I stopped dead in my tracks when I recognized those who had joined us. It was hard to miss Cyborg Franky’s massive, shiny metal arms. If he was here, was the rest of the Straw Hat crew here as well? Looking closer, I could see the blue and pink hat of Chopper, riding on Franky’s shoulder, and the dark curtain of Robin’s hair. Glancing around, I could see the Thousand Sunny docked nearby us.

Still unmoving, I asked Ikkaku, “Aren’t they part of the Straw Hat crew?” Though I already knew the answer.

She threw an arm over my shoulders, exclaiming, “Don’t be shy!” She tugged me to where the two groups stood. “We’ve worked with the Straw Hats before you joined. I think you’ll like them. Plus, you don’t have to talk to them.” Suddenly, she barked out a laugh. “Look at our Captain,” she chuckled. “He’s so mad.”

Indeed, Law had a look of pure annoyance on his face, like these were the last people he wanted to see. Despite this, Chopper was talking to him with so much animation that he was nearly falling off of Franky’s shoulder. Law turned to look at Ikkaku and I as he heard us approach, still a good distance away. When I made eye contact with him, he beckoned us over with a slight tilt of his head.

I hesitated, glad he was acknowledging me, but unsure if this meant he would start speaking to me again. Though, I couldn’t ignore my Captain, nor could I resist taking the opportunity to meet some of the Straw Hats.

Law’s gaze remained on me as Ikkaku and I made our way over, her arm still around my shoulders. The three Straw Hats followed his gaze, the small amount of conversation fading as the group’s attention was averted.

“Rain-ya,” my Captain began once I was at his side, “I thought you might want to meet some. . . ‘colleagues’ of mine.” The corner of his mouth lifted slightly into a knowing smirk as he peered down at me.

My heart fluttered as he smiled at me for the first time in days, and I couldn’t help returning it, shyly averting my eyes. “You were right,” I said quietly. “I never thought I’d meet any of the Straw Hats.” I grinned up at them.

Robin gave me a warm smile in return. “Do you know of us?”

I nodded, looking away once more, unable to meet her icy blue eyes. “I’ve heard a lot about y’all back home.” I grabbed the end of my tail, toying with it shyly as I said, “I actually kind of admire you guys.”

“I guess there’s no need for introductions, then, bro,” Franky chimed in.

I gave a slight shake of my head. “That’s not necessary,” I laughed lightly.

Suddenly, a voice came from a few yards behind the three. “Robinnn~! There you are my love~!” I didn’t have to look to know who was speaking. Moments later, Sanji appeared at Robin’s side, carrying what looked to be a bento box. “I made you some snacks in case you get hungry while you’re out today!!” He seemed to only have eyes for Robin. For the moment, at least. This is exactly what I would have expected of Sanji. I couldn’t stop myself from giggling, which drew his attention to Ikkaku and me. I could almost see the heart eyes bulging out of his head. “Oh myy~! I didn’t realize there were such cute girls on Traffy’s crew!”

I stiffened. I hadn’t been misgendered in a long while. Still, I should have expected it, meeting new people. Thankfully, Law and Ikkaku came to my defense.

Ikkaku finally released me to place her hands on her hips. “There’s only one girl on this crew and that’s me!”

“Rain-ya isn’t a girl.” The annoyance in Law’s tone was prevalent.

Sanji looked at me with wide eyes. “I didn’t— But you look—”

Ikkaku cut him off. “He likes to dress feminine, but he’s not a girl. If you can’t respect that, I’ll kick your ass!”

I was glad that she defended me so vehemently, but threatening him was a little overboard. “Dude, it’s okay.” I put a hand on her arm. “He didn’t know.”

She huffed, “Well he does now,” and crossed her arms over her chest.

Sanji bowed his head, lighting a cigarette. “It wasn’t my intention to offend you. Please forgive me.”

I gave him a smile. “No worries, Sanji; It’s a common misconception. You’re already forgiven.”

Instantly, Sanji was back to his senseless doting. “Darling Rain, you’re so sweet~! How can I ever repay such kindness?”

Although I expected this, I was still bashful at his attention. Blushing, I mumbled, “Don’t worry about it.”

Beside me, Law was still and silent as a statue. I knew him well enough to tell that he was simmering in anger and annoyance, but the anger surprised me. Surely, he knew that Sanji would act this way. Whether he did or not, it didn’t stop his murderous glare toward Sanji.

Unable to keep his attention to one person, Sanji turned to Ikkaku, which seemed to make Law relax a little. Sanji said, “My dear, you defend your friend with such valor! Your feistiness is irresistable~! Please, let me—”

“Not interested,” Ikkaku cut him off once more.

Undeterred, Sanji’s attention came back to me. “Girl or not, you’re still so cute! With your shyness and adorable cat ears~!”

Law spoke finally, warning in his voice. “Back off, Black Leg.”

Whether Sanji heard him or not, I couldn’t tell. His praises continued. “Sweet Rain, allow me to repay your graciousness by taking you on a date!”

“I said, back off.” Suddenly, Law wrapped his free arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side.

I was startled by his sudden touch, after how cold he had been acting toward me recently. Additionally, he had hardly even shown me any sort of affection in front of our crew. That he would do so in front of others shocked me. What shook me even more were the words he spoke next:

“This one’s mine.”

Silence.

The Straw Hat crew members gaped at us in shock, aside from Robin, who gave a pleased smile. Even those of our crew who lingered behind us had stopped their own conversations to listen in. I could feel my face going red hot as I processed what he said.

His?

Sanji took a puff of his cigarette, clearing his throat before addressing me. “That true?”

I glanced up at my Captain, though he didn’t meet my eye, still glaring at Sanji. The tips of his ears were red, his cheeks tinged with pink.

I was bewildered that he would say such a thing. Did he mean anything by it? Did he expect me to just go along with this? How could he, especially after the way he had been ignoring me the past few days?

As confused and annoyed as I was by Law’s behavior, he was still my Captain, and my friend. I wouldn’t embarrass him by exposing his fib. However, we would talk about this later.

“Y-yeah. . .” I looked at the ground, and shyly wrapped my arm around Law’s waist. He stiffened slightly in surprise at my touch, but relaxed immediately. This close, I could hear his heart thundering in his chest, mine thudding along with it. “It’s true.”

“WHAT??” Ikkaku squealed from my other side. Behind us, the remainder of our crew shouted and whooped, almost as loud as Ikkaku. Robin’s pleased smile widened, Chopper and Franky laughing joyfully beside her. Embarrassed by the attention, I cringed into Law’s side, more or less trying to hide. Too abashed to lift my head, I couldn’t look at him, but I knew that he would be embarrassed as well. Still, he gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Sanji took another long, thoughtful drag from his cigarette, seeming displeased. Despite this, he said, “Understood,” and stepped away, back to Robin’s side.

Some of Law’s tension ebbed as Sanji backed off. He looked over his shoulder at our crew members behind us. “Don’t you all have things you should be doing?” They quieted, scrambling back to their tasks.

“Actually,” I cleared my throat, finally glancing up at him, “I also have things I should be doing.”

He stared into my eyes a moment, then said, “Right.” He released me, and I did the same. “Go,” he said, placing a hand on my head and giving my ear a stroke with his thumb. “See you later.”

I gave him a small, bashful smile as I placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. He surprised me by returning my smile. “See you.” I ducked my head, then grabbed Ikkaku by the arm, towing her with me to the market.

As we retreated, I heard a voice in the distance, likely from the Sunny, shout, "TRAFFYYYYYYY!!" Once again, I didn't need to look to know who spoke. For the time being, dealing with Luffy would be retribution enough for Law, putting me on the spot as he did.

However, Ikkaku began grilling me with questions about my relationship with Law, questions I didn't have answers for.

This was going to be a long day.

[siriouslytired]

Feedback fest 2024 🌻

Well RIP to my bookmarks because I just noticed that so many of my favourite fics have been deleted or made anonymous/put in a collection. Thought it would be fun to do this anyway.

Also apparently I managed to post this when it wasn't done (can you tell technology doesn't like me?) And for some reason I couldn't edit the original post (and what's up with that??). So uh, if anyone had liked the first post I deleted it because I got annoyed.

All fics on the list can be found on AO3

A Year In Toussaint by astolat

The Witcher; Rated E; Geralt of Rivia/Emhyr var Emreis

"[...] - and found himself spilling the whole sob story of his success to Emhyr, who actually broke and laughed out loud when Geralt got to the racehorses."

One of my comfort fics, will read it for a multitude of reasons but mostly just because it's so well-written and engaging (which is just all of astolat's fics really)

Hunger and Appetite by thegoodbutter

Shadow & Bone; Rated E; Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov; Modern AU

I couldn't actually tell you how many times I've read this, it's just SO GOOD. And the food descriptions are just fantastic, makes me want to cook up a storm/start baking something even though I hate doing the dishes afterwards.

The Stars Don’t Shine, They Burn by Sarcasmismydefaultmode

Shadow & Bone/The Witcher; Rated E; Alina Starkov/Emhyr var Emreis; Second Best AU

Read it. Do it. It's so fucking good. I usually don't read crossovers anymore but I couldn’t resist this one and it was so worth it. It blends the two worlds so well while making sure that the edges are obvious enough that you can still tell which parts came from what canon.

Amazing Grace (series) by Druid Moon

Marvel Cinematic Universe; Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton; Many references to different forms of crafts

A relic from when I mostly read MCU fics that I return to again and again and again. Super cosy, slightly sad, incredibly well-written, one of those fics that just draws you in once you start reading it.

coronas of wolf-teeth and rivers by Dialux

A Song of Ice and Fire; Not Rated; Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark; AU; Robert dies at the Trident, Ned dies at the Tower of Joy, Catelyn becomes Queen of Westeros

I remember reading the summary and basically attacking my phone screen to open the fic. It ties itself together so neatly from the premise and the way Catelyn is written is just fantastic.

Diplomatic Relations by KrazzeeAJ1701

Star Trek; Rated M; James T Kirk/Sybok; AU, Female James T. Kirk

Listen, I had a phase where I mostly read gender swap and I found some real gems - this being one of them. I don't re-read it as often as I should but every time I do I remember how much I like it and how fantastic the writing is. The set-up just makes sense and the progression of the story makes you want to keep reading forever.

the ghosts won't matter because we'll hide in sin by soapboxblues

A Song of Ice and Fire; Jaime Lannister/Lyanna Stark; AU

A cute little AU where Lyanna survives the Tower of Joy and is subsequently turned into a political pawn etc etc. Incredibly well-written and the pieces just fit together so well.

The Debt of Time by ShayaLonnie

Harry Potter; Rated E; Sirius Black/Hermione Granger; AU, Time Travel, Soul Bond

I must have read this at least 15 times by now. It just works so well, you know?

For One Last Day by fideliant

The Hobbit; General Audience; Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield; AU

"The things we don't do for love." It's so bittersweet and lovely and all those wonderful things that make me want to smile and cry at the same time. Sort of chances-not-taken and now we're old wrapped up in this little moment that fits so well into the canon of LOTR.

Eurybia by Annerb

Pirates of the Caribbean; Rated T; Elizabeth Swan/Will Turner; Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swan; AU

"A love story. Elizabeth Swan and the sea." Read it. Just do it. It's so so so good. And it's barely 1200 words so you can read it and then spend an hour contemplating what you just read and still have time to do other things.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

If anyone wanted to know the ideas I have for the Bear, here's the list so far

Current WIP: Richie, after everything failing and falling apart in s3, after how tired he is, and how he thinks he's alone, spirals. Syd's leaving, the Bear gets a bad review, Jimmy pulls the funding and it's looking like they’re going to close. He can't take losing everything again, he can't take being the one to put everyone back together again.

So one night, he writes everyone letters and tries to end his own life. He ends up calling the paramedics and we see the immediate aftermath of Tiff getting the call as she's next of kin, her telling Frank, telling Eva and telling the staff of the Bear. The staff trying to visit but Richie only letting Nat in as she knew the most about how tired he was and how alone he felt. Very angsty, also abstract at the moment as I'm writing particular scenes but am finding it hard to connect them

A follow on from this is: The Bear closes and most people move to the new restaurant, or the Bear reforms as something new. Richie and Jess start dating. She unlocks a hidden side to Richie that even he didn't really think about, his more submissive side that likes someone else taking control, likes just doing what he's told and getting praise, likes things getting rough because he trusts her. He gets a massive bruise on his neck when they go a little further than usual and everyone’s concerned. He ends up embarrassingly having to tell people he's a kinky bitch

A more fleshed out idea: Richie and Syd are closing up when he spots someone about to break in. He hides Syd in the walk in and faces the intruders who hit him around a bit, try to rob the place, then smack his head against the bar when he tells them there's no cash on the premises (something tells me people pay beforehand when booking or they're card only). He tries to fight them when they get distracted but ends up being shot and they run away with his phone. Syd's been messaging Carmy, who rushes back to find Richie unconscious and Syd in the walk in. Richie goes loopy with blood loss as they try to stop the bleeding and keep him awake, awakening Carmy to their secret relationship. They get him to hospital, he has surgery, and there’s a lot of talking done while they wait for him to get out.

And a new one from today: Syd returns to the Bear after realising that Shapiro's offer is good on paper, Carmy becomes a hands off boss to let himself heal. Syd and Richie start dating, 2 years later they go to the James Beard Award Ceremony as they were nominated, she forgets her birth control snd ends up pregnant. A few fics follow her realising she wants the baby, them telling her dad, Nat, Carmy and Tiff, them telling the crew at the Bear when it's getting hard to hide as her chef blouse thing doesn't fit anymore, her and Richie arguing over names, her having an induced labour and c-section that goes wrong and ends up with her needing an emergency hysterectomy, people visiting after the birth, and the baby's christening

Then some more brief ones

Richie gets ill and people look after him, wrote about this here

Richie’s parents visit the Bear, wrote this post about it pre-season 3 so there's some adjustments but it's mostly the same

A follow on from the fic I posted where Syd tells Carmy about the offer, starts having a panic attack, Richie calms her down then has a massive argument with Carmy where he reveals a lot of personal shit that he's never gone into from the last months of Mickey’s life to Carmy showing up at the Bear

Richie gets Syd over to help him batch cook and they fuck about it

Syd helps cater Eva’s birthday party and has to dress up as a princess so comes in as Tiana, Richie's wearing some fake alligator suit as the alligator from the Princess and the Frog

[evercelle]

have you been reading any fics lately? the ones you recommend are always top tier 😭 specifically any saiou xiaoven or albether! thanks!

hmm i've only been reading other characters for gnshn lately, so i guess this'll just be saiou rec list #4 (out of 1, 2, and 3)!

What's Yours to Have | postgame VR AU | The thought crashes through his head uninvited. This isn't real. | i like VR AUs that tackle the crippling sense of derealization that must follow... saihara's really going through it, but there's comfort to be found, too. soft!

A Dream (Is it Boring if We Walk this Way Again?) | post-canon | Shuichi has been having a recurring dream, lately. Kokichi is in it, and so are many dark and tangled roads. | how about another fic featuring saihara thinking about identities and having a crisis? loving and haunting both, like lots of OP's works :)c

Morally Gray | angel & demon AU, series | the classic angel/devil au with conversations about righteousness and morality suits saiou a lot...! unfinished series, but the first part especially can read as a fun stand-alone. i like the idea of a sort of good omens-esque saiou investigating supernatural incidents...

watch out, i could steal your heart! | phantom thief AU + p5r xover | Ouma Kokichi is a phantom thief. That’s a phantom thief, no capitals, not a Phantom Thief who steals hearts. In fact, he’s quite annoyed at them– they completely stole his spotlight, when they came onto the scene back in April. | phantom thieves squared!! wip saiou + akeshu, but honestly the saihara + akechi frenemies is really doing it for me too lol

moe moe kyon, saihara-chan! | maid cafe AU | Akamatsu called his omajinai a mix of pathetic and off-putting performance art, and Yumeno just said he looks like a freak. None of the patrons complained so far, but surely as a famous idol Ouma would have high standards, right?  | this is incredibly self-serving LOL but maayan and i like to cook up the most deranged AUs and she wrote this gem in answer to our insane DMs... saihara would be a terrible maid. lucky that's not all ouma's there for...?!

Sugar | salmon mode | Saihara, in the process of offering gifts, makes some grave miscalculations. | similar framing but a different premise than illusion rod, but with the same layered, insightful and fun writing :)c saihara's interactions with the other classmates are A++ too

[signiorbenedickofpadua]

Talk about your sense 8au

(For the WIP title tag game, list of titles here.)

More than gladly, my anonymous friend!

So I was rewatching Netflix's Sense8 dubbed in German as part of my effort to get better at it and not forget everything I learned at the course I took, and I was reminded of how compelling the premise of that series is, and then the brainrot, predictably enough, grabbed a hold of me and basically forced me to apply the premise to the characters from the Sandman.

(For anyone who isn't familiar with Sense8, the basic premise is that there people - sensates - who are born with a genetic mutation which allows them to psychically connect to each other and visit each other through (more or less) astral projection. Each of these people go through a "rebirth" at some point in their lives when these abilities are awakened within them and they are immediately connected to a handful of individuals scattered across the globe who happen to have been born (their first, physical birth) at the exact same moment. These people form a "cluster", and within a cluster it's possible to not only visit one another but share emotions and sensations and knowledge such as how to speak French or fight or cook or ski or most anything really. Through eye contact, it's possible to connect with other sensates outside of one's cluster. The ability to utilise connections can be inhibited with medications called "blockers".)

So, naturally, I thought that the Endless siblings should be a cluster of seven. It's a well-established cluster, it's been years since they were reborn and their abilities were "activated" so to speak, and they are famous within the sensate community for...reasons which I will refrain from spoiling here. Suffice it to say that everyone knows there should be seven of them, and seven only.

Except...one day a certain Hob Gadling runs out of the somewhat mysterious medication the doctor at work prescribed him, and he starts getting headaches and then he runs in to a feisty, trench-coat-clad brunette at the pharmacy who accidentally makes eye contact with him and suddenly she's standing right in front of him, telling him to forget they ever connected, while she's also simultaneously hurrying out of the store several yards away? And oh god, if he's hallucinating already he really needs a refill of his meds, except the ghost/hallucination is telling him she's real and that he shouldn't trust doctors???

Thankfully, he runs into her again at the pub and manages to bribe her with whisky to explain what's happening and prove that this not-quite-psychic-power she has is actually real and that he has it too. She seems surprised that he hasn't seen any of his clustermates even after a couple of days of being "reborn", so when Hob accidentally visits a pale, black-haired stranger later that day he's excited to get to know this handsome man who must be in his cluster. Except the man accuses Hob of being a spy for an evil organisation that once held him prisoner and claims that it's impossible for them to be clustermates, but then why do they keep visiting each other and why can Hob hear and smell the ocean the man lives by and how come he can suddenly speak Greek?!

Ah, it's so much fun to play around with weird psychic powers and deep intuitive connections between people who maybe shouldn't allow themselves to act on their attraction to each other and Endless family drama ❤️ It's at 38k words so far and boy oh boy is there more to come. (One-shot fics? I don't know her. Never heard of it. Sounds made up.) You can blame this fic for making sure the other ones on the WIP list will remain there a good while longer, but you can also thank this fic for making me write at all after a bit of a creative slump, so silver lining! I'm really excited about this one. I have no idea if people who aren't already into Sense8 will even choose to read this (though they should, as I've tried to write it soa as to be comprehensible even without prior knowledge), but I do not choose where the inspiration takes me! I guess Calliope just really digs Sense8 at the moment ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Snippet under the read more!

“Is there anything else I could help you with today?”

The woman grunted and turned her head to look around the store, as if searching for inspiration. “Suppose I might as well stock up on nicotine pl—” She immediately interrupted herself the moment her gaze fell on Hob, and her eyes widened as they met his.

Realising that it might have been a little rude to listen in on a stranger’s pharmaceutical order just to procrastinate deciding which of the plethora of almost identical painkillers to buy, Hob politely averted his eyes, only to utter a decidedly impolitely loud yelp as he turned his head to find that very same woman suddenly standing right beside him in the pain relief aisle.

Their eyes met again, and she said, “Oh, shite!” and promptly disappeared into thin air.

Head spinning, Hob turned around again in time to see the woman—yes, definitely the same woman with the same brown hair and the same light trench coat that had seen better days—tell the pharmacist, “Never mind,” and turn on her heel to walk towards the exit, looking very much like she was intentionally avoiding looking Hob’s way again.

“The fuck?”, he breathed, then started following her before he could think better of it, raising his voice to call, “Hey, wait!”

She did not slow down or turn her head, and Hob suspected he would have to break into a jog if he was to catch up to her before she left the store. However, he was saved from making a decision on that point by the fact that he suddenly found himself walking right by her side when they should, by all rights, still be in entirely different aisles.

“Wha—” he began, but she interrupted him by abruptly stopping and reaching up to seize him by the front of his shirt.

“Don’t even think about following me!” she hissed with all the intimidation someone at least a head shorter than her opponent could muster—a not inconsiderable amount, considering how the perspective shifted again so that he was once again back in his own aisle, watching one version of the woman reach the door and slipping out of the store while an identical version pressed him up against a shelf of cough syrup.

“I’m…sorry?” was all Hob managed to squeeze out, too baffled to even consider putting his professional experience to use to extricate himself from the woman’s grip. Were hallucinations supposed to be able to touch you?

“You look familiar. Have you been shadowing me while on blockers?”

Now that she said it, Hob realised she looked vaguely familiar too, but the question as to where he might have seen her before felt much less important in that moment than the one at the top of his mind, namely, “What the bloody hell is happening? Blockers— Who are you? How did you do that? Are you…real?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not— You actually don’t know, do you? Aren’t you a bit old to be a newborn?”

“What?”

From the direction of the counter, Hob heard the pharmacist ask, “Sir, are you feeling all right?”

He looked over at her, then down at his assailant, then back again. The pharmacist showed no signs whatsoever of either seeing or hearing anyone other than Hob himself. “I…think I really need to talk to my GP.”

“Do you need me to call someone?” she asked, at the same time as the other woman—hallucination?—said, “Don’t. No doctors. The regular ones will have you institutionalised, and the ones in the know can’t be trusted yet.”

“Trusted—?”

“Look, mate, I’m gonna leave you with this advice: the headaches will pass soon; you’re not crazy; don’t talk to outsiders or doctors; and find someone discreet to get you blockers. They’re good to have at hand, though they’ll be expensive if people will have to resort to synthesising the main component themselves for the foreseeable future. Oh, and never visit me ever again!” This last piece of advice was delivered with a pointed shove that rattled the contents of the shelves at Hob’s back, then the woman disappeared again, as if she’d never been there at all.

“Sir? Do you need someone to escort you home, or to a hospital?”

Hob blinked and closed his gaping mouth. With some effort, he composed himself enough to say, “No, I…I can manage.” He passed a subtly trembling hand over his eyes and cleared his throat. “Just tell me one thing?”

“Of course,” replied the pharmacist, still sporting a concerned frown.

“Is it safe to combine ibuprofen with Anadin Extra, or will that fuck up my stomach?”

[violetasteracademic]

what are you currently working on?

Ahhh what a fun question!! Almost immediately after I finished Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow, I started bouncing around an idea for a spooky fall/ Halloweentime Elriel release. I don't want to give too much away, but we are basically talking the Cauldron as Erika Christensen in Swimfan 🤣 It's in the early brainstorm stage (and I hope my dear friend @faeprincesswarrior will edit again. She already graciously listened to my very rough braindump a week or two ago) but mostly I can't decide whether or not I want it to be a sequel or a completely fresh Az and Elain where they haven't gotten together yet and the Cauldron wants to keep them from doing so! In fact, I'll let you guys vote on that:

(PS I worded this slightly poorly, the same basic story and premise are for either option, it's just whether or not they are together yet! Same spooky cauldron for both a fresh story or a continuation 🦇)

Other than that, I have my poetry and my WIP for my third novel attempt that I finally feel is ready to polish and query this year, Gilded Dove of Michigan. It's a darker vibe romantsy, I call it Hansel and Gretel meets Sharp Objects. A young girl was raised by witches who gain power feeding off the joy of children, then dump them in the woods by age sixteen. She has a very traumatic rest of her coming of age years and finally escapes the small town in Michigan she was stuck in. A tragedy brings her back to town years later, and she must decide if she will face her past and try to find the witches who used her and left her and her brother and sister to die or if she'll keep trying to fit in with the world and pretend it never happened.

I wrote two other novels before this, and both got feedback that they were too avante garde for a freshman debut 🤣 which was honestly a fair assessment.

But fic writing is quickly becoming a passion and hobby I'd really love to continue, and I am considering opening my inbox up for one shots and prompts once Elriel month is over!

[ladyhoneydee]

10 First Lines Challenge

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able to and see if there are any patterns!

Thank you @linktheacehero, @sparklyhyperbole, and @korokposting for the tags! I was flattered to be tagged so much, especially by writers I admire :))

Lines under the cut (my pattern analysis was a little long-winded lol)

Icebreakers: "Link jammed the ice pick down into the same lump of frozen sludge for what felt like the thousandth time and sighed."

this peppermint winter, this marshmallow world: "Zelda knew something was wrong with Link from a mile off."

An Afternoon in Dalite Forest: "Once a year, they travel to Mount Satori."

Shadows and Sorrows: "Bright light, shaded in blue, illuminated the Triforce mosaic over Lake Hylia."

in the light and the air: "Hateno summers were notoriously long, warm, and sticky."

The Hermit Crab Ditty: "Link realizes she's in love with Marin in the midst of a musical phrase, and blows so hard into her ocarina that the note shrieks like a seagull."

You Are In Love: "Zelda hadn't seen Midna since they were both six years old and under three feet tall, sharing a nanny while their parents were enmeshed in diplomatic relations."

A Shard and a Ring: "Midna hadn't been this nervous since she was sixteen."

Under the Bluebell Moon: "The air smells of pine and safety."

At Break of Dawn: "Nights always fell quickly over Medlir."

As for patterns, the first thing I notice is that I have a tendency to start off with something that will be important to the premise of the fic (1, 2, 3, 6), or imagery that helps immediately introduce the reader to the setting (1, 4, 5, 9). If I'm not doing that, I'm usually providing a hook that will develop into the rest of the fic's events or ideas (5, 7, 8, 10). The other thing I notice is that I wanted to edit (and did, a little bit—don't tell anyone hehe) almost every line for 4-10. Given that these were the last four fics from my month-long Song(fic) Challenge from last year, which I did not edit at the time and have not yet gone back to fix up, this isn't a surprise—but it is lighting a fire under my ass to edit those sometime soon lol.

Tagging @cooking-with-hailstones, @zeldaseyebrows, and @karama9!

[devotioncrater]

@realbeefman here's a snippet of a scene!!! if you got any constructive feedback let me know?? ty!!!

fic premise: wilson's POV, set during mid-late s2 while they live together. house and wilson enter into a bet about sleeping together. this scene happens after the bet is made, but before they get physically intimate

It’s been more than a decade since they’ve met, and Wilson can count on one hand how many times they’ve been inside of a Wegmans together.

Seeing House against the backdrop of a pasta aisle feels out of place in the same way Sound of Music would feel out of place if it'd been set outside of Austria. Certain people in certain places just don't make sense. Maria in, say, the dunes of the Sahara; and House under fluorescent lighting surrounded by food that needs to be cooked beyond a microwave.

“Farfalle,” House says way too loudly. Dried pasta rattles inside their blue box when he shakes it. “What an unoriginal name for a stupid looking pasta.”

“Yes, because Italians aren’t known for their naming skills,” Wilson replies with a tone as dry as desert air. It’s not his best bitchy response, but he can live with it. He’s only half-listening to him anyway. Where the hell are the San Marzano cans?

“That one Mafia patient of mine would kill you for saying that.”

“As opposed to your blasphemous stance on Farfalle? I doubt it. Hey, do you see any big yellow cans over there?”

“No cans. Why are we here, Wilson? The freezer aisle is over on the other side.”

Sun-dried tomatoes, crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes. Cans cans cans yet none of them are what he’s looking for. Wilson picks one up, stares at it for a second, then puts it back. Damn. “For being a doctor, you sure don’t value nutrition.”

House shakes another blue box full of dried pasta. Acts such like a petulant child that the two elderly men nearby shoot him an annoyed look. “Diagnostics is in another league. Besides, in my professional opinion, nutritionists are on the same playing field as shrinks.”

“So…doctors you should see.”

“Hacks!”

Wilson half-turns, frowns at House, and takes in his antics. House isn’t even looking at him, instead he juggles two large, yellow cans. Figures. The bright lighting glints off of his cane’s handle. The shorter of the two men grumbles something to the other. And it’s withering, the look that the taller man shoots Wilson from underneath his big, white, bushy eyebrows.

The half-full basket in the crook of Wilson’s arm grows heavier. So heavy that it threatens to tire him out to the point of falling onto the polished, checkered, concrete epoxy floor. With any luck, he wouldn’t get up. Ever. At all.

“Sorry,” Wilson apologizes to the men, who only grumble further. To House, he says, “You said there were no cans.”

“Everybody lies.”

“About medical histories and how they got sick, yes. But about cans?”

House shrugs. Still concentrating on the San Marzanos spinning in the air, he deflects, “I bet you seventy-five I can toss these bad boys into our basket.”

“No. House, come on. You’re not twelve.”

“Get ready —”

“House —”

“One, two —”

“If you throw them, I’ll move out,” Wilson threatens. It’s a lie. There’s no way he’s going to. But it’s a lie spoken with firm conviction, so. For all House knows, he’s being serious.

Strangely, the lie does get House to pause mid-motion. “You’re bluffing.”

“I promise you that I am not.”

House huffs, shoots the two grumbling men a Can You Believe Him? look. But he comes over next to Wilson anyway, cans in hand, and places them nicely into the basket. There’s a gleam in his eye — one Wilson instinctively knows doesn’t bode well for himself — and before Wilson can register what’s happening, House turns to face the elderly pair. “Marriage is a scam,” he tells them. “He never lets me have fun anymore.”

Mortified, wishing the floor really would swallow him whole, Wilson opens his mouth to set the record straight when House escalates it by wrapping an arm around Wilson’s shoulders. Which feels…nice. Fitted and warm like how indie love songs paint it out to be. 

Not that Wilson’s in the teenage girl habit of conceptualizing his and House’s friendship as indie love songs. No way. If anything, their thing would fall more in line with, say, prog rock. Intricate, hard to pin down, experimental at times. Fantastic guitar riffs. And yet it’s still reliably within the rock genre. No where near indie.

So, yeah, House’s arm feels possessive when wrapped around Wilson’s shoulder. And, sure, House’s chest feels sturdy under his faded shirt from where Wilson barely presses his palm against the cotton. And, fine, Wilson molds right into House’s side as if those Ancient Greeks were right about soulmates being split into two bodies. Sue him for finding the physical contact nice; Wilson will call his best lawyer.

Or it would feel nice if this wasn’t some sort of reactive humiliation thing. 

Or if it would feel nice if House didn’t plant a kiss on the top of Wilson’s head as part of the aforementioned humiliation thing.

[snickerdoodlles]

Consider: Vegas in his Youtuber era calling himself Pete's trophy husband. Thoughts?

i don't see it? in my youtuber Vegas fic, Vegas is jokingly known as "cooking husband" by his viewers, but he never calls himself that or any other title (ie, people call Vegas "cooking husband!!" in the same way i tag b dylan hollis videos with "baking twink"). however, in canon, Vegas chafes a lot when he's boxed into specific roles, even the ones he puts himself in, because Vegas seeks unconditional love and acceptance but doesn't believe there's anyone who would. he plays or fills specific roles seeking that acceptance/care/love, but just as quickly rejects any acceptance/care/love he does receive because he thinks it's either a lie or only because of the role he's playing, and very often he pushes everyone away because he's terrified of when (not if) the people close to him will leave.

so i don't see Vegas referring to himself by any sort of role. or if he did/does, he's inevitably going to spiral about it really badly, even a "good" role like "trophy husband" in this case. actually, the premise of 'pot stirring' is Vegas getting caught up in being known as "the nice cooking husband" and chasing the high of internet affection, then self-sabotaging bad the second someone critiques him for deviating from that specific role. Vegas doesn't understand that his loved ones love him unconditionally, so anything that puts (or seems to put) a condition on that care opens up another opportunity for him to be rejected when Vegas "fails" his role (and Vegas can see rejection even when it's not there).

(this is actually also why i think Vegas tells Pete that Macau doesn't love him at the safehouse, but next we see of Macau is him watching for Vegas at his hospital bedside-- I think Vegas is slightly caught up in his "role" as Macau's brother. now, Vegas just is an excellent, caring older brother, it's not in any way a "role" or something he's playing, but i don't think Vegas fully realizes that. he's very protective of Macau and the first person Macau turns to when he's in trouble, but at the safehouse, Vegas is cut off from Macau. he can't help or protect him. he can't be "Macau's older brother" while he's trapped there, so clearly Macau doesn't have any reason to care about him anymore. obviously, Macau loves Vegas regardless, we all know that, but Vegas struggles to accept that people care for him at all, much less when he can't provide anything for them.)

[beatrice-otter]

I really enjoyed your definition of potluck fanfics. I intend to use it if the subject comes up here, or in any situation where people confuse fan fiction with paid, or classroom writing.

There is a difference. Damn! It's really a great definition!

Would you be willing to put it in a nutshell in your own words? I want to rebog it.

Thanks! I hope this term gains momentum. ♥♥♥

You’re welcome! Maybe something like this:

Whether critique is welcome or not depends on circumstances. Think of the difference between a cooking class and a potluck. If you are in a cooking class, and you make a dish, the teacher and the people in the class can and should offer thoughtful critique to help you learn. That’s the point of a class. But a potluck is not a class. If you bring a dish to a potluck, and someone critiques it there without you asking for their opinion, they’re being a jerk. The point of a potluck is not to improve your cooking skills, it’s to eat food together with other people.

In the same way, if you are in a writing class or seminar, critique is a good and useful thing. If you have a beta reader or editor and they critique your work, that is probably a good and useful thing. (As long as they understand what effect you’re going for, and aren’t operating from the premise that they wish it were a completely different fic than the one you want to tell.) But when you publish a fic, it’s like bringing a dish to a potluck. And criticizing it at that point is a dick move.

Now, I want to point out, that there is something a bit hypocritical about me saying this, because I have been that dick criticizing a fic at the potluck that is fandom. Sometimes it’s a small thing, sometimes it’s a big thing, but holy cow there are times when I have trouble holding my tongue and not saying anything. I am really good at finding reasons for myself that “yeah, it’s usually a dick move, but it’s justified in this case because _____.” It’s never true, no matter how much I want it to be true. And there are times I lose that battle with myself and show my ass by being a dick. I’m sorry, it was wrong and I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. Please learn from my mistakes. Don’t be a dick.