#I found this old snippet on a memory stick

[lintisinfeels]

7:17

"Cas, I'm so freakin' - I'm so sorry for what I did to you." "I know Dean, I know. I'm the one who should be more sorry." "But you had a good life, a wife, everything. And then I just walzed into your life and..." "I had a feeling it wasn't meant to be permanent. Something important was missing." "I ruined it for you, like I always do when something nice happens to people I - people I care about." "I ruined things for you first. I did this to Sam. This was the only way to make things right." "But - " "I belong by your side, Dean. In some way I will always belong to you." "Cas, shut up." Dean's fists were clutching the collar of Cas' coat and he pulled the angel closer. Their eyes met, and for a moment Cas saw only Dean, no trace of Lucifer anywhere in the room. Dean forced a smile. "I'll be back for you." "Thank you." Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel and hugged him like there was no tomorrow. For a moment Castiel just stood there stiff, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around Dean and hugged  him back.

[twasmayfield]

still.

description: years later after a summer trip with her father that became fading memories, fernando alonso's daughter stumbles across a camcorder and reflects on the rare time spent with her father as she tries to reconcile the father she knew with the man she didn't.

warnings: major character death (off screen, not mentioned), loosely based off of ‘aftersun (2022)’, mostly me forgetting how eleven year olds work, afab and daughter!reader, fernando might be a little ooc, title's from a noah kahan song, lmk if i forgot anything else.

a/n: idk man, this au was stuck in my head sigh

She found the old shoebox back in March when she dug through her closet, trying to find a presentable dress to wear to an event. The box was shoved all the way in the back of the closet on the floor, looking worn and almost cold to the touch. Of course, it was long forgotten after a long night of drinking expensive champagne and schmoozing with her friends. And she didn’t stumble upon it again until late September when she was stuffing her old clothes into boxes to donate.

She pulled the box out, letting out a small huff of amusement as she dug through it. The box was full of old photographs from when she was younger. A couple snapshots featuring her parents being in love, her mother looking pretty in the sunlight, and one or two pictures of her and her father at his races. She paused, staring down at the pictures; a bittersweet feeling clawing at her chest. She grabbed the old camcorder, riffling through the box for the charger before she plugged it into an outlet, waiting for it to be charged.

Her memories of him were few and far—snippets of his smile and face long forgotten, slipping and fading away into the back of her mind—only actually being encapsulated in news articles and old race clips spread out across the internet. She thought it wasn’t fair how she couldn’t seem to remember what he used to have for breakfast, yet the strangers online knew about him more than she ever did and will.

The video is grainy now—not like the clear footage she remembered so vividly when she was younger. Now she’s the same age as he was in the video; maybe even older by a few years. She stared at the screen, her eyes studying the way his face looked in the video; the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed—the sound of his laughter quiet and faint in her ears without her ever needing to play it.

The Mediterranean sun was blinding, casting golden light over the quiet resort town.

On the balcony of a small, seaside hotel, Fernando Alonso stood by the railing, sunglasses perched on his nose, and a cigarette lazily held between his two fingers. He watched the world in easy silence, the waves lapping at the shore, the distant hum of laughter and clinking glasses from the bar below.

Inside, his daughter unboxed a new camcorder he had bought for her. She read through the instructions before turning it on, adjusting it on a stack of books. The red recording light flickered on, causing her to let out a squeal of excitement that caught her father’s attention.

“Ladies and gentleman, my father, the amazing, wondrous, one armed Fernando Alonso Díaz.” She giggled as she held the camcorder in her hands, zooming into his face; his features on display in the little screen. “Papá, say something.”

Fernando glanced at her, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What do you want me to say?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, something wise.”

He exhaled slowly, flicking ash over the railing. “Life is like a race. Everyone tells you to go faster, but sometimes… you should just enjoy the track.”

She snorted. “That was awful.”

But she’s smiling.

And for now, that’s enough.

The air was hot and humid—the clothes on her back sticking to her skin as she kicked the water in the pool, fidgeting with the camcorder she held in her hands. A few minutes ago, the eleven year old girl sat on one of the plastic lounge chairs the hotel provided, and watched as her father applied sunscreen to her arms. “I can do it myself!” She told him with a determined nod, but held her arm out anyway as her papá smiled and managed with one arm—the other in a cast due to a crash during a recent race.

The trip to the seaside was a well needed vacation after the grueling season he had so far, and she was just happy to spend time with him. He looked tired and worn down, but she chalked it up to the season taking a toll on him—that’s why they were on vacation, he needed a break. The hotel wasn’t fancy, the town was quiet, and Fernando seemed happy enough, but there’s something off. A feeling she couldn’t quite place at the time.

He’s quiet—distant even—a faraway look evident in his eyes as he watched her kick and splash water; her small hands steady and careful as she toyed with the camcorder. “Papá!” The girl called out to him, craning her body back to film him. She watched him wave through the tiny screen, his movements slowed by a millisecond. Fernando laughed as he waved, leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on, always watching. “Be careful, cariño, it was expensive.” 

“Okay!”

The father and daughter walked down a street market full of bustling vendors and wandering tourists. She walked closely beside him as she peered at each stall, noticing one that laid out an assortment of jewelry. Fernando noticed her gaze and mussed her hair as she protested and tried to fix it, causing him to laugh. “I’ll get it for you, chiquita,” he said, and watched her smile, baring her teeth as she did. She giggled as he tied the bracelet on her wrist, helping him when he couldn’t pull the strings with one hand.

She fidgeted with the bracelet, the payphone’s receiver pressed between her shoulder and ear as she listened to her mother’s voice on the other side. “The hotel’s alright. Well, we’re not actually at our hotel. It doesn’t have a phone. But yeah.” She paused, looking out the booth’s window, and seeing her father talking to a stranger, a half hearted smile plastered on his face as he listened to whatever the man was saying. “Papá? Yeah, he’s fine—just talking to someone,” she pushed the door open with her foot, hand covering the receiver as she called to him. “Mamá wants to talk to you.”

Fernando bid his goodbye to the man, giving her an easy smile as he took the receiver from her hands and held it up to his ear. She skipped out of the booth, looking around her surroundings to pass the time, knowing that her parents were going to be on call longer. She waited, almost close to pressing her cheek to the booth window to get his attention. And the call ended. She heard them exchange ‘I love you’s,’ and a smile found itself on her face before he hung up, setting the receiver back on the hook.

She sat on a chair, her legs swinging off it as she watched her father shoot pool. Hunched down on the pool table, he carefully studied the sequence, trying to find the perfect moment to strike. “Can you teach me?” She asked, curious. He looked back up, straightening his back as he held the cue stick, looking at her with an amused smile on his face. “Sure,” he waved her over and she jumped off the chair in excitement.

“Mi vida,” he called her and pulled her into his side, her cheek getting squished. He handed her the cue stick, telling her to point it carefully.

The evening sun settled, streaks of orange and pink meshed together with the incoming night sky. Her small hand reached for his, settling in it as they walked along the shore together. The sand no longer felt hot underneath her, it was bearable. She talked his ear off about how she was excited to go back to school, how she was going to make lots of friends, and how she hoped her mother would let her attend his races. Fernando simply listened, squeezing her hand with a small smile. She grinned up at him at that.

The waves crashed against the shore as birds flew overhead. This was perfect. She watched as a few people passed by them. “Will we come back next summer?” She asked quietly, her small body wrapped in a beach towel, her hair wet. She glanced up at the sunny sky, imagining different animals in the clouds, and Fernando paused just a little too long before saying, “Of course.”

On the last night of their trip, they danced at a small, open-air club. She watched in embarrassment and amusement as he started dancing, his arm out and beckoned her to join him on the floor with the others. She isn’t much of a dancer, but she tried anyway. She laughed, he smiled. Someone took a picture of them together, their happiness frozen on a piece of film. It was perfect.

The night was always quiet. The distant humming of motorcycles and cars faded as the sky darkened and the stars lit up. She woke up in the middle of the night, her father not in the room. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. The balcony let the light of the moon in, illuminating shadows on the room’s floor. She could barely see out due to the doors, but she knew he was there. Knew he was standing outside with his elbows pressed to the metal railing as a lit cigarette found itself between his lips. He was quiet, just thinking. She didn’t know what thoughts swirled around in his mind. She wanted to ask if he’s okay. She doesn’t. And she wished she did.

In the morning, they found themselves back at the airport—their trip ending right before her eyes. She didn’t want it to end, wanting to spend time with him longer. One week wasn’t enough, but she swallowed her protests down.

"I love you, you know?" She nodded. She wished she had said it back. Fernando hugged her, tighter than they both expected. She gave him a smile when he released her from his grip, pulling at the strap of her backpack. He ran a hand through her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead before patting her shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. She waved him goodbye as the flight attendant softly ushered her from him with a smile. She looked back and he’s there, a distant look in his face as if he was memorizing and committing this moment in his mind.

She is eleven again. He is still standing at the airport gate, watching her go.

[maxfandoms]

WIP WEEKEND

Happy Friday the 13th!! You know what time it is!

Tagged by @hbyrde36

Rules: Send me an emoji in an ask, and I'll write & share 3-5 sentences/paragraphs for that WIP!

🌄 - I Found Better Days (with you) - [Steddie] - Blind!Steve/Caretaker!Eddie. Steve and Jonathan are cousins

💌 - Still here in my heart (memories of you) - [Steddie/Ronance] - Season 4 rewrite where Steve & Eddie were exchange notes without knowing who the other while Steve was working on Starcourt (the old emoji was 📄)

💘 - You're written in my heart, (un)fornatelly [Steddie/hinted Buckingham]. - Modern Day AU where Steve is Dustin's cousin, and he and Eddie get close when the kids join Hellfire (Buckingham will be the main focus of the second story)

Snippet of I Found Better Days (with you)

“Oh, this is Max. I meet her at BOSMA.” Steve tapped Tommy’s hand. “This is Tommy. I think I told you about him.”

Eddie saw Max’s smile drop just slightly, and he covered his mouth with a hand to hide how big his smile got. “Hello, Mad Max, is it?” Tommy gave her a smile.

“Just Max is fine. Yeah, you did, Stevie.” Max’s tone was perfectly polite, way too much, and Eddie went to get her some water before he laughed in the guy’s face.

“Did he say bad things about me?” Tommy chuckled, trying to alleviate the tension.

“Steve would never say bad things about his friends, unless they deserve it.” Max’s smile was all teeth, but her eyes were blinking sweetly, and Eddie would give her a lifetime supply of pizza. 

Steve loudly cleared his throat. “Don’t mind her, Tommy.” He smiled sweetly at Tommy. “She is just being a little shit, right?” Steve gritted his teeth and sounded almost like a mom warning a kid to stop messing around with a poorly hidden politeness, which sent a shot of blood straight to Eddie’s groin. Apparently Steve in mom mode was a turn-on for him

“Right. “Well, at least you brought something that was easy for him to eat,” Max said with a more genuine smile towards Tommy.

The thing is that Eddie was also a little shit, so he walked over to the table. “Come on, little red, Stevie ate stuff more difficult than a pizza.” Eddie put the glass down. “A glass of water is on your right, Mad Max.” Eddie said the nickname a little smugly, and as she gave a ‘thanks,’ Tommy glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, and Eddie resisted the urge to stick out his tongue at him.

No pressure tags list: @pearynice @helpimstuckposting @vthx @queenofshenanigans @yesdangerpls

@strangerthingswritersguild

[miceskulls]

Wanted to post a small snippet of my series that I’m writing! It’s a Ticci Toby x reader, I got inspired by an old one shot I did and wanted to continue it.

It’ll be available to read on quotev, Ao3 and here! I plan to make it 10-20 chapters long, maybe even more depending on how I want the story to go. Hope you guys enjoy what I have so far!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

        Smoke and ash fluttered around you, framing the terror and grime that grimaced your face. There was a scream as axe struck down besides you. It was Toby, he was crying uncontrollably, sobbing on how you ruined everything, “YOU! FUCKING BITCH! You just HAD to ruin things for me didn’t you?”

        There was a pause, Toby trying to catch his breath as fire fanned his back, “Why couldn’t you just let me have this one thing? ….Why couldn’t you just love me?”

        His shoulders slumped, both of you went quiet except for your panting and Toby’s sobs. He was exposed to be happy, he had someone for once, he had you. But you betrayed him, all you did was ignore and belittle him. Treating him like some dog. Toby collapsed, his knees digging into the dry and ashy ground. Loud sobs and whimpering could be heard as he pathetically cried out. All you could do was watch as he broke down in front of you, wanting oh so desperately to be held.

        Standing up, you instinctively reach out and grab the axe Toby threw in his moment of desperation. All you could feel was numb as you lifted the axe and swung.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

        "_____?" A feminine voice broke you out of your daydream, letting out a disappointed groan you look where the voice is coming from. Sasha one of your best friends gave you a concerned look, "you've been quiet for a while, everything ok?"

        "hmm? yeah I'm fine, just lost in thought you know?" you hummed out, turning away to look out the window again. Sasha had proposed the idea of moving in with each other, saying 'it'll be fun! we already practically live together with how much you come over'. The proposal took over a year to put in motion,  housing was hard to come by in the small town. Eventually you both had to start branching out to other areas, it wasn't till about 2 months ago when you finally found a place. And now here you where 2 hours in a 5 hour drive to your new apartment. 

        "aren't you excited?" Sasha exclaimed, her excitement radiating off her. You couldn't say you were excited per say, but you were ready for the change. After 22 years of living in a boring old town and you where ready for the big city. honestly? you where ready for anywhere but there. Too many bad memories, too many regrets. 

        "please don't do this... they'll find me! PLEAS-"

        "_____!!" Sasha called out to you, a frustrated pout on her face, "are you even listening to me? come on! be more excited, we're starting a new chapter of our lives!" Sasha huffed, giving you a playful glare from the drivers seat. 

        a small smile made its way to your face, this was exposed to be a happy day. why where you so set dwelling on the past? you gave Sasha a apologetic look letting out a small chuckle , "you're right, today is exposed to be exciting. I'm just gonna miss not paying rent." 

        "me too! but now we have our own place! that's better in my opinion!" Sasha happily went on about how nice the new apartment going to be. it didn't take long for you to tune her out, she could will talk for hours and right now was no exception. turning your attention back to the window, gazing out into the passing trees. up ahead you could see a tall figure, ever so slightly sticking out from the long lanky trees. a small gasp left your lips as you made eye contact with it. before you could properly see the figure the car had already flew past it, your mind reeling.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

[terresdebrume]

I was thinking about trans!Charles these past couple days, and I already have trans!Niko in the Down on My Knees series and they sort of combined with a Halloween snippet I started that is now too big to be called a snippet (and not yet done) to form this. Is it good? No idea. Will I do anything more with it? I mean, I might clean it up for AO3 at some point. Anyway. Enjoy trans Charles & trans Niko looking at old photos and reminiscing ig

Niko's gasp rings through the apartment, making Edwin jump and Charles' head turn towards the bedroom.

"What?" Crystal exclaims from the other side of the living room, "What is it? Are you okay?"

"Charles!" Niko exclaims, running back to the living, "Charles, look what I found!"

Niko brandishes a dusty, battered cardboard box in her hand: it is white, striped red, yellow and green, and stained with age and what might be a spot of mold. The mere thought of getting near it is enough to wrinkle Edwin's nose, and a look at Crystal confirms that she feels the same. Charles, however, takes one looks at the box and jumps to his feet with an excited smile. Edwin watches him run up to Niko and make a grab for the box, stopping just short of actually taking it out of Niko's hands as they fall into step towards the sofa.

"It's our old friendship box!" Charles explains as Edwin and Crystal join their respective partners to look down at the box.

"It looks like a health hazard," Edwin says when Charles holds it out towards him, hands pulling back towards his chest before he can even think about it. "Please do not make me touch it."

"Honestly this is nothing," Niko says in her usual monotone, "you should have seen the state of his backpack when he moved in with me."

"Oi!" Charles protests, one hand on the lid of the box, "don't diss the backpack! It had my life in it!"

Niko smiles and catches Charles into a tight hug, and Edwin can't help sharing a rueful smile with Crystal. Charles and Niko have been friends since they were in upper secondary, but they do not often reference that time, presumably because of the painful experiences Charles hinted at. The box, whatever it may contain, is sure to bring back bittersweet memories at best, and Edwin can't help but to brace against that even as Charles and Niko exhibit nothing but enthusiasm.

"Open it!" Niko is telling Charles when Edwin turns back to them, "I want to show them the picture!"

Charles laughs and rolls his eyes, playfully shoving his shoulder into Niko's as he pulls the box open. The smell of hairspray assaults Edwin's nose immediately, and it takes a bit of sneezing before he can look down into the box. Once he does, he's surprised to find a perfectly preserved strand of sword lily, along with a pair of cherry blossom cufflinks.

"These are from our winter formal!" Niko exclaims, voice cracking as she does. "My corsage still looks so good!"

"You kept the pictures, right?" Charles asks, smiling down at the cufflinks before turning to Thomas, who walked up to the back of the sofa without Edwin hearing. "I paid thirty quids for the set, I don't want them to end up in the bin!"

"I keep forgetting you went to a bougie school," Thomas replies. "You sure don't fucking sound like it."

"It's because they all hated him," Niko says with her usual frankness. "He actually worked back on his accent, afterwards."

"Posh is only sexy on Edwin," Charles says, scooping the cufflinks and the flower out of the box.

Edwin, his cheeks warm, leans against Charles' shoulders to peer further into the box, and finds himself looking down at a picture he would never have expected to see. To the left, a tall, black-haired boy stands straight in a deep red Punjabi suit with gold ornaments. His smile is bright, his cheeks adorned with a touch of color, his ears decorated with stick-on earrings. The is no scarf on his head, and his hair is too short to arrange in anything more elaborate than a bob, but he slipped another fire lily behind his ear and it makes him look a little like his hair is on fire.

"That was Charles' art and design project," Niko reminisces, pointing at the suit. "You started it the summer before, right?"

"Yeah," Charles agrees with a chuckle. "I had to hide it behind my wardrobe--my dad would have gone mental if he'd figured I was spending that much time and money on a fashion project."

The proclamation, unfortunately enough, sounds very much like what Edwin is starting to expect from Charles' father. He is struck, once more, with a visceral, violent sort of hatred for the man, and a deep relief that he will likely never have to meet him. The top--the kameez, as Charles names it--fit Niko beautifully, the embroidery on the sides enough to give the impression of a narrow waist. The golden thread seems solid, the wide pants, or salwar, falling elegantly around her long legs and gathering at her ankles with a lovely fold.

But while the rest of the group admires and praises Charles' work on the outfit, Edwin can't help but let his gaze glide to the second person on the left of the picture. Shorter than Niko only because she is not wearing heels, the girl is sporting a visible scrape on her cheek and a heavily lined smolder. Her cheeks are rounder, her long, tight curls gathered back into a high ponytail. She is standing straight in a deep black kimono, the outer vest that Edwin doesn't know the name of matching the color of Niko's kameez. Even then, despite the make up and the golden nose ring and chain Charles must have had to fight for, there is an undeniable sort of masculinity to the way he looks.

"We had to practice our poses," Charles whispers in Edwin's ear, as if he somehow felt where Edwin's thoughts were going. "Niko kept doing the 'ceps move."

Edwin, very familiar with Charles' propensity for tucking his hands under his upper arms in order to make his muscles more prominent, cannot help but chuckle at the image. Niko is, by far, the most delicate person he's ever been friend with, and it is hard to picture her trying to be one of the blokes.

"I knew all the bro moves!" Niko confirms happily, and demonstrates by leaning her head onto her half-closed fist and smoldering at Edwin.

She doesn't quite look uncomfortable with it so much as cheeky, like a child pantomiming an adult's attitude, as opposed to the effortless way Charles does it. Niko is playing at masculinity, but Charles genuinely enjoys it. When he adopts Niko's earlier smolder, Edwin's stomach swoops down with delicious warmth.

"I had like, zero idea how to move in a girly way," Charles snorts in response to Niko. "We had to google it and practice in the town park on the weekends."

"You would have made a really good butch lesbian," Niko says sagely, and Charles grins.

"Mate, I'd have been aces as a butch lesbian!"

"Honestly, I can see that," Crystal says from the other end of the couch. "You'd have been a complete frat bro."

"Hey, now," Charles protests, but Thomas smirks and cuts him off:

"I bet you'd have been all about muscle cars and all," he says, to which Charles looks genuinely offended.

"Oi! If there's any car nerds in this room it bloody well isn't me!"

"I keep telling you, Charles," Edwin replies without losing his calm, "there is true beauty in a well-designed vehicle."

"Look what you did!" Charles protests, turning to Thomas even as he loops an arm around Edwin's waist and hugs him to his chest. "Now he's going on about cars! How do I get my beautiful poetry nerd back?"

"Read poems about cars!" Niko suggests, apparently in earnest.

That makes Crystal and Thomas laugh, and they start improvising truly horrendous rhymes about cars, motors, and a horsepower. Charles snorts at them, but it soon turns into a blush when Edwin leans into him and whispers close to his ears:

"You and I both know you make a much better muse for the poet in me than any car ever will."

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

Engaging Encounter - Chapter 2 - Panic and Plans

HEY! I finally have something to post for Fiddleford Friday!

Overall Summary:

Let's fucking goooo!

This was going to be some fairly straightforward old/post canon Fiddauthor smut but apparently I fell into a hyperfocus state resulting in 22,000-ish words of fluff, musings, and smut and now I am absolutely going to make that everyone else's problem:

In the months following Weirdmageddon, Ford reconciled with Stan while helping him with his lost memories but struggled to really reconnect with Fiddleford until Dipper and Mabel visited for their winter break. When Mabel found out they were once more than friends, she couldn’t help recruiting Stan and Dipper to help her play matchmaker again.

Chapter Summary:

Mabel recruits Dipper and Stan to help her in her matchmaking mission but their plan goes sideways almost immediately.

Chapter Notes:

This chapter is mostly Ford and Fidds dealing with their baggage and multiple little snippets of characters bonding. This one only has a few suggestive lines so it's Smut: Extra Lite. Stay tuned for Smut Ultra next week. Warnings for panic attacks and PTSD

Overall Notes:

*More feelings and characterization-heavy smut to follow Embarrassing Encounter

*It references events from the Pleasant Encounters series but it isn't necessary to read those to understand this.)

*The entirety of this is already written and new chapters will be posted on Friday evenings (EST).

*Chapters one and two are Smut Lite (mostly feelings, bonding, and fluff)

*Chapters three and four are Smutty Smut Smut.

*Ford and Fiddleford do not know what labels they fall under but Stan mentions it might be sex-positive and on the aroace spectrum.

*Dipper and Mabel understand sexual topics in this fic. They’re not involved in any but they’re not ignorant to them. It’s mentioned that their parents have already talked to them about it all in an appropriate way. Just sticking that warning here in case it bothers anyone if they understand what’s happening behind closed doors and joke about it in the way that 13-year-olds sometimes do.

(Going to reblog with the link and a link to some art so check the notes for this or just search for Snarkyhermit on AO3.)

[alexandia03]

✨share something you are working on that makes you happy or you’re proud of✨

thank you to @essjaywrites and @siobhanbooks for tagging me

Because I have so many WIPs atm and no clue which one will get posted next... here are some snippets from the ones I kept thinking about while I was cleaning the house lol

GAWG

“Because he's done it before. You asked him if he were a knight yesterday and you were pretty close. He's a hero, the real deal.” And the cocky bastard would never let me forget saying all this – not that I would ever say all this to his face, the fucking peacock. “And he's given us his word, Jules. In all the years I've known him he never broke his promise to me once.”  Well, he did promise to save me a piece of cake at Xaden's 6th birthday and other such small misdeeds, but that doesn't exactly reflect well on the image I am trying to paint for him to reassure our niece. 

Healing Our Loud (Quinn POV)

“At least it means we will never be alone again,” I find myself saying. Maybe this is why I actually wanted to become a rider, maybe the lonely kid in me craved the camaraderie and having such a bond – unbreakable and permanent. For as long as I live, I will have someone always in my corner, no matter what.

Healing Out Loud (Garrick POV)

“It’s something I started doing after the Apostasy, in foster care…” She draws a deep breath as she explains this. “I don’t remember how it started, maybe it was because I was feeling lonely or because I missed them… maybe a mix of those reasons and Malek knows what else… but I started talking to Braelyn and mom. I don't know if the dead can hear us or if they stick around in whatever form, but I liked to pretend I could still talk to them. It was usually Braelyn and my mom, but there were nights when I would talk to Derik or my uncle…”

Memento Vivere (Chapter 2 - Rewritten) - also biggest snippet because it deserves it

“You are a lot of things, Imogen. But helpless isn't one of them.” She puts down the jar with salve for burns and looks at me, her brown eyes soft, but shining with that defiant and steely determination that I always see in Braelyn's too. That I wish I had as well. “When you were little… whenever you got scared, you might back away for a second, but you would march right up to whatever was scaring you. You'd stare it down until it went away or until you understood it.”  “I don't remember it like that,” I grumble, lowering my gaze to the ground because the weight of her praise and that look in her eyes… I don't deserve it.  “I do. I remember that day Gerard found you and your friends had broken into the armory and played with real blades when you were… what? Six? He screamed until he was as red as Callan Durran's dragon and he could be heard all the way to the other side of Riorson House,” She reminisces as if it were a funny memory – not like she followed Mr. Tavis's lead with a lecture of her own afterwards. “The boys started bargaining and pleading with him and when he threatened not allowing you all to see each other for a month they were on the verge of tears.” Well, Bodhi actually started crying at that, but I don't interrupt my mom. “But not you. My scrawny six years old was glaring down the second highest ranked general in Tyrrendor the entire time.”

And there is this little side project that is... well, let's just call it Assassin AU

Next to me, Quinn is feeding her falcon, Ishtar, little pieces of meat I have no intention of inquiring about the origin of. She doesn’t even pry her eyes away from the bird as she elbows me in the ribs to get my attention, “They are talking about you,” Quinn whispers, not stopping from preening Ishtar's feathers. She has always been able to pay attention to boring things better than me.  With a sigh, I let myself slide off the high ledge by one of the stained glass windows, our favorite place to watch these meetings from – perfect for observing the entire room without being seen. 

Tagging (no pressure): @xadensbiceps @alltoowellread @tegantales @copperfirebird

[ninjastar107]

(Ive had this in my drafts for too long. Have a snippet of lore writing that I may write a part 2 for later. This is technically a prelude to the events of Red Shift)

The dead of winter made the warm interior of the labs all the more cozy. While the snow pelted the outside world, Thomas found himself awake at his desk with a cup of tea and a pen in hand. He was tasked with a difficult problem to solve: how to transfer a matrix from old hardware to new hardware without path degradation. The quick fix he had applied, which was installing more memory, was finicky at best: Blues had stopped halting for long swaths of time, but he was unable to move freely without running the risk of loosening the connection.

He considered a more direct method of transfer, which would be to allow his memory to populate an open space, however the languages would have to be compatible and at this point in time he couldn't remember what Blues' language was. Thomas was adamant about not digging around too much in his sons' head, and he intended on sticking to it. Who knows what kind of measures Albert put in place to halt tampering?

His tired gaze caught a small bit of movement out of its corner. As he pondered, he watched the vent shoots on Blues back slowly open and close. The droid had parked himself by the window so that he could wake up and see the fresh snow first thing in the morning, however it seemed that he had awoken too early.

Again.

Perhaps cutting out all of those 'naps' messed with his internal clock.

"You're still awake?" Blues asked in a whisper as he turned.

Thomas nodded, "you can guess why."

He took in the amount of messy papers and ink smudges. "What is the snare?"

"I don't know what language you're attuned to. If I assume it's my old one I run the risk of rewriting it, or being completely wrong. I don't know how much of Al's coding is in you and how deeply it affects you." He set the pen down, rubbing his eyes.

Blues stood for a moment, a few quiet clicks emitting from his chest. "What would be the miracle you need?"

Thomas leaned back with a long sigh. A miracle, something extremely unlikely, but would be perfect for this scenario. "Id need a copy of you I can open up, or maybe a robot I coded similarly to you but has been rewritten by Wily. Something deeper than just a small change of heart."

The droid walked over and began scooping up the papers. "I do not feel that I have been tampered with by doctor Wily."

"Most people don't know they are sick until they have symptoms," he capped his pen and set it on the table before getting up, "I'll sleep on it. Maybe the answer is more obvious than I can see right now."

Blues watched as Tom pulled off his tie and tossed it aside. Though the robot grinned his usual grin, his thoughts accessed much deeper solutions than silence. He knew one robot that would be a miracle to have, the struggle came with locating him. "Goodnight Tom," he walked to the far side and pulled open a metal drawer, "do you want these papers in the filling cabinet?"

"Please, maybe a quick sweep around too. It'll be less for Roll to do in the morning." His voice trailed as he left.

--

Blues took a stroll down town to the light rail and headed to the next city over. How much the two places had grown together over the years, bridged by roads and offices. He remembered when it used to be sparse forests, nowadays the plant life grew on rooftops.

He figured a great place to start would be somewhere abandoned. Not many of Wilys castles were left sitting- he was a mad scientist but that didn't make him wasteful. The ones that didn't blow up were dismantled and recycled, sometimes by him and sometimes by private companies. Though the structures themselves were often absent, the foliage around left a footprint of what once was. Even with the snow cover, a faint gesture of size dipped the snow ever so slightly.

He found nothing in the few spots he knew, probably for the best; he would hate to have found who he's looking for unsheltered and in the cold.

The windows on the train ride home let the morning sun gleam through on beams of hot yellow and orange. He stood, hand gripped onto the hook above, amongst the many people and service bots who were on their way to their work. A few glances to their watches told him it was nearing 5:30am, just in time to help Rock and Roll with breakfast.

"You're back!" Roll smiled as he stepped through the entryway and shook off his scarf. Her normal greeting, it never lessened in enthusiasm. "Did you get anything?"

"Not today," Blues leaned on the counter, evaluating the few ingredients she had begun collecting. Eggs, bread, milk, strawberries, everything for some french toast except for the cinnamon, to which he retrieved from the tall spice cabinet.

Behind him, Rock began to set the table, wiping down the surfaces with a rag before setting plates and silverware. He swept, Beat perched upon his shoulder. "Where did you go?" He asked, mopping up the water and slush Blues tracked in.

"For a walk through the countryside and the city over." He leaned over the sink and brushed more snow off, "I was hoping I would find him there, I'm glad I didn't."

"Hm?" Roll glanced over from her whisking, "Find who?"

"Quint."

Rock made a face. He wasn't entirely sure what to think of him, perhaps in some ways he felt the story Quint told about being captured and altered was false. Rock figured he would never let that happen, he was Megaman after all, he couldn't let it happen.

Roll hummed and pondered, placing raw toast onto a tray and sliding it into the toaster oven, "didn't he say he was working at the Time-Space Research Labs with Dr. Sydra?" she asked Rock.

He nodded, "yeah, as an assistant."

Blues looked between them. "What's the easiest way to get there?"

--

The lab itself was somewhere out in the mountains half a day away with no real clear instructions. He clung onto the back of Tempo as they rode upon the snowmobile up the white hillside. They would have had Blues warp through at LaLinde's lab, but the falling snow and cloud cover made any sort of beaming to be shaky at best. And, knowing the risk that could put on his power supply, Tempo offered to drive him over.

"Why do you want to see Quint?" She asked over the motor.

He smiled, the glint of his dark visor flickering, "Someone has to check in on him sometimes."

"I thought Rock didn't like him?" the lab, half burried in snow, lifted into view.

"He doesn't," Blues reassured, "but I miss him like I miss Bass. Sometimes."

She hummed.

Pulling up to the side of the building, Blues stepped off and swiveled around to wave. "Thanks for the ride, I'll pay you back another time."

"You don't want me to stay?" Tempo asked, a little surprised. it would be an incredibly long walk to get back, especially for him.

He smirked, "You have work tomorrow remember? Wouldn't want to be the reason why you're late."

She seemed unconvinced but resigned, revving the snowmobiles' electric engine and taking off back down the mountain.

[lighthouseshepard]

hi hello heres another snippet of the spooky ocean boys novel (i say novel with grand hopes) (really its. like one out of a handful of halfway complete scenes but no one needs to know this)

“Minerva!”

Micah’s shout echoes out over roiling waters, nearly swallowed up beneath the sound of the crashing waves. Gusts of torrential rain pelt him in a sideways downpour as he struggles to stand on the dock, blind to anything other than the black sea raging around him.

“Minerva!” he cries out again, hoping for a response, something, a hand thrusting up from the water, a call for help. His throat is hoarse, voice growing ragged, mouth full of salt spray and rain. The horror of watching her body being snatched off the docks as though she were made from cloth plays on a loop in his mind, the calmness of her expression as she went sticking out sharply in each iteration. Her gaze found him in that split second before she disappeared under the foamy surge, following him all the way up until its jagged teeth enclosed around her head. She had been smiling.

He calls a third time, the cry dying halfheartedly in his chest. Panic settles thick and cloying within his chest, cutting off whatever words remained. The great, milky white eye of the thing had rolled and twisted in its gaping socket, seeming to focus in on him before it crashed below once more. He feels the memory of its stare like a brand on his skin. Had there been sentience behind that sour opalescence? Intent?

There must be something he could do. Wildly he spins around, searching the dock. Behind the tiny fisherman’s shack bobbed a lifeboat, straining against the singular frayed rope tying it to its post. There were no oars, but he highly doubted it mattered. He could think only of her wrinkled face, and what she had told him the last time they met in her darkened living room three nights before.

Clutching his arms to his stomach, he takes a step forward towards the boat. Immediately the gale buffets him back, filling his eyes with a spray of salt. With a shout he tumbles back off the slippery planks, twisting just in time to watch the dark water coming up to meet him.

A hand grabs the back of his jacket, yanking him up. Micah falls sideways, slamming his chin down on the dock mere inches away from a cluster of rusted nails sticking out from a piece of rotted wood. There is a voice behind him saying something unintelligible, and then without warning he’s dragged to his feet, mouth full of copper and stinging eyes shut tight. He wobbles unseeing in the direction of the forceful tug, soaked shoes barely finding purchase. A backwards shove forces him across the dock and he trips, falling this time onto a pile of dry and knotted cords smelling strongly of fish.

A door slams shut overhead. It’s as if with the flick of a switch the storm is muted. An electric lamp flutters to life, its orange glow enough to light the cramped interior of the fishing shack. The howl of wind now a soft wailing, rain a hard patter on the tin roof, he starts to make out the string of sentences being spun brokenly just above.

“Stupid, stupid, Micah what were you thinking? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you? I knew you were putting yourself into danger but I didn’t think this-”

The voice weaves in and out alongside the ringing in his ears, fading until he can hardly process either. Micah puts his head in his hands, a line of blood dripping from the side of his mouth. He wipes it with a damp sleeve, leaning over to spit onto the dusty floor. 

“It was Minerva,” he croaks, squinting burning eyes open. “It's got Minerva.”

Ansa doesn’t acknowledge him, continuing to rattle on. It is the loudest Micah has ever heard him, the usual lilting tone twisted into a timbre sharp and angry. 

“Ansa, listen, Minnie,” he tries again. A flash of pain shoots through his jaw. “We have to help.”

“Stupid, idiot Sawyer-”

He attempts to pick himself up off the heap of old netting. Ansa stops talking mid sentence, and a single push to the center of his chest sends him back with a gasp of air.

Abruptly Ansa drops to his knees. 

“Micah,” Ansa says demandingly. And then, softer, moments later: “Micah.” Through his blurred line of sight gets a first look at the other’s pale, drawn expression. He resembled a ghost.

“We have to help,” he repeats. “Minnie is-”

“Mineva is gone,” Ansa says. “She’s gone. You’re not going into the water to get her back.”

“But she-”

“I know, I saw it, I heard it! Micah can you just look at me?”

He raises his head, propped awkwardly up against a scattering of crates behind the nets. Rubbing his eyes, he takes in a clearer picture of Ansa hovering over him, leg bent at a strange angle, no cane to be seen.

“Did you drag me here like that?” he blurts out distractedly, gesturing outward in dismay. "Ansa, what the fuck?"

“Yes, I did. It's fine. Now shut up.”

Two hands lay themselves heavily on either side of Micah’s face, their palms warm and comforting. He focuses in on the touch, allowing it to pull him back into the reality of the moment. Breath coming in uneven shudders, he curls in on himself, unable to hold back the shiver which runs through him, spurred on by a bone deep chill he's suddenly hyper aware of.

Ansa gently lifts his face until the two are level with one another. He isn’t smiling, but the majority of his anger is gone, wiped clean by a sentiment Micah can’t place. Ansa studies the matted strings of hair on Micah’s forehead and the gash still bleeding sluggishly on his chin. 

“Minerva was always going to go,” he states quietly. The strength of his conviction kills the last bit of argument Micah has left. “Given the opportunity, she was.”

“But I don’t understand,” Micah whispers. “She went willingly. I watched her fall back into it.”

He reaches up to grip the sodden sleeve hanging loosely on one of Ansa’s arms. 

“What was that?” he asks weakly. “Ansa, what the fuck was that?”

Ansa doesn’t answer. He sighs, a short huff of air, his body seeming to slump forward. Wet hair lies damp against his own neck as well, his clothes just as drenched. He cradles the sides of Micah’s face, thumb brushing gently back and forth behind one ear, for a few seconds longer before slowly coaxing Micah up off the netting. He follows numbly, surprised out of his daze once Ansa pulls him into a hug. 

He stiffens instinctively, the touch unfamiliar. Who had been the last to hug him, other than Minerva? He couldn’t recall. Ansa rests his head on Micah’s shoulder, one arm around his back, the other at his waist. He waits patiently until Micah leans into the embrace, his own arms hanging weakly at his sides. The two rest against each other tiredly, the pressure point of the floor against their knees lost among the heavier, reassuring weight of each other.

“I’m so sorry,” Ansa says in his ear. “I know what it’s like. I’ve seen others go in much the same way, too many times to count. Do you understand now why I didn’t want you investigating without me?”

Micah merely nods. Ansa pulls back slightly.

“Micah, if you,” he starts to say, and then swallows thickly. “If you want answers, I can help. But you need to know I can’t protect you from most of what you might find, whatever that might be.”

He nods once again into Ansa’s neck. Warmth seeps hesitantly back into him, chasing away the last of his trembling. The solitary eye writhing in the water flashes in the dim on the backs of his eyelids.

“I need answers,” Micah whispers. "I need to know. I can't keep going on in the dark."

He’s unsure if Ansa has heard him until he feels a hand brushing a snarl of stray curls back off his brow. 

“Yeah,” Ansa says, sounding defeated. “You and me both.”

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Reincarnation Headcanons

It’s been a while since I’ve gone on a proper ramble for Sunny Day Jack, so let’s start getting the ball rolling again with some good old shameless OTP self-indulgence, shall we? I have no idea how long my momentum will last, but I’m going to do my best to have fun and see where things take me.

I just loved the script teaser for the upcoming demo update that got publicly posted over on the SnaccPop Studios Patreon. It really got me thinking, and one line in particular intrigued me.

Jack: I can’t explain it, but I know this feeling. I've felt it before. I just can’t remember where...

This really gives me strong vibes that Joseph did have someone he loved before he died… and it really makes me keen to think that MC is his reincarnated lover. Or at least they remind him of a love he lost when he was murdered. This could also be a narrative parallel with the way MC used to(?) love Ian. It’s hard to say at this point.

Regardless, this did make me immediately think of my own MC Alice’s previous incarnation, Mary, who I first mentioned in a previous ramble. I also wrote about her in this very spicy two-sided first-person story, as well as a little snippet about Mary’s potential sweet reunion with Joseph after they were separated for years.

Content Warnings: this post will have mentions of death, trauma, bullying, SA, and probably touch on other dark themes. Reincarnation stories, especially those involving murder, tend to have a bit of a dark side after all. I’ll make sure to tread lightly on these topics since the focus is on indulging in a reincarnated soulmates storyline after all. I might also indulge in some spicy thoughts as well, but we’ll see.

As I previously mentioned, I’m still on the fence about whether or not I’m going to go with the reincarnation storyline for Sunshine in Hell, or stick with it being an AU thing. There’s plenty of pros and cons for both routes in my mind, and I’m still not quite decided yet. Though playing with it more in these rambles, reading that teaser, and even seeing other MCs with past incarnations have made me start to lean in that direction.

Though… it’s pretty sad to imagine that Joseph had love in his past… only to forget about it and only remember the persona of Jack that he’s wearing now. Then again, he would no doubt be sad that his lover forgot about him too. It’s not either of their fault of course. Death is a cruel thing that takes away so much…

Still, it would make more sense why Alice would feel compelled to save Jack, not just because she was in a vulnerable place and couldn’t turn away when someone was suffering and she could help him. A part of her would feel this strong sense of longing and nostalgia, a feeling that she had been waiting for this person for such a long, long time…

It also is more reason for Jack to instantly fall in love with Alice. Even if he forgot he was Joseph and anything tied to that life… he still remembered Mary, even if only as a feeling of love. Names, faces, and places aside from the lore of Sunny Day Jack were erased, but there was only ever one person who made him feel truly loved, and she found him again, just like she did before. He might not remember it, but a part of him wished for her to find him again for 40 long years.

Naturally, with a reincarnation storyline, that means that memories of the past would inevitably return. How much and how quickly are up for debate, but most likely it would be a gradual process for both of them.

It would be interesting if Alice remembered everything first. After all, Jack is practically traumatized by the idea of being Joseph. He doesn’t want to remember being that person who made so many mistakes and was so flawed. This is especially true if his death involved horrible secrets being revealed about him… secrets he never wanted Mary to know that he feared would ruin things between them forever.

Joseph would never have told Mary about his time as a bully, or why he ran away from Haberdae High. He couldn’t forgive himself for what he did, couldn’t see anyone being able to ever love someone who did something so horrible. He couldn’t let his past mistakes ruin things. He couldn’t lose her, not after he finally found her again. He wanted to be a better person for himself and for her.

Mary hated bullies, and Joseph had become the worst of the worst of them. Even if she hadn’t been his victim personally, he knew how she felt about bullies, how the damage they inflicted on someone never truly disappeared…

Having his ugly past revealed before her and the entire world in the worst way possible was no doubt soul crushing.

If the two of them had more time together, Mary could have helped Joseph open up about the things he was ashamed about and eventually forgive himself for his past mistakes, but he died at the worst possible time. It’s all the more reason why he can’t handle being Joseph anymore.

I’d have to consider all the implications of Alice remembering being Mary and if Jack would remember enough to be terrified of that idea. After all, if she remembers, sure she remembers the good moments, but she would also remember when his mask was ripped off and revealed the ugly person he was underneath. In that case, he would try to stop it from happening, deflect and avoid, terrified to let the past resurface while trying not to remember it himself.

Of course Sunshine in Hell is a story of two broken people healing and opening enough to expose their scars in order to heal. Alice would help Jack trust that he can be flawed, he can make mistakes, and she’ll still love him. It’ll take time, but eventually he’ll learn to stop hating the person he was and accept that he was always worthy of love.

While pondering possibilities, I also thought of the classic reincarnated transmigrator stories that are especially popular in the webcomic scene. The idea of Mary being reborn into her favorite story as the “villainess” Alice gives me a little chuckle. Though that’ll be an AU for another post.

Anyway, I considered how much Alice remembers of being Mary and when it started. Many reincarnation stories have the MC remember all at once when they’re young, sometimes even as a baby. That certainly wouldn’t be the case for Sunshine in Hell, since the more I thought about it, the more I knew that it would change the story, particularly when it comes to Alice and Ian’s relationship.

If Alice remembered her past life before she met Jack, it would be a painful gut punch, to say the least. There would be a strong feeling of dissociation. This life is so different from her past one, and Joseph isn’t there. It would give this feeling of not really being sure of who she was or if she should really be there. Does she deserve this life?

Then of course there’s the problems of remembering life as an adult while being stuck in a child’s body and all the issues that come with that.

Still… Mary always longed for a family who actually loved her, and Alice has that. It would be impossible for her to resist wanting to be Alice with her whole heart, to be surrounded by such love in a way she only experienced with one person. The only thing missing would be Joseph. A part of her would feel guilty about being happy without him.

But… if she was reborn, then Joseph must have been too, right? Would he remember her? How would she find him in this vast world?

Though… she did it before didn’t she? On a lonely road in the middle of nowhere, far from their old homes, somehow she found him. Even though he had changed, she still recognized him immediately. Surely she would find him again in this life too.

Mary didn’t have anyone left at the end of her life, and so she lost hope. Alice, however, has people around her who love her. She has hope and reasons to keep living. She has people who want her to be happy and feel loved, even without Joseph by her side.

So Alice would open her heart to the love all around her and live. She would also hold onto the hope that someday she would find her starlight again, no matter what name he had now.

Ian… is not Joseph. There are parallels in the game’s narrative between him and Jack, but their personalities are way too different. Ian and Alice would become friends, but romance wouldn’t develop between the two. It wouldn’t feel right for many reasons to Alice, especially since he’s just… not her starlight. She would be fond of Ian certainly and want to protect him, but she could only view him as a little brother, especially if she had the memories of an adult while they were still children.

So when poor shy Ian gathered the courage to confess to Alice, she had to gently turn him down. It just wasn’t fair to him, or to her. Maybe someday her heart will move on, but not yet, not until she finds someone who makes her feel love the way Joseph did.

Of course, if Alice remembered later on in her teens after she already had a crush on Ian, that complicates things. Sometimes traumatic incidents make people remember their past life incarnations in these stories. For Alice, her most traumatic incident was when she suffered from SA.

Boy, what an awful time to remember one’s tragic death and lost love, don’t you think?

Alice woke up in the aftermath in pain while remembering even more pain, two overlapping identities warring in her mind even as she has to deal with the fresh trauma inflicted upon her. It took her a while to process what happened to her even without adding the memories of Mary on top of all of that.

One side of Alice feels the pain of losing the love of her life as well as fresh memories of dying slowly all alone, and the other side just lost her innocence after her power and agency were stripped away from her. It would be quite a rough time, and how could she tell anyone about these memories? Who would believe her? They’re too real to feel like just a dream she had due to trauma… but what if she’s wrong? Could trauma be great enough to create memories of an entirely different life in an instant?

Fortunately, Alice has the love of her family to help her through hard times, as well as good friends like Ian to support her. It takes a while for her to really process and accept everything, but she at least knows she is loved.

In this scenario, despite the crush Alice had on Ian, she wouldn’t feel right letting it develop into anything more, especially not when her memories of Joseph and the intense love she had for him would be so much more fresh. She would feel guilty, as though she had cheated on… Ian? Joseph? Both?

Either way, Alice is not in any state to enter into a romantic relationship.

So, hey, Alice might be facing reincarnation trauma and dissociation with her identity in this AU, but she avoids a bad romantic relationship and being cheated on. Poor Ian gets turned down by his childhood friend turned crush, but at least they’re still good friends, even if she’s a bit more distant now after the… incident.

Regardless of the twists and turns remembering her past would take her to the present day, eventually Alice finds the tape. It’s just so compelling. When she sees it’s an episode of the SunnyTime Crew Show, well, there’s no way she could resist it. Just the logo would hit her with painful nostalgia and struggling not to cry in the thrift store. For a moment, she just hugs the tape to herself, remembering all the times she wrote for the show as Mary, watched the filming, and especially the last day they ever filmed… and it leaves her longing for the day she finds her starlight again.

Alice has to watch the tape.

It feels ominous too. The blood red handwritten scrawl of “‘84 Incident” makes Alice think about that incident… but surely that couldn’t be… right? LambsWork Productions destroyed every trace of the show. Surely they would’ve gone scorched earth on any recording of the murder?

Then again, if all the tapes were destroyed… that should have included the one she found in this thrift store…

Alice all but runs back home after buying the tape, not bothering with anything else she was going to purchase that day. Her hands are shaking when setting up the VCR, but fortunately she remembers how to use it. It’s almost muscle memory going through the motions of playing a VHS tape. She can’t peel her eyes away from the screen, holding her breath.

The show starts and… oh the pain from nostalgia is unlike anything else. Jack - her starlight - is there. That familiar dazzling smile shining at her as the episode starts. When he greets her and asks her name, she can’t help but answer him, though she doesn’t notice which name she gives him…

I’ve gone over thoughts of how the deal between Alice and Jack might have gone in previous posts. Seeing Joseph’s death again hurts like hell, but the moment Jack starts to talk directly to her, that’s when her heart really starts to pound.

Needless to say, Alice is just as desperate to save Jack as he is to be saved. The pact is made, and their souls are tied together, making them true soulmates.

Then again they already were even without the deal. ;3

Of course, the trauma of the pact does make Alice forget the agreement they made, but her reaction is very different when she wakes up. There’s a moment where she just has to stare at Jack, smiling gently down at her, greeting her like he used to… and she starts to shake. This isn’t a dream, is it?

Jack innocently replies that of course it’s not a dream. Her pal Sunny Day Jack is here to brighten up her day!

Jack doesn’t expect Alice to practically throw herself into his arms and hug him, but he reacts instantly to embrace her. It’s familiar, warm, wonderful, and everything he could ask for.

“I’m happy to see you too, sunshine,” Jack said with a chuckle.

Unfortunately… Jack is in character. Alice calling him Joseph is like a splash of ice, chilling him to the core and he has to correct her, gently of course.

It’s very apparent to Alice that Jack is shaken up. She tries to explain, talk of their past lives and remembering, and Jack… can’t handle it, burying himself deeply into the character of Sunny Day Jack, insisting he’s not who she thinks he is, trying to skirt away from anything Joseph. He cites off lore of the SunnyTime Crew and Sunny Day Jack that she helped write about the character back when she was on the writing staff.

It’s surreal for both of them, with mixed feelings, but Jack is ever eager to change the topic to something sunnier, to try and be the best and brightest friend known as Sunny Day Jack. Alice learns she can’t push him, at least not right now, but now… she’s left wondering if this is really Joseph… or a memory left in the tape? What if he’s just the character brought to life?

What if she lost her mind?

Still, Alice can’t bring herself to push Jack away, even if it’s a bit painful. Over time she picks up that he is Joseph after all, but he forgot everything.

Is this the result of the tape? The murder? Something else? Alice has to figure out what really happened at the studio that day. At the same time, she has to focus on figuring out where to go with Jack.

Alice wished to see Joseph again, no matter what name he had now, but she never expected something like this.

Still… she’s different now too. She’s not Mary anymore. She might have Mary’s memories, but she also has Alice’s memories, a second lifetime in different circumstances, different choices and experiences. She’s different from who she used to be.

So what does that mean for her and Joseph Jack?

Obviously the shadow of Joseph scares Jack. Alice won’t force him to remember, not when his death and what came after were so horrible. Instead she tries to get to know who he is now and figure out where to go from there.

Alice quickly falls in love with Jack. He’s not Joseph, and yet the important parts of him that she fell in love with are still the same. She sees little things of Joseph in him, but he’s also different at the same time. He’s changed, he’s masking things, but he’s still her silly starlight who never failed to make her smile.

Jack tries to overlook memories Alice stirs up in him, hints of sunshine that looked a bit different, but with the same beautiful blue eyes that always held such warmth. He focuses solidly on the present and enjoying his life now with his sunshine.

Still, Joseph’s habits slowly come back in spite of himself. Alice makes him feel so loved and accepted. He has moments where he slips, and she loves him despite it.

Needless to say, this AU would also have a happy ending. They would also get together much sooner than the main universe. While Alice would be trying to keep a respectable distance to understand who Jack was now as he is without forcing him to be someone he doesn’t want to be anymore or pushing her feelings and memories on him, Jack is a yandere who wants her badly. He’s going to notice her feelings quickly and do everything he can to encourage them.

Since Alice doesn’t have baggage from her toxic relationship with Ian holding her back, and she’s been aching to be with Joseph for so long, it won’t be long before her resolve crumbles. He’s always been so good at seducing her, even while dressed up as a silly clown. He might be wearing a different name and look, but he’s still her starlight, and he always had a knack for making her feel so loved, precious, and irreplaceable.

Jack might have buried his memories, but he’s quick to remember all of the ways he could make his sunshine melt in his arms. There are small hiccups due to her SA trauma as he has to be careful about the triggers she has from that, but he’s patient and gentle with her. He thoroughly focuses on her pleasure and comfort, making sure she feels nothing but safe and loved the entire time.

Needless to say, Alice’s first time in this universe is much more pleasant than it is in the main timeline.

It all feels familiar to both of them, the physical and emotional aspects of making love that they experienced countless times in the past, but the feelings are more intense due to the supernatural connection between them making their feelings bleed into one another. Jack at times is almost overwhelmed by nostalgia, but it doesn’t scare him when they’re making love. The nickname of “starlight” Alice used for him was always familiar, but it didn’t upset him like the name “Joseph” did, not when it’s his sunshine calling him that, saying she loves him, and kissing him so tenderly. She makes sure to call him Jack or starlight even while she’s screaming in pleasure beneath him. She’s careful to avoid old names that bring him pain, focusing on who he is now, taking care not to push him when she senses it’s causing him distress. She cares just as much about his comfort and avoiding his triggers just as he does for her.

That increase in intimacy, both physical and emotional, is the trigger that starts Jack really remembering things as Joseph, but not in a negative way. It’s an addicting feeling, one that’s hard to resist, especially when it feels so, so good and comes with so much pleasure and love.

Still, at some point Jack starts to get those fears of Alice learning… something. He still flees from those bad memories, not even wanting to know what that something was.

But over time… Alice helps Jack accept his past. It takes him a while, but when he’s forced to face it and she reinforces the fact that she accepts him, even the awful things he did back then, that she still loves him… he practically collapses into her arms, crying, just so relieved.

For 40 years he was convinced that the reveal destroyed everything, robbed him of love, and it… didn’t. Alice lets Jack be who he wants to be and accepts the mistakes he made in the past who are a part of the person he is today. She loves him even with all his flaws, and she wants to help him to keep growing to become the person that he wants to be, because he’s always been the person she wants to be with, flaws and all.

It still takes Jack a while to accept his past identity as Joseph, but Alice helps him. She can also relate, as it took her a while to accept her past incarnation as Mary too. It’s something they both can understand intimately. Even if their circumstances for being reborn as new people are different, they both understand each other in a way no one else can, and they help each other navigate what it means to live a new life while being haunted by the memories of a previous one that was less than ideal.

Fortunately, this time, their love story has a happy ending instead of a tragic one.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur

[dewdropreader]

❦ ➷ get to know your fellow fanfic writers better ༊ ✧.*

I was tagged by @bebx and @loki-is-my-kink-awakening for this “get to know the writer” tag! Thank you! 😊

when did you post your first ever fanfic?

I believe in 2012-2013? I was around 13-14 years old, so around then anyway (my first one doesn’t exist online anymore as far as I know so I can’t double check.) it was the usual middle school fandom girl era lol. First for my current account was February of 2022!

first character you wrote for:

It would have been Rin Matsuoka from Free! Iwatobi Swim Club! Specifically him and Nitori, they were one of my fave ships in that series!

main character(s) you’re currently writing for:

Basically anyone from the Loki series but especially Loki and Mobius and Sylvie, not necessarily in that order or all together but some combo of them 💚

character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan on writing about soon:

I haven’t written for OFMD but would really like to! I’ve had a lot of feels s2, no solid ideas yet but maybe something will spark some inspiration! Also Red White and Royal Blue! I haven’t gotten a chance to read the book yet but I watched the movie and got hooked and love those boys too 💕 so maybe one or both of them if the Loki series even temporarily gets it’s hooks out of me (with s2 though I’ve been as bad if not worse than before with my obsession so who knows lol)

And for within marvel the ship that got me into fanfic and got me to make this current ao3 account was Stucky so even though I only read for them and never wrote, they always have a place in my heart!

fandom(s) you’re currently writing for:

Also just Loki atm! But who knows for the future.

platonic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Mobius and any of the void Lokis as the best found family ever (Mobius and kid, Mobius and classic, Mobius and all of them my beloveds)

I haven’t written it recently but also wrote B-15 and Sylvie in a non romantic context and even though I think they’re also cute romantically I love them as a platonic pair and want to do more with them too! Similarly Sylvie and C-20, I wish they could have been friends if things had gone a bit differently 🥺

romantic pairing(s) you currently write for:

Lokius and Sylkius! Haven’t written any pure Sylki but who knows (I just like Mobius too much to not include him atm)

your top 3 tags on AO3 (if you post your works on AO3):

Hurt/comfort, fluff, and hugs 😂 sounds about right to me! I like some pain and crying and working through stuff but need the hugs and comfort alongside it/after it for sure.

your current platform where you post your works

AO3 is the same as my name here!

I try to post my fics links on tumblr too but don’t always remember so ao3 is always best bet if you want to read my stuff!! 😍

snippet of the wip you’re currently working on:

Right now I’m most heavily focused on a character study type fic cataloging different moments with Sylvie adapting to her McDonald’s life but specifically looking at her relationship with Jack, I think she would have such a great big sister vibe and they could learn a lot from each other 🥹

“Good job today, Sylvie,” Jack says, his lopsided smile clear even before Sylvie glances his way. He’s always got compliments and kindness at the ready, and he’s young and gentle enough that they’re always believable.

“Thanks, Jack,” she feels a smile curl onto her face. She still, even after knowing Loki and Mobius and B-15, feels like she doesn’t know how to have friends or family or any genuine connections at all. But Jack is the first in a long time to feel so real to her, to feel like a relationship she can stick with, with these new more permanent circumstances and her distance from the trauma of the TVA. She doesn’t remember what it’s like to be a sister, her memories of Thor long gone beyond the occasional glimmers in her dreams, let alone what being the older sister would be like, but this is what she suspects it is. A fierce protectiveness and gentle care, the ignoring of any silly flaws or naïveté because you just care about the person. That’s what she has for Jack, ever since he took her under his wing as an employee, she’s done the same for him as just a person.

“Mind if I stay here for a bit? My ma is going to be a few more minutes.”

Sylvie just smiles softly and scoots over on the wide hood of her truck, gesturing to the empty spot.

Jack nods rather sagely as he awkwardly hoists himself on to the hood of the truck, pushing himself up with his arms and then practically throwing himself on to it.

He pants softly as he adjusts to lay on his back a foot or two away from Sylvie, giving her another boyish grin. “Hey.”

“Very smooth, Jack,” Sylvie snorts.

“Your truck is huge! I’ve ridden in trucks before but yours is massive! I’m not sure how you even get up here, you’re shorter than me!” He laughs.

“My little secret, I guess,” Sylvie shrugs with a slight smile, returning her gaze to the inky sky, dotted with a trillion stars.

I’m excited to keep writing this, I’ve got some Lokius ideas in the works too but this one has been my focus for a few days!!

I’d love to see anyone do this that is interested but I’ll tag my usual group!!

@insert-witty-user-name-here @starport-seven-five @lgwilt @mirilyawrites @cha-melodius @chaos-monkeyy @waterhorseyblues-ao3 @blackbirdofasgard @dreamycloud @queen-of-meows

[unmellowyellowfellow]

rewrite comparison!

as promised, here is a little comparison between the way I used to tell the story, to how I am switching gears. This is part of the introduction! Chalk Mountain is my baby, and I hope you enjoy! <3

snippet under the cut!

CM: DRAFT 1 -- INTRODUCTION // OLD DOC

    The Stephensville marketplace parking lot held a very odd feeling in the morning. The weeds that grew in the parking lot sway in the hot wind and the Texas sunset rose over the security cameras on the roof, mockingbirds tweeted in the old dead trees that decorated the lot.     Dixie's old charming olive-green car was the only one in the parking lot. Sat in the driver’s seat, she had the A/C on blast, and old George Strait music muffled by the air conditioning. She licked her fingers and flicked through the Atlas. To be honest, she couldn’t read maps worth a damn, but she had gotten this far with only some error, so she figured she must have done something right. Dixie could recall reading about Chalk Mountain around 9 years ago on this day. Someone claimed a meteorite crashed, but a bunch of officials declared it a hoax or something. Her father would mock the man in the papers. “How can’t you tell the difference between a rock and a space meteor!” He would scoff. She shook the memory off her shoulders and dragged her dirty fingernail down Highway 67 until she found Chalk Mountain, circled in red crayon. It didn’t look to be too far from where she was, which was a relief. She wasn’t sure how much longer her car could take the Texas heat. Dixie began the 20-mile drive to her next stop. Although many articles say it’s a ghost town, long abandoned, she’d hoped they were just being dramatic and that she could find a place to live in this old desert town. Even if she was the only one there besides a coyote, she wouldn’t mind that too much at all.

*+~*+~*+~*+~*+~*+~*+~*+~*+~*+~*+~*+~*+~*+~*+*~+*~+~*~+

CM: NEW DRAFT -- INTRODUCTION // NEW DOC

The red sand of the west Texas desert gets into every nook and cranny of life around these parts. The texture is rough, yet soft; and leaves a stain on your Sunday best that sticks to ya like a honeybee to a marigold. It sneaks underneath your fingernails and hides in the corners, just out of reach. I suppose that may not be a problem for some folks. Some like the orange tint to their white button shirts, or the wind blowing in an excuse to call into work on a Wednesday to go get evening coffee and pie with your aunt down the street, or the way it sounds against the windows may resemble the gentle patter of rain against the sill.  Dixie quite liked the color of the sand, although she called it the red dirt. Her fluffy hair greatly resembled the red dirt below her porch steps that she left her stained boots on when she came home from trekking downtown. She sat down next to her boots and flicked a lighter, watching the flame dance.  She thought of her mother with a furrowed brow and a professional skill to ignore her father when he shouted inside the house about this and that. She missed her brother who ran away from home when they were children, who always had her back when their father would lash out back then. Dixie always wondered, and secretly hoped, that they were out there together somewhere.  Right as Dixie lit up an old roach that she had found in the dirty pockets of her overalls, her lungs burned from the deep inhale as her father came out the door. “Dixie,” “Yes, Walter,” The smoke trailed through her words. “What the hell‘re you doing?” He stepped over to her and looked at the spot next to her on the step. She responded in a single nod and scooted away from him to let him sit. “Drugs,” Dixie offered the cherry towards him and he scoffed. 

[zerolostwalks]

spotify wrapped: 29 :D please!

Thanks for the ask!! You picked a good one!

29 is as Good as it Gets by Little Hurt, which, is actually the vibe/inspiration song I've been using for the Reggie POV tie in to A Matter of Time. (Also I just decided I'm gonna include snippets, if it's fics I am already working on because why not)

((honestly I just feel this is a song that screams Reggie and there are a few different fic potentials for it. BUt I will stick to the A Matter of Time timeline below the cut))

Right now I am debating between two starting points, either the last big fight his parents had with his grandparents. Where it is heavily implied his grandparents planned on suing his parents for custody, and then his parents move to California.

The clearest earliest memory Reggie has was of his parents yelling at his grandparents. He knew there were earlier fights, they just weren’t as memorable. A monotonous daily occurrence that blended together to the point where it became a fact.  Parents fought. They hid their fighting as best as they could around others but no matter what, they fought.  It wasn’t until that fight with his grandparents that he’d even thought to question that fact. And only because of the one thing he’d heard his Pop bellow. Not a full blown yell but the first and only time Reggie’d ever heard him raise his voice like that.

The other starting point would be high school, when he actually first sees Julie. Then from there the story would follow Reggie during high school for a bit. Where we see Julie hanging out with them out of the periphery, the potential 'break up moment' between Luke and Julie. Which honestly can be it's own fic potential (Luke has dropped out, ran away from his parents, and he did not tell Julie. Julie's been worried, doesn't understand why Luke would abandon his parents that way, and is not ready to jump back into music)

Reggie sat waiting for Mr. Deckard to get in for the day. Personally he didn’t get along all that well with the guidance counselor. None of his friends did, really. The man had a set idea in his head of the proper path any upstanding youth should take in life, and pursuing a career as rock musicians did not fit in the mold. 

Unfortunately, Reggie was in the wretched position of needing Mr. Deckard's help. So he sat waiting in the uncomfortable chairs they used for the front office, fingers drumming on his thighs. Then they walked in, drowning in a plum colored flannel and a pair of loose fitting jeans ripped around the knees. He tried to not stare at the giant sun decorating the thigh of their pants leg, though he wondered where they even found pants like that. Maybe they made them themself, that’d be cool.

Then there'd be some of the build up of Sunset Curve's big break, going on tour, his health problems and then it's a matter of picking which scenes and moments from A Matter of Time get the Reggie focus.

Some other things revealed:

-Part of why he bought his own house was so he could move his grandma in with him, since she was having all the medical problems. She died before he even got the chance, other distant relatives argued he didn't have the right since he wasn't involved in her life...which not his fault.

-In the moments Reggie's alone on the bench before Julie shows up he has been spiraling. Been spiraling since he got the news about his heart. Hasn't even told the guys yet what the doctor has said. He's seriously contemplating just not getting the surgery. Plenty of rock stars die young. Some old insecurities flare up, and then Julie shows up and turns his night around.

-The food cabinet moment from A Matter of Time from Reggie's POV is different. Mostly because during high school years you learn that he had to do something similar out of necessity otherwise he didn't always have food to eat. So learning Julie has her own secret cabinet for her own food, he does not register it as Julie setting boundaries. He's thinking despite everything he went and somehow turned into his Dad. Which is part of what drives him to get so pushy about suddenly helping her. Dad never helped. hen she yells at him, and it's just all the alarm bells screaming.

Which is also part of why he goes to avoiding her. HE doesn't know how to fix this. Is this just the way relationships are?? Does everyone immediately turn into the worst versions of themselves when you get married?? Then you have the pizza apology and it's the first time Reggie's ever had even a glimmer of hope in a romantic relationship. Which doubles as a 'when did I start having romantic feelings here?"

-The post surgery almost fight when Reggie is getting annoyed at Julie for acting like his nurse is when he realizes he is like seriously in love with her. But figures he can't openly admit that. Especially when she keeps insisting how they're friends.

-He does have a bit of a panic attack when Julie gets sick. A combination of can't even take care of her and more irrational the universe doesn't want him happy. Willie talks him down from that one over the phone. (Also Willie def suspects something after Reggie has to think about the bedroom thing, and also sees that Reggie's bedroom is very Reggie with no Julie anything in there. Willie chooses to keep quiet)

-Then towards the end is the main reason I ever started considering making this Reggie POV fic in the first place. Sunset Curve are having a songwriting or Jam session at Alex, Luke, and Willie's place when Carrie just won't stop calling Bobby. No one knows what to expect when they hear Carrie and another voice very animatedly talk on the phone. No one expects Bobby to turn around look Reggie dead in the eye and says "Julie's moving out?"

Everyone sort of panic as Reggie tries to keep brushing it off and avoiding the whole story. At least until it's Willie who ask "Does she even know you love her?" or something. Which of course throws everyone else off because why wouldn't she know that.

Then the whole story comes tumbling out and everyone is like you two are morons. Flynn and Carrie (having been put on speakerphone by this point) insist Julie doesn't want to leave and the two of them need to ACTUALLY talk.

[vollzz]

new chapter just dropped for Diverging Paths of Heart, my chaptered eleonora/yura fic exploring them as dragon hunters. small snippet of chapter 3 is under the cut, and you can read the whole thing on my ao3. thanks for reading! :)

Perhaps we will cross paths again, should the grace will it to be.

That word, grace, had wormed its way into Eleonora’s thoughts. It burrowed, a near-constant presence reverberating throughout her mind as she finally set sight on the distant light of a settlement glistening within the darkened horizon.

“You tread on ever-thinning ground, Eleonora. The Land of Reeds is your lifeblood. Do not tarnish the years honing your razor’s edge. This is your life, your eternity. We bloom from blood-soaked soil and one day water it with our own.”

“But I don’t want to-”

“There is no want. We do what we need to reclaim what we have lost. Such speak is the language of exiles.”

Her memory still felt as though a thick layer of fog lingered above everything, obscuring more than the bits and pieces that dared stick through. Eleonora knew deep in her bones that she’d been sent here as an outcast, and there was something about grace involved, but she still struggled to glean anything beyond that.

That mystery could continue as such until another time, when she had food in her stomach and a roof over her head.

It took another hour of travel but Eleonora finally found herself approaching the entrance to the town. It wasn’t anything particularly grand, and had a meager excuse of a boundary consisting of not much more than a row of tall wooden logs. They stood rather haphazardly, many of their pointed tips having broken off or otherwise wrecked, and a loud minority of them had fallen over completely. Looking past the sorry border, she glimpsed that the road she had been walking along continued straight through the town and made a sharp right turn once it hit grassy fields.

The town’s main road hosted a variety of small, rickety-looking stores with signs flaunting a variety of wares, weapons, armor, and food. It seemed that the residents’ homes all branched off of the main road, spread out within the confines of the town. There were very few souls roaming at this hour, though that was to be expected - it looked to be just before dawn.

A tall, pointed building caught Eleonora’s eye as she crossed the town’s threshold. Its facade was fashioned from a truly ridiculous amount of concrete and cobblestone, and an abundance of twisting vines creeping across it betrayed its old age. At the very top of its spire lay a hollowed-out section housing a large bell.

As she approached the building she was greeted by large, wooden doors fastened shut and a huge sculpture of a woman looking down upon her. It seemed as though she’d been crucified, but Eleonora noted the distinct lack of a cross behind her body. Two long braids framed her elegant face, which assessed her with what she hoped to be a warm smile.

---

dpoh tag list- (ask to be added for fic updates!)

@kourumi

[pastedpast]

Photograph of home-made loquat jam from the 'Happy Foods Tube' blog, link here.

See, this is what I like about reading: a simple remark on the page of a book leads me through a number of pathways to a range of destinations - China, Japan, recipes for jams and liqueurs... and a snippet of my own personal history.

"In a particular part of North London, many gardens have a loquat - yellow fruit and strongly sweet-smelling white flowers - particularly dear to Greek Cypriots, apparently... [..] many lived in that area.. [for example,]... In Kentish Town..."

From 'Life in the Garden' by Penelope Lively, (p.14).

In my early twenties I lived in North London, the Borough of Camden to be more precise. I worked as a Live-in Carer for a lady in her fifties who had Down's Syndrome and was of Greek-Cypriot heritage. I say 'worked', but to be honest it was a rather unprofessional set-up, although never mind, we all survived. The lady's name was Roulla, and myself and three or four other equally inexperienced, untrained and unqualified girls lived with her in what had been her parents' council flat (in fact it was two flats knocked into one) situated on the actual Crescent of Mornington Crescent. (Jazzy B from Soul II Soul and the camp, gay comedian Julian Clary lived a stone's throw away). Nowadays, one of the flats alone would cost an absolute fortune to rent or buy, but we lived there rent-free with a small amount of pocket money as wages.

It was the first time I had encountered Greek culture - the food, the Orthodox Church, the widowed old women clad in heavy black attire and headscarves even during the hot summer, and the music. There was a humdrum, workaday cafe nearby called The Paradise where I regularly dined on hummus kebabs - the flavour of the chick peas and tahini mixture a far cry from the stuff sold in little plastic tubs in British supermarkets - and a late night drinking bar called The Marathon, which still exists, further up the road in Chalk Farm where I once spotted Shane McGowan (The Pogues) huddled in a corner with his mates.

Roulla was very sociable and loved going to the pub, but you had to keep your wits about you. She sometimes got over-excited and if you weren't careful a whole table of drinks could go flying*. I remember once having to slink out of one of the high street pubs dragging a cackling, grey-haired Roulla, small and round, hurriedly away, leaving behind two smartly-dressed couples who had just been soaked by their four freshly-pulled pints. Strangely, the male halves of the couples were not in the least bit angry and told me it had been great to meet us. I didn't stick around to find out what their girlfriends thought.

So, that one snippet on a page of a book brings forth so many memories and ideas. North London in my twenties, Greek-Cypriot culture. And leads me to learning new stuff. The loquat originates in China and was introduced to Japan (it is sometimes mistakenly known as 'the Japanese medlar') and, later, Europe. I've never tried it but seemingly it makes a nice jam. The liqueur sounds even better.

* It was thought she may have got the idea from seeing plates being smashed for fun at family and community social events, a tradition in her culture, of course - she certainly found it highly amusing...

[drac0line1nn1t]

kay its been decided, thank you guysss

it'll be all at once and later, possibly Friday no promises, but I am around 5k deep at this point and not even half way through!

but you can have a snippet of one of the scenes and the summary if you want :D

Okay so this was bad.

Really quite terribly bad, and Wade had no fucking clue how to fix this. Wade and Logan had made a home together, but will something fuck it up?

All signs point to yes, but things just keep getting better and better and-

What the fuck happened to Logan?-

-------

now for the out of context snippet

------

So, here he was, opening his locker at work, but this time with the knowledge that he had a purpose now, even if that purpose was there all along and he just needed to open his eyes and add three more to his world to see it, and everything was still in his locker, tacky spare shirt, random X-men comics, stapler gun, oh wait, it was his spare wig- ahem, hair system! Thank fuck, during his time away, he'd almost forgotten that it wasn’t normal to look like a dead burn victim’s shrivelled up ballsack, he glanced at himself in the locker mirror and grimaced, yeah thank fuck-

He picked up the fake hair and had been far too caught up in his internal monologue to notice the locker room door open and close, and he went to staple the wig to his head, bracing himself slightly, it wasn't the kind of pain he enjoyed, sticking pins into his skull, but it was necessary to fit in with society and to not scare small children and grown men alike, and as he went to staple it down, a hand caught his arm, gently, not bruising, but still his first reaction was to grab his weapons- of which he had non except the staple gun and an empty hand on the arm that wasn't being held, and that would do, and he punched his attacker square in his really hairy- really handsome- now with blood running down it- face- oh, that brought back memories, very fond ones, but wait- huh, he should probably apologise for punching Logan in the nose-

“Gubernotorial” Is instead what came out of his mouth, and Logan actually fucking chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

“Okay bub, you done throwing hands now?”

Wade considered it for a moment, 

“Maybe, it depends really, the blood running down your face is a good look on you!”

And then wade realised Logan still had his light grip on Wade's arm that was holding the staple gun,

“And anyway, you deserved it, you don't just grab a man's arm like that when he's internally monologuing!”

Logan, seemingly just now realising he still had a grip on Wade's arm, let it go, but then, for some reason, he took the staple gun out of wades grip, causing wade to frown sightly,

“Hey peanut, I kinda need that,” he gestured to the hair system almost sliding off his head system, 

Logan frowned at that, weird, maybe it was because he thought Wade looked stupid, that was probably it.

“I know you found it very funny and all in the void but, I do actually need to fit in society, even if it looks stupid and ‘everyone knows’”

Logan shook his head, keeping the staple gun and fucking- grabbing the wig? What the fuck man?

“What the fuck man?” He voices, and Logan responds with a gruff voice,

“You don’t need this.” 

“Uh, yeah, I kinda do, I look like shit, are your eyes working, old man?”

“You don't need this, you look fine just as you are,”

“I don't look fine, I scare people, I look horrific, people won’t buy cars from me looking like this, hell if I could wear my mask at work, that would be a blessing for us all.”

Logan growls, throwing the staple gun and wig carelessly into Wade’s locker, slamming its door and then slamming Wade by the shoulders against it, and wow he had some jokes to voice right now, he opened his mouth to air them, but Logan’s words did what so few things could do, like, ever, and shut him up for a moment, like that moment in the car, only, better.

“You’re worth so much more than any fucker who cares that you look different, you look great, you look like you Wade, not like some fucker whos hiding who he is behind cheap plastic wigs, and you don’t need to fucking hurt yourself for others aproval, I ever catch you putting staples in your skin again, I put six sharp bits of metal where you really dont want ‘em, bub. Leave the wig, and go do your fucking job, okay? Most of the people you see in a day, you'll never see again, and someone so much as sends a disgusted look in your direction, I'll make sure to give their car a nice new red interior paint job, no extra charge.”

Wade just stares at him, mouth open in shock, still pressed against the locker but making no move to fight the hands pinning him there, and Logan, the fucking bitch smirks with a flash of caninines in there for good measure,

“What, got nothing to say, mouth?”

And since the things he wanted to say were too soft and eugh feelings-y for him, he just stuck with a simple,

“We’re late for work-”

writing silly poolverine fic, do you guys want split into two chapters, first one up today or wait a little and have full fic at once?