#I haven't written anything like this in over 2 decades

[writer-in-theory]

you're gonna go far, love — spencer reid.

“I’ve been ready for you to come home for so long that I didn’t think to ask you where you’d gone.” —Noah Kahan (Orange Juice)

Summary: After Spencer relapses, he takes the first flight out of Virginia with no plan other than to get a fresh start. Or, my take on where he was for Evolution. Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!Reader (not the focus, but it's there) Category: Hurt/Comfort WC: 2k Content Warnings: Discussions of relapse, Mentions of alcohol, Slight spoiler for the ending of Evolution S1 (despite the fact I still haven't finished it myself) Notes: This is for the New Beginnings challenge hosted by @imagining-in-the-margins and based on a prompt from @foxy-eva , so thank you so much to you lovely people. This fic comes 2 years after my last CM fic, and a few months since I've written anything at all, so thank you for the inspiration 💜

Spencer booked the first flight out of Virginia five days after it happened. 

The person at the counter may have said the destination, but it floated straight past his ears and was carried far away. Within hours, everything he’d spent the past two decades building was left thirty thousand feet below him. 

Emily would be hurt. Everyone would be, as each of them heard the news as they one-by-one came into the office tomorrow. But it would be Emily, who was the first to notice the cracks in his once carefully crafted facade all those years ago, who would feel the most betrayed by his sudden escape. 

You should’ve at least said goodbye.

It was what Spencer had been most upset by when Emily had faked her death. After everything they’d been through together, after all of the joy they brought into each others’ incredibly stressful lives, all Spencer had needed was the chance to say goodbye and know that she was out there, somewhere, happy. 

Hopefully, she’d understand why he had to leave now, though. 

Everyone in the BAU had figured out by now that the Spencer Reid who walked out of prison was not the same as the one who’d first stepped into it. Some piece of him—and even now, he wasn’t sure how large that piece was—had been laid bare and morphed beyond even his own recognition. The loss of that part of him ached in the way that losing a loved one did, that sharp stabbing sort of ache that would appear so suddenly that he didn’t know how to handle it. 

There was no way to explain it to the rest of the team, though, no matter how supportive they tried to be. The fact was that none of them had ever nor would ever go through what he exactly had, and for not the first time in his life, Spencer began to feel like a rip current was sweeping him away from the steadiness of shore. 

It wasn’t until he was far enough away from shore that he couldn’t see the relief of the sands that his mind recalled that he’d been prescribed painkillers several months prior. 

It wasn’t the same as what Tobias Hankel had given him so many years ago, nor was it the alternatives he’d managed to find in the months after, but it was devastatingly similar enough that he’d tried to convince the emergency room doctor not to order it in the first place. ‘Pick it up anyway, just in case. No one can recover from a gunshot wound without pain relief.’ 

He’d almost flushed the amber bottle’s contents the day he’d gotten them, but the bone-deep feeling that had eased with time but never truly gone away kept him from fully eliminating that option from his life. Why should one thing that had happened to him years ago deny him proper pain relief now, should he need it? So they’d sat untouched, locked away in his gun safe for months. 

Until five days ago.

After well over a decade in recovery, Spencer knew this was always a possibility. He’d seen friends go through the same thing and had been there to support them in whatever ways he could because no matter how many times it happened the initial feelings of shock, shame, and overbearing grief could be just as overwhelming as the first. 

A day after, when he’d woken up and realized just what had occurred, Spencer had walked himself to the nearest NA meeting. Like he was on auto-pilot, he moved through every piece of advice he had gathered through the years—the stories of success and the stories of forced learning serving as guides to him. It wasn’t the first time Spencer had relapsed (a word that still struck fear in him to even think about), nor would it likely be the last time he was forced to confront this part of his past. 

Still, this was the first time Spencer walked out of the building, packed a bag, and made a silent escape from the city he called home. There was something different about this time, though he had no idea where to even begin considering the specifics of why.

He ended up in Cincinnati, Ohio.

In all the years he’d been with the BAU, they’d never once been called there. It was like every other city Spencer had been in in many ways—the buildings towering above him as he walked, the river that bordered the city mirroring the home he’d just left, even down to the FBI headquarters that was quiet now in the middle of the night. Still, he couldn’t help but feel as though it were completely separate from everything he’d known before, because the melancholy Spencer had been sitting in for the last five days had suddenly turned comforting amongst the atmosphere of the city.

He ended up in a bar, of all places. It was the kind that only served nonalcoholic drinks, the kind of place where people like him could sit without feeling outside of the norm. Music was playing softly in the background, and though it was busy there was only a gentle rumble of conversation in the room.

“You’re staring at that glass like it’ll kill you. It’s safe, Scout’s honor.” The teasing voice surprised Spencer out of the careful contemplation he’d fallen into. It came from the bartender, who was busying themselves with wiping down a few glasses, stood just on the other side of the bar in front of him.

“You know, that only works if you were actually a scout,” Spencer returned, though raised the glass to his lips after. It was sweet—a little too sweet by his standards, though it was a comfort now after the week he’d had.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” the bartender said back. They looked comfortable here, like this sober bar were an extension of their own home. At one time, the BAU office had been the same for him. “You look like you could use a friendly face, and that just happens to be my favorite part of the job.”

“Part of the job…?”

“Oh you know, bartenders are the therapists for the lonely, or something like that.” They were comfortable, and more open to an effective stranger than Spencer ever thought possible. It was refreshing in a way, to be able to talk with them without having to worry about what case information he could get out of them. It wasn’t often, anymore, that he could relax and talk to someone just to talk to them. “What brings you to the Queen City?”

“I moved here,” Spencer answered automatically, looking down sheepishly at his glass before adding, “today, actually.”

“Oh, congrats then. New job?”

“More like a new start.”

It was quiet for only a moment before the bartender asked in a softer voice, “How long had it been?”

Spencer almost asked them what they meant, until he met their gaze. They had their full attention on him now, glasses left abandoned on the inner part of the bar. They’d been kind from the start, but the look they gave him now was the sort of pure understanding that made Spencer realize all at once what they were referring to.

“How did you know?”

The bartender sighed, though there was no sadness to it at all. They pulled something from their pocket, sliding it gently across the bar so Spencer could see. A metallic chip was place between them, silver on the outside and filled in with a green-blue color and a “V” engraved in the middle of it. It was different from the ones he’d used, but he recognized the meaning of it all the same. 

“I opened this place because the day I relapsed, five years ago now, I’d had nowhere to go after. There wasn’t anywhere people like us could go and relax without having to answer the tough questions, like why I drank orange juice instead of ‘what all the other adults were drinking’. It seemed silly at the time, but I think I was just looking for somewhere I could feel normal.”

“My family were the ones who helped me get sober, and sometimes they still forget and will ask me why I’m not drinking.” Spencer returned the sentiment with a light laugh. He loved everyone in the BAU, and even though it had only been a few days he already missed them terribly, but it was nice to have someone there who understood what he was feeling, what he was going through now.

“Exactly!” The bartender said, following Spencer’s lead and letting out a laugh of their own. “Though I can’t say I ever moved to a new city because of it.”

“It was the most impulsive thing I’ve ever done,” Spencer admitted. “I…really needed a fresh start. I needed somewhere noone knew who I was, somewhere I could get a completely different job and…I don’t know, figure out who I am.”

The bartender nodded. “Sounds about right. This family you left behind, are you gonna go back to them?”

“Eventually. We’ve worked together for so many years. I spent more time with them than I’ve actually ever spent alone, and I think I just need…”

“Something new,” the bartender finished, “I’m starting to catch on. What d’you think you’ll do?”

“I’ve always loved teaching. Maybe that?”

“You know, I have some friends who work at UC. Depending on what you wanted to teach, I could see if they could get you an interview.”

“Just like that?” Spencer asked, wondering only briefly if there was going to be a catch somewhere down the line.

The bartender shrugged. “Why not? I never up and moved cities, but I’m no stranger to new beginnings.”

“I wouldn’t recommend moving cities without thinking it through,” Spencer laughed then. “I have no plan for what comes next.”

“Do you have somewhere to stay, at least?”

Spencer only winced, which he was sure was answer enough for them. He was expecting some kind of sympathetic response, but he never expected the bartender to shrug again and say, “Well, how about I be a little impulsive too. I’ve been looking for a new roommate, why don’t you stay tonight and see how it goes?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure. You seem decent enough not to be some secret axe-murderer or something.”

Oh, the irony. 

Spencer didn’t really know this person except for the limited conversation they’d had so far. It would’ve been safer, and probably smarter, for him to just find a hotel room for the night and come up with a plan later. But something was telling him that he should agree, that there was something more to this person that he wanted to get to know. 

So not for the first time that day, Spencer trusted his gut and nodded. “Okay, let’s try it.”

It wasn’t a fix for everything. The changes would come slowly, so slowly that sometimes Spencer himself wouldn’t even notice them happening. It would take time to get to a place where Spencer felt okay again, and a large help in that ended up being his new roommate who seemed to just get him in more ways than one. As time went by, Cincinnati truly began to feel like home. 

And two years after he’d left, when Spencer turned on the news and saw the BAU standing before a large crowd as they announced they’d finally caught the serial killer behind the shipping container murders, he finally felt the string tugging him back in the direction of Quantico.

His home was there in Cincinnati, with the person who’d become a friend and even more in the last two years and the professor job that he came to love, but Spencer knew—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that it was time to see his family again, too. 

[doetic]

What Lingers - Dark!Edward Cullen x F!Reader (18+)

Plot: Edward Cullen doesn't know how to handle his crush on the new clerk at his favourite book store. Warnings: NSFW, Dark/yandere Edward, unhealthy obsessive thoughts, sexual thoughts (Edward descends into being a bit of a weirdo perv), Edward gets himself off Word count: 2436 Part 2 (coming soon, send in reqs/ideas!)

A/N: My first fic on this account! I haven't written in a while so I may be a little rusty, please bare with me! I didn't have much time to fully proofread this because I just wanted to get it out, so it may be a little awkward and have some mistakes, sorry! If you like this, feel free to send in requests for a part 2 (I'm thinking of writing it in in reader's pov?) or just any requests in general!

At first, Edward Cullen had thought he was dying. His throat had tightened more than he had thought possible, his mouth dried of all venom, he suddenly couldn't remember how to fake the motions of breathing, and despite knowing that it was impossible for his heart to do anything, he couldn't decide if his heart was being squeezed by some otherworldly force, or was kickstarted into a rapid beating that reverberated throughout his body and sounded in his ears like a drum. He quickly ran through his knowledge of vampiric bodies and health, but came up with nothing that could explain what was happening to him, nothing that could clarify why the mere sight of you had elicited such a visceral reaction from him.

Initially, you didn't seem like anyone particularly special. From your thoughts he discovered you were a writer, daydreaming about the draft you were working on as you were leaned against the wooden book store counter, head lazily rested upon your right hand while the left absently drew shapes onto the antique surface. Occasionally, the thought of your cat would interrupt your brainstorming daydream. A chubby orange tabby that was intelligent in all the wrong things and stupid in the rest, who seemed to cause you endless trouble. You were worried he had turned on the tap to drink from it again, an irksome habit he had that often ran up your water bill as he didn't know how to turn it off. None of your thoughts seemed to stick out to him as something of importance, but admittedly being present in your mind brought him a sense of peace he hadn't felt before. With shy hesitation he would even admit to himself that it somehow felt endearing.

Edward did have to give you credit, you certainly were beautiful by human standards. However, after spending decades around Rosalie and other vampires that had been blessed with an unnatural level of beauty made you seem more mundane to him than you would have appeared to a regular human. The more he thought about it though, the more he found he liked that about you. The pimple that lay just underneath your cheekbone, the natural reddish flush to your lips from a functioning circulatory system, the slight frizz to your hair, the rhythmic sound of air being pushed in and out of your body, and the oh so human eyes that looked up from the desk and met his. You were imperfect, flawed, starkly different from himself who had been biologically engineered to be irresistibly perfect from the first bite Carlisle inflicted upon him. You were intoxicating. Suddenly, Edward understood.

"Oh- Uhm- Sorry- Ah!" You jolted up, quickly shifting from your relaxed lean into a stiff, well postured, standing position as you tripped over your words. Edward could hear your heartbeat speed up. With your thoughts a current incoherent jumble, he was left to wondering if it was out of shock from his presence, or a flustered reaction to his appearance.

You cleared your throat, "Y/n. Hi. I work here now, just moved into town a week ago. Can I help you with anything?" A smile appeared on your face, but one that seemed to come from a place of general kindness (and a little embarrassment), rather than the normal customer service mask people put on. It was a scene Edward wished could wrap around his whole body, holding him tenderly in a sea of gentle warmth.

Thousands of replies appeared in his head, things he could say to charm you, things that could make you swoon, words that could make you laugh (a sound he was certain would be an imperfect crackling melody he would play on repeat in his mind), but when he opened his mouth, none of the above came out.

"Machiavelli." Edward wanted to disintegrate into the floor. He was supposed to start off with a smooth line to make you want to talk to him more, not the first author to appear in his head. Who even randomly thinks of Machiavelli anyways? "Sorry, I'm Edward Cullen. My family was the newest ones in town until a week ago I suppose. I'm looking for anything you might have by Machiavelli." He recovered, playing it safe but still flashing you a dazzling smile that always seemed to charm those who saw it.

You looked away from him. He tried not to clench his fists in frustration. He decided that he enjoyed when you looked at him, he liked looking at the many flecks of different hues and shades that made up your irises. So sweetly imperfect.

"Machiavelli..." You pondered, a finger pressing itself into the plush, slightly chapped surface of your lips. You were running through the layout of the store in your mind, trying to remember where it would be located. Edward felt a little bad for wasting your time, he knew the book store's layout in and out. He didn't actually ever come here to buy anything (although he did so quite often to ensure it would stay in business), but rather the usually empty store was a haven for him where he could pretend to be human again while escaping the constant barrage of other beings private thoughts.

"Okay! I think I remember where it would be, follow me!" You looked back at him with a smile. You didn't have to tell him twice, he would stay on your tail as long as you would let him (and perhaps even longer after that, if he was being honest with himself), your presence being a strawberry scented sirens song that he couldn't seem to want to pull himself away from.

"Of course, lead the way," Edward spoke with a slight grin, finding the words ironic. In reality it was him, the covert apex predator of the animal kingdom, who would be herding you like a sheep wherever he wished.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

As he stared at your phone number in his hands, the sheet of paper growing softer and more fragile while he toyed with it, Edward Cullen tried to decide that he hated you. It wasn't your fault at all, you had been nothing but perfectly pleasant and kind to him while he was in your presence, but instead it was his own.

You were kind, sweet, caring, imperfect. Those traits flowed through your veins, they even wafted in the air around you, pulling people close to you. After his first slip up with his words, everything between you two went exactly as he wished it would, and your feelings of curiosity towards him combined with the innately biological pull to his honeypot of inhuman beauty led to him getting your phone number. Everything went perfectly in his favour, and that was the problem.

Out of his family it was Rosalie who resented humans the most, and Jasper who kept the most distance from them, but even though he didn't fall at the extreme end of the spectrum, Edward wasn't a big fan of them either. He looked down on them as weaker life forms, sheep disgustingly careless around wolves, a sentiment he was smart enough to know came from a place of jealousy and sorrow, but still not something he harbored enough strength to get over and befriend one... that was until he saw you.

You made him selfish. His hand trembled as the ten endearingly messily inked numbered stared back at him tauntingly. You made him selfish and he hated you and he had to stop being around you. Something about you, your simplicity, your messiness, every imperfect mannerism that overflowed with life drew him in. Edward couldn't deny his nature when you clouded his senses with envy and awe. It was like the scorpion and the frog, Hades and Persephone. He was a hunter designed to lure you into false security before inevitably striking. He knew he couldn't be pure around you, you were a lamb and himself a lion, not a domesticated dog and cat. Biology and the food chain would triumph over his wishes soon enough, he would be an idiot to not know it.

But even so, a voice in his mind nagged at him, making him weak at the knees with bliss at the thought of giving into it. Hadn't he earned the right to be a little selfish? Aside from his rebellious stage, Edward had been so so perfect, a word he grew more sick of by the day. A word that seemed to wrap itself around his throat and tighten oh so slowly as time went on, now an unbearable pressure he was sure could snap his neck. You were everything he wasn't, everything he needed, you were ambrosia while he was on his deathbed. Could he really be faulted for just a sip?

Of course he didn't mean that literally. Although he knew that being close to you would surely end up with his lips stained crimson with blood and sin, there were ways around it. A junkie always finds a way.

Edward Cullen entered your number into his phone, staring at the blank space for him to type in a message for what felt like an eternity before turning it off completely. It wouldn't be the same to communicate digitally. He wanted you in person, laid bare in front of him, your thoughts not even kept private. He wanted to worship you softly, to expose himself to you fully, for his need and adoration for all that you are as an imperfect, truly human, life filled being. And as his thoughts delved deeper into all that you were, his thoughts took on a double meaning.

Edward had never done this before. He knew he was repressed, he was a religious boy from a much more conservative time that had long passed, and he was fine with that. But, he deserved to be selfish. He had never truly indulged himself, who could blame him for what he was about to do? Especially when it was your fault, you were making him imperfect as well.

His porcelain hand brought the now fragile sheet of paper to his nose, and as he breathed deeply he deluded himself into believing a trace of your aura still lingered on it. His hand hesitantly trailed down to his crotch, his fingers lightly touching the bulge through the fabric of his khakis. The foreign sensation made him let out a small whine that he quickly stifled by biting his lip. He was home alone, his family gone to visit the Denali's for a few days during the schools spring break, but it wasn't because he feared being heard that he stopped himself from making noise, but rather a nagging feeling of shame that faded more and more into the background as he slowly rubbed his bulge harder and faster.

He wondered if God was watching him as he undid his pants, pulling down his boxer-briefs with a hesitancy that seemed to flow away the more he melted into the nagging desire to indulge. If he was being watched, Edward decided God had no right to be angry. It was he who decided to put the most tempting creature in the world right where Edward would meet her, he should have known this would happen. Edward wasn't to blame, he was doing what any person would have done in his situation, and what was life anyways without indulgence?

With another deep inhale, Edward grew more confident. Using his leaking tip as lubricant, he began to quickly stroke his length. There was no point in taking things slowly, he had spent his whole life pent up and teased, why would he do it to himself?

Edward thought of what you would do to him. Your deep pink tongue licking from his balls to his tip, your utterly indecent and irresistible eyes, oh so filled with life, gazing up at him tenderly. The thought made him let out a small groan he couldn't stifle in time. Edward thought of how your skin would feel under his touch, smooth and warm with the occasional blemish. He wanted to slowly run his hand up your bare thigh, watching you squirm with need as he showed you just a fraction of what his life was like.

His hand moved faster and faster and he thought of earlier that day, the way you stumbled upon your words when you first saw him. He decided he would coax you into talking during intimacy, wanting to see how you tripped and fumbled the words of praise for him that would flow out of your mouth as he showed you that drinking blood wasn't the only thing his mouth was good for. He would be a bit clumsy in the beginning, but that would be okay for you, wouldn't it? You don't demand perfection, you're soaked in the opposite, and that is perfect to him.

One more inhale had his brain melt, his hand speeding up as much as he can take as he wonders if he'll be your first too. Surely he will be. If this experience taught him anything, it would be that you were made for him, and as he had never felt this pull to anyone else before, he was inclined to believe he was made for you too. He let out a growl as he thought about someone else laying a hand on you, deciding he should just claim you when the opportunity arises, painting your skin with his-

His loud moans turned to heavy pants, not from lack of air that he doesn't need, but from the intensity of what he had just done. The white liquid flowed down his tip and fist, and a sense of freedom rushed over him. He wasn't bad for this, he was doing what anyone else would do. You were rubbing off on him after just one interaction, making him oh so perfectly imperfect.

He grabbed a tissue from the box that had been placed on the table beside his couch for show, and wiped himself off, tossing the soiled tissue into the trash. His eyes went to his phone, which he turned on with a soft click. He felt better about everything, about himself, about you. What was life without indulgence?

Hello, It's Edward Cullen from the book store. Would you like to get coffee together soon?

He smiled to himself after typing out and sending his message, his hand bringing the piece of paper to his nose one last time, craving your essence, not wanting to miss even a hint of what lingers.

[vandalyssm]

Theory: Merlin's Recent Publicity and its Correlation to a Possible Sequel/Revival/Reboot (+Eoin Macken's Pseudo Merlin Project)

'Ello. Fancied sharing my thoughts on recent developments regarding BBC's Merlin.

Fair, firm warning: I'm only sharing speculations and my personal opinions on the matter, and I do not advertise them as fact whatsoever. Consider them musings (or delusions, your choice). You can use this to further fuel your hope of the slim chance that this beloved show will see the light of day once again or maybe make theories of your own. Dispelling it is also an option, as I cannot assure my arguments would be free from flaws.

Right. Without further ado...

Revival of the Official Merlin Twitter Account

Let's put this into scenario.

Imagine a dated piece of media, previously well-known worldwide and had its own golden age for a time. This media launched the last of its contents over a decade ago, yet it gained a loyal, devoted following that persisted to grow and continued the legacy of the franchise over the years. Though there were highs and lows, the community remained alive for an impressive amount of time, steadily producing art, fiction, and creations dedicated to the media, despite not having anything new to work with. This devotion is acknowledged by those from an outsider's perspective, including the creators of this media (cast, staff, and distributors alike).

To put into context, the community was left unsatisfied with how the media ended, and many wished for the media to return. Articles were written, petitions were signed, comments left on the cast' social media accounts, and even questions were asked directly to them. Although different in wording, the inquired notion remained the same: Will there be a possibility of a sequel/revival/return/reboot? The answers range from a neutral, vague reply to a more resounding no.

This cycle persisted, but the people were immovable; they were visionaries and their dream lived on in their hearts. And this did not go unnoticed.

So it continued... until one of the media's social accounts made a sudden return. Out of nowhere, without a warning. They're back for good, the account announced. It sent the community into a frenzy. But if you took a step back from the excitement, you'd notice that it's strange. Why would a media ended over a decade ago suddenly be promoted again?

Now, I'm going to explore two possibilities; pragmatic and idealistic. The previous hypothetical scenario lays the general principal of Merlin's relevance (duh).

I'll make the pragmatic perspective brief. FremantleMedia saw the opportunity to make some bucks from Merlin because of the loyal fanbase, using a no-cost yet effective method to keep us tuned in; hoping. OMG, what does this mean? Does this mean they're going make a sequel?! Holy shit, they're teasing us, aren't they? I can't believe this is happening, it's a dream come true! And so on and so forth. Evidently, it works and numbers are growing. The official Merlin twitter account is racking up more followers and likes with each post. In this possibility, there's no such thing as a sequel/whatever it is the fanbase hopes for; just a reanimated corpse doing the same silly tap dance while we holler at it, dumbly hoping that they bust out new moves.

Now, the fun part. The idealistic version!

I'm going to use a real life example for my theory: the upcoming release of Dragon's Dogma 2. With a quick Google search, you can learn that Dragon's Dogma 2 is the highly awaited sequel for its well-liked predecessor, Dragon's Dogma.

For some time, Dragon's Dogma was on sale on Steam (with a decent cut too). This was done to gain the attention of...

1. those who haven't previously dived into the franchise. It's to make them think 'Wow! This game's so good. Oh, there's a sequel of it that's gonna be released soon? With even better graphics and gameplay? Sign me the fuck up!'. You liked Blueberry Cheesecake, so it'd make sense that you'd be more open to buying Double Blueberry Cheesecake, Premium Ingredients Addition, with 2 additional paid toppings.

2. Veterans and nostalgic fans. 'They're promoting the game I liked years ago... Oh, well, it won't hurt to play it again, just for the nostalgia. It never really left my mind anyway."

In other words: hype! hype! hype!

If using this principle, then the possibility of a sequel/revival/reboot/new content exists. It's either being processed (wishful thinking, not as likely) or being considered (more likely). If it's the latter, then they're testing the waters to see how much people still care/how much money they'll make. The more attention and hype it gets, the higher the likelihood.

Simplified:

P (old media pushed for publicity) -> Q (hype built)

Q (hype built) -> R (new content)

Eoin Macken's Pseudo Merlin Project

If I recall correctly, Eoin Macken first announced a pseudo Merlin project in late 2020. It's first teased to be released in 2021, but nothing came out of it so far (at the time of writing this) except if you count the small handful of times Macken hinted it over the ongoing four year period.

Now, I understand his position. First and foremost, he needs the legal rights to actually produce anything and it's no easy feat when you're dealing with a massive company. Then there's the issue of costumes, props, sets, and equipment. A lot to consider. To put it simply, he must offer the company something worth more than the show itself or contribute in their favor in some way. Macken seems like a charming and capable guy, so he can make it work. Probably.

I lean towards the spin-off theory because a cast reunion would not take four years. As far as I know, Macken is close with the knights and they could get together at any convenient time. If the project was a zoom call or a recorded get-together, it would've been released already. To compare, by using the average of 385,000 babies born each day during the last three years, we have 421,575,000 newborns before the Pseudo Merlin Project.

I want to tie this in with the previous theory, but eh. It can connect, but not really. I don't have any further explanation or evidence since Macken hasn't given any news.

---

Anyways. That's enough of this. I hope it made sense, at least it did to me. I'm entering my third year in the fandom, so I'm relatively new and still hopeful. (Though I try hard to keep my feet on the ground while I stare up at the clouds.)

To end this post, I'd like to say: keep hoping. Hope is such a stupidly beautiful thing, and it should be nurtured. Turn that feeling into art, into efforts.

There are franchises revived 2-3 decades after, and Merlin is no exception.

[about-faces]

I'm still loving Gotham Nocturne and I wish it was getting the love/respect/attention is deserves. I've spoken several people who haven't been reading the current Detective Comics run because they're Batmanned Out (good lord, do I get it) and they see it as just another attempt at some kind of "ultimate Batman story with Batman fighting the ultimate evil," which I strongly disagree with.

THAT SAID... as time has gone on, and the story seems to be reaching its finale, there are a few things that stand out of me as problems with this epic storyline.

1.) It's one of the most egregious examples of "writing for the trade paperback." This simply isn't a story that's meant to be read month-to-month. It's too slow, with too little "happening," at least on the superficial level. Paradoxically, it's NOT a story that should be binged! The best comparison that comes to mind is Better Call Saul, since that's the only other example of serialized media that's meticulously slow-paced yet INCREDIBLY RICH for those willing to engage with it on its level rather than expecting it to be Breaking Bad (or in Nocturne's case, a typical Batman story.) Ram V is capable of writing super-engaging monthly issues, as the fantastic Rare Flavours proves, but that brings us to...

2.) The story is sprawling. Maybe even TOO sprawling. When it comes to people who are sick of Batman, I try to sell them on the fact that this story is about GOTHAM AS A WHOLE, right down to the villains who call it home, and how everyone there is as intrinsically a part of Gotham as Batman is. But ensemble stories like that are tricky, and it makes the focus feel all over the place at times, with alternately too much and too little attention being paid to the main players, Batman included. It's a balance that was handled beautifully with Batman: The Audio Adventures, but it seems a bit more awkward here. Again, it's hard to pull off!

Like, we have characters pop up and then vanishing without explanation. We got Azrael back in the AzBats armor for the first time in decades, like, holy shit! That should be a HUGE development! And then, poof, he vanished! There's simply no time to explore Jean-Paul's character because there's so many other things the narrative needs to explore.

This feels like it would have really benefited from a companion series, something to focus on the characters the way the backup stories have done, but just more so. I think about how Peter Tomasi would write companion books to the main big storylines written by Geoff Johns, Grant Morrison, and Scott Snyder, and how he'd focus on character, which always enriched the greater "big important storyline." Which, in turn, also brings me to...

3.) The backup stories have really lost a lot of their punch since they stopped being written by Si Spurrier and were taken over by Dan Watters. Watters is incredibly capable, make no mistake, and his Cheshire/Lian Harper story is one of my favorite parts of this entire saga. But by and large, his tales focus more on the spooky and weird sides of what's happening with Nocturne, whereas Spurrier's stories were more focused on characters navigating the weirdness of the events. As a result, Spurrier gave us what I consider to be some of the very best stories about Jim Gordon, Harvey Dent, and Victor Fries ever written. I really miss those, and how they enriched Ram V's (possibly overly-ambitious) narrative.

Ultimately, Gotham Nocturne feels like the Batman equivalent to an arthouse film, which means it's going to be appreciated by a handful of nerds while leaving most other fans cold, and I can't really blame them. If anything makes me sad about all this, it's how all this incredible character work with Bruce, Harvey, Victor, Talia, and others is going to be ignored. Hell, it already is, given the complete lack of acknowledgement we've seen in other Bat-books for what's going on in Nocturne.

At this point, I just hope it sticks the landing in the finale, because I want to be able to have a complete, satisfying epic to recommend to people who want something a bit richer than the typical "guy in Bat costume punches clown" stories we usually get.

[carolfierce116]

I Want You Around Part 2

A/N: First off, thank you to EVERYONE who showed love on Part 1. I haven't written anything in 7 years so the getting the love means a lot to me. Anyway, here's part 2. Enjoy.

*Pairings: Solo Sikoa/OC (black fem)

*Warnings: Still 18+, a little tiny mention of smut...for now

*Word Count: Approximately 2200 words...

*

Fingers snapped rapidly in an impatient manner. “Earth to Sefa! Is anybody home?” 

Sefa jolted out of his reverie and turned away from the window he was looking out of. Two sets of curious dark brown eyes stared at him, one pair eyeing him in the rearview mirror and the other pair glancing back to the rear seat of the Tahoe he was lounging in.

“Huh?”

“We said what did you want to eat before we headed to the hotel,” Jon asked his younger brother. “Have you been ignoring us this entire time Uce?”

Sefa dragged a tattooed hand over his face and exhaled. “My bad. I just got a lot on my mind.” 

“Like what?” Joshua asked as he redirected his attention back to the road.

“Krys.” 

“Of course,” the twin brothers replied, smirks gracing their lips. 

Sefa rolled his eyes. “I know you not talking seeing as how sappy you are with your wife. You act like a lovesick puppy whenever we’re on the road Jon.” 

Joshua snickered. “He got you there.” 

“To hell with both of y’all. Anyway, what’s happening with Krys? Y’all good?”

“Yeah we’re good,” Sefa responded.  “At least I think we’re good.” 

“You think?” Jon asked as his eyebrow raised curiously. “What happened?”

Sefa exhaled as his mind wandered back to his late night conversation with Krys a couple of nights ago. Neither of them mentioned his request again before he left for the road and despite his calm demeanor on the outside Sefa was a nervous wreck inside. When he first decided he would ask her to move in with him, he was certain that Krys would agree since she loved him as much as he loved her. But she still hadn’t gave him an answer and he was starting to wonder if he jumped the gun too quickly.

“I asked her to move in with me.” 

“Like to live together?” Joshua asked.

“No to have a sleepover. Yes to live together dumbass,” Sefa quipped with a shake of his head.

“Well what did she say?” 

“She said she had to think about it.”

The twins’ faces dropped. “Oh.” 

Sefa looked between his two brothers. “Oh what? You think she’s gonna say no?” 

“Maybe she really does need time to think about it,” Jon said.

“Or maybe she need to figure out a nice way to tell your ass hell no.” 

Jon reached over and slapped Joshua in the chest. “You’re not helping at all.” 

“I’m just saying we need to consider all possibilities.” Joshua glanced at the rearview mirror to Sefa again. “But I’m sure it’s what Jon said. She just needs time to think. Living with somebody - especially your girlfriend - is a big step Uce. You’re sure you’re ready for that?” 

“Positive,” Sefa responded without hesitation. “She already stays at my place any time I’m home. We spend every second of our free time with one another. We should just make it official.” 

“Well are you sure Krys is ready for that?”

“I…Well I don’t know,” Sefa admitted softly. He placed his head in his hands and sighed. “Like I know she loves me but her biggest thing is she doesn’t want to ruin what we have now. And she’s worried moving in together will do that.”

“Take it from somebody who has lived with his wife for over a decade - that’s a valid concern to have. Quite frankly you don’t know somebody until you’ve lived with them,” Jon said.

“Let’s say y’all move in and y’all have some dumbass disagreement. There’s no other place for one of you to run to because y’all share a space.  And what if you uncover some annoying trait that she has that drives you insane? Kinda like how Jon hates how his wife refuses to put any item back in its intended place and leaves it laying around anywhere in their house.” 

Jon snapped his fingers and pointed at Joshua. “Y’all know I can’t stand a messy space. But I deal with it because I love her and we’ve been married for years. But best believe me it grates my fuckin nerves.”

The three brothers chuckled as Joshua exited the highway and merged onto the local roadway. Signs promoting local eateries passed by them indicating they were getting closer to their destination. 

“I hear y’all and I understand where Krys is coming from. But I know in my gut I’m making the right choice,” Sefa declared firmly. “We may not have been together for that long but she’s different Uce. I know she’s destined to be mine forever.” 

Sefa's older brothers shared a look with one another at the determination dripping from his tone. They knew when he had his mind focused on a goal there was nothing on Earth that would stop him from succeeding. But as his big brothers, they still felt an obligation to mentally prepare him if his plans didn't work out the way he wanted them to.

“Well what if she says no?”  Joshua asked.

Sefa pursed his lips together as he considered the possibility. Despite his confidence that Krys would eventually agree, he still had to consider how he would feel if she said no. There was no doubt that they would still love one another but would it cause a fracture in their otherwise stable relationship?

He simply didn’t know. 

Before Sefa could answer, Joshua pulled into the parking lot of Waffle House making Jon audibly groan. Sefa quickly pushed any negative thoughts out of his mind as he watched his older brothers bicker with one another as they exited the truck. He climbed out of the backseat and stretched his arms over his head, his black t-shirt slightly rising and exposing a sliver of skin. He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out his cell phone. A picture of him and Krys taken earlier that year on his birthday on the lively Miami strip greeted him as he swiftly unlocked his phone. He typed a quick message to her before he slipped into a booth across from his brothers. 

 *

“So lemme get this straight.”

Krys glanced up from her phone, an easy smile on her lips as she read the text from Sefa she received a few seconds ago. Her gaze landed on her best friend Imani as she leaned back in the booth across from her, folding her arms over the basic white tank top she was wearing. 

“Your boyfriend that you love with all of your heart asked you to move in with him. And you, Krystle Washington, told him you had to think about it?” 

“Yes,” Krys replied with a nod. She grabbed her frozen margarita and took a quick sip. “Exactly.” 

“And exactly how am I supposed to help you make a decision?” 

“You’re supposed to help me think logically about this. You know when it comes to Sefa I can be a little-"

“Dick-notized.” 

An embarrassed flush colored Krys face as she flipped Imani the middle finger. “You’re not funny.”

“Of course I’m not. I’m fuckin hilarious.” 

The two women shared a look before bursting into a fit of giggles causing the other patrons in the restaurant to glance at their table. 

The moment Krys dropped Sefa off at the airport the day before, she immediately called Imani and declared an emergency lunch meeting at their favorite Mexican restaurant.  Besides Sefa, Imani knew her better than anyone else in her life since they’ve been friends since their undergrad days. While Krys moved through life in an impulsive manner, Imani planned everything. She never made a decision unless she weighed all of the pros and cons and always had a back up plan. On the outside looking in, the two would not look like they would mesh well as best friends. However, they both offered one another something they needed: In Krys, Imani had a friend that encouraged her to let loose a little and to ignore her perfectly crafted plans.  Meanwhile Imani was the one Krys knew she could count on to ground her in reality instead of allowing her to get lost in her whimsical fantasy world.

“Imani give me some credit. I actually held off on making a choice the night he asked me.” 

“Which I must say I’m shocked. Because you and I both know you’re the kind to act first and ask questions never in most scenarios.” 

“Yes but living together with your boyfriend is a huge commitment.” 

“It is. Sharing a mutual space with one another. Dividing expenses. Having to agree on the same toilet paper to use. All important aspects.” 

“And I love Sefa. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have reservations.” 

“Such as?” 

Krys sighed as she ran a hand over her curly hair that was styled in a messy top bun, her index finger toying with the salted rim of her glass. “Things are just going really well with us right now even with him constantly being on the road. But what if we move in together we realize that we were better off having our own space and freedom? That we’re not compatible enough to live with one another? What if it causes us to break up?”

Imani placed her fork down on her plate and reached across the table grabbing her friend’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’re absolutely right. Those possibilities could happen. But I’m certain they won’t.” 

“Why?”

“Because Sefa adores you. If he could he would give you the entire world. And we both know he doesn’t let many people close to him. Him asking you to live with him is a giant leap that he’s taking as well. But he’s willing to take it because he loves you so much. And with the limited knowledge that I have about the way he thinks, I know he wouldn’t have asked you if he wasn’t absolutely sure about y’all relationship. Now I know I’m the last person who would say something like this but let’s think about the good things that could happen if you moved in with him.”

“Like what?” 

“The bond you share with him could grow stronger. Y’all could grow closer. Y’all could fall in love even more. Hell it might even lead to…” 

Imani trailed off as Krys felt anxiety fluttering in the pit of her stomach. She would be lying to herself if she said the image of her marching down the aisle to an awaiting Sefa didn’t cross her mind once or twice. But that’s what made this dilemma so challenging. She didn’t want her choice to fuck up the best thing that had happened to her in years. And most importantly, she didn’t want to hurt Sefa.

What initially started off as her accepting a date from a handsome new NXT recruit months after she started her new job as a photographer for WWE had blossomed into something even her idyllic brain couldn’t dream of. From the moment their lips first touched on their first date, Krys knew Sefa was different from the prior men she dated.  Yes the sex was breathtaking. But their connection went deeper than that. He was stoic on the outside but possessed a heart full of gold that only Krys and others close to him got to witness. He always surprised her with how he paid attention to every detail about her from how she liked her coffee (with five creams until the liquid matched her complexion) to how she preferred to wear her curly hair (a top knot bun to avoid her thick mane laying on her neck in the Florida humidity). He didn’t speak much but when he did, his deep, strong voice oozed into her ears like liquid gold causing her to hang onto every word he said,  fantasizing about the different spots on her body she wanted his thick lips to caress. 

But one of the most important aspects of their relationship was that Sefa accepted Krys for the person she was instead of trying to change her into what he thought the perfect girlfriend should be. He made her feel safe to show him the true her. With her exes, she always felt the pressure to conform her personality to merge seamlessly with theirs. But Sefa never made her feel that way. He was a loner and she was a social butterfly. She constantly wore her emotions on her sleeve while he hid his under lock and key unless he really trusted you. On paper, the two of them were like oil and vinegar. But to anybody that saw them together they were perfect for one another.  While she had her concerns about living with him and their relationship advancing to the next level, Krys couldn’t ignore what she knew deep down in her core.

Sefa was the man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with. 

“I know that look all too well.” 

The sound of Imani’s voice interrupted Krys's thoughts. Her eyes landed on Imani's smirking face. “What?” 

“I know you called me out to help you decide but let’s face it. Krys you already knew what you wanted to say the night he asked you,” Imani said. “Remove what I think and what Sefa wants from the equation. What would make Krys happy?” 

Krys bit the corner of her lip , silently considering her friend's words before reaching for her purse on the seat next to her and pulled out her cell phone. Her eyes fell on the background photo of her and Sefa standing in front of his mother’s large Christmas tree the year before as she entered her lock code, the device immediately landing on the message thread between the two. Before her fears could stop her, Krys typed out a simple three word text.

Yes.

[femmefighter]

I'll be greedy and ask 2, 6, 17 and 18 for the Fic Writer Asks 😘

Alright, I'm loving @btwxsixesandsevens 's idea of using these as a 'writing warm-up', so let's see how this goes!

2. Do you read/reread your own fics? Yes, very much so. It sounds conceited perhaps, but when I started my WIP, there was next to no Sokabine content whatsoever. So I literally went, "stuff it, I'll do it myself". I'm writing the story/stories I want to read, so yes I reread my own work. It's also great to come across horrible spelling or grammar mistakes and be like, "SHIIIIIIIIT" *RACES FOR EDIT BUTTON*. 🤣

6. Are there many fics you reread all the time? You bet there are! I especially read WIPs over and over, either when a new chapter is up to double-check what was going before moving on with the story, or just because I'm loving where the author is going with the piece; I love cheering them on with comments and I want to keep reliving it and wonder where the adventure's going next. I don't reread the completed multi-fics so much (but I do sometimes!), but I do love rereading some one shots! (I feel less guilty doing so coz they're shorter!)

And since we're here, might as well do some special shout outs: WIPs: Heart of a leader, soul of a rebel  by @halepo ; Crimson Dusk, Cerulean Dawn by @loevawrites ; Splintered Realities by @calyxborealis and Dreams and Madness by CarboniteCass Multi-chaptered fics: chaos, yet harmony by rain_sleet_snow ; Rid'alor by albedobrave

One-shots: what strange dreams have we shared by October_sky ; In Her Mouth an Amethyst by @ambiguityisnoonesfriend ; Love So Alike by @tatooinesun2121 ; Ka'rta Ve'vut by @kanskje-kaffe and never know what to say (but you get it anyway) by lostresidentevilpotter 

Decadent smut fics for dessert: Mesh'la by @machinerismsx ; ni kar'tayli gar darasuum (i will know you forever) by @augustfiction and pretty much anything written by @armoralor but especially Homecoming, Built to Wreck and Here & Now 

17. What's something you learned about while doing research for a fic? Well, my favourite concept (from Legends) was about Togruta blushing through the darkening of the stripes on their montrals and lekku! So the fact that Ahsoka blushes blue just makes me 😍 But I think the most interesting thing I've discovered is Operation Cinder, the world-killing revenge mission for Imperial remnants after the Emperor dies - and even though I haven't found anything to confirm it yet, I reckon Mandalore was victim to this operation. 18. What's one of your favourite lines you've written in a fic? Ugh, that's a hard one. The title of my WIP, Reach Out and Feel Me, is probably my favourite line to slip in. Maybe that's a cop-out. Fine, lemme think... Alright. A paragraph from Ch 18 of RO&FM, Sabine talking to Ahsoka: "The person I wanted to learn how to wield a lightsaber from I thought was dead. I resented Kanan because he wasn’t you, and I was horrible because of it.” ~~~ I dunno, I love that whole chapter of the first time Sabine has a lesson with Ahsoka in lightsaber sparring.

Well that was fun! Sorry for the avalanche. Guess I'm well warmed up now! Thanks for the ask 😘

[sophiainspace]

Answer the Questions and Tag 5 Fanfic Authors

I was tagged by @kitkatt0430 and @joanthangroff - thanks!

1. How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I was writing absolutely terrible Star Trek and Buffy fic in the 90s/2000s. I never put any of it online, and that is a very good thing. Then I decided I was "too old" for fandom for over a decade (which is funny because I was a tiny tiny child). About 7 years ago I came back via the Arrowverse fandom which is still my mainstay. (I'm a 'slow fandom' type, not a 'fast fandom' cycler. Based on the length time I've been in the Buffy fandom, the Arrowverse fans are going to be stuck with me till about the 2040s. Oh god, I just added up the years and that actually might be accurate.)

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

I think I'm up to 6 now, if you differentiate the Star Trek series. I have fic on my AO3 for 4 of those. But some of those I've just written one drive-by fic for, like The Good Place.

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Sharing it publicly? About 7. Writing? *counts on fingers again* I don't want to play this game anymore 😂

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

These days I write more than read, as I'm really short of (useful) time and I can usually focus more on creating when I do get time off. I still read when I can, especially fic by friends.

5. What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

I find it really hard to be objective about this. I can see how my style has changed over the past 7-ish years - it used to be really bare and simple, and now it's more focused on characters' interior lives - but I'm not sure if that counts as improvement (although I do like getting into characters' heads). I can see the problems in both my styles, but in some ways I like my past style better. I need to write a short, poetic, minimalist fic again soon...

6. What’s the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Mostly just stuff relating to the criminal habits of fictional supervillains (I've read a bit about safe-cracking and handcuff-breaking but no more than your average coldwave shipper). Most of my 'research' barely counts as such. There's only so much you can find out about the top speed of the Flash and exactly how strong Buffy Summers is, before you give up and accept that you're going to write no more nonsense than the canon writers did, so it's fine.

7. What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

The ones where people quote long bits and yell one or two capitalised words after each quotation. Beautiful.

8. What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Not quite sure what counts here, but I've written a few QPR stories and they were a lot of fun (and don't often get read, of course, but still totally worth writing).

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Smut. I went through a period of attempting it, but I'm done. I'm just too demi/grey-ace for that shit. The 'M' rating is my limit!

10. What is the easiest type?

I have a lot of fun with OT3s. But generally, familiar ships are the way to go when I'm tired or busy. They write themselves. Mick Rory also writes himself - I should write a Mickfic again soon...

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

Google Docs (these days). Published to AO3 and linked on tumblr. Mostly on weekend afternoons, as long as I haven't had to write anything for work that day - otherwise writing brain will not play ball.

12. What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

There are a bunch of other fandoms I'd like to write for, but the onboarding process is hardcore and I don't have the time anymore to write 6-8 fics just to build up my familiarity with characters and canon stories, before I really get into the fandom and start writing stuff I enjoy writing. I wouldn't mind attempting The Magnus Archives, but I'm not really into the big ship... but if I could sit down for a while and get obsessed with a rarepair or a minor character, maybe. But, see what I mean? Onboarding!

13. What made you choose your username?

Almost all my fandoms are science fiction or SF-adjacent. When I was first on AO3 I was using the more feminine version of my username (out of habit by that point, but so it goes). I would change it to something with just Soph, but I'm kind of used to it by now.

Not sure who to tag as I think Yas and kitkatt have tagged a lot of the writers I know around here, but here are a few people who might want to attempt this (or not): @habibialkaysani @purpleyin @silas-lehnsherr @tobyaudax @stungunmilly2

[hexonthepeach]

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 2: lost and found

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate's clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [0: prologue] [1: escape, again]

wc: 6k

chapter warnings: multi idol au overload, minor violence

recommended listening: farewell, neverland - txt

Shadows jump and dart on the corner of your vision, phantoms created by the crackling fire in the abandoned schoolyard. You hadn’t relaxed since leaving Neo Seoul but tonight that uneasiness has you taut like a tripwire, checking the gaps between the abandoned buildings and the overcast sky for unfamiliar drone lights.

One of your entourage places a hand on your shoulder, stilling the trembling in your body and the nervous swish of your tail. You jerk away, offense only increasing when the reek of a domesticated dog assails your senses.

"We have six on patrol including eyes on the sky," Yunho says, voice soothing. "You really should relax. And eat."

He hasn't used an order on you since that first night, but you haven't forgiven him for it. You ignore him, staring into the watery mug of stew in your hands, feeling another set of eyes burning into you across the flame.

It's been a whole week since you'd had anything besides packaged field rations but your appetite is gone under Hongjoong's scrutiny.

"Not good enough for your refined palette?" he asks lightly, polishing off his own mug.

The leader of the mercenary crew has kept you on a short leash since you’d been rescued, age-old enmity written into his slender features and piercing eyes. You'd never met a prey-type Alpha before but it was just your luck that the first one would be one atop your species' food chain.

"This isn't the time to be picky about your protein choices, Princess," he chides. You bristle at his tone, but most especially the affectation. You’d asked time and time again to be called by your name, only to be laughed over.

”Don’t remind me who you are, Princess. I would rather be caught dead than knowing your real name.”

"Told you she'd have a hard time with the silver spoon plucked from her mouth. Can't even handle a little bug meat."

"Captain–" Yunho begins, cut off when the smaller man stands up and glares down at you.

"Finish it," he orders.

You bare your teeth in his direction, ears folding back, but you obey, choking down your flavorless meal and trying not to think about what's in it.

At least you're not alone in your humiliation. You'd watched Mingi, the enormous wolf enforcer of Hongjoong's crew, practically hit the ground in white-eyed terror while being dressed down for falling asleep on a shift the day before.

Yunho, too, had submitted at every turn, only a little more fire in him. Like the other Canids he'd hung at your side the past few days, eager to please in a way that had you mollified.

It was the gifts, of course.

You’d started receiving them as soon as they'd abandoned the old military vehicle to hike North, the terrain too difficult and dangerous to traverse except on foot. First your own bedroll, then your own tent when the rains inevitably fell in the morning. Fresh clothes, fire-warmed water to bathe in.

Breakfast was always made before dawn and left a safe distance from your shelter's door. Then came the oddities. A rare winter flower, a not-too-broken handmirror.

Humankindness, possibly, but they'd all carried the same scent. Hound.

You had to admit there was something intriguing about the Halatus pack, mismatched in species and designation as expected for those outside of Old Seoul's social order. It was a shame you hadn’t had the mental clarity to focus on how their dynamic operated, after a week of hiking on a nauseated stomach.

By tomorrow you would never see them again.

"Not even a thank you for the food?" Hongjoong sneers, pacing.

"I'm paying you." you mutter, knowing his sharp ears will catch it.

He laughs, a sharp bark breaking the eerie silence. "Not nearly enough."

"Three pheasants, four rabbits, countless pigeons," you say, staring at the ground. "A giant rat."

"Is this a nursery rhyme they teach you in the Palace?" Hongjoong asks, stilling long enough to seem genuinely curious. He sits down, gun slung over his thigh, tapping his fingers along it's barrel.

"Just listing the game I could have caught if you'd allowed me a weapon," you answer. "There was much more. Who do you think helped Jongho find that rabbit warren?"

"One giant rat." He repeats, amused, whistling.

"You are expending unnecessary resources guarding me," you say, ears flat against your head, your voice kept neutral. "Please at least give me a way to defend myself."

Hongjoong pretends not to hear you, scraping the pot free of the last dregs of stew.

"I belong out here as much as you do," you say, holding your spine straight.

The captain' looks up at you, glare burning with the flames.

"Not with this crew."

"Stop antagonizing her, Joong," a deep voice says behind you, startling you. Juniper and salt are in your nose as a slender, gloved hand plucks your mug away.

You’re slowly becoming more accustomed to Park Seonghwa’s presence but more often then not you avoided the Felid's company. He's another Royal Academy exile, more recognizable now that you’ve had time to discern his features beneath the darkening across his sharp cheekbones, his neck burnt black by whatever he’d encountered out here.

You knew better than to ask what had happened to him.

"Are you still hungry?" Seonghwa asks, dipping over the wash bowl, ignoring you outside of these brief interactions. Like the others he's dressed in tactical gear, stun rifle at his side and blade strapped to his back.

"No. Thank you," you demure. It had only taken a few days for you to recognize him as the eldest, the hidden prime.

That earns you another chuckle from the Captain. Seonghwa tidies up with the air of someone too tired to ask for help even as Yunho rushes to assist. You’d long stopped asking if you could help.

"Who do you want for the next sleep shift?" The quiet second-in-command asks.

Hongjoong cocks his head, checking his agent. "I'll take Wooyoung's patrol. If there are sniffers it's best to pair them in the same building to draw them in."

"I want someone else with us," you blurt out, standing up. Anxiety rolls off of your body in waves, unhelped by the suggestion.

"You trying to seduce my whole pack?" Hongjoong seems genuinely humored.

You shake your head slightly, crouching down with your ears pulled back.

"Please," you say, after some hesitation. "It doesn't have to be a Canid."

The only response is the snap of the fire, but outside of the clean smoke and cooling remnants of dinner you register the bitter scent of disapproval. You look up at Yunho's kind face, too trained to make eye contact with the Alpha. Yunho's mouth opens and shuts, but he holds his words.

You know your place, you think.

"She can stay in the old boiler room," Yunho says. He runs fingers through his black hair in discomfort. Seonghwa nods, gaze moving to the Captain.

"Fine," Hongjoong says. "Drug her so she'll get some sleep. If she struggles, feel free to tie her up."

"I'll take what I'm given," you say, ducking your head. You look up at him, finding your verve. "Captain."

A sharp-toothed smile breaks over the Alpha's face, but you’re answered by the Felid beside him.

"Sleep well, ____," Seonghwa says. "One last District and you'll be home."

For the first time since your extraction you dip towards the dirt in a practiced bow, hands crossed over your too-large military trenchcoat.

"I thank you for your service."

Hongjoong's laughter follows your exit, navigating the dark with Yunho's hand on your arm, past piles of junk and the carcasses of long-unused desks.

"I could get used to that," the Captain's voice echoes through the concrete hallways behind you. "Maybe we should keep her."

You only have to wait a few hours, feigning sleep, until Yunho leaves first shift to sneak out, ignoring Wooyoung's grumblings at being disturbed. It's still early enough you can hear the quiet sound of conversation at the fire. You hang in the stairwell, considering your exit—

"____." The voice makes you jump

You look up to see a dark figure peering down from the next landing, your heart thundering in your chest.

"I was just going to rel—" The excuse flies out of your mouth, practiced.

Seonghwa waves off the lie, unconcerned. “Come with me, I have something to talk to you about.”

“Have I done anything to displease you?” you ask, voice reedy.

You hear a soft laugh. “You wouldn't have to ask."

Against instinct you follow him up, fingers cramping on the cold metal banister, thighs burning and booted feet heavy from the day's hike. The rooftop of the school is four stories up and dark but for a makeshift station—Yeosang's. 

In your first days of captivity you'd taken to testing them, seeing how far you could get before they pulled you back. 

Your excuse of relieving yourself to find a vector of escape had quickly been stymied by Yeosang's drone hovering silently a respectful distance away in the dark.

After that they'd set proximity alarms, and tighter shifts.

Yeosang's acknowledgement is silent, face lit by his viewscreen as his pale eyes flick back to his work, leaving you to join Seonghwa a fair distance away, igniting an LED torch lamp as a beacon.

Your breath steams in the air, obscuring the field of stars. You knew this nightscape well–were grateful to see it's known patterns, the Temasik Line obscured by radiant light of the cities southwest.

"I wanted to speak with you privately. Before we reached Strictland."

"Strictland?" you ask, heart thumping erratically in your chest. 

"It's what the Free packs call District 8. A military base and a capital of sorts, once a border. Most of it was wiped out in the war but an international rebuilding initiative was started there. Before the Syndicate outlawed foreign occupation."

You nod, unfamiliar with any of this. It wasn't uncommon for Imperial censors to have blanked out entire portions of your maps.

"Our deal was to take you there, no further. It's peaceful enough, there's aid and safe zones for designated refugees. But I am under the impression you are looking for a specific individual."

You hesitate, remembering your disclosure to Yunho. 

"I didn't lie about wanting to find my brother," you say, quietly.

"What's his name?" 

You shake your head. You can't disclose that–your mother had sworn you to it. 

"He goes by something else, now," you say. "He's a fox, like me. An Alpha. I know that, at least."

Seonghwa's response is barely audible, like the ghost of thunder on the horizon.

"Are you familiar with a Free pack called Schisma?" 

Something pricks at you with the name, but it's your first time hearing it. 

"No. Why?"

"They’re . . . infamous," Seonghwa says. "We've dealt with them before. Some of them are Abdicated but most were born outside the Dome."

He pulls something from his pocket, toying with it in the blue light, as he considers what to say next. 

"And I know for a fact that three of their members are Vulpin," he says. "All Alphas."

A small flare of hope makes your head spin—you quickly tamp it down, for fear of how easy it would be to let it consume you. You knew better than to drive forward on prayer alone. 

"Do you know when they were born?" you ask, voice trembling.

"No. But our generation." Seonghwa's pale eyes meet yours, slit pupils fully round without light. "Would you like to meet them?" 

"Yes." You exhale sharply, almost explosively. "Would that be a problem?" 

Strands of dark hair fall over his forehead as he stares at the thing in his hand–a coin, by the looks of it. 

"It would be for our Captain. Bad blood between him and their leader–too alike, perhaps." He smiles at that, white teeth shining. "But they owe me a favor. If you're patient, and can keep your head down, I could arrange a meeting."

That surprises you. You look up to see if Yeosang is responding to your conversation but only see his silhouette on the far side of the roof, another drone rising up to flit over the dead treetops.

"How soon?" You try to hide the desperation in your voice. You have an ample enough reserve of suppressants but you know you won't be safe for long. Not without a pack and blood to align with. 

"Communication with them is always one-way," he says, cautiously. "It could be quick, it could be months from now. That's why patience is key."

"I don't have months," you blurt out. 

Seonghwa stares at you, cold and unreadable. You think he'll speak but you realize he's waiting for you to continue.

"I know it was stupid of me to leave the Dome on a rumor. But I had to," you say. "My mother died for it. In a way . . . I almost did. My life was never my own, but after we tried to escape the first time . . . it was forfeit." 

You wait, bracing, for more questions. This is the first time you'd spoken of it with a stranger, no words could articulate the experience fully.

Seonghwa's hand raises, tracing the air near your cheek from a few feet away.

"You were marked, weren't you?" he asks. There's no accusation there but you feel panic surface, unable to hide your reaction as you skulk back. 

"What?" you protest.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Even most betas know we don't scar unless it's by another of our kind," he says softly.

"Wooyoung always jokes that foxes are Felid software running on Canid hardware. Your hardware is . . . more Felid than expected." 

"Well, I do have the blood of Tigers," you say, holding your face to hide your embarrassment. It's a pathetic attempt at a joke but he rumbles a bit at it.

"Your secret is safe with me, but best to cover your face in the company of strangers."

Over a few silent moments he takes on a more serious air.

"So you understand, fully, what will happen to you if you are alone out here?" he asks.

You nod. Your eyes are stinging with more than the cold. 

"There is an alternative," he says. You remain still as he moves towards you, as the bright tones of eucalyptus from his scent make your nose twitch. Your tail curls behind you, ears twitching.

"We do business in Neo, but we have our own sanctuary, should you choose to go there instead."

You understand what he's offering, have known it since your first night. Sanctuary with Halatus would have it's own price--would mean blending your lives with them, letting nature take its course in Yunho's unspoken claim over you. Perhaps you'd find your place. You had the skills to help them, if they allowed it.

"I can't give up," you say, finally. "I have to find him."

"I understand." You're shaking by the time he comes closer, unconsciously stepping back when he removes his thick peacoat to offer it to you. "But consider it."

"No gifts," you say automatically. 

His laugh is melodic, now, less deep than his usual voice. 

"You'll have to pardon the others. It's in their nature to take care of you."

Something in his tone makes it clear that doesn't apply to him. Even if you can't see his face in shadow you look up at him, seeing the familiar glisten of hybrid eyes.

"Not yours?" 

He cocks his head. "You've never met a sigma, before, have you?"

Your chest feels tight, recognition setting in. "I just assumed–"

"Good." He cuts you short, amused. "Suffice it to say, you're safe in my company. In our company."

He pulls the jacket around you, the lingering heat from his body instantly warming–matched by the blood quickened through your system at his signature. It had been easy to ignore the part of your brain that recognized him as kin–that jimseung exoticness and Felid a strong cloak.

There was something pacifying, knowing you weren't alone. It was hard not to want to linger in it—your fox wanted more.

"We'll see you to your destination and I will arrange for you to meet with a representative of Schisma. But if all else fails, I want you to know that Halatus will see that you are safe. We abide by only one principle: no masters."

He lifts your chin with sharp claws, a padded thumb brushing your lip.

"We must look out for each other, after all."

When you dream it's of your home. Not the one you'd been imprisoned in within New Seoul but a quiet estate in the Wild, far past the edges of the flooded metropolis.

You don't remember which District but you do remember the hills rolling into the mountains on either side–a part of the Wild somehow untouched by disaster.

Your peace there, playing with your brother as cicadas thrummed in the tall trees and crickets chirped in the garden, lasted for only a few years.

After that came the silence as contamination spread, changing the biome and making it toxic for anyone but non-designated. The out-of-control Wild had choked dwindling supply lines, resources stuck in Neo Seoul.

Your father went missing before you were old enough to remember his face, leaving your genteel mother to teach you how to subsist and fend for yourselves. She'd made mistakes of her own, but she'd kept all of you alive for far longer than you'd expected.

You'd starved, as both the roads and the forests went quiet. When the droughts came you'd survived on collected rainwater flavored with local flora and the occasional fish or reptile caught in brackish pools. You grew what you could, trekking miles to dig up roots and harvesting fungi.

You had a sharp nose and keen ears, even if you had not yet found your form.

Your brother began to present first, of course–wolf and tiger in his marrow untempered by your mother's generations of cultured Vulpine breeding. Though you had yet to have a name for what he was you knew he was something special.

"Min-ie," you used to call, seeing his back turned to you, shoulders hunched as he watched the horizon for something that would never come. You'd join him to catch the fireflies' glow just off the edge of the compound, leading down to the flood plains and the ancient wire skeletons of transmission towers.

"Do you see the lights, ____?" He would ask. He would never turn—not even in your dreams. You'd have to crawl beside him until you saw the side of his too-serious face, eyes following the paths of falling stars.

"It's too early for or-or-ah," you said, thinking of winter. "The planet isn't tilted that way, yet."

"Aurora." He'd corrected your pronunciation.

"There." He traced the arc of a bright satellite with his finger, it's trajectory leading to a death far out of view, over mountaintops. "North. They're always shooting north."

He ran from lessons, but somehow knew so much more than you.

The only books he wanted your mother to read aloud were adventure tales. Salvage dives into the burnt out library 5 clicks from home had proved useful for texts no one could sell, and there were no other children here to read them to.

You'd consoled yourselves with stories of knights on horses and queens locked in compounds surrounded by thorns, unaware or perhaps just ignorant to your birthright . . . but somehow you'd both, always known.

How it had pricked at him to be the Alpha in a dead household, fatherless and hungry and unable to feed his own. At ten he’d fallen prey to the dream of surviving through military indoctrination–running away with only you as a witness, promising to return and take you both to safety.

Somewhere, somehow.

He'd never returned.

A few years later, in his place, had arrived the rarest sight of all in the abandoned countryside: a full squadron of thrumming aerodynes, and a land-based fleet of vehicles packed with camouflage-suited military escorts.

And for you, a silent dirigible airship–the behemoth black against the hazy, red sky.

The war was long over and there was no threat in this forest, no response from the neighboring ruins of the city, but you and your mother were brought to Neo Seoul and the Dome as if you had been plucked from the hands of an unseen enemy.

They'd had a parade for you through the streets of the old Financial Sector, luxury yachts joining the flotilla as the Imperiatrix's barge moved along street-canals towards the island of the central throne.

Your new residence, and cage.

You remember your first time being fitted and dressed in layers of silk and gossamer, tied until you could barely move. After running free and barefoot on thick grass and mud paths your mother had taught you how to supplicate yourself.

You'd taken your cues from her under the watchful gaze of tens of thousands of eyes, millions outside the Dome if the Betafax broadcast statistics could be believed.

Together you'd made the long journey of kneeling to Heaven a hundred times across ancient stone, finally allowed into the austere gates of the Blue Palace to pay respects to your grandmother.

At that time, the Imperatrix had not yet been lost to senility though her physical form had dwindled. She couldn't have stood even if she'd chosen to, her body depleted by over three dozen children, themselves the parents of six dozen more–of whom you were just one more potential heir, like your mother before you.

Royalty, returned from exile.

Years passed in peace, until the first of the great typhoons presented your mother with the chance to escape. It was an ill-fated attempt, and at the end of it you'd been returned broken and alone.

In your worser dreams of concrete spillways and abandoned buildings, water sluicing from earthquake-cracked roofs, you go willingly to your shared fate.

You cry but you don't know why–sure that if she is sad you should be too. Each day and year after had led you to your understanding of it, as you matured into the future ruler she had never wanted you to be.

Even if you couldn’t have escaped, you should have died, then.

It would have been easier than being devoured every night, chased under the surface of water star-scattered with city lights.

Sometimes you make it, sometimes you can keep holding onto her still, white hand in the deep.

But more often than not you feel the writhing shadow just at the edge of your perception close around you. It puts claws in your skin, and teeth in your neck. It tears skin and blood from your body as it drags you to higher ground.

And in your darkest dreams it licks your wounds free of water and muck, until only bones remain.

You wake with a gasp, sedation fuzzing your animal perception. The fire in the old metal tank has dwindled to embers but you're hot, encircled in a familiar, wiry embrace with a broad back against your shoulders.

"Woo," you whisper. The man behind you is the one to wake first, and your nose crinkles at the smell of cat–sharp and ammonia-laced with an automatic fear response.

"Quiet." The word is hissed.

San, you think. You hadn’t spoken with him much during your journey but he had a protective instinct for Wooyoung that had led him to partner in watching over you both when he wasn't on patrol. You recognize his conifer-like scent and his shape as he prowls through the darkness towards the door.

Your eyes adjust in the dim light, over detritus-strewn tile flooring to the hallway. The creak of empty pipes and the moisture remaining within them obscure any sounds from the floors above–the whimper of the other Vulpine pressed to your breast almost comical in contrast.

"Sleep. Little more," Wooyoung grouses into your jacket, nuzzling into you.

"Wake up," you whisper, "Something is out–"

There's a distant metal ping and then the bell-like tinkle of something rolling down the hallway. For a moment it sounds cheery, until you see San retreat from the door.

Instinct has you covering the fox in your arms to protect him but not your eyes as the flashbang goes off.

Pop, pop, hiss–BANG.

You–usually so quiet, so reserved, so polite–scream.

It's the kind of sound chilling enough it's written into legend, bloodcurdling.

Your companion wakes in a flurry, pulling you up from the floor and behind the hot metal furnace, hands over your mouth and sharp nose in your cheek.

Your blinded vision returns to smoke and light, blinking at the liquid black moving against the far wall towards the only entry and exit, met by a laser green line cutting through the haze.

"Stand down," a male voice says. The order may as well as be transmitted underwater to your ringing ears.

Through the haze a lithe figure clears the door, the faint glow of a nasty gun between you.

You growl, watching the light dip away from San for a moment in your direction.

It's long enough for him to attack, razor-sharp claws embedding in the stranger's tactical vest, bowling the much-taller aggressor to the floor.

For a brief moment you feel a sense of having the upper hand, Wooyoung releasing you to snake through the hissing pipes towards the far side of the room.

Then the first gunshot fires–a blast with a streak of orange fire from the barrel. Your heart chases your pulse to your feet, crouched, watching San collapse on his side with a spatter of blood across torn books.

Wooyoung acts without thinking and is met with a similar response, knife spiraling out of his hand. He drags a now-useless arm beside him, planning another attack--

"Yield," a new voice orders. It's an Alpha command, and you can only obey.

Wooyoung immediately sits down beside the body of his friend, checking him with the other arm raised and no fight in his posture.

"That's what I said," the man on the floor groans, picking himself up with a dog-like shake of his body.

Two others appear from the smoke, flanking their companion in sync, laser sights jumping in staccato patterns over graffitied walls aged dark with mildew. You pull back, navigating the old basement on memory to hide amidst the collapsed rubble of the adjacent room.

"Come out, little princess." This voice is higher, rasped with smoke.

With the receding chemical smell of the grenade you immediately recognize Canid, over the hot metal of Wooyoung and San's blood.

You growl again, unable to speak with how panic has shifted you deeper into jimseung.

They recognize where you are but check the room with military efficiency, two of them taking over securing the enemy while the shorter one who had spoken steps lightly past, hunched down to seek you out, ears pulled back the same shape as yours.

For a moment you glimpse your brother in the dwindling firelight. Then you recognize the smell of hard earth baked under the sun, something wilder. Not your kind, just a close relative.

The Canid sniffs inquisitively, following your trail as he perks forward, swaying a bit. He crouches to make you more comfortable, half-gloved hands raised in a mockery of surrender with the pistol hanging from his fingers.

"You're safe now," he says, in a sing-song voice. "We're here to rescue you."

You keep quiet, clutching your tail between your knees as you recede out of view.

"We won't hurt them if you come quietly." He swoops forward, blunt claws scraping the floor.

"Watch out, Haechan," the older Alpha says. Your senses have returned enough you witness the indignation in his body, neck bent.

Like the others he's incapable of fully adopting his true form, jimseung setting in by small degrees. In the throes of adrenaline that make you shift his large, amber eyes are animal. They track through the receding wisps of smoke, locking on you right before you move.

You scrabble for Wooyoung's knife near your black-furred fingers, gripping it despite the sweat on your palms. You watch the young Alpha in front of you carefully, heart thumping in your ribs.

"Put the knife down," Haechan says, features softening back to more human as he gestures. You can feel the command like a warm hand ghosting through your mind, snagging for only a moment before your muscles relax.

Immediately you raise the knife to your own neck.

"Try that again and we'll see who's faster," you snarl, a little delighted when he flinches.

He's untrained, and his scent spikes with fear the moment he understands he has no power over you. You pull back, keeping your gaze locked.

"Let them go," you say.

"So brave." Haechan laughs, genuinely delighted.

A sharp yelp distracts you; Wooyoung protests his injured arm being clamped behind him with a zip tie by the second, taller Canid.

The other intruder on the floor has already gotten up and moved toward San and your eyes snap back to the boy inching towards you, blade digging into your neck through the thick ruff that's grown unconsciously.

"Come quietly and we'll have no problem," Haechan says.

"Stop," you growl, arm jerking. "I'll cut myself."

"Haven't seen this one before." The Canid whistles, low, before laughing. "They claim you already?"

"I hired them, they're under my protection," you say, swaying onto your heels, finding balance with your tail.

"Should have paid us instead," he smiles at you, chin lifting in a nod.

You have a moment to question it, to chew on the breath coming quick through your nose over the all-encompassing bite of woodsmoke and blood and saltpeter.

Then there's a soft thud behind you, your ears flicking back just as a hand tipped in razor sharp claws wraps over your own, holding you in place.

"Be still."

You're completely paralyzed, body recognizing the danger of a more substantial carnivore well before the Alpha's order numbs your mind.

"Be quiet." Someone–something–purrs in your ear. "Don't fight."

Your thoughts race to understand how you'd been subdued so quickly. There's no exit or entry behind you, but you remember the ceiling had been broken–wind whistling from the ground level as woodsmoke cleared out.

Now that same cold rush of air is rich with pine and spring flowers as the knife is wrested from your grasp and dropped to the floor. A human hand grips your muzzle, encircling your throat once he finds it shut.

Haechan dips closer, scenting you in the embrace of the stranger, checking you for other weapons or surprises in the flarelight.

Across the room you meet Wooyoung's eyes, finding him just as tight-lipped under the Alpha's command, daring to look up at him. Whatever he meets in the gaze of the creature behind you he's just as frozen, tension in his body singing at the need to attack or escape.

Fight or flight. You'd done enough of both, you suppose.

You ready yourself to move the moment you can break free but something raspy and hot meets your neck, dampening your hair on your marked side. Sharp teeth graze against your skin.

You whimper, knees buckling, held fast by the stranger holding you.

"Why does she taste like–?" The Felid's voice is multi-tonal, one layer a cat's rumble.

"Shut up and use a booster. Now, Jaehyun." The Alpha giving medical care to San looks up in alarm, eyes reflecting yellow. "You two, subdue her."

Haechan carefully pulls you away, avoiding eye contact with your captor as he folds you into a comforting embrace. The other Canid joins you, sinking his nose into the side of your neck.

"That's a unique profile," the tall one whispers, soft eyes darting over your head. You feel the presence behind you drift away, hanging on the edges. "No wonder you couldn't resist."

"Relax," Haechan says.

You want to scream again but you can't, soothed from stiffness by the Alpha's unique scent and his hand caressing your back.

"Such a good omega," he purrs. "We won't hurt you. Will we, Jungwoo? We're here to rescue you."

"Funny. Doesn't look like she needed rescuing," the other says. He's just as interesting to your animal–not dog or wolf or anything you're familiar with but something close enough to touch. It must be mutual for the way he buries his nose in your hair.

"Stop scent-marking her you idiots." The doctor approaches with a syringe gun, making you back up out of fear–pinned instead by your captors.

"Is she someone we should know, Taeil?" Jungwoo asks.

"No." He shakes his head, brown eyes cold. "Are you hurt?"

You don't register the question is for you until Taeil lifts your limb free from the encircling bodies, the two Alphas on each side closing in protectively on instinct alone.

You'd taken your scent suppressants, your elephant's dose worth of hormonal blockers, but that didn’t stop anyone from wanting to be close to you. You were used to it–in the palace and outside but it was more unnerving now with your friend seeping blood into the dirt not ten feet away, your fellow fox omega seething beside him.

"No," you finally are able to speak. "Will you please let them go?"

Taeil runs human fingers across your furred arm, noting the black streak that runs down the back of it.

"Look how worried she is for them. Did she bond with them?"

"Doubtful," Jungwoo answers instead. "But there's something–"

He stops speaking when Taeil buries the needle in your arm, making you seize between the two men holding you down.

"She's just tired. Aren't you, princess?" The doctor says, smiling at you. You smell scorched earth in whatever he is, again too foreign of a Canid DNA profile for you to place as the drugs hasten through your bloodstream.

"Let's bring them up. Carefully. Jaehyun can carry her."

Some instinct tells you he's speaking to the cat, so silent behind you you'd almost forgotten he was there, if not for the hair standing up on the back of your neck.

You can hear San rattling breath and Wooyoung's muttered insults as they're carried away in front of you, now hostages. Complacency takes the place of fear as your fur recedes, anti-shift boosters working quickly. You grasp the air with stubby human fingers, missing your claws.

"You're safe." Black flickers at the corners of your vision as you finally see your fourth captor, his dark, human eyes searching your face.

He's beautiful in a way most Alphas are, no matter what resentments you have for his specific genus. You don't have ears or a tail to mark but you know the subtleties of his scent to be an older genus, can see the fangs denting his lower lip.

"Please don't resist," Jaehyun says. "We're taking you home."

Your heart leaps into your throat, tears seeping down your cheek when you can't move your head–not because of an order but because your consciousness is fading away. In the distance you hear reports echoing through empty rooms, shouting, and the telltale hum of an AV's blades.

"Please . . . Please don't take me back," you whisper.

He smiles wryly, adjusting a gun strap over his shoulder before lifting you up. Beneath the body armor and black clothing he's warm–not unwelcome with the heat receding from the room.

"I can't go back," you whisper into his chest, sobbing.

"I'm sorry," he says, bumping your forehead with his cheek. "We'll make sure you’re returned home safely."

You let darkness sweep you away, too defeated and drugged to see who else will fight for you. There's the barest trace of something on the material pressed to your nose that has the beast wide awake inside you, clawing to come out again.

The Syndicate had found you, and to do so they'd paid the best–of course. Neo Seoul's finest mercenary group.

The one pack you didn't want to ever meet, the home of the one Alpha you hate even more than your grandfather rotting in his Imperial tomb.

Nyctos.

[previous] [next]

[nikki-tine]

So it's come to my attention that despite the page I have set up within the desktop version of my blog, I don't have a mobile version of an introduction post here. Oops! This one's newly written, too, in a different format than the other.

So, that being said - Hello!

I am Nikki/Niko (Whichever you prefer!) and I am a 27-year old Genderfluid artist person (My birthday is on January 9th!). I don't think there's too much to be said here, but I can and will say with confidence that this blog has been, especially in the last few or so years built up to be a catch-all for whatever I deem good to reblog or post (All of which typically related to fluff stuff, feel-good vibes or something that I may feel strongly about).

This place is, and always will be a safe space for a) People with disabilities (I am autistic, have ADD and Bipolar as well as Anxiety) and b) LGBTQ+-identifying people (I am, as mentioned before Genderfluid, and I'm Pansexual Panromantic!).

If a reblog or post makes you uncomfortable, then I will happily delete it if asked.

I make it a point to keep these posts SFW especially nowadays - however, I can't quite vouch for possibly the oldest of my posts (as I've been here since the early 2010s along with some ol' dumb teen thoughts involved and it'd take forever to sort absolutely everything out from over a decade ago at this point). I'm pretty sure that I've removed most of the NSFW stuff already from those years ago, but if I missed something then I don't mind deleting it as long as you let me know first (I'm incredibly disorganized and would appreciate a nudge in the right direction).

With these details out of the way - I am an artist that dabbles in various fandoms with no real sense of rhyme or reason outside of either hyperfixated interest or otherwise with the intent to update old ideas and refresh them into new ones. Like most artists on the internet, I ask that you do not repost without credit, trace and/or copy my work. I'm quite literally living paycheck by paycheck with my family right now. You CAN however use my artwork as a reference or as inspiration for your own work - If you do, lemme know! I'd love to see the result!

Here's a vague list of fandoms I dabble in (though my post history doesn't quite show that as I tend to leave most of my stuff to posting on Discord instead):

Pokemon (I've been a part of this one almost my entire life lol)

Sonic the Hedgehog (Another fandom I've been in for a grand majority of my life! I'm more of a casual fan as I haven't made much art recently, but I still absolutely love looking at what others come up with for OCs and stuff.)

Undertale (ESPECIALLY AU-centric)

Digimon (Passionate about this one specifically - I have a project I've been working with under this fandom since 2014 on and off)

Cookie Run (Kingdom primarily with a minor Ovenbreak focus for AU concept ideas)

Dark Cloud/Dark Chronicle (This one's SO obscure, but if you know these games then I give you a virtual baked good of your liking! These two games hold a very special place in my heart.)

Dance Dance Revolution, NotITG, Friday Night Funkin (I'm a rhythm game nerd and love the creativity of the communities surrounding these three - I just haven't been able to piece together anything for it yet visually except for FNF stuff on and off)

A Dance of Fire and Ice (Same as the DDR fandom part, but I've made a couple fanart pieces before so this one I may have an easier time of conceptualizing later)

FNAF (Specifically Security Breach AU work! This one's not as frequent as others but I still have stuff in mind for it. Security Breach is how I finally caved with the FNAF series as a whole after watching how the fandom grew over the years.)

Warriors (Warrior Cats, in our year 2024? Eeyup. I just like the funny spiritual witties!)

Team Fortress 2 (This one's in and out but it's one that I come back to a lot as my boyfriend, regularly interacting and involved in the GMOD animation community reminds me of my own TF2 stuff with his presence alone lol. Love you James! <3)

Persona 3, 4 and 5 (This one's a lil self-explanatory but I have AU ideas surrounding these games that I want to make more art for eventually)

If I have anything else not listed before, I'll add it to the list. C: Please keep in mind that although I dabble in these fandoms, AU versions of existing characters may be changed in terms of sexuality, personality etc to reflect the AU they are from (For example, I have a version of Cream Unicorn Cookie that uses he/they pronouns, and my Redeemed!Pomegranate Cookie from the same AU leans bisexual over lesbian for reasons relating to reflection of character and overall character development. I like to make characters more flexible while self-indulging, so keep this in mind). I note this because my own headcanons about certain characters have set off one or two people in the past unintentionally and they VERY much have pushed things in an effort to keep canon down my throat out of retaliation. Let's just say that this part in particular is a thing that taps a sore spot for me for personal reasons. :/

When it concerns making art of my characters - surprise or not, feel free to make art of them and mention me in post (and/or message me, either way works)! It makes me feel SO loved when I get art from others, and I appreciate every piece dearly. 💜💜💜 (I go so far as to hold onto an archive of art that was done for me - with artist names in-tact within the file name nowadays!)

A few things to consider when it concerns tickling-related matters with me:

I am a Switch! I'm unsure how far Ler or Lee I am just yet, but I do enjoy tickling both ways. Unfortunately, however, I'm the kind of person that practically flies across a room when poked,, (if it comes down to tickling my sona - Niko Spirata - tie or hold 'em down if you want to wreck 'em with tickles lol)

My interest in tickling alone is purely SFW - It feels too weird looking at IRL photos/videos with very rare exception (a lot of the exception is the giggle the lee produces from ticklish contact). As a result, all the stuff I'll be reblogging and posting here is art or animation-related instead!

My favorite tickle trope is the one where a shrunken someone or a small something wiggles under the unwitting lee's clothing to tickle them! (Points at wormonastriing's Squirmles as an example of this trope :3) No, seriously. If I end up with art of any of my characters getting destroyed with tickles in this manner I will ASCEND BEYOND GALAXIES.

My favorite spots with tickling overall are belly, side and rib tickling - on rarer occasions, I enjoy tickling in other places (I prefer foot tickling if the lee has paws instead of normal feet!). This lines up with a particular enjoyment of characters being slightly chubby! I looove a good squeeze of the sides or belly, enough to get the lee blurting out giggles.

I have only a few tags I use now on a regular, but these are:

#nikki-tine (This is my user tag and I put it in with my art posts and other things I post sometimes. You may also see others' posts under this tag, primarily with stuff related to asks or when art's been posted for me in the past <3)

#art, #tickle art, #tickling art (These are self-explanatory!)

#NJEGNJ (Something to that effect, lol. It's not exact but keyboard smash tag is typically wrote similarly or around the same for several posts, all of which ones that got me chuckling or giggling like a dork!)

~

My Commission Status is currently set to OPEN (paypal prioritized for now).

It's really complicated, however, and I don't have any other methods than Paypal and Robux right now so if you have questions about that then feel free to message me and I'll try to clear it up as best I can!

I only have two prices, both fully colored and shaded.

Chibies are $25 USD (+ 5 for an extra character)

My normal art style is $50 USD (+ 10 for an extra character)

I do best leaving the BG transparent, but if I HAVE to work on one then I can do nature-themed backgrounds pretty okay. It’s not a strong-suit of mine, however…

My Art Trade Status is Busted Wide Open™ to Mutuals, but I'm a little picky and choosy with random people.

If I decline an Art Trade, please don't take it personally!

In terms of Roleplay, It's Closed on-blog, BUT I'm Open to Roleplay in Discord servers (Provided there's a Tupperbot there for me to use).

I've been looking to find an RP server that has mutuals/friends and allows Undertale-related stuff (especially of the tickling-related kind!), so if you're a part of one please let me know!

DM Status overall is Open (As long as you are kind to me, I will return kindness back!).

My Asks are ALWAYS OPEN! I really like getting stuff in my inbox (and I unfortunately don't get asks often at all).

I'm most comfortable interacting with other adults and SFW blogs (this is more-so for safety than anything else on my end. I don't have the emotional or mental energy to handle potential drama involving context-disconnected words). I don't mind interacting with NSFW blogs here but only if in the context of specific interests of mine and not much else.

I don't really have much in the way of who can't interact with me as long as you are respectful/mindful of chat etiquette and are aware of the kind of impact you may make in messaging people like myself.

I do my best to look at blog descriptions and respect DNI's - If I end up poking at something I shouldn't by accident, as long as it's not met with aggression in DMs, I will happily fix whatever problem you may have related to that. I HATE making others uncomfortable/upset!

If you have questions, feel free to ask! I don't really use other forms of Social Media, but I do use some websites with a social aspect to them casually.

Links:

Flightrising (Funny dragon site)

Chicken Smoothie (This one's a fun lil adopt site from the late 2000s)

GPX Plus (This is literally Pokefarm Q before Pokefarm Q lol)

Gaia Online (Another old site with unfortunate currency inflation, but it's the site that's kept me going with character designing and such over the years! The blog part here is old, but the avatar is updated from time to time. This site is the reason I lean on Monochrome + a color as an aesthetic a lot lol)

Bluesky (mostly inactive - want activity there? nudge me here!)

DeviantArt (It's VERY rare I post here now. Also a warning for those under 18 - there's suggestive and nsfw art in my favorites dotted here and there so look with caution. my gallery itself is SFW however and all the works that would have been nsfw are archived.)

Artfight (Self-explanatory!)

[sorbetowl]

Horizon Ask Game

Oioioi, thanks for all the tags, @maybirdie, @meg-noel-art, @nerd-artist and @xxxhellfireravenxxx

1. ride or die ship (your otp): To no one's surprise, it's Ereloy, precisely as it reads on the can. They snatched my heart back in 2017 and haven't released it to this day.

2. most annoying ship: There are no annoying ships. Next question.

3. second favourite ship: Tough call. I'll go with Avad/Ersa, because they 100% had SOMETHING going on. Starcrossed lovers my beloved.

4. favourite platonic relationship: I'm living for the friendship between Alva and Kotallo. And Beta's line about Erend visiting her in the server room and being "loud...but funny". A kingdom for on-screen interactions between the two. Erend can be like "is free little sister". ;;

5. underrated ship: Drakka/Yarra. The raw enemies to lovers potential there...

6. overrated ship: I don't see anything overrated in a genuine outpouring of one's love for two fictional characters.

7. one thing i would change in canon: Now, after two main games and DLC? Oh, a fair bit. Varl's unnecessary death, even admitted to by the writers as being there for shock value. Shock over the drop in narrative quality post-HZD, maybe. Same as reducing Erend to everyone's punching bag without a single thought behind his eyes. Fantastic how everyone easily picks up reading English while Erend struggles with it when he's canonically the only member (besides Aloy and Alva) who knows how to read at all. He's the one asking Aloy in HZD where she learned to read Glyphs, something unique to the Carja who reinvented written language based on a book, and the Oseram who got taught Carja Glyphs for trade, which eventually developed into their own alphabet (they get differentiated as "Carja Glyphs" and "(Oseram) Glyphs" in datapoints. Erend can read both. Two alphabets. That's more than many bilinguals) But sure, he's the dumb dumb who can't read, not the companions that start completely illiterate.

8. something canon did right: All of HZD. What a masterful introduction to a new game franchise, and playing through it the first time unraveling all its mysteries is why I'm still here obsessed with the series.

9. a thing i'm proud of creating for the fandom: Probably the companion art piece for Love Games by my friend @maybirdie. It was incredible working with her as this beast of a fic came together and the friends that I made during that time are near and dear to my heart. And of course, being on the artist team for the Horizon visual novel Focus On The Heart!

10. a character who is perfect to me (wouldn't change a thing): Without a speck of doubt, Gildun. What a bundle of unbridled joy.

11. the character i relate to the most and why: Beta. We both have crippling anxiety, literally never go outside, and are unfortunately Very Smol™

12. character(-s) i hate the most and why: The worst I can feel about a character is indifference.

13. something i've learned from the fandom: After having been in a fandom that crashed and burned over a decade ago and coming out with a general aversion to fandom...at the end of the day, people from all trades of life coming together to enjoy and create for the same thing that they love with all their heart is a precious thing and we're all richer embracing each other's uniqueness in this gathering.

14. three tags i seek out on ao3: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sensual Fingerblasting (wink-wonk)

15. a song i strongly associate with my otp/favourite character: Break In by Halestorm for Ereloy, and for favorite character (Erend) End Of Me by Ashes Remain Tagging @emtazer, @imamandajulius, @souls-that-have-senses, @nmallenart, @bs-fangirl, @cranialgames And everyone who sees this and would like to give a go~

[not-poignant]

very, very late question to an old work and I will perfectly understand if you don't want to reply to this and prefer not to bring the discussion toward your old works.

out of curiosity, how much did the hunger games, divergent, maze runner or other dystopian YA works of the time influence TGATNW?

the curiosity stemmed from the fact that while my initial perspective on your works were that they were a complete divergence from mainstream media due to its rawer, kinkier nature, a thought popped up that your works might have (purposefully?) satisfied the trends of the times they were created. the golden age (and fae tales soon after) was an appropriate dystopian rebellion story in the midst of the YA fever in 2014-2015 containing similar tropes.

On the other hand, falling falling stars and other efnisien centric works which address mental health and recovery more heavily than other works were published in the present day while shows on mental health discourse (for instance sex education and euphoria) are increasingly more popular. there are definitely exceptions, but those mentioned are some of your most prominent works.now that I think about it, my question might actually be: if at all, how do current trends influence your narratives? I think I remember a mention of these works' influences being old tales, so it would be interesting to hear how contemporary works have inspired you as well if it all.

thanks Pia! even if you don't reply, thanks for all the time and effort you've put into these works. they mean a lot and so much more to a many people.

This one is easy to answer:

my question might actually be: if at all, how do current trends influence your narratives?

So the TL;DR upfront -> I don't read, and often don't know about current trends. I have zero interest in writing to market. I hadn't read any of those books you mentioned when I wrote The Golden Age that Never Was with the exception of The Hunger Games, which came out over half a decade beforehand (except for the last installment in the trilogy, which was my least favourite lol).

In more detail:

I was inspired to write The Golden Age that Never Was - I can't believe I'm saying this - based on a dream I had in August, 2015.

I read Divergent for the first time in 2016 (er, so after I'd started TGATNW). I read book 1, gave it 2 stars, and don't remember anything about it. I haven't read Maze Runner and I know nothing about it.

Going back through my Goodreads account in 2013 and 2014, I read what looks like almost no books actually published in those years. I read books on cod (literally, the nonfiction book Cod, it's really very good), I read Manna Francis (defo not YA), I read nonfiction books on trauma, I read a bunch of Tricia Owens (M/M not YA), I read Eleanor & Park (YA but contemporary), I read a bunch of M/M, Hagio Moto's Zankoku na Kami ga Shihaisuru manga took over my life for a few months, and then I read a bunch more BL manga (none of it recently published that year) for consecutive months and checked out of anything written in the western world for almost half a year.

I got back into M/M at the end of / beginning of 2015 and it looks like that was all I was reading through all of 2015 with very few exceptions (one more Rainbow Rowell book, Station Eleven by Mandel, and nonfiction). I read no dystopian YA in the 2 year lead up to writing The Golden Age that Never Was. Not a single title. Out of like 200 titles. I didn't even read historical dystopian YA. I think we can safely say that was in no way a direct influence and I can bet you around $500 I had no idea it was a trend lmao.

I do not know exactly how to convey how little I give a shit about reading or responding to publishing trends. I don't care and have never cared. No, wait, I think I attempted to care for about 2 months after seeing a Facebook post about it and then was like 'wait, this is extremely demotivating' and stopped. There are some - few - absolute favourite authors who if they release a book, I will read it that year. (Like the latest Murderbot by Martha Wells). Otherwise I prefer generally not knowing what the trends are, and I don't read author blogs etc. that keep me updated on this. New genres rise and fall and by the time I hear of them, they've either already vanished, or new names have been invented for them.

I feel the same way about music and a lot of television as well. I started watching True Detective for the first time this year. A lot of the music I've listened to and discovered didn't release that music this year. And while I have watched and listened to things that did release this year, it was less because it was 'trendy' and more because they are musicians I've always listened to (Manchester Orchestra) or TV shows I would have wanted to watch anyway.

Also The Golden Age that Never Was isn't dystopian YA. But I wasn't reading much by the way of any dystopian romantic science fiction anyway (and certainly nothing released in those years), and no space operas or anything like that. If TGATNW synced up with any trends at all, it was a happy coincidence. But given I don't think it's YA, if people who only wanted to read dystopian YA found it, they were going to be really disappointed! Lmao.

Around 2013 I also just stopped reading anything heterosexual because I had a choice in the moment and exercised that choice. And I tell you - it's low key hilarious how much you get locked out of almost all the trends (certainly almost 10 years ago) anyway, if you exclusively read same sex.

I also just have general disdain for the idea of purposefully satisfying any kind of fiction trends in fanfiction. Like, no, that's not for me. I think that's a waste of my time, and it's not why I write fanfiction. I write fanfic for fun, and to me, looking at trends and writing to trends is one of the least fun things I can actually think of doing.

(Re: Your Sex Education / Euphoria example, I had to laugh. I haven't seen the latter, and the former I only watched for the first time late last year, when I'd already finished Falling Falling Stars.)

No trend has ever inspired anything I've ever written. And no book / show has ever directly inspired anything I've ever written too. I definitely have inspirations - everyone does - but like, yeah no, one of the reasons I let other people rec works similar to mine is because I can never think of any, because I write because of a perceived vacuum providing what I want to read. If what I want to read is already present and there's a lot of it, I won't write anything, because I don't need to. I am the opposite of an 'adding my book into the pile of a trend' author, like literally, that's a reason to not write for me.

I write what I don't see in the world, and it's pretty much that simple.

[shadoedseptmbr]

20 Questions for fic writers

tagged by @wrathoscribbles Thank you!!! <3

hmm, i am where these things go to die but feel free to tag me if you get the urge to run with it!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

115 uh, doesn't seem like that much, really

2. What’s your total A03 word count?

832,340

3. What fandoms do you write for?

well, let's see- Mass Effect, Dragon Age, MCU (caveat, all my Marvel knowledge goes into anything I write. My Hawkeye is an amalgam of the Clint i grew up with, the Clint from Fraction's run of Hawkeye, and what we were given in the MCU with all the...uh, blatantly weird dad vibes thrown out the window. I really like Laura and the kids but i have no idea what to do with Dad!Clint. He is the least Dad-shaped Avenger and i'm including like, Speedball). I haven't written Buffy or the fandom that shall not be named in literally over a decade but i do have a couple stories for each on my AO3.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

In Cupid's Little Bag of Trix

Fandoms: Thor, The Avengers (2012), MCU by way of every Marvel 'verse M Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis background Natasha/Steve Summary Darcy might have a little crush. And possibly a kink. Look, it's been a long couple of years.

Shelter

Fandoms: Dragon Age 2 E OCf!Hawke/Sebastian Summary In whom do we seek shelter? Sebastian and Hawke, figuring things out over the course of a story. mind the tags, this one goes dark and sideways but ends happy. Written before extreme tagging was a thing.

apodyopis (SO *thirsty* lol)

Fandoms: Thor The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types M Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis voyeurism but not like...no one is actually having sex Clint's just like that

Summary

Clint likes to watch his girl work. Kind of a sequel to Cupid's Little Bag of Trix but can be read alone

Steal Away Home

Fandoms: Dragon Age 2 Explicit Graphic Depictions Of Violence F/M, Multi Work in Progress Sebastian Vael/Hawke (F) Aeryn is a menace Aeryn is also an assassin Child endangerment Panic attacks fantasy PTSD childhood neglect everyone here has issues

Summary Post-game adventure including the reclaiming of Starkhaven. Sequel to Shelter. This one needs tags updated, too. Several panic attacks, several people with control issues, lots of childhood neglect and out right abuse and endangerment. We used to just assume everyone knew that was par for the course with DA but honestly.

anchor the night

Fandoms: Mass Effect Teen And Up Audiences Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings F/M Summary After the date at Apollo’s. After the bit that would fade to black, too. Mind the tags.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

oh absolutely, fandom is built on the life blood of comments and i've made some of my dearest friends fangirling over each other's fic. Plus, i've never been particularly overwhelmed by comments so it's never been a particular hardship.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

dolore broke my own heart with that one

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

In Cupid's Little Bag of Trix, probably. Clint and Darcy are a barrel of monkeys and they're both so fucking full of zest.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Not that I've ever noticed. I'm fortunate enough to just get readers who want to be chill. i had someone once scold me for being mean to Alec Ryder, lol.

9. Do you write smut?

so much smut- less in Mass Effect, which is mildly hilarious given Aedan's penchants, lol.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not unless you count the various branchings of Marvel. I don't really get the appeal.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

again, not as far as I know

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

I have! I had the high honor of writing Shep/Shep with my buddy @nightmarestudio606 with The End is Where We Begin

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I sail an armada, lol. I multiship and my favorite varies with what day it is. Right now, Codywan is winning, heh. My favorite to *write* though... Shenko is right up there but Clint/Darcy was so much fun.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

none of my WIPs are abandoned. I don't know if I'll ever finish Steal Away Home the way i want to, though.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Dialogue and characterization, I think. Structurally, I have an excellent grasp of nuance when it comes to word choice in a way that lets me say a lot with not much.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

I'm not particularly focused and it can take a long time for me to finish work. And I tend to write without outline and that can lead to a wandering, meander of a fic.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Do it all the time, do my best to make it accurate. I use a smattering of Scots Gaelic for my version of Starkhaven and my source is mostly old books because i like the archaic texture of it. Several of my characters have american south accents and i elide words and use slang and drop g's. '"I am going to the store, mother," she said in her Texas twang' does not read like "Goin' t'the store, ma." and you can't make me believe you don't lose vast amounts of characterization by trying to force it to work. And overly correct dialogue is one of the first reasons i'll drop out of reading fic.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

First written? The Black Stallion (book not movie) First published online? Trixie Belden

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

hard to pick from my favorite children, lol

Cupid's Little Bag of Trix is a (now fairly heavily edited) mess of stream of consciousness that grew a plot from when i was writing quick switch omniscient pov and just expected my readers to figure it out. But i love it. And it remains the biggest boost to my writing ego as ten years after posting, i still get kudos Verge (post Omega DLC) is when i really figured out who Aedan and Kaidan are, together and it manages to wreck me all over again, every time i re-read it.

[dead-loch]

FIC: Missing Time

Okay, I cannot believe Deadloch has dragged me back into fic writing. It's been a DECADE. Um. So yeah. I don't fully know where this is going, I'm just following my stupid lil heart. I'll post it on AO3 soon and link it when I do. Happy to hear from people but also I haven't written anything in, yes, a decade, so be kind and all that. This is unbeta'd, the AO3 version may be slightly different once there have been edits. Just a little teaser to hold myself accountable.

Missing Time - I'm really interested in those 2 months prior to Darwin, where the town of Deadloch seemingly picked itself up and brushed itself off. Healing, learning, unlearning, all that fun shit.

"So, Collins. Were you always into women, or was it something you had to work on, like a muscle?"

"I recommend everyone give it a try at least once, see how you go."

"Ah, yeah? I’ve done stuff."

"Oh, that’s good. You’re halfway there."

—

Eddie half-carries Dulcie back to the Haddick Farm, where the women have been joined, finally, by some of the Carnage Bay cops. As soon as Dulcie’s weight has disappeared from her shoulders, courtesy of Cath, Eddie can feel the effects of an adrenaline crash begin, her teeth rattling in her skull as she shivers violently. She takes a stumbling step back, allowing Cath and Dulcie some privacy, only for both women to grip her arms and reel her back in, into the warmth between their bodies. She can feel Dulcie starting to shiver, too, likely the pain from her wound making itself known again.

The three of them stand in silence, breathing and trembling, as an ambulance arrives. They watch as that cunt James is wheeled into the back of it and Eddie can’t stop herself from smiling. She chokes out a laugh, hiding her face in Cath’s shoulder.

“I shouldn’t be so happy to see someone hurt,” Dulcie whispers, biting her lip to hold back a smile. “Are we terrible people?”

Eddie snorts. “Nah,” she whispers back. “We’re… what’s the word. Traumatized. Can’t be held accountable for anything right now. We’re not in our right minds. And that fuckwad had something coming to him, the way he’s been treating Big Eyes.” Eddie squints and catches sight of Abby, watching her ex-fiance yowl like a particularly angry cat as a paramedic slams the ambulance door shut. Once James is out of sight, Abby deflates. “Just a sec,” Eddie mutters, and both Cath and Dulcie immediately let go of her so that she can make her way over.

“Big Eyes. You okay?” She asks, and Abby starts, eyes going impossibly wider, before breathing a sigh of relief once she realizes it’s just Eddie.

“Ma’am,” she exhales, eyes darting over to Dulcie and Cath in the distance. “Oh my god, what happened? Where’s Ray? Are you okay? Do you need—“

“Breathe, Big Eyes. Everything’s fine. Ray… well. Ray’s dead. Went over a waterfall. Impaled on a sharp piece of wood like a fuckin’ kebab.” Eddie feels it hit her all at once and she stares into the middle distance. Feels herself shut down. She doesn’t realize that Abby’s speaking again until she feels someone grip her shoulders and she looks up like she’s been pulled from a trance. Abby’s hands are on her shoulders, strong and sure. “I’m okay,” Eddie mumbles, shaking her head. The adrenaline crash is really hitting her now and she’s cold, freezing, and she wraps her arms around herself to stave off the worst of the shivering. Abby looks at her steadily but doesn’t say anything else.

They stand there like that, Abby’s hands on her shoulders and Eddie’s arms wrapped up around her middle, until Dulcie and Cath approach them. Eddie forces her mind back to the present as a gaggle of cops start watching their little huddle, and she knows they’re going to come over here and fuck everything up any second now. She knows better than to expect any apologies from any of them. She knows better than to expect that they’ll even admit they were wrong, in every possible way there is to be wrong. She holds her breath as one of them takes a hesitant step towards them.

Before he can get very far, though, Commissioner What’s-his-dick is striding over, his hat under his arm, his face scrunched up like he’s bitten into a rotten lemon. “Fuck me,” Eddie mutters, bracing for impact.

“Connell, Radcliffe,” the commissioner barks, and Eddie feels Abby tense and Dulcie’s hand—she thinks it’s Dulcie’s hand— grab her by the scruff of her polar fleece, like she expects Eddie to go charging. “What’s going on here?” He demands, voice booming, and Eddie realizes how much her head fucking hurts, and she shuts her eyes against it like that will shut him up.

Several people start speaking at once. Abby, Dulcie, and Cath, a cacophony of sound that has Eddie flinching away and bringing a hand up to her ear. Fuck. She’s got a piercing pain behind her eyes, all of a sudden, and she’s still fucking shaking like a leaf.

There’s a moment of silence and Eddie knows that if she opens her eyes, everyone will be looking at her. She grits her teeth and after a long second, peels one eye open. Before she can tell them all to get fucked, however, one of the Carnage Bay boys is jogging up to them and intercepting the Commissioner. She recognizes him as one of the Steves.

“Sir,” Steve number who-fucking-knows says forcefully, putting himself between the commissioner and their huddle. “I can debrief you.” He shoots a glance at Dulcie, and then Eddie. She’s not sure what’s happening, and for a second she doesn't think his ploy is going to work. The Commissioner's face is a startling shade of red, visible through the darkness.

"The men are in the barn," Steve says, and the Commissioner allows himself to be distracted by this. Eddie would roll her eyes if they didn't feel like they were going to pop right out of her head. Steve nods at them before pulling the other man away. Eddie stares after them. When she turns to look at Dulcie, she looks bowled over.

“What the fuck just happened?” Eddie asks, surprised despite herself. Dulcie shakes her head, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Is it hard to write group interactions? Since I usually write stuff that's focused in on two characters with maybe a third popping in and out here and there, I'm curious about the mechanics of writing a big cast.

If you have all of your characters in one scene, is it hard to designate who's speaking each time unobtrusively? Is it tricky to kind of make each character distinct in the scene? From the bits and pieces I've gotten to read I know you do a great job with it, but the idea of trying it intimidates me! It seems like a lot to juggle.

Whether or not it's difficult to do depends on what kind of writer you are.

(Also I dunno if I would consider five important characters ala that book we were just talking about an especially big cast, but that's not the point here)

The more characters in a scene, the trickier it can get if you don't have a distinct personality and role for the set up both in the story and in your head. But if you know what each character is there in that scene for, and how they interact with the others, than you have the grounding you need to make it work.

I have written scenes plenty of times where I looked back later and went, "Yeah, other character is actually here but they're not doing anything in this scene," and that's something that, well, has to be fixed. So remember that sometimes what looks like being good at it is just being good at recognizing when you fucked up and committing to fixing it.

For example, that scene I was talking about last night and we were talking about a little earlier, in which "Character almost gets punched for saying the wrong thing to an openly grieving character," we have five relevant characters to that slice of interaction (and most of the scene is actually only two of them).

We have:

Character who is grieving/crying/having a breakdown

Character who Says the Very Wrong Thing

Character who intervenes and defuses the situation

Character who emphasizes the wrongness of the action and throws in moral support to bolster Character 1

My actual protagonist, who was actually sitting by while most of that scene happened and letting the others deal with the situation, but whose role in the situation was to take the threads offered to steer out of the situation and tug until the situation was over

And each of these Roles is based on their role in the story and what their established personalities are: Character 1's character arc is about actually opening up a decade of old grief he's never processed, Character 2's role is to fundamentally offer different perspectives on things, Character 3's arc is to develop into the Responsible Practical One and act as a Binding Agent, Character 4's role in the story is to represent old wounds that haven't healed and won't without work and atonement, and my protagonist has always been the one Leading the Way.

So really, their roles in that interaction are the same as they are in the story write large. And since I knew what each of them was doing in the scene, it was eas(ier) for me to not let them step onto each other's toes and keep their actual goals in the scene intact and separate.

As for the small fundamental of dialogue tags, etc, that comes in two parts. That scene I sent you does not have dialogue tags on every part, but you can always tell who's speaking by:

The character acting in the paragraph attached to the dialogue.

Only one person would logically be saying that, because they speak differently and were, again, performing different roles in the scenario.

Or, okay, let's take one of the Bigger messes in YuuMori. Remember back when the Morigang was all sitting around learning about that court case? Bond's role was to Not Know Any of That, Louis's was to tell the story, Moran was there to make insightful remarks based on actually knowing the brothers better than the rest of them, William's role was basically to determine what was happening (asking Louis to tell the story, etc.), Albert, as ever, was kind of there to demur and keep some of the family history and his personality to himself. They're all reflective of their positions in the story at that time, and they all perform different functions.

You can also see this when everyone is waiting to greet William after 3 long years and do it in different ways in different times, and have different things to say to him, and react differently to the brother bonding.

Basically, use it as a chance to reinforce who the characters are.

[catty-words]

finally back home from my family's and ready to put last year to rest with the

2023 fic writing roundup

Total 2023 Word Count: 95,451 published words, but 116,360 words written for the year   Total 2023 Hits: 25,513 Other 2023 AO3 Stats: Kudos: 1,272; Comment threads: 198; Bookmarks: 252; Subscriptions: 158.

Total 2022 Word Count: 36,969 published words, but 132,549 words logged for the year Total 2022 Hits: 17,797 Other 2022 AO3 Stats: Kudos: 1,910; Comment threads: 111; Bookmarks: 259; Subscriptions: 20.

links and titles to 2023 works

[cw's nancy drew] couldn't help noticing the gold mines glistening in your skin (3,966 words) - a birthday gift for bethany! what if nancy and ace hooked up pre-canon?

[never have i ever] one more last try (4,323 words) - for the girlies* who were/are incensed that the nhie writers had the audacity to make bad benvi sex canon and then UNINTERESTING. *it's me, i'm girlies

[cw's nancy drew] first contact (849 words) - nancy and ace texting can be poetry if you hold my hand and just believe!

[never have i ever] answering machines & how your voice says it’s gonna get back to me someday (3,163 words) - devi and ben's relationship through their first year at university as told by the voicemails they leave each other

[never have i ever] a lie away from getting you into the mood (77,482 words) - i mean. how could i possibly sum this one up? d/b FWB, sure, but also so much more than that. bitty spark 'verse pt 2.

[never have i ever] to nestle deep into the safe-keeping (3,440 words) - in a now time-honored tradition, i wrote rose some smut for her birthday! d/b being soft and in love their first year of university.

[cw's nancy drew] it’ll hurt like a mother when your foot comes out (2,228 words) - drew crew hike to commemorate a real life hike! fun!

Favorite Fic: 'gold mines' is a strong contender, but. you know it's 'lie away'. how could it be anything else? i spent a year and a half writing it and i finished the fuck out of it despite the tornado that stirred up my personal life this year. i don't know that i've ever been prouder of a fic. almost certainly not.

Hardest Fic: also 'a lie away'. the amount of material that i wrote and then scrapped because it wasn't right was A Lot.

Do You Plan to Take Prompts in 2024? haven't done a prompt game in a while! think it might be time to pull out that song lyric one, i've been gifted some exceptional music that way.

that said, though, when i do have all day to sit down and write, i've found myself more interested in chipping away at something longer-form. then again, it's been a while since i exercised the prompt-filling muscle in my writer brain, and i don't want that muscle to lose definition entirely. we'll see, i suppose.

What was the best thing about 2023? I FUCKING FINISHED 'A LIE AWAY' I DID IT I DID IT I DID IT

What was the worst thing about 2022? woof. i sure did split from my partner of a decade. which has actually been incredibly good for me, but living through it was a bit fucky, as you can imagine.

which makes this a great time to nod at 'answering machines' for being perfect creative fun and getting me out of my head during the worst of the breakup. looking at the title alone can make my brain stutter, though, it's a time capsule from such a tumultuous period in my life. probably doesn't help that i used a song from my unofficial breakup album to title the fic. i love you, 'answering machines'. i cannot fathom rereading you at this time.

Any last thoughts for 2023? i am content. the year was good to me, all things considered.

Goals for 2024

fuck around with devi the vampire slayer

original fiction???

fall head over heels for another show

continue writing devi/ben even if the audience for it dissipates entirely

[thedarkestgreys]

tagged by both @stannisfactions and @theangrypomeranian 🖤🖤 thank you friends!

How many works do you have on AO3?

67 but something new is popping up for halloween

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

so it says 976,114 but 266,429 of those words are from @baratheonbrotherspresent group written co-op fics

3. What fandoms do you write for?

primarily Fexi/Euphoria right now. but i've also written fics for ASOIAF/GoT, Eternals, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, and Teen Wolf over the last near decade.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

your violent overnight rush (fexi) stages (jonsa) and i'll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) (drukkari) slow hands (drukkari) and then a fic that i currently have hidden 😅

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

always! even if it's a quick TYSM FOR READING. i always appreciate when readers take the time to leave a comment, and i want to show my love back.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i don't think i've written anything with an angsty ending tbh. yes, lots of angst in various fics, but i'm a happy ending girlie through and through.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

as stated above, im a happy ending girlie. but maybe my heart's gone double time if i had to choose.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i haven't in a long time, but in the past yeah. like drove me away from a ship and shut down my interest in writing for like a solid year. it wasn't even about the writing, it was about the plot (a Sweet Home Alabama AU) and the comments were unnecessary (go read the wiki on the movie yall its not hard) and it just sucked lol. that was a hot minute ago though. we're good now.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

hahahaha do i write smut???? i have an internal checklist of all the smutty things i haven't written yet that i want to give a go, so you could say that. (note: daddy kink is off the list and never to be seen from me again)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

i do not! but i like to write a lot of AU's of different media.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

as far as i know of, no i haven't.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

i've had some offers in the past to have things translated back in the GoT days but i never gave the okay on it simply because it was a fic i never completed (ya girl used to get in over her head)

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

technically the BBP fics are cowritten but we all did our own chapters following a basic outline of plot/storylines and worked around what other authors were posting. it was chaos and hilarious and the most fun i've ever had

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

to write for? i'd have to say it's fexi, they unlocked a new level in my brain as an author. shout out to my favorite non-canon little crackship that could podrya though - i'll love you forever. to read? this is like asking someone to pick their favorite child. i've read so many incredible fics across a ton of different fandoms. but god i guess the ones i still seek out frequently is dasey and dramione. wouldn't say i have a favorite though?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

i really want to finish but the wolves came and went and i think i'm sitting on at least two chapters completed for it right now lol someday i'll sit down and finish writing the whole thing and get it posted.

16. What are your writing strengths?

plotting. world building. exposition. keeping characters in character. i've been told i'm good at writing big emotions too?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i've improved greatly but i still struggle with dialogue. 🙃

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

okay so. when i was writing slow hands as i got further into the story i really started describing the actual sign language being used by makkari and druig. hours of watching asl videos to pick out different words or phrases to translate. it was fun and it was hard work and i ended up with a whole new appreciation for asl. but it also felt important to really dig into describing the asl and i'm glad i did it.

19. First fandom you wrote for? ... and i'm still bitter about the cancelled reboot.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

taking yvor out of the equation: my fexi warm bodies zombie au sharing different heartbeats mostly i go back and read it and go "wait i wrote this?" because i don't do zombies at all lol. i'm just very proud of it.

tagging: @sarahcakes613 @muserepeats @calculated2stagger @iwantthemtostay and @idontneedtobeforgiven