#I took 'last line' to mean 'last line written'/'last line of a fic/chapter'

[mel-the-pirate-writeblr]

Last Line Tag

Tagged by @lyssentome! Thank you for including me :D

I don’t know many writeblrs or other Tumblr storytellers, but I’m going to opt for @xhunterbeatsx (any of your sideblogs), @penumbramewtwos, and @kindwayfarers! Anyone else who sees this and wants to do it-- you’re tagged, go have fun :)

"I hope we meet again," the strange man said.

One thing, however, stuck with her: her body began shifting again.

[icemankazansky]

A Simple Guide to Not Being Afraid to Write Comments to Fic You Read

I've seen a lot of posts about the current state of fanfiction comments. Writers, especially writers who have been in fandom for a decade or more, are frustrated by the lack of comments, and have noticed a definite decline in comments (and all other forms of reader interaction) in the past ten years or so. Many readers feel daunted by the expectation of leaving comments, afraid they'll do something wrong. As a fandom old maid, the latter confused me for a while, until I realized that most of the people who feel that way probably have not been taught this form of communication.

But your loving fandom elders are here for you. Come along as your auntie tumblr user icemankazansky makes this shit easy.

The easiest way to think of fanfiction comment etiquette is to compare it to something you likely already know: Gift Receiving Etiquette.

Fanfiction began as largely a gift economy. And a lot of it still is! You'll see authors participate in exchanges like Yuletide and Id Pro Quo; those are ficswaps in which authors write for a specific person to specific prompts. And even outside that, fanfiction is not written for money; authors write and post it simply for the joy of creation and community with fellow fans. Fic is posted free for anyone to enjoy. Is that not a gift?

So. When you as a reader finish the chapter or story you're reading and you are faced with the comment box, try to follow the same etiquette you would when receiving a gift. (And even if you didn't love this gift and it's not your favorite gift ever, we already know that it's more useful than the products from your cousin's MLM that they're passing off as gifts, because you read the story. At the very least, it entertained you for the time you took to read it.)

The big rule of gift receiving etiquette is not to insult the person who gave you the gift, either directly or indirectly. That's it. Full stop.

I've been seeing a lot of comments lately that are just along the lines of, "Thank you for writing this story and sharing it with us." A+, top of the class, full marks, you're doing amazing. If you don't feel comfortable commenting on the story itself, that is perfect feedback. And that's the most basic way you respond to a gift, yes? Thank you for the gift. Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for sharing.

Does this rule mean that you cannot say anything at all that might be negative about anything? No, absolutely not. What you want to avoid is saying something that is, at its core, a negative evaluation of the author or their work. Let's do some examples.

Character A's obliviousness about Character B's MASSIVE crush on them made me so frustrated! I was tearing my hair out internally screaming, "JUST LET HIM LOVE YOU."

✔️ Excellent comment! You're allowed to have all sorts of feelings about things that happen in the story, and in fact authors LOVE to hear about any emotions they made you feel. Yes, frustration is not a positive emotion, but the thing you are expressing frustration about is not the author themselves or their shortcomings.

Contrast that to:

I was really frustrated that it took you so long to post this chapter. The cliffhanger at the end of the previous chapter had me tearing my hair out, and then you just left us hanging FOREVER!

❌ Nope! Here what you are expressing is frustration with the author and how fast they come out with new chapters. Imagine your sister buys you a gift for your birthday, but she isn't able to give it to you until the next week, and you respond with: "What took you so long?" I think Emily Post would frown on that.

Reframing

The way you say something and the point of view from which you give feedback can have a HUGE impact on the message you're sending. Let's take the last comment (the one about wanting an update) and see what happens when we reframe the same sentiment as a positive:

I was SO EXCITED to see that you updated this story! I have really been looking forward to seeing what happened after the cliffhanger in the last chapter.

✔️ Now it's not an insult. The author will be happy to know that you are happy to see new work from them.

This idea extends beyond the story itself: to the fandom, the characters, the pairing, the tropes, etc. Let's do some examples.

I looooove reading about these sexy boys SO IN LOVE even though the movie you're writing about is SOOOOO problematic.

❌ Nope! Assume that the author enjoys the canon, characters, pairing, etc. in the stories they write. This comment is insulting to the author because it basically says, "That thing you love is not great, and you should probably feel bad for liking it." Imagine your aunt gifts you a sweater from a popular retailer, and you respond with, "This is so cute, I love it! It's a shame that it was made in a sweatshop." Do you have a valid point about the canon or the retailer's business practices? You very well might. Is this the proper time and place to talk about it? Absolutely not.

Let's do a reframing exercise. You should be very careful about how you approach commenting negatively on anything in the story that appears in the tags list, but you can make it a compliment and good feedback if you have the right perspective. See the difference with these two approaches:

I kind of think frottage is disgusting, but I liked it in this story.

❌ Nope! You just told the author you think their kink is disgusting. That's like telling your poor aunt who is just trying to keep you warm this winter that she has awful taste in knitwear. Try again.

Frottage normally isn't my kink, but I love your other stories with this pairing, so I decided to give it a try, and I'm SOOOOO GLAD that I did! This story was 🔥🔥🔥

✔️ "This normally isn't my thing, but you made me expand my horizons!" Authors love to hear that. That's like telling your aunt, "I never thought this color looked good on me, but I look so cute in this sweater! I'm so glad you helped me step outside my comfort zone, because I'm the better for it."

thank u, next

The last thing I want to address is this new trend I've seen in commenting lately: placing an order. If your mom surprises you with new headphones, you don't respond with, "I wanted the white ones 🙁," or, "You should get me a new phone, too." It's easy to see why that isn't appropriate in a gifting situation, and it's also not appropriate when commenting on fanfiction.

Let's do some examples:

This fic was soooo cute, but it would have been a million times better if Character A had been with Character C instead of Character B.

❌ There are a few things going on here. Number one, you're telling your mom you wanted the white headphones, not the ones she actually bought you. You're also disparaging the A/B pairing that the author chose to write about, and as we discussed, we can assume that the author wrote the pairing because they liked it. Even if it's not their favorite and/or they also write A/C, they made a choice for this story to be A/B, and the comments section of a fic is not the place to question choices the author made in their own work.

You should write a story where Character Z who is not even in this story does [thing that is vaguely referenced in the B plot].

❌ "You should get me a new phone, too."

I want a sequel. 😞

❌ "Thank you, next!"

You can reframe this kind of sentiment if you are careful about it, and it's not all you say.

I really loved this story. I would be so interested to see these ideas explored further if you ever decide to write more in this universe.

✔️ Not "gimme." Not "more." This is, "If you build it, I will come." It is a HUGE difference.

You already know how to do this. You know how to graciously accept a gift; just use that same etiquette, and boom! Now you know how to fearlessly write a comment to fic you read. You're doing amazing. Go forth and comment.

[imagineinside]

Star-Like Encounters (Hugh Jackman x Fem!Reader) Chapter 1

A/N: In between posting chapters for the Wolverine fic I'm working on, I also wanted to pick up something about Hugh Jackman. I want to first preface with the fact that this is not meant to be taken as reality and we need to be respectful of people mentioned, this is purely a work of fiction. With that being said, I hope you enjoy!

Description: You begin your first semester at a prestigious university with a mix of excitement and chaos. After a frantic start involving a late arrival due to your roommate’s Hollywood-related detour, your day takes an unexpected turn when you meet Hugh Jackman, your roommate’s boss, at a movie studio.

Hugh, intrigued by your expertise in physics, invites you to consult on a film project aiming for scientific accuracy. Balancing your new academic responsibilities with a potential Hollywood cameo, you must navigate your dual interests. As you face your own feelings, you discover that the lines between your professional and personal worlds are more intertwined than you imagined.

Currently Applicable Tags: (Future) 18+, Fluff, cocky Hugh Jackman, flirty Hugh Jackman, age gap (55 and 27) more to come.

Running through the hallways of the prestigious university you had dedicated your whole life to working at, you cursed at yourself for running so late. It wasn’t entirely your fault, however. Needing to share a car with your best friend and roommate always had its disadvantages.

And this morning, her boss had decided he needed her assistance out of absolutely nowhere, meaning you had to drop her off at a studio downtown before driving to the university.

Unfortunately, you had no idea who her boss actually was, otherwise you’d go on a rampaging smear campaign as payback for them jeopardizing your career like this. You had asked your best friend various times, with you both sober and drunk at various times, who her boss was. All you had gotten out of her was that “he is a Hollywood hot-shot, and he’s been in some of your favorite movies.” She always said that last part with a mischievous grin on her face.

You bolted into the lecture hall and all 100-some eyes turned to you, including the headmasters in the back. You took only a moment to catch your breath before fixing your appearance, smoothing out your skirt and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Good morning, everyone,” you called in greeting as you approached your desk, throwing your briefcase on top of it and shrugging off your jacket.

You received a cacophony of “good mornings” back.

“It’s a pleasure to be here at the start of your semester, and I’m excited to guide you through the wonders of astrophysics this semester.” You heard a few groans rupture from the students, but you simply smiled to yourself. You had been that student once upon a time. “We’ll explore the life cycles of stars, the structure of galaxies, and the mysteries of dark matter. Astrophysics can seem daunting, but it’s really about understanding our place in the universe. Embrace your curiosity, ask questions, and don’t worry if things seem complex at first—every great discovery starts with a simple question. I’m here to support you, and together we’ll uncover the fascinating stories written in the stars.” You felt your heart lift up in your chest, you truly had such a fascination with this field of study.

You dared for a moment to lift your eyes and read the approval written in the headmaster's face, a spark lighting in your chest. “Now, let’s start with the Big Bang, shall we?” You smiled once again as you heard hundreds of notebooks being flipped open to the first page.

Nothing like the start of a new semester.

* * *

You drove your beat-up Volvo to the location your roommate had sent you when she texted you earlier that day. As you rolled up to it, your brakes squealing as you came to a stop, you realized it was an entire campus of movie production. There were hundreds of people mulling about on the other side of the protected gate. Some were riding around in golf carts, others sprinting from set-to-set, a whole flurry of movement.

You always had a fascination with Hollywood and the film industry. When you originally started at university yourself, you majored in theater and dance. But… after your first year, for reasons you’d rather forget, you changed to astrophysics.

“There you are!” Your best friend, Ashley, squealed and pulled you into a big hug after you stepped out of the car. “I had the best day today!”

You laughed at the excitement written all over your friend's face, “I’m glad, just don’t make it a habit of making me late to my class.”

Ashley’s smile dropped as she put her hands together in a silent prayer, “I am so sorry about that. I talked to my boss about it and he promised he would be more considerate next time.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, fauxing an upset scoff, “Fine, I suppose I can let it slide this time–”

“That’s good, I don’t need you murdering my best assistant.” A deep voice called out past the front of your car. You knew who that voice belonged to in an instant with that deep, sultry Australian accent. You had all the X-Men movies he was in on DVD and saved to your computer, as well as “The Greatest Showman” and even the series “Faraway Downs”. (You used to have a cutout of him in your room when you were younger but you don’t need to bring that up…)

Your eyes were glued to your best friend who gave you a sheepish grin, as if even she hadn’t been expecting this. You were afraid that if you looked over at him, he would just evaporate into thin air.

“I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself, I’m your friend's boss. You can call me Hugh.” Suddenly he was crossing into your line of sight, a hand held out in front you as a way of greeting.

You snapped yourself out of your trance that only his voice had put you in and went into professional mode, something that was a common necessity in your line of work, “Hugh, nice to meet you. I’m Ashley’s roommate… and oftentimes chauffeur.”

That pulled a laugh from deep inside his chest as he shook your hand. His grip was strong but still gentle so as not to crush your dainty fingers. It was incredibly hard not to notice the way his hand dwarfed yours in size, his palm calloused and rough in comparison to yours.

“I am terribly sorry about today, we got called to set at the last minute to start production for a new movie. It will not happen again.” He assured you.

You gave him a reassuring smile, “No worries, only made me late to my first lecture of my professional career, but not a big deal.” You laced your words with heavy sarcasm as you flashed a look to Ashley, who looked like she was about to combust with embarrassment. Did she really think you were going to embarrass her in front of her boss that much?

“Lecture? Are you a Professor?” Hugh asked as he leaned against the rusted hood of your Volvo.

It took you a moment to respond as you soaked in his large arms crossed over his massive chest. You wish you could be buried in there. Christ, you were acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. You cleared your throat before responding and smoothed out your skirt. You weren’t entirely sure, but you thought Hugh’s eyes followed your brief movement. “Yes, at Stanford in the Physics department. It’s where Ashley and I both studied.”

“Stanford, wow,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows, he seemed genuinely impressed. “You must be quite renowned in the Physics world to have gotten a job there. And… excuse me if this comes off as inappropriate, but you are so young too.”

“Just passionate, Mr. Jackman.” You say with a polite smile.

“I thought I told you to call me Hugh,” he replied with a teasing smirk that lifted one side of his mouth higher than the other. It felt like you were going to combust right there with how fast your heart was racing.

“Anywaaaay,” Ashley jumped in. You had almost completely forgotten she was standing there. “She and I best get going, we still need to make dinner tonight.” She rounded the small car to the passenger side door and threw her bag in the backseat.

“I guess it’s–”

Mr. Jackman cut you off with a quick step forward, “Actually, if you don’t mind me saying, you may be able to help us.”

“Us?” You asked and flicked your gaze towards your friend who looked like her world was ending right there in front of her.

“You see, some aspects of the movie we are working on happens in space. I will refrain from saying anything else since, well–if you’re a fan I don’t want to spoil anything,” he said with a hearty laugh, “But the producers and directors have been fighting about the physics of the movie. They are trying to make it as accurate as possible, I suppose. And well, I am very out of my depth when it comes to anything like this.”

You nodded at him, one hand on the door handle of the Volvo.

“If it’s not too much trouble, would you be willing to join our next meeting to teach them a thing or two about physics?” He asked and took one more step forward, a sparkle in those soft, hazel eyes.

“Well, Mr. Jackman–”

“Hugh.”

“Uh, Hugh,” You went on, “I am very flattered but I just don’t know if I will be the best suited for the job. I am sure you can find others that will be better at this sort of thing.” You said with a nervous laugh. There was no way you would survive getting looped into this movie with Hugh Jackman as a leading character.

Plus, Ashley liked having boundaries between her work and personal life, which you understood. You didn’t want to overstep without talking to her about it first. You don't know what you would do if you lost her friendship because of something like this.

Hugh smacked his lips together and patted the hood of your tiny car. “As a person who enjoys her work because you are passionate, I feel you would be the best suited for this task.” He held up his pointer finger as he reached into his back pocket to pull out an old, leather wallet. “I will give you my business card,” he said, holding up a small piece of white paper, “if you give me yours… Professor.”

You hesitated for a moment, not sure what this would all lead to, before nodding your head and reaching into a side pocket of your briefcase, producing a small manilla rectangle with your information printed on it. “Here you are, Mr. Jackman.”

He didn’t correct you this time as he reached over to retrieve your business card, before placing his own in your open hand. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that this piece of paper smelled like him, all manly cologne and pinewood…

“I think we will be seeing each other in the future, Professor,” he said with a wink and a wave as he turned around and walked back towards the campus.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t watch his tight butt in those bootcut jeans disappear past the gate. But you didn’t notice him turn back around to get one last look at you as you climbed into your car.

* * *

You and Ashley made dinner without touching the subject of her boss who apparently now wanted to recruit you to help with the project. On one hand, you really wanted to say yes to his proposal. After all, this may be the closest you could ever achieve to the film industry after your change in major. But on the other hand, you knew Ashley took a lot of pride in her work, even as an assistant. She planned to climb the ladder of the entertainment business one rung at a time. After all, she held out throughout the entirety of her theater degree at university, when you just bailed when it got too difficult.

“I can feel you thinking about it,” Ashley said while you sat on the couch together, each with your respective bowls of ice cream and rewatching Gilmore Girls for the third–maybe fourth time?

You groaned and grabbed the remote, pausing your show. “I know… I’m really sorry.”

“Hey,” Ashley said and reached across to place her hand on yours reassuringly. “I know you care about film just as much as I do. Hell, they do need a lot of help with the physics of the movie, and I am definitely no help in that department.” You let out a small chuckle in silent agreement with your friend. As much as you loved her, math was not her strong suit.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright if I say yes? I mean, it’s not like it will be my actual job or anything. I probably won’t even interact with you and Mr. Jackman that much.”

Ashley shook her head, “No, it’ll be completely fine if you take the offer. And you’re right, usually Hugh and I are busy doing other stuff rather than being involved in the technical discussions, or at least I am.”

“So our friendship will still exist?”

It was Ashley’s turn to laugh, “Yes, dummy, our friendship will still exist.”

“Ugh, you’re the best!” You yelped and lunged across the couch for a hug, ice cream be damned.

Later that night, when you were getting ready for bed, your phone lit up with a notification from… an unknown number?

You had to let out a deep breath after his last text let a flurry of butterflies free in your stomach. You tried not to let it get to you so much, he was probably just being nice. Plus, you’ve watched enough of his interviews to know how flirty he can be without really meaning it.

Laying in bed, you opened your phone to Instagram. You snickered at the first photo that popped up on your feed. It was Hugh Jackman dressed in his yellow Wolverine uniform taken from an angle that definitely aged him, but you still found it adorable nonetheless. Without thinking, you pressed the heart button on the bottom left of the picture. After all, you’ve been liking his pictures for years by that point.

After that, you set your phone to “do not disturb”, waiting for the sun to wake you the next day. And when you finally woke to check it, a notification popped up on your phone that had your heart flying around your chest.

[linnamonrolls0]

The Winner Takes It All

LMM!Hermes x Reader

Summary:

“devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more…”

You accidentally find your way into the Lotus Casino, where a certain Greek god takes a keen interest in a game of poker, a sweet deal, and… you.

Rating: Mature

Words: 4,480

A/N:

I wasn’t gonna write this… until I saw some hater saying they’d [redacted] if they saw a LMM!Hermes x Reader fic show up - so naturally, being the disastrous Lin simp that I am, I HAD TO DO IT. After all, learning from the best in proving the naysayers wrong…

A lot of this was written pre-episode, allow it with a few inconsistencies and a lot of research-induced additions!

Mixtape... bloop - https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6v2ZfRamJRh8eP6qOqz4ND

Chapter 1: When The Chips Are Down

Contrary to popular belief, apparently it is possible to get lost in Las Vegas.

You were only strolling the Strip with a group of friends on the last day of your whirlwind vacation, but soon enough you found yourself at a dead end, unsure of what turn you’d even taken to get there. 

Hoping to locate a restroom and some means of connectivity to contact your friends, you beelined for the nearest building, flashily labelled the Lotus Hotel and Casino: upon glancing upward, you were met with the sight of a forty-storey tower, with a wide open entrance marked by a blooming neon-bright lotus flower in front of you. It was the sort of place you would expect to be buzzing with life, but oddly enough nary a soul lingered by the shining silver doors; just stillness and silence, save for the muffled music pounding from somewhere inside.

Though you felt overwhelmingly uneasy, that entrance carried a strange magnetism that compelled you to step inside. Something that suggested all your fear would be put to rest the moment you walked through those doors… or into that flower, at least.

You tucked your hands under your sleeves and drew in a deep breath, before you crossed the petalled threshold into an opulent lobby decorated with lotus plants in intricately designed pots and inviting plush couches around the circular hall. The air conditioning was a welcome relief from the Nevada summer heat, and the whole place seemed to glow in a dark shade of pink. 

You immediately felt an invisible weight ease off of your shoulders as you entered… What had you come here to look for, again?

Right, a phone charger and somewhere to pee. Of course, basic human necessities, how could you forget those so quickly?

Interrupting your line of thought, you paused in your tracks when a tall Barbie doll materialised in front of you, dressed in bright pink from head to toe; upon first glance she looked like some sort of projection, as though she wasn’t real at all.

“Welcome to the Lotus Hotel and Casino,” she greeted you in an almost robotic voice, with a plastic smile stretched across her face, holding out a shimmering green card. “Here’s your Cash Card, have a great time!”

“Cash… what? Do I have to pay for this?” you stuttered, confused beyond belief as you took the card. What was this place?

“No, not a penny!” She shook her head; not a single strand of her perfectly coiffed blonde hair shifted out of place. “Would you like a tour? Here, have a drink. Only the best in the world here!” 

She offered you a glass goblet, filled to the brim with a dark maroon liquid and topped with blueberries, bearing the same eerie magnetism as the doors had done minutes before. You eyed the drink dubiously, brows furrowed as you sniffed it in a futile attempt to ascertain what exactly it was.

“I’m alright, thank you,” you politely declined, “What is—”

But before you could finish your question, the Barbie doll had disappeared as suddenly as she’d arrived, and the moment you sipped the strong floral drink, your questions completely evaporated.

Following your curiosity, you craned your neck and looked up to see endless floors lined with rooms and doors and glass balconies, with a pair of glass elevators in the middle. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if the great glass elevator could shoot through the ceiling like something out of a children’s book.

At least there were more people in here, though you were certain they too had just appeared as if by magic; not acknowledging you at all, they milled about in the lobby and outside the doors to the casino, beside to what appeared to be an arcade full of excited children playing classic and modern video games alike. Regardless of age, all the guests were clad in fancy-dress costumes; you figured perhaps there was an event taking place that had its attendees reflecting different eras of fashion. Wouldn’t be unusual for this town, everyone was dressed crazy and after three days traversing Sin City’s myriad clubs and casinos, nothing fazed you - or perhaps the effects of whatever you’d taken at that club last night still hadn’t fully worn off, who knew…

Still in a bit of a daze, you floated toward the immense double doors leading to the Casino, already hearing the jingling of slot machines singing proud over the pounding pop beats as their backing track.

The casino was lit by ornate chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, deliberately dimmed to give way to the bright, flashing lights of the various gaming machines assembled around the hall, surrounding a set of card tables in its centre. Chatter and laughter filled the room and people crowded around the tables, playing without a care in the world and having the time of their lives; everyone seemed to have a goblet in hand and a cash card in the other, not dissimilar to your current state. It was warmer in here, though still comfortable enough that you could breathe… Just about.

You wandered through and your attention was glued to a game of roulette at a table beside you, where a couple had just won who knows what, when you were interrupted by a greeting that you just somehow knew was directed at you.

“Well, hello, there,” you heard in a smooth, low tenor behind you.

You whirled around on your heel to be met by… a guy. Literally just a guy, casually leaning on his gorgeously tanned forearms on a nearby craps table, aimlessly toying with a pair of dice in his left hand as he gazed over at you. He was certainly easy on the eyes with his vaguely familiar but handsome face, a mischievous little smirk on his lips, and pretty brown eyes that sparkled in the flashing lights… There was something about those eyes that drew you in. And for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away…

He looked like the most normal person in the room, but he seemed entirely out of place, given that everyone else was dressed to the nines - meanwhile he wore a comfy tan hoodie and sweatpants set, as if he perhaps owned it all and subsequently had no rules to follow in this already-lawless land. When he stepped around his table to approach you, he certainly did swagger around like he ruled the place, and his companions nearby looked at him like they worshipped the ground he walked on. Perhaps he was important, but how were you to know?

“You come here often?” he flirted, just about the most awful pickup line imaginable, but you were past the point of questioning why it still sounded attractive.

How had you ended up here, anyway? Hell knew… But this was Sin City, after all; a little harmless flirting could do you no harm, surely… 

“Nope, never been here before. But weirdly, I don’t want to leave…” you shrugged, taking another sip of that strangely addictive drink.

“Sounds about right, Miss…”

“[Y/N],” you offered casually, uncharacteristically not hesitant.

“Pleasure to meet you…” he said with a playful lilt to his tone, holding out a hand, “They call me Hermes.”

When you shook his hand, for a split second you could’ve sworn you weren’t there anymore - when his smooth hand held yours, something akin to a firework went off inside your mind, and you’d put it down to just sparks if not for the phantom breeze you felt just then, a gust that nearly knocked you off your feet.

You couldn’t place what it was, exactly, but there was something strange about this man. He bore an almost otherworldly quality, as though he wasn’t human at all… But how could he be anything else? Come to think of it, there was a similarly supernatural energy about the casino itself; no wonder he fit right in to this weird wonderland.

“What, you got a Birkin in your back pocket or something, Mr Hermes?” you laughed, trying to shake off that odd suspicion, only to be met by his indignant scowl. Even that was cute.

“And what business do you have with my back pockets?” he teased, tucking one hand into the front pocket of his hoodie, to which you raised an intrigued brow.

You shrugged, nonchalant, still reeling from that strange feeling. “Nothing yet, but perhaps I’d like to find out…”

“Obviously I do not, but I could hook you up.” The innuendo wasn’t lost on you, least of all when Hermes smirked, that patented brand of mischief you were quickly growing quite fond of as he swaggered across to the card table; the players welcomed him back gladly. “Care for a game?” he asked, seemingly winning one without even paying attention to it as he rolled the dice carelessly onto the table that stood between you.

As he retrieved the dice, you eyed his hands curiously; they could only be described as pretty, as though he might be a pianist or… an artist of some description. He had his sleeves rolled back and a gold-plated Rolex glimmered on one wrist, a chunky gold chain-link bracelet on the other, and something about that on him was distractingly attractive. It all screamed money, despite his casual tracksuit getup, which would’ve been nothing special if it didn’t look so needlessly expensive in itself. You absently wondered what that obscure tattoo on his ring finger meant, for surely it couldn’t imply he might be taken…

“It’s not like you have anything to lose,” Hermes commented, interrupting your line of thought as he set a few chips down on the table and retrieved his own green Cash Card from his pocket, holding it up to show you. So everyone had them; then, what was the point?

Oh, right. You likely couldn’t do anything with the money outside, so, go figure it was an unlimited free pass.

“I guess I’m in. After all, what you gonna do when the chips are down?” you quoted a challenge, holding your own smug look at the recognition in his eyes.

“I see you speak my language…” he teased, “Even if those aren’t exactly my words.”

“Funny you should mention that. Has anyone ever told you you look a bit like Lin-Manuel Miranda?”

“So I’ve been told! Though, I think the correct expression would be that he looks like me. Same difference, he’s me, I’m him, whatever.” He waved a flippant hand, as if instructing you to ask no further questions on the topic.

“Gotcha…” You laughed, putting this all down to a wacky dream by now as you joined him by the card table. “What is this, anyway?” you asked him, raising your goblet in his general direction. He was the only person here without one, which didn’t entirely make sense to you, even in the logic of twisted fever dreams.

“Raise a glass to freedom… and throw it the fuck away,” he sang with a laugh, “Seriously, though, that’s a little addictive psychedelic beverage called blue lotus wine. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t drink a drop.”

“And what if I already did?”

“Well, then you’re well and truly screwed…” Hermes grinned, mischief dancing in his dark brown eyes. He swiped the half-full glass out of your hand and knocked back the remainder of the wine in one quick gulp, his gaze never leaving yours as he deposited the empty glass on a tray carried away by one of those apparating Barbie waitresses. “And now, so am I.”

He waved over another waitress and grabbed two new glasses of wine off her tray, politely handing one to you. He brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping at the wine as you eyed his hand wrapped around the glass, absently wondering what that seemingly delicate touch would feel like on you… There was no reason why the simple act of this man drinking hallucinatory wine should’ve been remotely sexy, but you could say the same for him in general; this shouldn’t work, but god damn, it does.

“Was that really the best idea if it’s—” you began, and he quickly cut in.

“Absolutely not, no, but if you come here to forget, you may as well do it right…” Hermes sighed, a momentary flash of resignation in his stance as he briefly let his shoulders droop. “Anyway, whatever, fuck real life. Let’s play?” he offered, running a hand through his dark hair, seemingly shaking himself out of the memory of whatever haunting reality had led him here. As a matter of fact, what had led you here?

“Sure,” you smiled, “What are we playing? I’m pretty sure I saw an arcade on my way in…”

“Come on, there’s no stakes in that! This is where the real fun’s at,” he said with a light laugh, gesturing to the craps table in front of you.

“Speak for yourself. I’ll have you know, I’m amazing at air hockey!”

“Yeah? I’m a killer at the claw machine, so go figure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Cute. Shame they don’t have an escape room.”

“Just as well, I’ve always been a little too good with locks… Besides, this place itself is an escape room. Only, there’s no escape…”

“Wait, what?”

“Because… You want to stay, right? What’s waiting for you outside?”

Suddenly, you found yourself struggling to answer his question. Where barely a few moments ago, everything had been so clear, now you could see a hazy cloud inside your mind as you desperately searched for the answer to no avail, almost as though that hallucinogen was beginning to hit hard… 

“Outside? What’s outside? I — I could stay here — You’re… Huh?” you stuttered, “I don’t know where else I’d go.”

Hermes sighed, glancing over at you. “Literally anywhere but here.”

“Sorry?” you questioned, brows furrowed. Had you misread his signals?

“Walk with me,” he offered, and so you obliged as he stepped towards you again. You followed his lead as he strolled on within the confines of the casino, glancing surreptitiously around as though making sure you weren’t being eavesdropped on - though you could only wonder why.

“Alright, I don’t normally do this…” he drawled, “But for some reason I’m taking a liking towards you; and all trickery aside, I don’t take unfair advantage, so here’s the secret. You ever heard of Odysseus and the Lotus Eaters?” he asked seriously; you nodded your assurance. “Well, this place is kinda like their island… Only, now it’s here in the modern world, and what better place for it than Sin City? Hence the lightness in the air and the endless supply of blue lotus wine…”

You eyed him curiously, willing him to go on and trying not to focus on his initial confession. “I guess that explains a lot. So this is… eternal psychedelic bliss?”

“Yep, that good old adrenaline and dopamine rush, forever and ever and everrrrr… Half of Olympus has tried to claim it, but nobody really knows whose work of chaotic genius this was.” He shrugged nonchalantly, not at all like he was explaining such an outlandish concept. “When you’re in a casino, time just seems to work differently - and just like that, time moves at its own distorted pace in here. Lost travellers often find their way into this place, it has that draw when you stray off your path - and that’s why I hang out here, not just to wander astray from my own shit, but to guide you back to yours. I’m not immune to this,” he raised his glass, gesturing to the wine, “But I can handle the air just fine, unlike most mortals…”

“And what if I want to get lost?” you challenged, plucking his glass out of his hand, holding his gaze as you brought the drink to your lips. His gaze remained fixed on you as he bit his own lip, his eyes flickering to your lips for a millisecond as you sipped the wine; thirsty, not dissimilar to the way you’d been eyeing him mere seconds ago.

“Mmkay, lucky for you, I have some semblance of sense about me,” Hermes said, stopping by a poker table nearby, where the players immediately cleared a spot for the pair of you. Entirely nonchalant, he swiped a deck of cards off the table, expertly shuffling it as he spoke, “So win the next deal, and I’ll get you out of here.”

“So if I lose, I’m stuck in here?” you attempted to clarify the stakes, trying not to get distracted as you watched him shuffle those cards. Hell, he had such pretty hands, what else could you do but wonder what else he could do with them?

“Pretty much.”

“And what if I ask for a better deal?”

“Better than having your real life back?”

“Yep.”

“Try me…”

“Okay. If I win, my prize is you.”

“Me? What’s the catch?”

“Nothing. Just, you and me, until not even the gods above can separate the two of us,” you teased, peak dramatic, somewhere between flirting and floating. You could get used to this, the weightless feeling of flight…

Hermes quirked a brow at you, undeniably amused. “Interesting thought, given that I’m… well, not above, per se, but one of them.”

“You’re… what now?” You tilted your head to one side, looking curiously across at him. What in the world was he on about?

He shot you a pointed stare, isn’t it obvious? But it wasn’t, until now… when it all began to make sense, slowly: what this place was, how he knew so much about it, why he had a more heightened sense of awareness despite the inherent hypnotism of the literal and metaphorical lotus flower you’d stepped into… And he could guide lost travellers out. Your jaw dropped as your hand flew to your mouth when it finally dawned upon you who and what he was, and what that entailed —

And out loud, all you could manage was a whisper; “Oh, my god…”

The Greek god in front of you heaved a dramatic sigh, aiming a playful eye-roll in your direction. “Please, like I haven’t heard that one before,” he chuckled lightly, the sarcasm heavy in his tone.

And so you let him deal your hand and you played, stopping every so often to laugh, for Hermes was surprisingly fun to be around and perhaps staying here with him wouldn’t be so bad… Only, this couldn’t be his permanent residence. He was the god of travel, it made sense that he never hung around one place long enough to settle. It was obvious he had a natural charisma about him that clearly worked in his favour more than once; and not that it really mattered, but you absently wondered how many like you had crossed paths with him before, and the past baggage he’d been trying to forget was certainly not lost on you…

He had his right arm slung casually around your shoulder, his left occupied by his cards, not caring if you could see them. You tried your level best to stay focused; for you were feeling a little lightheaded by now, a combination of the wine and the strong scent of his cologne… He was close, enough that you could pick up the gentle sweet notes beneath the woody cedar scent he wore.

“All in?” you suggested, nudging your chips toward the centre of the table, glancing up at the literal god beside you.

“I am if you are,” Hermes smirked, pushing his own ridiculous amount of chips into the pot beside yours.

The game went on; and as if out of nowhere, thanks to a sudden turn in your luck and a surprise royal flush - which if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve attributed to him - you had finally won. Caught up in the daze, you stepped up onto your toes and threw your arms around his neck in an excited hug. He was momentarily taken aback by it, but quickly regained enough composure to gently wrap his arms around you. His soft touch bore a pleasantly startling contrast to his mischievous demeanour, and you found yourself not wanting to let go.

“Well played…” he congratulated you in that same teasing tone as he gently drew you back, briefly glancing at his watch and tapping two fingers against the side of the dial.

Perhaps you would’ve wondered why, but spurred on by your victory and high off the adrenaline, you hooked one finger in the gold chain around his neck and gently tugged at it to urge him closer, until the distance between you was barely a hair’s breadth. You could feel the warmth radiating off him in waves, his intense cologne flooding your senses. And suddenly it didn’t faze you that you were in public, and you paid no mind to the way all his casino companions were frozen around you instead of continuing their games… Suddenly, all you wanted was him. 

Was it blasphemous to lust after a god?

Hell, you could deal with the consequences of that later, for right now, his magnetism was pulling you in and you couldn’t bear to look away from those deep, dark brown eyes… Until Hermes leant closer to you and his soft lips brushed yours as he spoke, barely above a whisper yet you could hear him clearly despite the noise, “Not at all…”

Your breathing hitched, at his comment, at his proximity, at… everything about this. How the fuck did he know what you’d been thinking? 

Perhaps you’d dwell on that longer, but just then he reached up to cup your cheek. Though unexpectedly tender, his touch was white hot where his skin met yours, but pleasurably so as you let yourself get lost in it, in him… He pressed his lips to yours in two delicate little pecks, clearly just teasing, and you just about caught sight of his smirk before you stepped up onto your toes to kiss him again, for real this time. His other hand smoothly dropped to your waist, holding you against him and you pulled at his chain with your finger still caught in it, curling your other fist in the soft cotton of his hoodie.

Apparently, even the gods weren’t immune to carnal need, and Hermes was evidently faring no better than you; he gave in to the kiss quickly, all but melting into you, his tongue swiping insistently at your bottom lip, and you weren’t about to stop him. You parted your lips for him, granting him access instead of prolonging this teasing that had left you both desperate. He tasted of something indescribably sweet, mixed with the rich taste of the blue lotus wine that you’d both downed not so long ago, and you already knew he was a far better intoxicant than any drink you’d find here… As he deepened the kiss, his tongue brazenly tasting yours, borderline hungry; you saw a flash of light behind your eyelids, gripped by the feeling that you were flying, all for a mere moment before you became hyperaware of his heated touch and the fact that your feet were still firmly planted on the soft floral-patterned carpet of the casino.

It felt like time had frozen, the world had stopped around you, and nothing mattered except for him and you and the most perfect kiss you’d ever had…

But somehow, instead of clouding your thoughts like you’d expected, you drew back from his kiss with some clarity. Hermes had told you he could never lose. So why, then, had you just managed to win this? You were no expert when it came to these games, and he was clearly a well-seasoned gambling master… Had the notorious trickster god manipulated the deal in your favour? Had he purposely thrown this away for you?

The glimmer in his eyes only looked brighter as you separated, yet somehow those deep browns looked darker, lust clearly getting the better of him; and he made no effort to hide it, despite his small smile and the lightest hint of a blush on his cheeks. You were fairly sure you mirrored it all, and you were in no hurry to let him go…

Only, as the world began to come back into focus, you realised time really had stopped around you: everything and everyone in the casino was frozen, and you glanced up at the god in front of you with a mix of curiosity and fear in your eyes. “When you said you could stop time…” you began, still in disbelief.

Hermes nodded slowly, meeting your gaze with that characteristic smirk. “Yeah, I meant that literally. I may have had a running out of time crisis once, hence… this stolen life-saver,” he explained, raising his wrist to show you his watch - now upon closer inspection, you realised the hour, minute and second hands all pointed to 12, and he hovered a finger over a button at the side of the dial. “It’s up to you. Want me to bring it back?”

You shook your head. Not only did that beautiful gold timepiece look unfairly gorgeous on his wrist; it also held a piece of magic that could be incredibly useful… “No,” you whispered, “I’m in no hurry. Let’s make this last…”

You tilted your chin up towards him again, and he obliged you with another sweet little kiss. “Well, then… Perhaps I could show you some of the wonders of existing beyond space and time…” he murmured, “What d’you say to that?”

“I say, make time stop for us a little longer. Take me to another world, Hermes…”

The look he shot you just then, could’ve brought you to your knees on the spot - somehow you just knew he was fixated on the sound of his name as you whispered it, and you wondered how he could make you feel that just from a simple touch.

“C’mon, sweetheart; let’s get out of here,” Hermes suggested, offering you an arm; you linked your arm through his as he tapped the side of his watch, resuming the world around you as if it had never paused at all. 

You gazed up at him in awe as he led you out of the casino, back to the lobby and towards the opening of the blooming flower you’d walked in through. The humid summer air hit you both as you stepped outside together, thereby breaking the spell - but you were still captivated by him, regardless. He briefly let go of you to do away with his warm hoodie, leaving him in just a fitted white t-shirt that had no business looking so goddamn gorgeous on him.

You couldn’t help but smile as he hummed softly in your ear, “There’s a place I know in a nearby park…”

Part 2 via AO3 (blasphemous smut ahead)

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (1)

Chapter One: Confined

Gif by @ventresses

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Rating: 18+

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Imprisoned on Tantiss, Omega finds herself needing to adjust to life there whilst the rest of you decide on your next mission to give you intel you desperately need.

Masterlist for S1 and S2

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Very mild canon-typical violence, one use of y/n, Hemlock, brief wound description, nightmares with emotional hurt/comfort, my interpretation of various people's headspaces, slight angst, me going off script/episode plot in the last part, and remember, italics represent silent Jedi communications

Word Count: 5K

Author's notes: And we're off! Happy Star Wars Day!! We are pretty much just following the plot of this episode, save for a bit at the end so it might feel like a bit of a slow start, but bear with me! Technically, this will also wind up being a 'fix-it' fic so just stick with me on that process too! Hope you enjoy! And I have already started working on the next chapter! Also, I am just going off my past taglist so anyone who wants added/removed, please let me know!

21 days since Eriadu

Water dripped from the faulty tap in the small cell as light crept through the bars on the window.

Omega stared out into the open space with a forlorn sigh as she envied the birds that sounded their freedom as they chirped their usual song. She stepped down from her bed and started pacing anxiously as she waited for Emerie to make her scheduled appearance.

Sure enough, a couple seconds later, the door opened, and Emerie stepped inside.

“Good morning, Omega. How are you feeling today?” Emerie asked.

“Like a prisoner.” Omega replied curtly. “I want to leave.”

“Prisoner?” Emerie repeated, surprised. “Omega, you are no such thing. It will take time to adjust, but you will acclimate. It is far safer in here than out there. Come. We have much to do.” With that Emerie turned to leave.

Omega reached under her bed and brought out her box before she followed Emerie out into the corridor. The grey colouring of her new clothes matched the other scientists and the non-descript design of the inside of the base.

They turned a corner to pass a squad of clone prisoners being escorted past and Omega let out a gasp as she recognised the figure at the front of the line but despite her effort to look at him, he only stared at the floor.

--

Omega entered the lab and watched in quiet upset as the clone was subjected to a blood sample being taken from the back of his hand. They all had similar expressions of pain and defeat written across their faces and she wished she knew how to stop it.

Emerie placed the test tube into one of the free slots in the tray that Omega was holding before she took the datapad out and created a record for Omega. “And now I need to take a blood sample from you.”

“From me?” Omega repeated. “Why?”

“The samples are used for various research projects. All of us serve a purpose here.” Emerie explained. “It won’t hurt.” She added as a means of reassurance before she readied the equipment to take the sample.

Omega sat up on the bench. “Can you at least tell me where my brothers are? Or my friend, (Y/N)?”

“I do not know.” Emerie replied simply.

Omega held her hand out and braced against the sting of the needle as her blood was drawn. “If you’re a clone like me, how come I never saw you on Kamino?”

“Because I was sent elsewhere until Dr. Hemlock took me under his wing. He saw potential in me, like Nala Se sees in you.”

“I never knew that I had a sister. It’s nice not being alone.” She offered Emerie a small smile, but it wasn’t quite returned.

“Head to the lab.” Emerie ordered as she took the device away and placed Omega’s sample in with the others. “Nala Se is expecting these.”

--

As the security scan was completed, Omega entered the lab and walked over to Nala Se who was busy placing more blood vials into a centrifuge.

“Thank you, Omega.” Nala Se said as she took the tray from her and started processing the data from the samples and it was through that that she saw the concerning sight that Omega was now a part of the system. “Omega, your sample was taken?”

“Mn-hmm. Emerie said it was routine.”

Nala Se deleted the record from the system before she destroyed the physical sample.

Omega watched this with curiosity. “Why are you discarding it?”

“Tell no one.” Nala Se replied before she took the other samples to the centrifuge. “It is safer this way.”

Omega knew the Kaminoian well enough to pick up on the worry in her voice. “This research, it’s not like what we did on Kamino, is it?”

“No, it is not.”

“I don’t understand. Why did they bring me here?” Omeag asked, hoping that if Emerie couldn’t give her the answers that she sought then Nala Se would have some idea.

“To ensure that I co-operate. The Empire seeks the reproduction of a genetic M-count, but the experiments on the specimens have yet to yield the desired result.”

The M-count was something she was aware of but nothing else Nala Se was saying made much sense to her. “What specimens? You mean the clones?”

“No. Not the clones.”

Any further elaboration was cut off as the lab doors opened and Omega turned to see who it was.

“How nice to see you reunited with your trusted assistant.” Hemlock commented to Nala Se. He massaged the palm of his gloved hand. “I’m sure Omega’s presence here will only strengthen your efforts. Shall we head to the vault?” He waved a hand in front of him towards the doors.

Omega went to leave but Nala Se’s hand on her shoulder stopped her from advancing.

“See to your remaining tasks.” Nala Se instructed before they left the lab.

Omega watched them from the window and wondered what was so special about this vault Hemlock had mentioned but she didn’t have the means to find that out yet. For now, she had little choice but to head to her next chore of the day.

--

She glared at the droid as he shocked one of the Lurca hounds and she irritably scooped some food up before sending it through the hatch into the bowl of the hound she was currently tending to. As the droid’s attention was focused on something else, she took the opportunity to gather more loose straw from the ground and hid it in the bottom compartment of her box.

She carried on to the last cage to see her favourite of the hounds. “Hi Batcher.” She whispered to the hound curled up at the far end of the cage but her only reply was a low growl. It was then she noticed the bowl was overflowing with uneaten food. “Hmm. Still won’t eat the food, huh? I don’t blame you.” She stole a quick glance back to the droid to see he was still paying her no attention and she took the chance to fish out her lunch from earlier. “Here, I saved you some of mine.”

Batcher got to her feet but snarled and pressed herself aggressively against the bars of the enclosure.

In the shock, Omega had dropped the nuggets inside the cage, but she watched as Batcher ate them and swiftly retreated to the back of the space. “Better? I’ll bring you more tomorrow.” She stood up and left to do what she had been wanting to do the entire day.

--

As she slowly walked down the corridor, she glanced between each of the cells, the sounds of teeth chattering and coughing made her concern grow as she saw the effects this place was having on all of the clones here.

She made her way to the cell she’d been searching for. “Crosshair.” She called quietly. “I tried to come earlier, but there were too many guards watching me.”

Crosshair sighed. “You shouldn’t be down here at all.”

“Well, how else are we gonna plan an escape?”

“There is no ‘we.’ And there is no escape.” Crosshair sat up. “I’ve already tried.”

“Every stronghold has a weak point.” Omega said. “Maybe I can convince Emerie to help. She’s one of us.”

She sounded just like them and that was the last thing he needed. “Not every clone is your ally. You trust too easily.”

“Maybe you don’t trust enough.” Omega countered but as she said that she noticed a tremor in his right hand which he tried to conceal with by holding it with his left. “Crosshair?”

“Just…” He sighed again. He didn’t need her pity or her concern. “Go, before you make things worse for both of us.”

Omega went to leave but she stopped herself. “There has to be a way out of here. I’ll find it.” She didn’t expect a reply, so she didn’t wait for one, instead she left now.

Crosshair watched her go. Even from that small interaction, he’d already seen so much of them in her and that would either make her or break her in this place and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be around to watch.

--

Darkness had fallen and it was that time again where she scratched the next tally into the wall. She brought the Lula hay doll out and held it close to her chest- it wasn’t much but it was the reminder of home she needed. If you truly weren’t here, then Omega knew you all would be looking for her, but she was going to do whatever it took to make that easier.

--

5 months later

The dripping water, the sunlight creeping in, the birds chirping, the concealing of her doll at the bottom of her box… the routine was all so familiar now. She was already standing at the ready for when Emerie opened the door and, like clockwork, it whirred open to reveal the older clone who had the same opening remark she always did.

“Good morning, Omega.”

“Good morning.”

“Let’s begin.” Emerie led the way out.

--

Yet again, they walked the same route to the testing centre and yet again she passed Crosshair in the corridor, but she had long since learned that trying for any sort of recognition from him in this environment was pointless, so she kept her gaze down too.

She let her blood be drawn, her hand was now numb to the sensation, and she took all the samples to the lab where Nala Se once again destroyed all traces of her sample. She hadn’t been able to learn anything more about the vault or the specimens but what she had gathered was that you, Hunter, and Wrecker definitely were not here and that made the thought of escape feel far more feasible and appealing.

--

The lurca hounds were the same as they always were but as she made her way to Batcher’s spot, she saw the hound tending to a nasty cut on her front right leg. “Batcher? K-9X1! Hurry!” She yelled to the droid.

“What is the issue?” The droid asked as he approached the girl.

“Batcher’s hurt.” Omega informed him.

“LH-201 sustained injures during the nightly patrol. If her wounds do not heal, the subject will be terminated.”

“Then do something to help her!” Omega demanded.

“I am not a medical droid. It is not part of my programming.”

Omega could only watch as the droid merely walked away, and she turned to the sound of Batcher’s whimpers of pain. She wouldn’t accept termination as Batcher’s fate, if the droid wouldn’t help Batcher, then she would.

She ran over to the medical kit on the wall and took the bacta out but when she reached into the kennel to try and tend to the wound, Batcher snapped at her. “Now look. I need to clean your wound for it to get better. It’ll only hurt for a second, so put those teeth away and behave.” She said sternly but it seemed to do the trick as Batcher let her do it. “See? That’s not so bad.”

Omega worked in silence for a few seconds before she spoke to the hound again, “You know, I have a friend that would’ve been able to help us get along a lot faster.” She said warmly as she continued to apply the bacta to the wound. “But I think we’re getting there now.” She smiled as Batcher gave her hand a tentative lick once she finished with the bacta.

--

“I dressed Batcher’s wounds as best as I could. At least she didn’t bite me. That’s progress, right?” she looked at Crosshair, but he gave her nothing, so she continued talking. “If she doesn’t get better soon…” She sighed. “Maybe I can steal a med kit from the lab and see if there’s anything I can use-”

“Stop.” Crosshair interrupted her with a frustrated sigh. Clearly the others hadn’t done a very good job of making her stay on course and now he needed to be the one to remind her. “What is your primary objective?”

“Escape.” Omega answered.

“Then stop wasting time on lost causes. Forget the hound, forget me, and complete the mission.”

“Not without you.”

“If I get the chance to escape, I wouldn’t think twice about leaving you behind.”

“You’re lying! You wouldn’t do that. You’re my brother.”

She had been insisting on that for months now, no matter how many times he tried to push her away and he didn’t know how much more of that he could tolerate hearing. “I’m not them.” Crosshair snapped.

Omega couldn’t accept that. “I’m not giving up, Crosshair. I won’t let you either.” She got up to leave.

Crosshair stood up with a heavy breath and called out to her retreating figure. “Omega.”

Omega stopped and turned back to face him.

“Don’t risk anything for me. I belong in here.” He said, meaning every word.

“None of us belong in here.” She replied before walking away.

--

Her door whirred open before the usual time, and she woke up with a gasp as two troopers entered her room. She got to her feet and concealed her doll behind her. “What’s going on?” She asked Emerie.

“Surprise inspection. Standard procedure.” Emerie informed her.

“Clear.” One of the commandos said.

However, the other noticed the doll hidden behind her back and he tore it from her grip and handed it to Emerie.

“We’ve been over this before, Omega. Personal items are forbidden.” Emerie chastised her. “I’ll dispose of it.”

“Don’t!” Omega protested. “Please, Emerie.”

“It is for your own good. Come, we have work to do.”

--

It was a welcome sight to see Batcher so happy to greet her this time around. “Hey, Batcher.” Omega said fondly and she saw the wound had nearly scarred over. “Look at you. You’re almost at a hundred percent.” She gave her a soft scratch on the jaw.

“Did you not read the standing order for the day?” The droid yanked her to her feet. “LH-201 has been slated for termination.”

“What? Why? She’s healed.” Omega argued.

“The creature’s recent domesticated disposition has been deemed a liability.”

“But that’s my fault, not hers.” Omega tried to resist being pulled away, with Batcher also barking in protest, but the droid’s grip was strong.

The droid groaned. “It is protocol.”

Omega finally managed to weasel her way out of his grasp and steal his datapad but the droid reacted swiftly and started to pull it away from her. She allowed herself to be tugged airborne and she braced her feet against the droid’s torso and leaned back, the momentum giving her the victory. She got away from the droid with the datapad in her hands and she quickly activated one of the large crates on the ceiling above and it fell on top of K-9X1. She grabbed his electro-staff and shocked him with it but not before he had the chance to call security so now, she had to act swiftly.

Omega used the datapad to open the exit hatch in Batcher’s kennel and deactivated her collar. “Batcher, come!” She ran over to the bars and reached in to take the collar off the hound. “Now you need to run away and not come back, okay?” It pained her to let her one close companion go but it needed to happen. She patted her snout. “And try not to bite anyone.”

Batcher hesitated and whined at her.

“I can’t go with you yet.” Omega explained. “I have to get Crosshair first. Batcher, go!” Omega watched her run down the tunnel with both relief and sadness, but she’d get out soon too, she knew she would.

“Breaking the rules, I see.”

Omega jumped and turned around to see Hemlock standing before her and Emerie standing behind him.

“And releasing a weak lurca hound into the wild? I didn’t know you were so cruel, Omega.”

“Me? You were gonna terminate her.” Omega said angrily.

“And you believe your actions changed that outcome?” When Omega faltered in her reply, he kept speaking, “Now some rotations ago, one of our shuttles crashed just beyond this mountain. But that is not what killed them. No, it was the creatures that roam the jungle. Even our strongest lurca hounds struggle against what’s beyond these walls. And your domestication of LH-201 only made her vulnerable.”

“You don’t know she won’t survive.” Omega disputed. “She deserves a chance.”

“Oh, the flawed logic of an idealistic child.” Hemlock’s tone fuelled with quiet mockery. “Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that.”

She wasn’t afraid of his threats anymore. “Or what?”

Seeing the way he turned to look at Omega again, Emerie hastily intervened. “Doctor, perhaps I should return Omega to her room.”

Hemlock held a hand up to stop her from going any further and kept his gaze on Omega. “You have more to say?”

“I know you brought me here to make Nala Se cooperate. You need her. She won’t work for you if you hurt me.” Omega said confidently.

Hemlock only laughed. “Of course I’m not gonna hurt you, Omega.” He inhaled deeply. “Your friend in the detention block, however, may not be as fortunate.”

“Don’t hurt Crosshair! He didn’t do anything.”

“I did have plans for CT-9904, despite his resistance to re-education, but I am willing to make a few sacrifices if your misbehaviour continues.” He bent from the waist and leaned down towards her. “Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.”

Now that threat was one that she knew he would follow through on and she didn’t want to be responsible for Crosshair suffering even more than he was already.

“Take her back to her room and restrict her access.” Hemlock ordered Emerie as he exited.

Omega left with her a few seconds later.

--

Night had fallen and Omega sat huddled on the edge of her bed, but she heard the door open. “Go away.” She said with a sigh, not even bothering to look at Emerie this time.

“Omega…”

“Please… just go.” She requested, hoping the misery in her voice would be enough to convince Emerie to leave and she was grateful to hear her footsteps retreat and she angled herself towards the door to see that her hay Lula had been returned to her. She picked it up, but the sound of a lurca howling brought her back to the window.

She attempted in vain to peer through to bars to the outside for any sign of Batcher, but she couldn’t see anything. She then looked at the growing collection of tallies that represented the months that she’d been here. It may take more time, but now more than ever she knew she needed to get out and she needed to take Crosshair with her.

--

Hunter’s eyes snapped open, and his heart was pounding in his chest, but his surroundings told him it had been another dream. The ship was still steadily travelling through hyperspace towards Oba Diah, and the three of you had been using the long journey to catch up on some much-needed rest before the mission would begin.

Reaching out to Roland Durand of all people had felt like a long shot but when he said he could help if you only found the Pyke that had disgraced him and the Durand name, it had been an easy decision to accept but it had done nothing to quell the worry and fear that coursed through his veins. He sat up and began the usual routine of deep breathing.

Ever since you’d fully opened yourself up to him and the Force again, he didn’t need to wake you anymore when this happened, you would feel everything he felt and wake up a couple seconds after he did, and this time was no different. “Which one this time?” You whispered; your tone filled with tender understanding.

“I’m sorry.” Hunter rasped as he steadied his breathing. He hated that this was having a knock-on effect on you two, especially since your own sleep had only now started to get better. You were another person he was still finding a way to let down.

You shushed him softly as you sat up next to him. You have nothing to be sorry for. “Which one?” You prompted again. You knew his sleep had been haunted by more than just the reminders of what had happened in the recent months, it was these new nightmares that were plaguing him more and more.

Hunter released a heavy breath. “Same one as the nights before. I can see her, she’s right in front of me but no matter what I do, I can’t reach her and- and then she’s taken away.”

You pressed your lips to his shoulder, and you rubbed soothing circles on his back. “This mission for Durand is another step in the right direction. You’re doing all you can. We will find her, Hunter.”

Hunter shook his head and swung his legs out to the side of the bunk. “We took too long to find you, and you weren’t even really hiding.” Hunter countered without glancing back at you.

He didn’t need to look at you for you to feel his distress. You reached a hand out to his shoulder to try and get him to face you again. “Hunter-”

He gently but firmly pushed your hand away. “I’m going to go over what we’ve got again. Go back to sleep, I’ll be back soon.”

You sighed and watched him go to the cockpit. You’d seen the shift in him as had Wrecker. The relief of your reunion had long since passed and he, like the two of you, was getting more desperate to find Omega but it was affecting him far more than he was willing to talk about. His once calm and collected demeanour had vanished and he was taking on missions with little care for the risk or conditions they came with and this mission for Durand was no exception. Whilst you and Wrecker were happy to agree, there had been little discussion over the matter or the conditions of the deal. The two of you had done what you could, but you knew the only true thing that would bring him comfort would be finding Omega again.

Although a strong part of you wanted to follow him, you knew that right now, he needed the space, and you would give him that, but you couldn’t stand by and watch him drive himself into the ground for much longer.

--

You woke up again to find the space next to you ice cold and you knew that Hunter had not returned at all, and he wasn’t planning too. You tossed the blanket aside and silently walked towards the cockpit where you could hear the faint tapping of fingers against the keys of a datapad.

You leaned against the entryway to the cockpit and studied him for a moment as he kept his focus on Tech’s datapad. He looked utterly exhausted. His head drooped every few seconds, his shoulders were hunched, and weariness was written all across his face. It pained you to see him like this.

Aware that his brother was sleeping a few metres away, his words to you were quiet, “I said I’d be back soon.” He continued to tap through the intel that he’d been anxiously scanning for any detail he could’ve missed.

“You said that hours ago.” You matched his volume and straightened up. “You need to talk to me. Shutting down like this isn’t good for you.”

“I’m not shutting down. I’m doing what needs to be done to get Omega back.” He couldn’t stop. He’d let her down for long enough. The answer was there, and he kept missing it and he couldn’t stand it.

You fully came into the cockpit and kneeled in front of him. “You may be a leader, Hunter, but you’re not alone. This isn’t just the fear that we’re not going to get her back because you know we’re not going to stop until we do. There’s something else you’re afraid of.” You searched his face for a sign of what more it could be, but he wasn’t giving anything away. You kept your voice low but kind, “What is it?”

Hunter ignored you and kept his eyes fixed on the words on the screen in his possession, but he wasn’t reading them anymore.

“Hunter, put it down.” You attempted to take the datapad but his hold was too tight.

“I can’t stop. I can’t. She-” He cut himself off and swallowed thickly. “I can’t stop.” He repeated again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re no good to anyone if you’re too exhausted to think straight.” You said with concern. “Talk to me, please.”

Hunter silently shook his head. The responsibility of all of this was on him, you shouldn’t be worrying about him now.

You knew how hard this was and he rarely allowed himself those moments of vulnerability, but he’d been there for you countless times, it was now your turn to be the one he could lean on. “You’ve helped me through so much, Hunter.” You placed one hand on his tattooed cheek and stroked your thumb along his cheekbone and whether he meant it or not, you felt him relax into your touch. “Let me help you now.” You whispered as your other hand fanned across the datapad and started to push it out of his grasp. “Put it down.”

“I-”

“Put it down.” You repeated again, applying more pressure now as you felt his resistance fade and relief coursed through you as he let you take it from him.

Hunter finally let the datapad slip from his grasp and he let the tiredness take over and his body sagged against the chair.

“What else is it that’s bothering you?” You came back from putting the datapad away and crouched again and laid your hands on his knees.

Hunter hesitated for a moment but for this first time since he woke up, he caught your eyes and he saw nothing but love and concern behind them and he swallowed thickly. “All she wanted was to not end up an experiment and that’s exactly what I’ve let happen.”

“Hunter…”

The words just tumbled from him now. “I let down Crosshair, I let down T- I let down Tech. I was too late to save them, but I still had you, I still had Wrecker and I still had Omega. Then you and Omega were ripped away from us and that was another thing I couldn’t stop. I relied too much on Wrecker when we were looking for you, I wasn’t who he needed me to be, and I can feel that happening again. I can’t be too late again. I can’t let another person down… I can’t let Omega down.” He turned away from you once more.

Your heart broke for him. “You have done no such thing.” You brought your hand back to his face to keep his eyes on you. “Listen to me, you didn’t let them down and you weren’t too late for them. At that time, Crosshair had made his choice, and you wouldn’t have been able to change his mind. Tech, he-” You felt the emotions rise up in your throat, choking the next words you were going to say. After pausing for a second, you cleared your throat and started again, “Tech made his choice. That wasn’t you being too late for them. As for Wrecker, he won’t and doesn’t think that. You’re his brother first, Hunter, he would never think that.” You paused for a moment to let that sink in before you added, “And you weren’t too late for me either. I’m right here with you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Hunter’s jaw tightened as he listened to the words you said but he couldn’t quite bring himself to fully believe them.

Still seeing the reluctance behind his eyes, you took his hand and placed it over your heart. “Feel that? I’m not worried, I’m not doubting you. We’re getting her back, you have not failed her, Hunter and she’ll know we’re looking for her. She’ll know that.”

Hunter closed his eyes and let the comfort of your steady heartbeat flood his senses.

After some time had passed, you decided it was time for him to get some proper rest before you arrived on Oba Dia. “Come on.” You took his hands, and a gentle tug encouraged him enough to get to his feet.

Hunter was so tired he could barely register his movements; all he knew was somehow you were getting his feet moving and leading him back to your bunk.

“Lie down.” You instructed gently as you reached the bed.

Hunter did as you said, and he felt you slide in next to him, he willed his weary body to turn and hold you like he usually did.

You shook your head and nudged him, so his back was facing you. You wrapped your arm around him and put your hand in his and placed it over his chest. “Just close your eyes and breathe with me.”

“This mission’s gonna help us somehow, right?” Hunter murmured with a tired voice.

You planted a soft kiss to the hinge of his jaw. Yes, it will. Drug syndicates were not high on your list on the people you were looking to stay on an even keel for. The Pykes weren’t going to stop you from doing whatever it took to get to her.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @fuckoffthanos, @tpwkcalli, @graciexmarvel, @arctrooper69, @starwarsnerd111, @nightmonkeysstuff, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @sunkissedclones, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @skellymom, @lokigirlszendaya

[wehangout]

So, the amazing Calli @callivich came up with this beautiful idea for DVD commentary, fic style, and the amazing questions that go with it. As suggested, I'll be indulging myself while talking about:

Thicker Than Forget. Summary: He blinks at you. “What was your first name?” “Erato.” “Erato,” he repeats. “No need to roll the r.” “Like the muse?” You grin. “Poet, meet muse."

AU. Ian is a poet. Mickey is his recently-corporal muse. They eat an absurd amount of stupidly named ice cream, try to find beauty in things, and fall hopelessly in love.

This was fun! Let me know if you want commentary on any other fics!

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

So, I wrote this for the Shameless Big Bang in 2021. I couldn’t tell you how long it took me to write (Word is giving me conflicting info), but it was probably my easiest write to date. Word count sits at 30-ish thousand words.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

It was initially inspired by a novel. I don’t remember which one, but it was either Lament or Ballad by Maggie Stiefvater. The only similarity between that one and mine is that a character falls in love with their muse. The plot itself is very different.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mickey. Because it’s almost always Mickey lmao. I did try from Ian’s, but this had to be from the muse’s POV and Mickey had to be the muse.

What was your favourite scene to write?

The smut 👀 if you’ve read it, I hope you understand why lmao

How did you come up with the title?

From the poem, Love is Thicker Than Forget! It fits so well with Ian being a poet and the overall theme of the story.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I went a little meta on fanfic, fandom, and shipping in this, which was so fun. I think only one person seemed to really notice and mention it, though, haha.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

I didn’t struggle to write it, but figuring out how to end it was tough. It took a long time for me to figure that out. When I originally came up with the idea it was for an original story, and did not have a happy ending.

Favourite line in the story?

I’m gonna go with lines, plural, because I have a couple

He kisses you and he kisses you and oh. Oh. This is what they were writing about. All the poets, every word of creativity they took from you … it’s this.

He closes his eyes and continues to sigh sonnets into your skin

Also, the last two lines of dialogue, and, I mean, “Fuck the connection” has to be right up there.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

The writing, actually. I’m not a poetic person, none of the poems in the fic are mine, but I’m pretty proud of the poetic nature of the writing.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

So, this is the fic that made me realise I needed to stop taking things so seriously lmao. @captainjowl can attest to the research I tend to do. In this case, every ice cream name was a legit flavour at the time, taken from a Baskin-Robbins website. The mural exists. The flowers and trees in the botanic gardens are flowers and trees found in that exact botanic garden. The hoodie! Taken straight from the Brooklyn Zoo website. The pasta they eat at the North Pond – I used Google Maps to make sure there was an Italian restaurant nearby and looked up ponds in Lincoln Park.

I've since tried to be more chill. Sometimes I fail.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I’d make it longer, if possible.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

It’s a nice idea, because I’d love to write something pretty again, but I have zero inspiration for it.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

Uh, if you’ve read this and Suncatcher you might notice that I, like Ian and Sandy, have a thing for The Doors.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

I don’t know if this is my most popular story, but I was definitely surprised by the intensity of the comments I received. It was one time when I knew I’d written something good, but the way it made other people feel definitely took me by surprise.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

I love that this was loved. I still go back and read it every now and then and just sigh.

[rowaelinsdaughter]

KEEP MY HEART CHAPTER I

a/n;; everybody, this is HAPPENING OMG!!!! this is going to be my first story and this is my first fic with my OC (read the information here). this fic is written in 3rd person so there is no use of "you".

i was thinking and maybe im going to write fics using my oc, as i said in my post of the OC, i want to improve, i want to change, i want new things, new experiences... and this is my first step. so i hope u guys enjoy this. (reblogs are appreciated and this doesnt mean im not going to write character x reader, my requests are still open)

WARNINGS;; spoilers for heir of fire, mentions of death

manon blackbeak was eager to come back. she has been hunting crochans for weeks and finally, she reached a cottage in the north of fenharrow and now, she was prepared for blood. hiding in the closet, she listened to the three men that had broken in. 

she heard them open the door to the room. 

“come out, little crochan,” one of them said. 

with their backs to the closet, manon slipped out  and quietly closed the bedroom door. 

“wrong kind of witch.”

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

the moon was up in the sky when ayla moonsinger approached the cliff where a certain moon-white haired witch was waiting. she looked how her hair danced with the wind and by the pose, she knew manon was enjoying the wind. knew there were few sounds she enjoyed more than the groans of dying men, but the wind was one of them.

step by step, she got closer to her figure until her arms were hugging manons waist, feeling them a smile appeared on her face, one that never allowed to show in front of the matron… or anyone except for the thirteen. her coven. she twisted around to face ayla and took her face between her hands. 

hazel eyes and golden eyes looked at each other. looked into their souls. 

“hello witchling” manon purred. 

ayla leaned her forehead until they were touching. manon was the first one who initiated the kiss. their hands explored each other's bodies while their mouths were a mix of teeth, lips and tongues. ayla was the first one who broke the kiss first, caressing her cheek, manon left kisses on her neck making ayla laugh with delightment.

“manon, your grandmother is coming here soon…”

“let me feel you, i haven't seen you in months”

“i know… i missed you too”

a low whistle sounded from behind and manon snarled, ayla turned around and found asterin leaned on a tree, a smirk displayed on her beautiful face and her braid falled down her shoulder. 

“calm down you wolf, it's only asterin.”

manon rolled her eyes and left a kiss on her cheek. if asterin was here that meant the rest of the coven was also here… and the blackbeak matron would be here anytime soon.

they were all positioned when the matron arrived. voluminous midnight robes flowed around her with the wind. the memories flooded her mind like it was yesterday. 

her parents dead. her screaming. the matron slapping her face. “you’re coming with me”. her first day, week, month, year. the anniversary of their parents. the old houses of terrasen honoring her house, honoring the last member of the family… her. her first crochan. her first kill.

she hated her. hated the way she was and the way she treated everyone, specially manon and the thirteen. and she hated how she needed to act to survive. because that was not what she learned, she wasnt that way. she wasn't cold hearted, she wasn't cruel. there wasn't a day in which she didn't regret the person she was sometimes. what would my parents think about me?  she usually asked herself, and in the long nights where she was hunting, in the nights she couldn't sleep next to her mate, she looked to the stars and searched for the lord of the north and mourned a family, a city, long forgotten.

two hours passed until the matron got out of the caravan where she had talked with a duke.  “we are leaving now,” the matron said. manon jerked her chin to the thirteen and they fell in line, ayla between asterin and sorrel. “you two will protect her with your life, is that clear?” and that was 100 years ago. a lifetime now that the magic was gone.

ayla watched manon and her grandmother talk. about what? she didn't want to hear it.

when the matron was gone, ayla and the thirteen approached manon, the first one caressing her lovers back.

“apparently, the king needs riders. wyvern riders for his cavalry” her smile was wicked “we are traveling north”

all rights reserved to ©rowaelinsdaughter. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

tagging;; @danikamariewrites @thehighladywrites @throneofsapphics @shadowdaddies @ladybambifae

[chaosheadspace]

For the writer asks, for Library Boys!

2. How'd you get the idea, what kicked this off?

24. How did you celebrate finishing?

25-27 I would love to hear some favorite lines, details, and lore

28. Write a summary for it but badly

Hi TJ, thank you so much for asking! I apologise beforehand, this is almost 2.5K :)

2. How'd you get the idea, what kicked this off?

Originally, @notallsandmen asked me if I would write another enemies to lovers fic after Ill-advised things. By that time I had written a library sex scene for @staroftheendless's smut prompts (yes, the very one where Hob has Dream against the shelf, at least part of that). And I just couldn't stop developing headcanons about them in this AU, how they'd look, what they'd be like, what their background looks like.

I am very much a pantser, and in the beginning the plot was clear to me up to where Dream loses Orpheus and Hob tries to console him. Everything after that was loose points I was trying to connect. I remember having written most of it up until that point and the last chapter and thinking, "not much left now, I think I can start posting". Lol.

Everything that happens between those two points came to me after that, all of Hob's backstory (I struggled with that, he's been kinda hazy in my head), the very thorough dip into the mental illness theme (the bulletpoint in my brain sounded something like "make Murphy feel better and figure out what it is exactly—and see where it took me, two fights, a sex scene and a whole chapter focused on it), Orpheus's journey. This is precisely why I don't like outlining—I do better without. The pacing might be shot to hell, but tbh I don't care about that very much, I care about having put down all I wanted you to see, all I wanted you to know about these two.

24. How did you celebrate finishing?

By taking a break, by finishing the blanket that came with the fic (lol) and by going "I don't think they're all that happy yet" and writing a bunch for the sequel. I'm also gonna commission some art from my Christmas money this year (don't know who yet, but I've got a few scenes I'd like to see).

25-27 I would love to hear some favorite lines, details, and lore

Biggest fun fact that hasn't found it's way into readers focus (hopefully "yet"), is that Matthew is Jessamy's younger brother. At the very start I had a plan about Hob and Murphy being oblivious about that and them getting into a big fight only for those two getting them back together via shenanigans. But then Murphy demanded therapy, and Orpheus demanded screen time, and Hob begged for backstory, and suddenly it didn't fit anymore, tone wise. I'm hoping to fit more Matthew into the sequel.

Favourite lines is rather…uh… I mean, it's 90K 😬

I loved writing them kiss, every single time.

The opening to chapter five holds a special place in my heart (the description of campus on the day of the summer festival), as does the poor philosophy faculty member that keeps calling the stacks for books (this is really not how it works lol). A lot of what happens in non-Dreamling plot is taken from my personal experience. A lot of it happened to me, or to my coworkers. The library I picture them working at is the library I did my apprenticeship in. (I also detest Gorgonzola.) There really are people every year accidentally ordering a cart full of bound journals because they thought they'd get single issues. I always loved doing those and brining them up personally to see the face of the person that ordered them. Was worth the three quarters of an hour of work before and after every time. What I did not include is the small railway system we had. There were little waggons to put the books into, and they'd bring the books upstairs via rails on the ceiling. It's one of the coolest things I've ever seen in my life.

I loved this part:

He can suddenly see right through the thick layer of animosity like glass, and underneath it is a beaten, bloody, hurt thing."

And this one, because it's my Murphy, condensed into a paragraph, in all his confusion and hurt and love:

It feels good to have someone's attention on him, regardless of the kind. Murphy sometimes thinks he shouldn't encourage Hob's temper like that, should maybe apologise, and on his most lonely, sleepless nights he fantasises guiltily about making amends and asking Hob out. But what would Hob gain from that? Murphy has failed at marriage, the most long-term emotional commitment there is. And there is also Orpheus. Murphy loves him more than anything, but he knows that most single people consider children from previous, failed marriages baggage. It's the last thing Murphy wants for Orpheus, to feel secondary because of a relationship.

I also loved writing Orpheus deciding to go with Calliope, just because of how raw it is, and how true it feels. As a patchwork family kid myself, while not having been in the exact situation, I feel very deeply about all of this, and exploring why someone would let their child go, and why someone would encourage them to go, helped me tremendously.

This part I love because it shows the security that Hob gives Murphy even back when they were on bad terms, and just how wrong Murphy is and how deep his self-deception goes:

He starts to taunt Hob again. It's easy, so easy to fall back into it, almost as if they never stopped. Murphy carefully sharpens his tongue again and tries it out on Hob's thick skin. It feels safe. Neither of them mentions the closet and the hugs and Murphy's tears, and he is grateful. It's not real. This is.

This part is a feeling I have very often about emotionally charged situations bc I'm shit at them (the "oh fuck, the jig is up" feeling):

This is it, he realises, this is going to resolve things one way or another. Suddenly Hob wishes Dream had called in sick for a day longer, or two, or had stopped him two days ago when he'd walked out of his office. He can't stand it. He can't face it, either. But he must.

I'm also very proud of this, because it's the turning point of the whole story and I think I executed it rather well. It's the most revised part of the whole story, and the one that took the longest, writing wise:

"Wait wait wait," Hob interrupts him and all blood leaves his face. "What's this about deserving? Did you—Have you used me to punish yourself because you don't think you deserve basic kindness?!" He is so tense that he feels his muscles might spring out of his skin, so angry that he thinks his blood might boil out of his ears. And then. And then all the tension melts out of Dream as he sees him getting angry, relief etched into his face and rimming his eyes with red, and something in Hob breaks. This is the part of Hob he is used to. This is the Hob he knows and is comfortable with. Shame and grief so profound it settles in his bones creeps up from his toes and into his heart. He doesn't want that. He wants, needs it to be different. "Oh love," he says, voice thick with sorrow, and sits down next to Morpheus on his kitchen bench, taking his hands into his own. "Oh darling, no."

I'm throwing this one in, too, because I think I was really fucking funny:

The only positive effect this information has on Hob is that it makes his erection wilt like a candle in front of a blowtorch.

I also loved doing the phone screenshots of their texts with the secret emoji story from the evening before that played out during the phone call chapter, but I don't think anyone picked up on that. It was fun regardless, a nice little easter egg.

I am skimming the story for this and am only on chapter 16. I think I have to reign myself in a bit. Chapter 16 is also kind of a companion chapter to ch13 (where they get their shit together) in terms of emotional intensity. While in chapter 13 they had to painfully try and pull themselves together, to be honest and open even if it hurt, chapter 16 is the culmination of the new start they made for themselves, a little bit of "what if we hadn't been like that from the start" but better, because of course they have been like that, and imo dropping a weight like that lets people fly higher. A tender start would have been sweet and nothing else, but here they're conscious of quite a few of each other's flaws, and know the other is earnestly trying to put the work in, and that makes it as delicious as an overripe peach eaten over the sink, sticky and ecstatic and glorious.

This:

The giggle Hob has been suppressing bubbles up his throat, and he moves quickly to tap his index finger to the soft wet redness. Scandalised, Murphy pulls his head back, smacking his lips. "Bah," he says, taken aback. "Who does that?" "I do," Hob says, still giggling. "Worked, didn't it?" "You," Murphy proclaims, swaying back to him and holding onto his hips, "are the worst." And then he licks a long, wet stripe up the side of Hob's face.

I just love their silly. They need the silly. Even if I forget, they demand it themselves.

All the house/home metaphors I did for Murphy's life, and the sea metaphors I did for his mental health journey.

Also proud that I managed to still keep them real and make them fight and make up and not have them be happy lovey doves all the time (which may seem surprising considering all I put them through, but still). I wanted to be conscious of making their relationship equal, to not have Hob carry Murphy's issues but have him lean on him, too (although he's certainly the stronger one of them, emotionally. Carrying wise, I mean.), to have them give and take in equal measure.

There was also a short snippet of Hob meeting Jessamy, that would originally go into chapter 20. But it didn't fit the tone, and the chapter did better what I wanted from it without it, so it got cut. Generally speaking, there's very little scenes that got cut. I don't care about pacing that much, and even less if a scene is necessary or not. If it's something I want to tell, I'm gonna include it. But there's a few that took the story in a direction that I didn't like, and that I wrote quite early on, that didn't fit the story as it progressed. (notably, for the sequel, Orpheus finding a dog while playing with his best friend and Hob and Murphy adopting it.)

This one, for me, is the best sentence from the recovery chapter:

He needs—no, he wants to take it into his own hands, so that his happiness stops being a thing that other people need to give him."

(I also asked notallsandmen if the sex scene at the end is over the top, and they told me that not only is Murphy on antidepressants, he's also in love, and at that point I threw caution out the window and decided they can as happy and as schmoopy as I want them to be.)

Chapter 22 was entirely unplanned. At one point I realised that while readers have an approximation of Murphy's past, Hob still has no idea what happened :D

I also loved doing the Christmas chapter. I put a lot of thought in what celebrations like this might look for Orpheus as a kid of two cultures. I think some traditions would have been quite important to Calliope, not because I picture her as particularly religious, but because I think she would have liked to keep them while living in England. And I think Murphy would have agreed with her, because he wanted her to be happy, and I don't think that he's got particularly happy memories associated with family celebrations until Calliope, and he might even have seen it as a way to break away from his own family and his own past, just like his marriage in general had been. So the abundance of greek Christmas traditions is very much on purpose.

I also love any and all interactions between Hob and Orpheus.

This one, because it always makes me cry, even when rereading my own story:

“Hello, little sparrow.” He’s sure that his relief bleeds through into his tone, softening his voice to a sweet, velvety caress. Orpheus makes an indefinable sound at the endearment. “You've called every day for a week,” he says, unsure. “I did,” Murphy assents. “Thank you for speaking to me today. I missed you.”

Also loved reusing this one, even if it might be too sugary:

“D’you think it'll work out?” He finally says. “All of it?” Turning his head slightly, Murphy kisses Hob's temple, his cheek, his neck. “We try,” he says, gently. “We try and try, and sometimes that means we fail. But Hob, it also means that more often than not, we make it work.”

I also love the last chapter and the conclusion to bits, but sometimes I worry that it might feel like a haphazardly slapped on bandaid to some readers (which it it very much not. It's another testament to both of their stellar decision making, and it will come to bite them in the ass :D).

This turned into a very long and convoluted ramble, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

28. Write a summary for it but badly

I cannot decide, so you're getting all of them (yes, I crowdsourced):

Library 4.0: parkour edition

Dr. D. M. Olympiou's and R. Gadlings guide on how to regulate your behaviour in library spaces using real life negative examples, now with annex detailing the consequences for your private life

'In which library assistant Hob finds himself the prime subject of new subject librarian Dream Olympiou's study onwhether you're being checked out of the library or checked out at the library.' (courtesy of @sleepsonfutons)

Two insecure idiots fuck around and find out…that they’re actually really good together (courtesy of @edgedancer77)

Surrounded by idiots: The four types of human behaviour and how to effectively fumble all of them when it comes to your hot but asshole coworker (based on: Surrounded by Idiots: The Four Types of Human Behavior and How to Effectively Communicate with Each in Business (and in Life))

How to hatefuck your way into better mental health (courtesy of @reallyintoscience)

[rorywritesjunk]

Down in the dark where the waves won’t go, I’m bound to find my way.

Sunny and Buggy disagree over the next steps of their life together leading to them spending time apart.

Rating: PG-13 to be safe for swearing and arguing. Warning: Each chapter will have a specific warning. They are not really okay still. More arguing. Buggy thinks he's changing his mind. Buggy cries a lot and Has Issues. Sunny is still Feeling Done. A bag of flour gets destroyed. They Talk It Out. Word Count: 1,903 A/N: The direct sequel to "No locked upon land...", the fic that started it all. I do not use "You" in this as now that Sunny is an established OC I decided not to go that route. There are only two more chapters after this. I didn't mean to leave this hanging as I wanted to make sure I did the ending to how I wanted it.

Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Epilogue Taglist: @hey-august @lostfirefly @ane5e

Chapter 10

Sunny rubbed her face as she stood in the back garden with a cup of tea in her hand. Her parents were up, as were a few of her aunts and uncles, but everyone else was still asleep. Buggy was still on the ship. He returned there last night after their conversation and she hadn’t seen him since. She didn’t even give him a goodnight kiss. 

The tree in front of her had a little black stake stuck underneath it with a faded name written on it. Every so often her dad would repaint the name, but after so many years did it still matter? He was gone for thirty years, never having lived beyond a few minutes, but Sunny tried to make it a point to visit her baby brother’s resting place whenever she was at her parents’. She wondered if it was wrong to have never told Buggy, but why would she have needed to tell him in the first place?

She sighed and sipped her tea. This was all exhausting for her. 

“Babe?”

She took a moment before turning around to face her husband. He was dressed, face washed and free of makeup, hair brushed and pulled back into a ponytail. Why didn’t he do his makeup? She enjoyed seeing his bare face but it was a little odd. 

“What?”

He scratched the back of his head and glanced away. He didn’t know what to say next. She sighed and reached out for him, gesturing for him to step closer. He tried to play it cool and not act too excited, but he didn’t waste time as he hurried to her side and put his arms around her, resting his head on top of hers as he clung to her.

“Are you okay?” She asked him; he shook his head, tightening his hold on her. “Well, you don’t need to be up this early, go back to bed.”

He shook his head again. “Don’t want to be alone. I didn’t sleep. I miss you. I don’t want you to be gone anymore, please? I don’t want to be alone. I can’t be alone, Sunny, please don’t leave me alone anymore. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t leave me alone, please don’t leave me, Sunny, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” She asked as she rubbed his back slowly as he clung to her. He sniffled loudly and shrugged, pulling back just a bit to look down at her. She had seen him cry many times before while he had a face full of makeup, always seeing the tear stained streaks that sullied the colorful lines on his face, but with him not wearing any, it was a little surprising. She almost thought this was that scared boy she had to comfort for several days, begging her not to leave him because he couldn’t stand to be alone. He just wanted someone to hold him. “Buggy…”

“I’m sorry, please don’t leave me alone, Sunny, please.” He begged. “I don’t want to be alone.”

She sighed softly and knelt down to set her cup of tea on the ground before straightening back up and pulling him into a hug. He leaned fully into her as his arms tightened around her and she held him. 

“How about we go lay down in our bed, honey?” She suggested. “I'll hold you.”

He hesitated before nodding. The idea sounded good to him as long as she was there. He felt miserable from lack of sleep and how he had been treating her lately. He wanted to never let her go and keep her forever. 

They headed back to the ship together. Sunny saw her pillow wasn’t where it normally was, wondering if he had held it all week while she was at the house. She glanced at her husband as he fumbled with taking his boots off before she pulled the blankets back and sat on the edge of the bed to look at him. He finally got them off and went over to her, standing in front of her awkwardly before she sighed and laid back on the bed. He claimed the spot beside her, wrapping himself around her as he rested his head on her chest.

“Please don’t leave me again.” He murmured as she reached up to stroke his hair.

“I’m not leaving you.” She sighed, hating that she’s had to repeat those words to him lately. 

“Even for a day, I don’t want you leaving me again.” He said as he tightened his arms around her. “Please?”

“If I have to leave you for a day for any reason, I’ll tell you, Buggy.” She assured him, pressing a kiss to his temple before pulling the blankets over the two of them. “But I’m not going to leave you, okay? Please stop thinking that.”

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” Sunny told him as she touched his cheek, turning him to face her before she kissed him softly. “Even when you drive me mad and I think about throwing you overboard. I promise I won’t leave you.”

Buggy frowned at that. “I can’t swim.”

“I know.” She chuckled softly. “That’s why I said I think about it. I would never do it.” She caressed his cheek, smiling a bit before kissing his cheek. “But our conversation last night… I’m serious that we need to talk about it in a month, understand?”

“But…” He shifted in her arms, propping himself up on his side as he frowned at her. “I changed my mind, I want them. At least two!”

“Buggy, I’m serious.” 

“Babe! I am too!” Buggy insisted. “I want to have kids! You-You look so happy and beautiful when you’re around kids and I want to see that all the time! You haven’t been happy lately and I hate that!”

“How the hell did you change your mind so fast then?!” Sunny demanded as she sat up. “Because you’ve brought this up before only to pull it out from under me, Buggy, and I’m tired of it! That’s why I’m saying I want you to wait a month to really think about this because I don’t want you just having this baby fever for a week and then regretting it!”

“I’m not going to!”

“You don’t know that!” 

“Well maybe I just gotta find out then!”

Sunny was proud that she didn’t hit him with a pillow and leave the ship. She had grown tired of this. She clenched and unclenched her fists, closing her eyes to take a few deep breaths before opening them and turning to look at Buggy.

“I do not want to keep talking about this, Buggy.” 

“But-”

“Lay back down, close your eyes, and go to sleep, Buggy.” Sunny interrupted as she pointed her finger at him, giving him a poke in the chest. Her tone was authoritative with the way she ordered him to do that one thing. “Got it, honey? Get some fucking sleep and we will talk about it when your brain isn’t so jumbled.”

Buggy’s jaw dropped at being spoken to that way by her. She rarely ever did that and when she did… Buggy hastily grabbed her pillow and placed it over his lap, cheeks flushed as he looked pathetically up at his wife. Sunny looked at him for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“I forgot that using that tone of voice turns you on.”

“I can’t help it!”

“Do you want some privacy?” She asked. He turned redder and shook his head. She reached down to touch his cheek. “Do you want some help?”

He didn't hesitate, nodding frantically. Part of her wanted to leave him alone to deal with this on his own, but she was worked up now after their argument. She needed some release. She chuckled softly and leaned down to kiss him.

“Very well, honey.”

~

Buggy spent the month trying to drop hints to Sunny about having kids, going so far as to drawing a face on a small sack of flour at the fourth week. She screamed when she opened the pantry and saw it staring at her. Buggy had heard her and came to see what was going on, shrieking when she opened the bag and emptied the flour into a container.

“What are you doing?!” He demanded as she tossed the sack aside. She stared at him.

“Was this your doing?!” She asked. “What the hell, Buggy!”

“I was just dropping hints, babe!” He exclaimed as he picked up the empty flour sack with the scribbled face on it. “Come on, you discarded it like it was trash!”

“Honey, it's a sack of flour!” Sunny told him. “What's wrong with you?!”

“I was just trying something, okay!” Buggy shot back as he held it out to her. “It-It’s been a month, babe, so it's time to talk!”

Sunny gave him a funny look. “You wanted to talk to me so… you drew a face on a bag of flour? You couldn't just ask me?”

“I wanted to surprise you!”

She took the flour sack from him, looked it over, and set it aside before crossing her arms and looking at him. “Fine, we can talk. You really want kids, Buggy?”

“I do now, yes!”

“Yea? Changing diapers, feeding, all kinds of stuff? You can't leave us if it gets to be too much. You can't throw the kid overboard when they annoy you.”

“I only did that to myself-”

“You can't be mean to the kid, Buggy.”

“I won't be mean!” He insisted. She put her hands on her hips and looked at him. He huffed softly and crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm sorry I was mean to you, but this will be different-”

“You understand this kid would be ours, right? Faults and all.” Sunny pointed out. “The kid could be sassy or clingy, we won't know, Buggy, so I don't want you to-”

He huffed again and approached her, cupping her face in his hands as he kissed her. He didn't want to keep arguing. He made up his mind and at this point in their marriage she should know how stubborn he could be. She was caught by surprise, wrapping her arms around him to keep balanced as he backed her into the pantry, kissing her and pulling at her shirt.

She reached up and tugged on his ponytail, trying to get him to back off just for a moment.

“Buggy, what the fuck?”

He pulled back just a bit, grinning at her as he licked his lips. It wasn't as seductive as he thought. “What, babe? Just wanted you to know how serious I am.”

“Okay, fine.” She swatted at his hands to get him to stop. “If you really are serious…” She pulled him down for a quick kiss, letting go of his ponytail.

“I am serious!”

“Promise you're serious?”

“Very serious!” Buggy insisted. “How can I prove it to you?!”

Sunny smiled up at him and wrapped her arms back around him, pulling him close as his hands started to pull at her shirt once more. He was very serious about things. He needed to know he was being serious about this now. He wanted to have kids with her.

She reached up and pecked him on the cheek before nuzzling him gently. “Buggy, I'm pregnant.”

[justallihere]

❤️👑💌

also!! So obsessed with the last two chapters of SITQ ur the official fanfic queen of slowburn, ty for actually making the built legitimately slow and building up their relationship and chemistry (although it was painful since I just wanted them to get together but it was so worth it). I was wondering if there’s gonna be some sort of pregnancy trope in the story? I’m neither for or against it was more out of curiosity 💃

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

I’ll never be able to pick just one line but rereading this fic has actually been doing me good I forgot how much I loved Xaden in ch 29

“Of course I fucking care!” he shouted, and it was maybe the first time he’d ever raised his voice at her. “Fuck, do you really think I’m such an awful, heartless person that I could take care of you and hold you the way that I have and it means nothing to me? Do you think you mean nothing to me?”

“It’s all been yours since the day you took the crown.” He stepped closer, but he didn’t touch her. “Tell me what you want, Violet, and I’ll make it happen. You want to scream? Want to hit me? Want me to sleep on the floor for the rest of our days? Want me on my knees, begging for your forgiveness even though we both know I wouldn’t mean any apology I made?” He studied her with endless dark eyes. “I can’t apologize for doing what I thought I had to in order to protect my people before I ever knew you, and for doing what I could to protect you once I did. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, but we have to move forward now. Tell me how.”

“Because I got you.” He lifted a hand to her face, cupped her cheek in his palm like she was something precious and holy. His thumb brushed her cheekbone. “Nothing will ever make me regret meeting you.” He let her go and stepped back. “Go to sleep. I’ll check on you in the morning.”

👑 Do you like writing short fics or long fics?

I want so badly to be a short fic kinda girlie but I like to drag out my slow burn and character development too much lol

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

Slow burn!!! The slowest of slow!! Other than that forced proximity and enemies to lovers. Basically, sitq is all the things I love

Thank you thank you!!! 🩷🩷 no pregnancy trope around here. I still can’t imagine this version of Xaden and Violet having kids, so I doubt I’ll even do an epilogue or anything including it

[bloodlessbhaalbabe]

The Gorsimp Chronicles – Chapter 6

Gortash x Tav | Explicit

Read on AO3 | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Fic is written in turns by @bearhugsandshrugs and me! Dividers indicate POV changes.

Enver’s eyes fluttered open with the sunlight hitting him square in the face. He had no idea how long he had been asleep for, but seeing as the sun was high in the sky it had been several hours. He sat up in bed and rolled his neck and shoulders, still a little stiff from the night before, but exponentially better. He then sucked in a deep breath and sighed, the wheezing had passed and while the bruises on his torso were turning a yellowish-green color, there was only a slight pull of pain as he twisted himself around to stretch. He glanced down at his hands where the only thing leftover from his cuts were some light pink lines that would surely fade. 

He vaguely remembered Tav waking him up to feed him potion earlier and the feeling of a solid warmth wrapped around him for hours thereafter. He assumed it was the potion, but from the way the sheets were messed up behind him, he smiled to himself at the thought of Tav’s arms enveloping him while he rested. 

There was slight shuffling in the room next door and a murmur of sobs. Enver hopped out of bed and swiftly entered the main room of the apartment. Tav was hunched over with her foot in her lap. Enver quietly took a few tentative steps forward before her dripping foot came into view. Immediately, he was on his knees in front of her. 

“My dear, Tav, couldn’t we have one day where one of us isn’t inflicted with wounds,” he said trying to distract her from the glass shard in her foot. He brought up a hand to wipe her tears, not commenting on them, and turned his focus to the shard. “This is what happens when you don’t let a professional clean up. Something always gets missed.” 

He saw Tav’s eyes switch from being in pain to fury, as she opened her mouth to reply, he pulled the shard out from her foot and pressed the towel against her heel. 

“I didn’t mean that, I am grateful for your help. I needed only to distract you,” Enver said. This was the least cocky and kindest he had ever been. It was the very least he could do considering how much he put Tav through over the past few days. 

Tav’s mouth hung open before she laughed in disbelief. “Who are you and what have you done with Enver Gortash?”, she asked, chuckling, before nodding weakly. With a quieter voice, she added: “Thank you.” 

The foot still hurt, and bled, and all she had was that stupid towel, so she pressed it against the wound, flinching from the pain. “I wanted to make breakfast”, she mumbled, “but now I’m scared that the leftovers have glass in them.” The towel was getting soaked red, and when she tried to find a different part of it to press onto the wound, she saw that she’d grabbed the wrong, dirty one, instead of the fresh one she’d prepared. 

Another sob fought its way out of her throat but she swallowed it down. “Can you get me the stuff that I used to clean your wounds last night?”, she asked. “It should still be in the bathroom.”

Enver tutted after Tav once she explained how she got wounded. “I’m not worth this amount of effort. I should be treating you to breakfast. My injuries be damned,” he said. He followed her eyes to the towel and grimaced at the towel filling with blood. 

He stood up as soon as she finished her request and without another word grabbed her the items in the bathroom  and brought them back. He then walked back into his room, pulled on clean clothes and a pair of slippers, and grabbed his coin bag. 

“Your wound is deep and I am assuming I drank the only potion you had. I don’t believe a simple bandage is going to stop the blood. I shall visit the apothecary and be back momentarily.” 

Before Tav could argue, he walked back over to her, hesitated a moment, but then pressed his lips against her forehead, just like she did for him when he was injured, and walked out the door without another word. Once the door closed behind him, he shuddered and frowned. He hated how much he enjoyed taking care of her and how sweet they were being. He wondered if he would ever get used to it. If Tav would stay long enough for him to get used to it. 

He shook his head and descended the steps and jogged his way over to the apothecary down the street. 

Tav briefly wondered if she’d given him the right potion, or if something had been mixed into. Something that changed one’s personality? Did potions like that exist? She scratched her head in confusion before cleaning the wound, cursing under her breath at the way she winced at even the lightest touch against the cut. 

Well, at least he’s still dramatic, Tav thought, because she could have told him immediately that no potion was necessary, merely a bit of continued pressure and a tight bandage. Doing just that after she was done cleaning her heel, it took a few minutes until the bleeding slowed down and eventually stopped. It would hurt for a few more days, and she’d likely not walk as easily as she usually would, but she wasn’t in the mood to go out anyway. All of… this  had been more than enough action for her. 

Gods, he should have gotten breakfast instead of a potion, Tav sighed in frustration, remembering that there was a bakery just across the street. She’d give anything for a croissant now. Or a warm loaf of bread… or… 

Making sure the bandages were tight and nothing would bleed out of them, she got up from the couch, limping towards the bedroom. She’d just put on her clothes and quickly go down to grab food. It should be easy, right? Bending down to pick up her pants, all of her plans dissolved when she heard the door open again. 

Enver waltzed back into the apartment shortly after. A few potions in hand, just in case, with a long loaf of bread tucked under his arm and a small selection of meats and cheeses in a sack. He looked at the couch and then over at Tav frozen and limping her way to the bedroom. He sighed and made his way over to her, tossing the items a good distance onto the bed, and picked Tav up over his shoulder. She let out a surprised yelp and smacked his back to put her down. 

“You’ve been adventuring for months and live in an inn, and I bet you still make your bed every day. Let someone else take care of you for once,” Enver tossed Tav onto the bed next to the potions and food. “You got mad at me yesterday for taking control and pleasing you, which I know wasn’t the point of the evening, but for fucks sake take something off of your plate.” 

Enver grabbed the potion and put it in her hand. “Drink.” 

Tav did as she was told, staring at him the entire time she gulped down the remedy. When she was done, she handed him the empty bottle back. “Happy?”

She adjusted the pillows, crossed her arms, and let her body fall back as she pouted, unsure what to make of it. 

But she had to ask.

Sounding almost shy and definitely needy, she mumbled: “Did you… bring food?”

Enver dropped the bottle into his little bag of holding and plopped down onto the bed next to her. “Deliriously happy,” he replied with a slight twinge of annoyance at her pout.

Gortash grabbed the loaf of bread and tossed it in her direction before digging in his bag and pulling out two paper wrapped items, cheese and meat. He turned to her, one leg propped up onto the bed and placed it by her side. Lastly, he grabbed a dagger and a couple of apples, and pulled off a slice before popping it in his mouth. 

“Of course I did,” he replied, “I’ll always provide for you. You needn’t worry about that.” He grumbled the last part and handed her the dagger so she could slice up her own serving. He had a feeling she’d bite off a finger if he tried to do anything more. 

This interaction reminded him of how they behaved around each other pre-netherbrain. On edge, witty banter, and a load of tension in the room. He missed it. 

“Provide for me?”, Tav chuckled gently. “Don’t get on your knees next Enver, I reckon they’re still quite sore from last night, potion or not.”

She bit into the bread without any cheese or meat, just hungry for anything to put into her mouth, and only when she swallowed down the first bite did she start cutting off some cheese. Changing her mind, she grinned up at him. 

“Or actually, do. You looked good on your knees.”

“I’ve been on my knees quite a bit lately for you,” Enver mused as he leaned back onto the bed, pulling the bread loaf out of her hands and looking at the big bite she took out of it.. “Such an animal you are.” 

He smirked, then took his own bite of the loaf. “There was the alleyway, when you had me waiting for you for nearly an hour naked, and then again a moment ago as I tended to your wounded foot. I do see a trend about me providing for you in a multitude of ways. Most of them are quite favorable.” He said while intermittently chewing, mouth full. He gave Tav a shit-eating grin at her disgusted face. 

Tav raised an eyebrow, confused. “Wait. You waited here for an hour?” That wasn’t on her. She’d been on time.

She saw him roll his eyes as a response, but she couldn’t help but giggle, chewing down more of the bread with the cheese slices she’d cut off. It was delicious and she hummed happily.

“Besides, it’s not like I didn’t also spend quite some time on my knees last night.” She recalled the time it had taken her to clean his mess, but she was intent on not sounding sour or argumentative about it. So she made sure her tone was flirty when she added: “What a pity you missed that.”

Enver turned his head to look at her, his brow furrowed. “Last I recall that incident only occurred because you had up and left with no explanation. I wouldn’t say it was your fault, but I definitely could have had you on your knees cleaning up my mess in an entirely different way if you stayed.” Enver gave her a sly grin. “Perhaps, then it could have been you that finished out my punishment instead of some beefcake idiot hellbent on revenge.” 

Enver rolled the apple between his fingers before taking a bite and looked up at the ceiling. A pungent waft of air hit Enver in the face and he lifted up his shirt and sniffed himself, then  leaned over and sniffed Tav. 

“And also it would have prevented you from smelling like old meat and sweat,” He teased. He sat up and threw off his own shirt. He walked over to the bathroom and opened the funnel for water to start trickling into the bathtub. He placed his apple in his mouth as he fetched two large pots and stuck them under the flow of water. He brought them over the wood burning stove and leaned against the counter waiting for them to come to a boil. 

When Enver lived alone he didn’t see the need to expend the energy to bathe that often – seeing as he didn’t expel that much energy being a duke. Despite it being significantly easier when you had butlers and maids to do this heavy lifting for him, he hated being on someone else’s time table. He wanted that instant gratification of getting exactly what he needed when he wanted it. But Enver loved a bath. Especially when it came to the extravagant tub he once had. The one he has now is big enough for two people, but had nothing magical about it to make it easier to use. 

He recalled the on demand hot water of the hells and silently wished for that to become a common thing in all households. If there was one good thing about living within the House of Hope it was that it was one of the better structures he was forced to live in with hot baths, a plush bed, and food whenever Raphael wasn’t around. 

Enver thought about the amount of gold he stashed in his bank. Hundreds of thousands saved up during his short time as duke. Most of his expenses were paid for by the city, so each payment he was able to store away in case he needed it. He thought about how easy it could be to hire someone to cook and clean for him full-time if he wanted. He thought about leaving Baldur’s Gate and going up to Neverwinter or Waterdeep so he didn’t have to live in fear of being ambushed every time he left the house. He had more than enough money to last the rest of his life even if he lived lavishly. 

He stayed in the city for Tav, of course. He wasn’t positive if she had stayed after his funeral, but he had hoped. 

After 15 minutes, the water was boiling. He tossed the apple core onto the counter and grabbed some pot holders and carefully lugged one of the large containers of boiling water into the bathroom and poured it into the lukewarm water that was collected. He repeated this motion with the second boiling pot of water. After mixing it altogether, testing water for the perfect temperature, he walked out and finally looked back at Tav. 

“So can you walk now or shall I carry you into the tub?” Enver asked as he kicked off his shoes. 

Tav was so taken aback by his audacity that she sat there in silence all while he prepared a bath. Whatever sweetness had inhabited him earlier, it had definitely left again. While he prepared the bath she carefully checked her foot, taking note of how the potion had already healed up the cut, only a tender pink dent remaining for now.

She could walk again. If she wanted to, she could leave.

The thought took hold as her heart still raced from the anger over his words. The way he managed to twist everything to his liking… it pissed her off, so much. He needed to be in a constant state of control, even about the narrative, even about her perceived emotions, and when she realized that she chuckled bitterly to herself. No. He would not get away with that again.

Of course she’d known that he was an asshole – and if she was honest she loved that about him – but witnessing all of that, the parts she’d never seen during their significantly less private encounters before, was something else. He was right though: More punishment was in order. Only this time she’d be damned if she let him know what she was doing until he was right in the middle of it.

“What a great way to flirt”, Tav sighed as she stood up, pulling her shirt over her head, and she saw his gaze fall onto her body immediately. “Blaming me for your anger issues first, the fact that you got beat up second, and telling me I smell third. You have an exceptional way with words. Besides, you're likely smelling yourself, but I'm at least kind enough to not say anything." 

Walking past him she took off her remaining clothes, only stopping briefly to step out of her panties. He stood there, forehead in creases like the smug bastard that he was, and for some reason that spurned her on even more. 

“You said you wanted to make it up to me”, she continued, tone a challenge, carefully climbing into the tub, facing him. The water was perfect, and she let her body slide under, wetting her hair, before she came back up and spread her arms on the edges of the tub.  Tav looked at him expectantly and she did her best to sound as mockingly as possible. “Or was that lousy attempt at bickering all you got?”

“If I didn’t like how you challenged and berated me, I highly doubt you’d still be here,” Enver said while his eyes slid down her body. He bit his bottom lip and smirked at the stunning figure before him. Tav knew what she was doing. Gortash was already weak for her fully clothed, but her naked form made him want to get on his hands and knees and pray at her altar. She is more stunning than any goddess and her body demanded to be worshiped.  

Before embarrassing himself further by immediately getting hard, he busied himself by rummaging through his cabinets. He pulled out various glass bottles filled with expensive soaps, salves, and everything in between and placed them next to the tub. 

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms debating on whether or not he would join her as she climbed in and wet her hair. The water flowed down her face and chest after submerging herself. 

Enver rolled his eyes and huffed as though he was being asked to do the most unreasonable request of tending to his beloved, and he shoved off his trousers, kicking them to the side. He moved to Tav’s side of the tub and gently moved her forward so he could settle in behind her with Tav in between his legs. He brought some water up to his head with his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back away from his forehead. He noticed the way Tav hesitated to lean back against him. He slowly wrapped his arms around her from behind and placed a chaste kiss on her shoulder. 

“Indulge me a minute longer before I make it up to you?” He asked, he felt her relax slightly and he pulled her back into his chest. He let himself sink further into the tub with his head resting against the side. An odd, yet comfortable silence drifted into the room. 

Tav closed her eyes and breathed slowly, trying to calm herself. He felt so good against her body, and he was surprisingly gentle. She knew he could be charming, but today, right now, it was testing her patience. 

Their dynamic had been so different just moments ago. He had told her he enjoyed their banter, but the moment she laid out a challenge before him, he pulled away and changed the rules again. Why was he like that? Was all of this a game to him? Despite his insistence that he would give her everything, yet again, he couldn’t even give her what she wanted, even if she articulated it so clearly. He said he’d make it up to her two nights ago in the alley, yesterday morning, last night, and again this morning, but there hadn’t been a lot of making up. Instead, what had been there were fights, and sex, and him constantly getting what he wanted. 

She rolled her eyes. Enough of that, she thought. 

Pulling away from him she sat up in the large tub, then turned her body around. He had closed his eyes and rested his head on the side, but looked up with a question on his lips when she turned on her stomach. 

“I don’t think I will”, she said, responding to his rhetorical question before moving in to kiss him. Her hands pulled his head forward while she leaned into him, her chest and stomach pressing against his. The kiss wasn’t tender, because Tav was tired of waiting to get what she wanted. She bit his lip, not hard enough to draw blood but strong enough to hurt, and he grunted into her mouth. Her tongue was greedy against his, so were her lips, and she let her hands wander freely across his body, dragging down his throat to his chest, flush between their bodies. Between their legs she could feel him harden, and she reached down to wrap her hand around his length, giving him a few pumps before she cradled his balls in her hand. 

“I’m done waiting”, she murmured against his kisses, “Aren’t you?”

Enver’s eyes widened when she turned around and grabbed at his face. He all but gasped as he was pulled forward against her lips making a small ‘Mmph!’ noise as their mouths collided, but he quickly melted under her touch, kissing her back fervently. Her teeth, sharp against his lip, pulled out a short grunt of pain which only sent a rush of heat down to his groin. 

Water spilled over the edge of the tub as she pressed herself closer. One of his palms cupped her jaw and held the back of her head. Their tongues playfully danced against one another. He moaned softly as a hand dove between his legs and tended to his hardening cock and massaged his balls. Despite his eyelids being closed, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

He gasped against Tav’s lips and nodded pathetically, already putty in Tav’s hands. He wasn’t sure what angle Tav was playing, but if she kept touching him and kissing him like this he’d let her do anything she wanted. 

He felt Tav squeeze his balls tightly in her grip and then tug. One of his hands gripped the edge of the tub as he groaned both in pain and in pleasure. His eyes shot open to look at her. His pupils were blown out in pleasure, and he eyed her curiously to see what her next move was. 

Tav knew that they were in the tub to clean up. She knew. She just didn’t care. Enver was all but melting into her touch, and she was in disbelief at how easy this was. She’d expected more resistance, more back talk, more… anything. But instead he leaned into her and groaned, staring at her with wide eyes. 

Tav considered her options – staying in control was crucial. She wouldn’t be surprised by him again, or interrupted, or any other bullshit idea he came up with at any given time simply to feel better about himself. Indulging herself in one last kiss she sighed before moving her mouth to his throat, sucking on his skin so hard he moaned, his voice vibrating against her lips. Tav repeated that a few times, making sure he’d have some memories marked down on his skin and his stupid low cut neckline that he usually wore; all while stroking him slowly, deliberately dragging out the pleasure he would get from it, even though his hips had started to move against her hand. 

She moved her mouth even further down yet, down his collarbone near the waterline, and she took one deep breath before bringing her head underwater. She hadn’t done this in a while, admittedly, but she dug her nails into his legs and waist, holding onto him so her lips could close around his cock, taking him into her mouth as she held her breath with concentration. 

Fuck, she thought, this better be worth it. Drowning like this would be embarrassing. 

For once, Enver was at a loss of words, afraid that if he opened up his dumb mouth she would stop. The way she mouthed at his skin, nipping and pulling to mark him up, it was needy and hungry. He didn’t understand how the very thing she wanted seemed to be pleasing him because it pleased her? He met her eyes as she smirked and sucked in a deep breath before plunging her head underwater. In an instant, her lips were wrapped around his cock and sucking him all the way down his shaft. 

He gathered her hair in his hands and pulled it back so he could see the way she bobbed her head underwater. He was grateful she likely couldn’t hear the whimper he made as he hit the back of her throat and swallowed. Her teeth slowly grazed the underside of his cock on her ascent. He didn’t hold her down or pull her up. He found himself relaxing under her ministrations. Her hands tightly gripping onto his hips and thighs, holding herself down. His mouth fell open in a pant as a tightness pulled in his lower belly. He wasn’t sure how long she could hold her breath – unsure if she wanted him to come now or to edge him. This uncertainty drove him nuts and he bit back the urge to pull her off of his cock at the risk of her doing something drastic. 

Tav’s lungs burned and she knew she had to come up for air, so she let go of him and pulled herself up, gasping in a deep breath with a grin as soon as her eyes focused on Enver. The way his mouth hung open and his body had relaxed into the tub told her all she needed to know. 

“So”, she smirked, “You said something about making it up to me?”

His chest heaved with each pant as he looked at her, already wrecked. His cock ached for more, anything she had to offer would suffice. The way her lips reddened from the friction of them dragging against his skin. He brought a hand up to cup to cheek, his thumb dragged over her bottom lip and huffed out a breathless laugh. 

“Anything you want. Name it,” he said with dumb, blind confidence. Her wish was his command. Somehow she always knew how to do the very thing to get him wound tightly around her pretty little finger. 

Oh, now he was exactly where she had wanted him. She was curious to see how he would react, but also a little nervous. He’d been… moody, to say the least. Sensitive. Quick to anger. And not exactly reasonable. 

But she wanted to try, and she wanted him to try. So she pulled back and pushed her wet hair out of her face, trying to kneel inside the tub as much as she could between his legs. 

“Dedication”, she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “And humility.” 

Enver stared at her, mouth opening and closing and opening and closing several times, before he let out a confused huff. 

“That’s what I want”, Tav added, smiling as innocently as she could. “And because those concepts are probably foreign to you, let me explain what I mean.” 

She saw his brows furrow in disappointment, but she wasn’t done. “I’m going to leave you to your mind and memories of me”, she looked down at his cock before she met his gaze again, “And tomorrow evening I’ll come back. And you” –she brought her index finger to his chest, pushing against where his heart was beating– “will make it up to me. Whether you’re taking me out, or we’re staying here, or we’re leaving the city, I do not care. You’re gonna think of something nice, and it’s going to be something that I like, not you, and you’re going to spoil me, and you’re going to do whatever I want.”

She stood up to get out of the tub. Looking down at him, she raised her eyebrows. “Do you think you can do that and keep your word?”

He frowned and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her patronizing comment. Was that it? A little dedication and humility? If he could dedicate his entire life to getting himself into a position of power and be consistently humbled at the various downfalls, he was more than prepared to provide the same for Tav – if the end goal was for him to allow for a bit more power when it came to their relationship. Or whatever this was? Not a relationship, but some sort of game, surely. He thought. A game he could play with ease.

He leaned back against the tub and rested his elbows on the side. He cocked his head as he looked at Tav trying to read her to see if he could gauge what her goal was. Did she want to humiliate him? Did she want to use him? She already stated she had no desire for whatever he offered her monetarily and yet here she is asking to be spoiled. Was it just to be given to her on her terms? He blinked up at her, letting this all marinate in his mind. 

“So you’re leaving… again. To show up the next day… to be spoiled…” He said slowly, Tav crossed her arms and waited for him to agree. She was asking him for his patience, but that didn’t mean she was going to readily give him hers. “My dear, I’m starting to see a pattern, but   very well if this is your desire, then I live to please.” 

His comment was dripping with sarcasm. He wasn’t thrilled to be left alone again, but he clenched his jaw and sighed. 

“Am I to edge myself again so I’m prepped and ready for you when you arrive?” He couldn’t help but let out his annoyance now before he held back the following day. He looked away at his cock already softening and sank more into the tub. 

“Gods, Enver, you’re such an idiot”, Tav sighed, stepping out of the tub. “Which is remarkable, considering how smart you are.” 

She shook her head. “But hey. I’ll amend my offer. I can stay. We can fuck. I’ll treat you well, I’ll give you anything you want and then some.” She saw his eyes light up at that, and she quietly reiterated how stupid he was in her mind. “And then I’ll leave, and all of this is done, and you can file it away as a good time.”

She stood in front of the tub, drops of water rolling down her skin. “Or you can agree to what I proposed, and we’ll see each other again, even after that – but honestly…” She took a deep breath in. “Fix your fucking attitude.”

Enver sighed again, but this time with resignation and sat up to lean toward the edge of the tub, both his arms hanging over the edge. He let his fingers gently brush against the outside of her thigh while looking up at her. “As much as I would love to take you to bed and fuck you senseless… I–... Will be patient… For you.” 

He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. A charming smirk and glint of mischief in his eyes, his default state. 

“I like you, Tav,” He said almost as if it pained him to say it. Almost as if he had never admitted any feelings to anyone before. “I’d like for you to stay, not tonight… but maybe tomorrow and however long thereafter.” 

Enver stood up and stepped out of the tub. He grabbed Tav a towel and handed it to her, then wrapped a towel around his own waist, his half hard cock still pushing against the fabric. 

“Besides there’s nothing worse than fucking someone who is doing it out of pity. You already said you’re not a whore, so I’d rather not have you treat me like one,” He said quickly. It was meant to be a compliment in his own way. An attempt at stating he respected her more as a partner than he would anyone else. 

Tav’s heart beat in her throat when he said he liked her, and she was glad she was standing far away enough from him that he didn’t hear her heart pound like a drum. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards into a grin, and she couldn’t help but giggle knowing they would see each other again. 

But one thing she wanted to correct: “Don’t get me wrong”, she leaned up to him to whisper in his ear, her fingers running through his chest hair. “I would absolutely love to fuck you and there would be nothing, and I do mean nothing, pitiful about it.” She planted a kiss on his cheek, knowing if she’d kiss his lips she likely wouldn’t have it in her to leave. 

Quickly retreating from his proximity she grabbed her clothes, putting them back on even if they smelled – damn, tomorrow she needed to bring more than one outfit – and she gave him a genuine smile before she turned to leave. “I’m excited for tomorrow”, Tav beamed, and she had to force herself not to be too giddy. He shouldn’t think he already had her, after all. 

“Same time?”, she asked before leaving, and he mumbled his agreement from across the room. And then, she was gone.

Enver had goosebumps rise onto his skin as she whispered in his ear and trailed her fingers through his chest hair. A rumbling chuckle bubbled out from his chest, “I mean, there’s still time for a quick, non-pity fuck.” 

Tav let out a small snort of laughter and shook her head before grabbing her things and leaving. 

Enver stood and looked at the door for a long while before the water droplets from his hair trickled down his back. Brown water descended his chest from the leftover dried blood in his hair. He dropped the towel and slid back into the water to give himself a good quick scrub all over to fully clean all of the blood, dirt, and grime from his scalp, skin, and nails. When he was satisfied, he drained the tub and dried off. 

Enver grabbed the leftover loaf of bread on the bed and took a bite out of it, chewing thoughtfully as he paced, naked, across his apartment. 

“Dedication and humility,” he said aloud to no one but himself, “and I have to spoil her by doing things she would like to do?” 

Enver realized this game he thought he could easily win was not as easy as he had hoped. As cheesy as it was to continuously think, Tav wasn’t like any other woman he had bedded. Anything that others would have swooned over had been met with an eye roll. It had to be good, but not too good because anything overly extravagant would make it seem like it was trying too hard to get on her good side. But if it was something simple then it would be as if he didn’t think Tav was worth trying hard enough. 

Enver pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and walked out onto his terrace then looked down at the window of Tav’s room in the Elfsong. He took another bite of the bread loaf as she walked in front of the window, not glancing up in his direction. He knew she could feel his eyes on her as she disrobed. He leaned against the marble ledge and watched as she disappeared around the corner. 

He was fucked, and not in the way he hoped, if he didn’t come up with something worthwhile. Enver moved over to the plush, lounging chair and propped his feet up, hoping something would come to him in time.  A foreign concept indeed, he thought as he reveled in the challenge that awaited him. Winning over Tav’s heart.

[womaninwinter]

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💖 What made you start writing?

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

(whoops I forgot about this for a hot second) thank you friend!!

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

hm, there are soooo many fics from old fandoms that I am mortified that I wrote. Fortunately, they are all deleted. For L&Co, I am pretty proud of most of it, although I now see that some of my earlier fics are not as good as I thought they were at the time. And I'm not sure that I would reeeeally choose to write Cutting Room Floor again. But it had quite a big impact, so from that perspective, I'm glad I did.

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

I love the moment between Lockwood and Quill in the last chapter of Gutted:

“What are you doing here?” His voice came out in its usual hospital rasp. Kipps put the heels of his stupid pointy boots on the edge of Lockwood’s bed. “You know how they say that there are things you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy?” Lockwood blinked at him. “I’ve heard of the concept.” “Well.” Kipps gestured at him with what appeared to be a disposable coffee cup. “Here we are.” Doped up as he was, it took Lockwood a second to parse this. Then he raised an eyebrow. “I’m your worst enemy?” “Don’t get a swelled head about it.” “I’m sixteen, Kipps. You’re nearly thirty. That’s kind of sad.” “I am not nearly —” Kipps broke off, apparently realising he was being baited. “That smack on the head didn’t make you any funnier.”

Just... really proud of this one.

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Wildest ride for the reader or the writer?? For the reader, probably the Intruder, lol. That one starts crazy and stays crazy. For me as a writer, probably one I haven't actually published, because I started it and deleted it so many times. That was when I was having myself a lil freakout about fandom in general last summer. I am over that now, obvs.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

babe, you know the answer to this one, hahahaha. It's Sleep Token. Eveeeerything is Sleep Token right now. Particularly Jaws/Blood Sport. I also listened to this a lot while writing the St Anthony fic.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

literally any time, I just want some freaking time to WRITE ugh!!! I generally manage to carve out half an hour in the evening, right before bed.

💖 What made you start writing?

turned 30 and almost immediately had a crisis, complete with brand new hyperfixation and 100k+ of fic.

🎉 What leads you to consider a fic a success?

Sometimes, when you write something well, you just know you've done good work and that's a kind of personal satisfaction no amount of gushing comments can give you. That said, I do also crave comments because I am a normal human being and I love attention.

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Descriptions of food. Scripture quotes (okay, that one's on purpose). Advice my dad has given me. Characters struggling with self-loathing (I am FINE, fic is just cheaper than therapy and much more fun tbh)

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

Action is definitely hard to do and I will tend to keep action scenes as short as humanly possible.

[imagineitdearies]

Hello! Just finished PS. I cannot praise you enough. Its easily the best thing ive read this year, and my resolution was to read multiple books a month. You surpass ALL OF THEM!

Saw ur authors note at the end abt an original queer vamp novel- is there anymore info yet? Im sure you've got ppl begging already but id truly love to beta when the time comes- or be first in line to preorder.

I feel like i read this at exactly the right time of my life.

The story was so painful yet rewarding bc i see so much of myself in Tyrus. Astarion and Tyrus truly feel like two different exstensions of my healing self. I wont go into it, but im a survivor to. Like tyrus, it happened when i was a young. Seeing his transformation throughout his decade of enslavement, his hatred towards himslef and the world, all bc of one man hit home. I kept telling myself that if it didnt have a happy ending id have to burn my phone or smthn lol. Seeing Astarion amd Tyrus not just defeat Cazador, but do it together, do it solely through their love of one another, broke me. The power of love, hope, and goodness. I havent cried over a fanfic since middle school. Im in my 20s now. I adored the final 2 chapters of the aftermath- im so grateful we got to meet his sister! And with Halsin, no less!

Im so thrilled you'll be adding oneshots and other stories to the universe. Tyrus is so real, so alive, id hate to see him contained in one story.

I love how Tyrus, ultimately, changeed. He didnt change into a monster like he feared, but what happened to him did changed him. Thats not a bad thing, tho. He's still Tyrus, simply a new version. And im still me, simply a new version.

I dont know if ill ever be able to reread, even skimming over the rougher parts was hard, but im so grateful i was able to see Tyrus and Astarion's journey. All of their triumphs felt like mine, all of their failures. Their never wavering love and trust in one another, that they understood it was Cazador that made them do those bad things. Ur right, pain and love must be intertwined, which is why this fic was so amazing. The highs would have never felt so spectaular without the lowest of lows.

Im rambling, i apologize. I do hope you read this, even if you dont respond. I hope my thanks and praise can give u something in return for what you've given me.

If you've made it this far, have you made any content on ur process? Ur planning? The flow was amazing, ur description, the flashbacks- did you go to school for writing? As a writer myself im almsot jealous at ur talent- but mostly curious :) id love to know anything you're willing to share.

Again, thank you. This was a gift, you know. I wont forget it.

Hi turtleurtle!! Great to see you over here, thank you so much for your kind words 🩵🩵 it means a lot any time I hear people enjoyed PS as much/more than published fiction!!

Speaking of, yes, since you ask I do have a little more to say now on my original story. I took a small writing break for a week or so but have now jumped back into the saddle for the next adventure! Lots of plotting, character creation, worldbuilding, and research happening right now.

Reuben, our first main POV, is almost fully fleshed out as a character and I’m so excited for you all to meet him (he’s an eloquence bard, for starters)!! The first book/part is almost fully outlined and I’ve written the first few pages. I’m really starting to get inspired by where the storyline is going.

Back to PS though—I’m so glad you felt seen with Tyrus’s character. He did inevitably change, but by the end he is (mostly) at peace with that and can still forge a good life and happy relationships. Meeting Cynda again was that last little piece of hope he needed to believe it 🥹

Haha the light does always seem brighter when you’re stuck in pitch darkness! On the other hand, it’s something Tyrus only thinks once, but I would argue love is not intertwined with pain more than anything else. Pain is just an inevitability. No matter what you do, you will experience discomfort, sorrow, loss, physical suffering (see Cazador, with absolutely zero love in his life). While love is not inevitable, it’s a choice. Love is a gift we choose to give and to receive in the midst of inevitable suffering and that is why it is so precious. Having that perspective has really helped me heal and have more hope for the future 🩵

Haha never apologize for rambling about PS! This thing has consumed my soul for the last 8 months so I love the chance to hear from/converse with people especially now that the full story is posted and all is revealed. Honestly wish I could sit down with you all and just discuss everything!! But seriously thank you for this message.

As for my writing, here’s a few writing advice asks I've answered, but i haven’t gotten too in-depth on my chaotic process yet. I will say long walks talking to myself, bullet lists, and brackets are my personal recipe for success (besides just writing for years and years) 😂 I did take a lot of classes in school too! If people have specific questions, I’m happy to give my best go at an answer.

Thanks so much 🥰

[possum-quesadilla]

The last chapter of Time is a Flat Circle is up! So sorry in advance. (No I’m not.) Be sure to read the trigger warnings and tread carefully! This one is a doozy!

Here are the details for this specific chapter! Time is a Flat Circle as a whole will have a “post mortem” itself before Part 2 comes out. If you have any questions you’d like answered, send them my way!

- The lyrics from this chapter’s title is from “This Woman’s Work” by Kate Bush! Heavily inspired by a scene using a song in “Our Flag Means Death”, I listened to this song endlessly while writing this chapter. I believe it fits it so well for obvious reasons.

- “His senses weren’t overly reactive, recently. It was easier to spend more time outside, or among the humans’ excited chatter. It was nice. It made them feel… not peace, but a lack of unease.” - he is experiencing overstimulation less and less due to the humans helping him have access to accommodations!

- “(where the hell even was “Miskatonic University”?)” - This is a reference to H.P. Lovecraft’s work, since it inspired Beetlejuice’s last name, but also more to the movie “Re-Animator”! It kicks a lot of ass if you can stomach it. Check the trigger warnings before watching. Highly regarded in the trans autistic community.

- Beej’s favorite pizza toppings being pepperoni and mushrooms is a reference to That Beautiful Sound!

- “one of the “fidgets” she was particularly fond of; a singular key of a keyboard.” - This is based on my favorite fidget!

- “Can you even blush?” - He can!

- “ the gaudy floral wallpaper.” … “the tackily patterned yellow wallpaper. (How repellent. How dull.)” - The appearance of the wallpaper and the way Beetlejuice describes it is taken straight from one of my absolute favorite horror short stories, “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman!

- “I promised I’d get you all out of this, and ‘m a… thing of my word.” - Taken straight from my own vernacular. I’m not a man or a woman of my word, so I say “thing” as a joke!

- “Hot damn!” - this is a reference to one of my favorite “Brooklyn-99” cold opens.

- The TV show Barbara and Lydia start while the boys are busy with the model is “The Fall of the House of Usher”, which is one of my absolute favorite shows ever. It is an amalgamation of Edgar Allen Poe’s stories! Lydia would go nuts, I think.

- As Adam states, Beetlejuice has very sensitive eyes! They’re built for darkness, so they don’t know how to handle an abundance of light properly. Also, the sensory nightmare of ‘sun in your eyes’ sucks.

- “Gardening with Barbara was like a short dream conjured up from a summer afternoon nap.” - Although altered, this comparison is taken straight from my absolute favorite story Stephen King has ever written: “Laurie”. It is phenomenal. Highly recommend you listen to MrCreepyPasta’s reading of it.

- The soup Beetlejuice helped make was loaded potato soup! One of my favorites.

- “It should be a comfort, shouldn’t it? No one else got a chance like this, to have the precious moments mapped out, to have their time left set in stone.” - This is taken straight from my own thoughts. As someone with many chronic illnesses and a projected shortened lifespan, this is something I often tell myself.

- “after he’d wrapped her up in blankets and tossed her onto her bed.” - Fun sibling activities! My older brother used to love to wrap me up tightly and toss me across the room onto my bed. I also loved it.

- “I don’t keep anything strong on me after Adam freaked out about my flask.” - My version of Adam has trauma related to alcoholism/substance abuse. Beej took his concerns seriously and stashed away most of his ’goods’.

- “ “There is no… other side for me.” He gently squeezed her hand. “This is it.” ” - This is, of course, one of the hardest lines ever written, from “BoJack Horseman”. Made me bawl my eyes out when I first heard it, and I bawled again writing it into my fic.

- The various smells!

- Black tea and perfume - this has already been addressed! Beetlejuice mentioned how Barbara smells like iced tea and perfume a few times before.

- Isopropyl alcohol and tung oil - aftershave and woodworking materials!

- Vinegar-y chemicals and formaldehyde - Lydia has traces of photo-treatment chemicals on her. And she likes taxidermy things.

- Beetlejuice’s reaction to being called sweet is a direct mirror of my own. I have no idea how to respond to being called kind and such and act all grumpy.

- On the “diagnosed” conversation - everyone but Beetlejuice knows that that’s about. Lydia has been diagnosed with a few things as well! Perhaps we will get into it in Part 2?

- “The evening passed at the speed of a dream. Dinner, dishes, laughter. Pajamas, blankets, rounds of Clue and tossed game pieces.” - This is meant to parody General Gibson’s speech in “Asteroid City”. Specifically when he says, “twenty years passed at the speed of a dream. A wife, a son, a daughter, a poodle.” This movie literally altered my brain chemistry, no hyperbole. It will be referenced again.

- “Eric is returning to his grave.” - This is meant to be foreshadowing for Beej’s plan!

- “Lydia suggested they watch “The Exorcist”. Despite the Maitlands being terrified of the film, they stuck around to watch it. But the humans did not make it to the ending. They fell asleep huddled together, all pressed up against the demon’s sides. “God damn you, take me!” It wasn’t so funny this time around.” - This has a few layers; it’s referring to how movie Beetlejuice has seen “The Exorcist” 167 times, and says it gets funnier every time. The scene that is being quoted is when the priest character, Karras, tells the demon to take him instead of the girl it’s possessing. He then jumps out the window to kill the demon along with himself. For obvious reasons, this is not quite as funny to Beej anymore. (And, I mean, it’s about an exorcism. And he is dreading an upcoming exorcism. Not fun!)

- “How exquisitely stupid. How perfectly splendid.” - These are both references to two of my favorite pieces of horror media. The first is from “Nope”, the second is from “The Haunting of Bly Manor”.

- “They tried, desperately, to hold it all within their grasp, to savor it, to hold it close. But it’s hopeless. The last day with their BFFF passes like sand through his fingers.” - This is meant to be a reference to “So Long” by Tokyo Elvis, which was the song for one of the previous chapters!

- “7pm arrives like a thief in the night, sure and swift and inevitable.” - the phrase “like a thief in the night” is from “The Masque of Red Death” by Edgar Allen Poe. Lydia’s love of the poet is rubbing off on him!

- “He empties out their belongings from his hammer space and leaves them in tidy piles in the basement.” - this is a reference to a line from Mitski’s “The Last Words of a Shooting Star”, which was almost the song for this chapter. The lyrics it references are “And I am relieved that I'd left my room tidy, They'll think of me kindly, When they come for my things”

- The scene where Lydia calls Beetlejuice “BugBeverage” is meant to parallel the goodbye hug they exchanged at the end of the musical, just somewhat reversed!

- “Of all the billions of breathers that coulda seen me and said my name, I’m so glad it was you.” - this is meant to be a homage to a very impactful scene in “Fantastic Mr. Fox”. Shout out to all my fellow autistics that this movie made cry.

- “W-Wiggog Y-” - This is a cheeky reference to Wiggly from the Hatchetfield Universe! I have my own Tickle-Me-Wiggly!

- “I bid you, full foul in your fury, to smother this profane blight with your icy cull,” - This is a rephrasing of one of the best monologues ever from the best movie of all time, “The Lighthouse”. (I have seen it 103 times. I am not joking.) The original lines were, “rise from the depths full foul in his fury!” And “smother this young mouth with pungent slime”

- “His feet shifted, teeter-toter- Deep breath, it’s time.” - Taken from “The View from Halfway Down”, a poem read on “BoJack Horseman” from the same episode as the other quote in this chapter. It is a haunting, distressing poem from the perspective of someone who has jumped off a bridge to commit suicide, but regrets it halfway down. I thought it was extremely thematically relevant here.

- “Morning Frost.” - Morning Frost is a creation of my own. It’s a play on the ‘Morningstar’, or Lucifer, the original demon. The original head honcho of the Netherworld. Not much is known about them by Beej, so we are too for now! The only way to kill a creature born of hellfire is to freeze out that fire.

- “Heart. Lungs. Liver. Nerves.” - This is taken from a similar scene in “Slay The Princess”, one of my favorite games ever!! A horrific timeloop, a twisted romance. I won’t spoil anything, but the character saying this is doing so to keep his body from shutting down, like Beetlejuice. I say this to myself over and over again sometimes when I’m having a panic attack and it’s helped!

- “They hope it’ll lull them safely into a gentle goodnight.” - this is a reference to a famous poem, “Do not go gentle into that good night” by Dylan Thomas.

- The feeling of warmth returning is a bad thing, which is why Adam freaks out more when he notices! One of the last stages of hypothermia is feeling incredibly warm and stopping shaking. There’s also disorientation and confusion, hence why Beej can’t talk or think quite straight after this point.

- A fun little lesson on treating hypothermia from the Deetz-Maitlands! Warm the neck and core with blankets, get heated blankets if possible, and give them warm, sweet beverages. Starting to shake again is a great sign.

- “… he couldn’t let them see him as he was) and stepped forward to greet the pair, shaking on his humanoid illusions and Ghost with the Most persona.” - Beeltejuice is afraid that he can’t take anything back now. He wants to make a good impression on Charles and Delia. Sucks to suck, buddy!

If you’ve made it this far, wow… thank you! This monster of a fic wouldn’t be possible without the serotonin boost every like, comment, and FANART (still can’t believe that one) sent my way. Thank you so much. Can’t wait for Part 2! I will add hints and teasers for what’s to come in the Post Mortem. I’m going to keep working on my crochet sandworm now.

[iaus]

DIRECTOR’s CUT PT 2: ⭐ for good measure. Or you can talk abt the use of devil’s honey in the last ch? The one before the final lol. Sorry I’m not picking something more specific. Feel free to go off from the baseline. Or do the star and devil’s honey. Anyway. Congrats on finishing! It was so good!

YESSSS i can.

i'm crying i was on call when i got some comments for chapter 14 and i was (to my very indulgent cishet friend who has to hear me go on about yaoi chronicles) like. my unreliable narrator he was too unreliable......

and he just laughed because he's a prick but.

so. i had wanted to do something with the devil's honey/baklava for a while and was kind of just spinning ideas on how to get it done. but then i looked at the chapters with briar (who i was originally not even going to name, but typing the tabaxi over and over pissed me OFF) and was like.

the way jace goes about this is not going to work. and i don't think HE would think it's going to work.

so i looked at my darling unreliable narrator and was like. well. we have an in-canon way for him to easily lie to himself. and he has a situationship that would DEFINITELY meal prep and freeze extra food. even his devil's honey baklava.

while writing with the devil's honey stuff i actually pulled up modify memory and based it on that. which i'm gonna put here since. modify memory became such a huge thing for jace anyway (haha. fucker.)

You attempt to reshape another creature’s memories. One creature that you can see must make a Wisdom saving throw. If you are fighting the creature, it has advantage on the saving throw. On a failed save, the target becomes charmed by you for the duration. The cha⁠rmed target is incapacitated and unaware of its surroundings, though it can still hear you. If it takes any damage or is targeted by another spell, this spell ends, and none of the target’s memories are modified. While this charm lasts, you can affect the target’s memory of an event that it experienced within the last 24 hours and that lasted no more than 10 minutes. You can permanently eliminate all memory of the event, allow the target to recall the event with perfect clarity and exacting detail, change its memory of the details of the event, or create a memory of some other event. You must speak to the target to describe how its memories are affected, and it must be able to understand your language for the modified memories to take root. Its mind fills in any gaps in the details of your description. If the spell ends before you have finished describing the modified memories, the creature’s memory isn’t altered. Otherwise, the modified memories take hold when the spell ends. At Higher Levels. If you cast this spell using a spell slot of 6th level or higher, you can alter the target’s memories of an event that took place up to 7 days ago (6th level), 30 days ago (7th level), 1 year ago (8th level), or any time in the creature’s past (9th level).

so i basically looked at this, decided that devil's honey would likely be like a temporary 9th level cast of modify memory (i mean. if you're fooling a GOD in PRAYER... i would hope its 9th level equivalent). and i mentioned jace's forging kit and forgery of a "certificate" because in my estimations epilogue jace is so commitmentphobic that it would take so much to convince him he actually married porter.

now let's get into a few different lines.

i did play fast and loose with a lot of rules-as-written in this fic but i DID want to base it on some mechanics... but since we don't have a lot of info on devil's honey other than 1) it's used in prayer 2) porter had probably made baklava of it i went a little wild.

so jace spends his time in chapter 12 forging stuff we have this line:

It takes a few tries to get the penmanship right—to duplicate the signature he’s staring at on his crystal. Porter’s signature was easier to forge.

where jace is forging porter's signature on the marriage certificate. then...

He eyes the certificate again, then the baklava he found digging through Porter’s freezer that’s thawing on the counter. He’d briefly entertained the thought of giving himself a different first name on the certificate, but he already has his doubts about the lie inscribed on certificate.

so, jace is not disclosing to the reader what he's doing. but it involves lying, he also is not sure if HE'LL believe it. because at this point in time, even though he's been having his face shoved in it, he does not believe he is really anything more than a tool for porter.

he then, of course, finds more proof that no. he did have some sort of care for you and has to go throw up about it. (me too man.)

then we learn in chapter 13 that jace has never taken porter's "personal supply" of baklava while cutting to him acting like a pissed off cat when porter's praying. so without outright saying it he is laying it on about the lie. we just don't know what fucking lie he's talking about yet.

and then we cut into chapter 14. i don't think i succeeded, but i tried to make it a little disjointed? but at the same time it had to be believable to jace. like. of course he finally agreed to marrying porter mid blowjob. of course porter had asked repeatedly (this is the filling in the memory part of modify memory).

but then there are a few... oddities (which do purposefully match up with jace's weird brain-fog haze that he's been experiencing this entire story) but:

The ceremony itself is a blur in his memory—short, sweet, just the two of them and their state provided witness. He can’t even remember what the government chapel looked like—can’t remember what their vows had been.

and then

Strange to think that he was happy—he doesn’t remember being happy after the shatterstar.

even under the effects of devil's honey/baklava he still has trouble with some of these memories.

and...

Jace thumbs at the marriage certificate, the license. It’s like new.

maybe like... it was made yesterday.... this is also a little nod to the fact that epilogue jace is quite a hand at forging (he's forged new schedules that weren't approved by parents or teachers y'know!)

and then we get our nail in the coffin:

He takes another bite of baklava—the thick honey sweet of it almost unbearable on his tongue—and another sip of black coffee before he grabs his keys.

he's eating baklava, porter's personal supply, before he goes to collect porter from the morgue. he is COMMITTING to.... playing house. because he's taking a page from what he's learned: he doesn't get a second shot at this so he has to be believable. he'll construct new memories for himself to be able to claim porter is his. (he had a line earlier back where he was like. we didn't do HR papers. i'm literally just his coworker.)

but then of course we see that the medical examiner's office is really not on the ball and he did all this extra shit for nothing really.

BUT UH. TL;DR jace used devil's honey for the sole purpose of tricking himself into thinking he and porter were married so he could steal his corpse. he did not have to do all of that be we love him anyway.

[time-travelling-chaos]

🍓🛼🥤❄️🏜️☁️

Thank you so much for the ask!

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

Oh I never had to get into it, I was into fanfiction even before understanding the concept of fanfiction. It always made sense for me to do something (art stories...) from the things I loved. Like when I was a kid, I loved writing and stories, and I also loved this children's book series the famous five, so of course, when I was around 9, I decided to write my own story with the characters (I had no internet at the time, so I had no clue it was actually a thing). I never finished that story but I had like one or two chapters written. Then I got into code lyoko and thought about creating my own fanzine with some of my own stories (still had no idea it was a thing as well). I spent a lot of my middle school doing some rp with my best friend for diverse fandoms by sending each other SMS (and it was at the time you had to pay for each individual SMS). But I got introduced to the actual concept when I got into the Doctor Who fandom and I read a lot, thought of writing some (I had so much ideas) but I never actually managed to write more than a few lines. Then we started actually writing a story together with a friend, based on a game we had played (still on the doctor who fandom). It might still be somewhere online btw but I'm not sure I'll even be able to find it. And then I got a bit away from fandom, but two years ago I went back to it with the le visiteur du futur fandom, and my friend was talking about their ideas for fanfiction, so I went back to reading some, got some ideas myself and started writing once more.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

👼🏞🌳🎻📚

I'm curious to see if someone will find out what it is about 👀

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Oh no, this won't work. This is where my ability to follow rules stops. I can't recommend one author or fic, it doesn't work like that you know. It depends on so many things and without even looking at my bookmarks I have three coming on top of my head. So I'll recommend some, but not only one. (I'll do that in another post though to keep my recs at the same place)

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

I have plenty of ideas for fics (and I'm not going to share them right now to not lose my motivation too much) but when it is my ideas, I often think I'm the best person to write it, because I know exactly what I want in it.

Though if I had to chose one that I don't want to write, I'd like a neurodivergent equivalent to the queer guardian angel Aziraphale /demon Crowley one, but I don't know who I'd see as the best writer for it (if anyone wants to give it a try though...)

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

All of them, I love comments ! But once again, if I have to chose, I'd say those who discuss specific parts of the stories or the small details I decided to put, or the ones that makes theories about what is to come next.

☁️ ⇢ what made you choose your username?

My AO3 one is Eweryan and it comes from my friend's universe and the language they created. It means nocturnal and I took it because I'm a night owl and I love the night. For my tumblr one, it comes from my reddit one, which is similar except for the last part. The last part was about chemistry, and I changed it because this is no longer something that I am sure is a big part of who I am. I put chaos instead, because, well, my mind is chaotic and so is this blog. The time travelling part comes from doctor who.