#I've never done anything this organized and gotten this far in it when it comes to writing

[santaclaushohoho1]

Writing blog #10:

I wish I could tell you all that I haven't been lying to your faces, that I have made significant progress in the world building, that I have a list of plot points so long that I think it might have to be multiple books, that I have fully fleshed out religions, that I have a list of cultures, that I have a list of races, that I have a list of fantasy creatures, and that I can finally start writing

So I will

Because I have all that

And I am going to start writing on Sunday (after backpacking trip)

This is the last of the large writing blogs you'll get from me I think

As Ive been doing this, it has gotten harder and harder to writing things in depth

I don't want to give anything away, this is simply a way to get me responsible and accountable

And it has worked so far

Thank you guys for stickin with me so far

Now stars Arc 2 of this blog, The Hard Part

Writing 750 words a day, 5 days a week, consistently, until it is done

This will be hard

I will miss days

I might give up

Please, for the love of God, pester me about this! I need to be held accountable from know on

If I missed a day, insult me

Call me a bubble head

Tell me I'm high and drunk and shouldn't be allowed to drive

PLEASE!

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen

That is all for today

We are done with the pregame baby

[aladaylessecondblog]

The Sharmat's Lovers II

Author's Note: HEY GUYS IT'S DONE. The Nerevarinevoryn cnc filth. Nerevar is intersex and bratty, it gets him lots of attention. NSFT!

------------------------------------

To have "working hours" was a new thing for Voryn. The idea of disconnecting at all was a strange one...but those beneath him had been asking for more responsibilities, and really, delegating did leave him more time for what he had been able to indulge in for the first time in centuries.

His loves had promised him an evening filled with pleasure, and he'd spent the last hour or so trying to make a guess at what they would come up with. They were creative, those minxes, dreaming up the most alluring ideas that never failed to end an evening in well-satisfied exhaustion.

And when the door to his room was opened, he saw that once again, they had not failed him.

Nerevar was sitting on his knees on the bed, with his hands bound behind his back and a makeshift gag in his mouth that was tied off behind his head.

And he was wearing nothing more than a loincloth, leaving the rest of him - hard, well muscled gold - on display.

Oh, the two of you never disappoint...

Sadara, dressed in one of her more expensive robes, was seated near the bed. "My dear husband...I've brought you a treat."

"Really, now."

"This very impudent canvasari has been saying the most salacious things about me," she said, "I only just got wind of it today, you understand. Filthy mouth, this one--apparently he's been telling people how he'd like to fuck me. Put me on my back and rut at me until I've forgotten anything but him, until I'm senseless with pleasure...and then--then, worst of all, he said he would do it so well he'd see his seed take root. You understand this couldn't stand."

"Certainly I do." Voryn moved closer, watching with eagerness as Nerevar struggled in his bonds. "This is the one that has the parts of a woman too, if I'm not mistaken?"

"You are correct," Sadara grinned. "So I thought I would bring him here, and see what you'd like done with him."

Again Nerevar struggled, a movement that only intensified once Voryn disrobed and joined him on the bed.

"We have a hierarchy here," Voryn said, grabbing Nerevar by the jaw, forcing him to meet his eyes, "And you, as I am sure you have been told many times over the years, are at the bottom. What makes you think you can behave like this, hmm? Have we been too kind to you?"

"I think we have, my dear lord husband," Sadara said, "Do you want any assistance?"

"No, no need. All I need from you is to watch his punishment...unless you would like to join in."

"Perhaps once you've gotten started. He'll be far too mouthy to start...and I would prefer him to be in a more...amiable state."

"Do we still have the oil?"

"Of course we do," she said. "Let me fetch it."

When she got up and headed for the cabinet on the other side of the room, Voryn looked back to Nerevar. "I can't blame you for the attraction...but your words? Those, I expected to be more respectful She is the lady of this House, not some common whore."

He removed the gag, and Nerevar instantly went on the attack.

"I'd fuck her like she was one," he spat, "And do better at it than you, too. The woman looks like she needs a good railing--look at YOU, you probably can't have at her more than once a week at best. She needs a man--a real man, someone who works for a living. A man with muscle, hard, not soft like--urk--"

In the next instance he was on his back, with Voryn leaning over him. All the bravado was gone, for an instant. But it was gone.

"What was that?"

"You think this scares me?" Nerevar snapped, "You think lords like you haven't done this to me before? Drugged with with potions that drain my strength and used me for their own pleasure?"

"I can't blame them for it...given what you have on display. But this time will be different."

Nerevar stiffened when he felt a hand at his throat.

"This time, you're going to want it."

"I'm not," he half-snarled, giving a glance down at the loincloth which was clearly beginning to tent.

"Do try to relax," Sadara said as she appeared at the bedside with a bottle in her hands, "You're going to enjoy it a lot more if you do. We don't wish to hurt you - we only want you a little more cooperative."

The moment of distraction was enough - Nerevar's loincloth was stripped away, leaving him bare beneath both (rather amused) sets of eyes.

"Already hard? Our canvasari is lying to himself." Sadara gave a smirk. "Perhaps he'll only need a few drops after all."

"What--what is that--?"

The bottle was small, and smelled vaguely of roses and salt when opened. The oil that poured out--right onto his cock--was warm, but not unpleasantly so. But it was when it trickled down to his cunt that he started to squirm.

"Stop--" he groaned, "That's--that's enough. You aren't going to--"

"Be good and we won't make you wait too long." Voryn spoke this time. "Hmm...on the other hand...we do want you to remember this lesson. Sadara, use the whole bottle."

"It's the strongest we have, are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He turned a wicked grin in Nerevar's direction, "You should be pleased we're deigning to use it on you."

Nerevar stayed silent as Sadara leaned closer and slowly tipped the bottle over his chest. A few drops, drops she rubbed in that seemed to fill him with a needy warmth, a pattern which continued as her attention moved south. He could see the satisfied smirk on their faces at his humiliation--he was hard, almost painfully so. And then, with the bottle half empty, she moved past his cock and poured the remainder of the oil directly onto (and into) his cunt.

He groaned, and squirmed again as his legs were held open, stopping him from being able to do anything to prevent what was happening. Once the bottle was set aside she leaned down and planted a kiss on Nerevar's lips, then slid her hand down his body to probe eagerly--

"So wet for us. Where is that impudence now, hmm?" Sadara asked when she drew back.

"Fuck you," he spat, "When I'm let out of this--"

"When you're let out of this your only thought will be to get put back in." She gave a last thrust with her fingers and then drew them out of him, pleased with the suppressed moan Nerevar tried to stifle. "Oh, does our poor canvasari feel empty now?"

She glanced at Voryn.

"We should fix that, my dear lord husband."

"You--you can't just--" Nerevar struggled uselessly, and tensed when Sadara's hand closed around his cock. "Stop--"

He was so focused on her he didn't notice Voryn closing in. Voryn, entirely bare himself, and more than ready, was nearly inside Nerevar before the man noticed.

"Wait--wait, no--NO--"

A sudden thrust and he was fully in. Nerevar tried to stifle the groan that followed, but couldn't. His breath hitched and the pleasure he was feeling was written all over his face.

"Slowly, my dear," Sadara directed Voryn's movement, "Slowly, as long as you can bear it..."

She looked back to Nerevar, as Voryn tried to follow her order. But his eyes were shut, and as he moved--obvious to both of the others--it was a strain not to do more.

"Of course, it may not be very long. The oil will affect him, too...and you have been so very disobedient..."

Nerevar tried to form a response, but on a sharper thrust from Voryn all his words were apparently stolen away. He was fighting it, fighting the building heat in his gut, the desire he was trying to make obvious that he didn't feel.

But after a few minutes of steady thrusts--and breathing hard, Nerevar did finally find his words again.

"You're just like the rest," he said, groaning, "Going to have your husband fuck me and then--"

Her hand stroked idly at his cock, and stopped when his voice lifted up into a higher moan.

"And then what?" she teased.

"You--are going to--tell him that you are his proper wife and--and no one receives his seed but you."

Sadara gave a little gesture, and Voryn stopped. (With trembling hands, but he stopped) Then she leaned over and whispered in Nerevar's ear, "Today I make an exception. You wanted to involve yourself in House Dagoth's line, didn't you? Wanted to put your own seed in its Lady? Well..."

She looked back up at Voryn and gave a smirking nod, before turning back to Nerevar, gripping his chin so he couldn't look away. So she could see the increasing need in his eyes.

"We are in need of new blood, so I can think of no better punishment than for Lord Dagoth to put his seed in YOU."

"No--" Nerevar growled and shifted about, still unable to free his hands, "You will not--you will NOT--"

Again she kissed him, and her hand stroked at his painfully hard cock, while Voryn continued with his thrusts in relative silence. Nerevar was struggling to keep from crying out, but the sensation--the utter bliss--was overwhelming.

"You want it, don't you?" she whispered, and gripped him a little tighter. "Is that why you have such a foul mouth? You wanted to provoke your lord into--"

"He's quivering--internally," Voryn finally spoke again; his voice was a bit choked. "I think you're right."

"Oh, I am," she purred now in Nerevar's ear, and moved the hand at his cock up to his face, "Go on, let me hear it, canvasari. Let me hear you cry out for your lord's pleasure. Let it take you. Or..."

"If you make me stop again--"

"I'll make it worth your while..." Sadara's voice husked, and she grinned at Voryn. Who did stop.

"No--" Nerevar finally seemed to break, "No, no."

Sadara's tone shifted; where before it was commanding and almost cruel, now it was conciliatory and inviting. "No, what, sweetness?"

A slight whimper, and a shudder. His eyes stayed on hers, and the submission was obvious.

"All you have to do is tell me what you want, and ask nicely. That's all we want, is what's due us." She was stroking Nerevar's cheek now, watching his desperation. "So tell me, what do you want?"

"I-I want...please..." he squirmed, and trembled a bit, "Please, my lady, let him...finish me..."

"You want it," she whispered in his ear, and smiled against it when Nerevar nodded feverishly. "Say so, and he'll do it. Be good for your lord, and he will be good to you."

"Please," Nerevar begged, and turned his eyes to Voryn now, "Please, let me have--"

It was all the encouragement Voryn needed; he would wait for no more. He moved forward, braced himself with one arm, and began to piston his hips rapidly against Nerevar's.

Sadara moved away, laying back on the other side of the bed to watch the rest of the show in silence.

"Yes," Nerevar finally broke, his eyes shut in pure bliss, his voice letting every little moan out, "Yes, yes...don't stop, please..."

His voice raised a final time, in one overheated, needy, breathless moan--

--then his cock twitched, and spilled three pulses of his own seed onto his belly. Voryn followed soon after, burying himself in as deeply as possible before going empty himself with a strangled groan. Then--slowly, he withdrew.

Sadara reached for a towel on the bedtable, and while the other two were still collecting themselves and bathing in the afterglow, carefully cleaned Nerevar's seed from his belly. Then she grabbed the waiting potion also on the bedtable, and poured it into Nerevar's waiting mouth. To restore his strength, after it had been damaged for their little game.

"Are you alright?" she asked, as he tore out of the bonds around his wrists. "If it was too much--"

"No." Nerevar buried his face in her neck, and let out a satisfied breath when Voryn curled up behind him. "No. That was--that was exactly what I needed."

He needed it often, nights like this, nights that reassured him of his place in this triad of theirs. Nights that reminded him that what was going on was not going to simply evaporate and leave him alone.

Nights that made him comfortable with turning his back to anyone.

Nerevar luxuriated in their embraces, and soon afterwards all three of them slept.

(Voryn's snoring would wake them a few hours later, but it was heaven to fall asleep like that at all.)

[princess-of-the-corner]

I wanna start by saying I'm not trying to start a fight, but you saying that Chloe had some kind of mental break or dissociative episode in Queen Wasp as a way to excuse the train incident has always felt like a bit of a reach

Idk if you've ever had a dissociative episode or mental breakdown or anything like that, and I'm not demanding you share if you have, but I have, and the way we see Chloe act in Queen Wasp is not how someone who is dissociating would act in my experience

She's too cognizant

After snapping, transforming, and running, Chloe has the presence of mind to stop on the closest vantage point she could find, look around for an idea of how to prove herself, focus on the subway, come up with the idea to stage a crash, dial Nadja Chamak's number to tell her about the train so there are cameras present, and stop and paralyze the driver before trying to stop the train

There was a time when I was dissociating after a massive fight with my parents and walking through my neighborhood, and I came to a cross light.

I remember seeing that I couldn't go straight across bc of the red light, and seeing that a car was coming down the street, but I kept walking straight.

The car was too far away to be dangerous to me, but they did slam their brakes and honk.

I didn't register any of that, I just kept walking. I didn't even realize what had happened until hours after I had gotten back home and calmed down.

That's not what happened to Chloé in Queen Wasp. She wasn't thinking clearly bc she was rightfully upset and hurt and acting impulsively, but it wasn't a mental break

BUDDY

Okay okay okay we're just gonna.

Firstly: Different experiences and different words for different things!

Yes, some people's breakdowns are the type of disassociation where they're not aware they're just in full zombie mode.

Other people's breakdowns are organized and focused and seemingly aware! They're still not quite in the right state of mind! But they do things that are a little off and they wouldn't usually because they think it'll make them feel better!

This isn't a disassociation state, this is more like a manic episode. Like, I'm not saying that this is genuinely a manic episode for Chloé because I am not an expert and I don't know if she hits more checks for that sort of disorder and it's a very short episode as far as we can tell while a proper episode would be a longer period of time. It's just the best word I can find to describe this type of breakdown But I have 100% seen and experienced both the 'zombie mode' and the 'oh let's do something about this!!' breakdown.

And yes, in the real world, an episode like this wouldn't result directly to 'fake a train accident', it does result in extremely poor decisionmaking as they ride it out. Things like impulsively chopping off hair, spending money they can't afford to, taking risks in sexual situations, etc. But in a kids show with superheroes, that is 100% on the table.

Again: I am not an expert, but Chloé was going through some hell and I've seen people snap in that sort of way where, were they a cartoon character, could end up in that situation.

Secondly:

You make it sound like I'm just excusing it like 'haha whatever it's chill'. Which, to be fair, Canon did that! The train thing is just never brought up again and she never faces any consequences for it so Canon thinks it's fine!

But even if she is in the most manic or dissassociative or whatever state? She is still responsible for what happens when she comes down from it. And yeah in a fictional world like this you can handwave that action when everyone ends up fine instead of having her go to jail or some shit.

Thirdly:

We aren't talking about how this incident should be ignored. We're talking about how this is considered the worst thing that Chloé has done, and proof that she's 'evil', but it was something done while not only not in the right state of mind, but something that never intended to harm anyone, didn't end up harming anyone, and also did in fact get brushed off by the rest of the cast.

[griefabyss69]

@zombiethingy and @steddieas-shegoes both tagged me!!! Thanks for the tags <3 <3 <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

25! All from this year <3 6 of them are microfics but everything else is around 1K - 21K! I've never in my life written this much lmao

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

129,098! That's a lot for me <3

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So far just Stranger Things!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Still Motion (Paraphilia 01)

Last Man Standing (First fic in the LARP AU series)

Between Light and Darkness (First in the Vampire Eddie series)

Acceptance and Negation (Paraphilia 02)

Hell Patrol (First in the Apocalypse AU series)

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

Yes!!! There's only one or two I didn't and that's because they were rude

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't think any of mine have an angsty ending tbh... Mostly because I write a lot of porn but also because even when I write for myself to vent there needs to be a way through all of the horrible shit. Otherwise I'm just adding stress to my life!

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

I'd say they're all fairly happy with a similar type of end goal! HOWEVER....... there's one I have planned that might stand above the rest in terms of happy endings, but it's like... a long term project that I have no idea when I'm even going to properly start.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

So far I haven't! I usually moderate comments, and the rude ones I got were more of the 'you clearly missed the mark of what I wrote' or not finding a polite/nice way of asking me to continue writing the fic

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

Yes! The realistically unrealistic kind! Also, usually involves some kind of BDSM or kink related thing.

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

I won't say I'll never do it but I don't even have another fandom I'd be willing to write for at this time, let alone smash them together.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, unless I haven't come across it! I think it's cool if someone gets inspired by something I write though, especially anything that's not already common in ST fandom!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but it'd be cool if someone wants to!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't! I've like.... done a lot of yelling about potential things to write though. I have a lot of WIPs because of some of you LMAO I think the actual writing part of things is a very solitary activity for me usually, but I'm open to trying something short and sweet with someone (if things like time and energy line up as well)

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Steddie, if we don't consider fandoms I'm no longer actively reading things for! However I'm pretty easy to please, I love Steve and Eddie as characters and so seeing them in other ships (like Stommy and Hellcheer or a threesome version etc) is always a good time!

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

I have two fics I started writing before I wrote the first one I published. They're important to me and also my writing has changed so much that I'm scared to even try editing them, because I don't want them to lose that specific thing they have that I might not be able to conjure back up.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Tension, when I get it right, it becomes the best thing about what I've written, no matter what the context is! Also I keep finding I write gay sex between two friends who are in love but just haven't Gotten To That Part yet, so I'd also say an emotional slowburn but a sexual flashfire.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Outlining, keeping up with motivation if I at all try to organize or plan in on purpose. I have to trick myself, like hiding a little pill in a piece of cheese, in order to have planning and organization in a fic. That's part of the reason why I operate in series instead of really long multi-chapter fics, because that's one way I can hide the pill from myself.

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

I haven't ever and I don't know if I'd be confident enough in my resources to do that! But it's cool when other people do.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

...so I was like 11 years old writing Inuyasha and Kagome...

ST is the first fandom I've published for in over a decade AND it's the first fandom that I've published more than one fic for.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

That's really hard to answer. I really like a lot of aspects from all of them! Dive (microfic, july prompt "pool", body worship) was my favourite for ages, though. And it's still my fave microfic for sure!!

Acceptance and Negation might be my favourite longer fic, there's just something about the antagonism and complicated feelings about being so horny over everything that I find really fun to write!

No pressure tags!!!! @vecnuthy @wormdebut @hbyrde36 @penny00dreadful @stobinesque and anyone who wants to do it! <3

[eartheats]

status: part 1 of 3

[a video seems to be posted. care to click?]

[the video starts a bit unintentionally; one can hear somebody fumbling around what appears to be a backpack before there's a sudden, bright light of the backpack being opened, before the rotomphone is unceremoniously dumped out with what appears to be quite a few things. some pencils, notebooks, pokemon treats, and lots of other stuff; it all gets cleared as ren seems to be setting up their room in the blueberry academy. they're full of giggles and bright laughter, and one can see madison (out of nurse uniform for once) in the background as they both help get the room set up]

🔆: Hey, Mads! Should I start puttin' these books up on this shelf we got here, or do you think they'd be better off in the bookshelf?

[madison looks over for a moment, contemplating before pointing to something off in the background]

👩‍⚕️: I'd probably say the bookshelf. Unless you think there's going to be a lot of books you'll need?

🔆: Well, ya never know. I've been gettin' by at Uva through Completely Legal Downloads [ren airquotes this, to the amusement of themself and madison, who chuckles] of the books I need. But I like this place so far! If they ain't super expensive I'll probs buy 'em to support the place, y'know?

👩‍⚕️: Sounds like someone's developing a bias.

[that gets ren to laugh a bit as they start putting some of their notebooks on the bookshelf]

🔆: Can ya blame me? I mean, I like Uva as it is now--Mr. Clavell definitely hasn't been lyin' when he said he's trying to improve the school. But...there's somethin' about an experience that doesn't have any shitty memories attached that's appealin', you know?

[madison seems to pause at that, as she gets to work on organizing some of the other stuff ren brought with them--clothes new and old, for starters.]

👩‍⚕️: I guess I can't. Not entirely, at least. You do seem infinitely happier than I've seen you in a bit, though.

🔆: Eh, ya think so?

👩‍⚕️: ...Maybe not as much as when you got to go and see your friends in Unova, but it's still pretty noticeable. [madison laughs a bit, getting all of ren's clothes on hangers] I'm glad that hasn't been taken from you. I was worried after...you know...

[madison gestures at the air a bit, and ren doesn't respond for a bit. their face goes...notably more blank, than anything, and they just keep putting notebooks away for a bit until they're done; madison's done hanging their clothes by the time they are.]

🔆: I'm not gonna let her take anymore happiness from me. [ren's tone is surprisingly determined] I've...I've worked so damn hard to find an arcdamned bright side in life, and my own happiness. Somethin' I can be proud of, and share with everyone I know. And fuck, I actually wanna get to know people! I wanna learn all about this school, and more about battle that I'd have never gotten the chance to. Me an' Lulu especially love it, and Bouton and Soba have been showin' a lotta promise too. I just don't want it all to be for nothin', y'know? And that's why I ain't gonna let her take it. I'm--

[there's a pause, and eagle eyed watchers might have noticed madison moving in the background beforehand--what stops ren's words is a soft hug from madison. one she has to lean down for, admittedly, because she does have a foot or so on ren's tiny ass, but it causes them to start for a moment.

it isn't long before they lean in and wrap their arms around madison in kind; mads' hand goes up to run through their hair]

👩‍⚕️: ...Good. I was hoping you'd say that, kid. [madison sounds genuinely proud of them, and though it's barely able to be seen, her expression is warm] You deserve all of the good things in life. And I want you to be able to experience them, too. Without worrying about the future, or what's to come, or anything like that. You go out there and enjoy every bit of what the Academy has to offer, alright?

[madison lets go of ren--or at least tries to. they cling tighter for a moment, startling madison before bringing themself up and wiping their eyes.

they were clearly crying, but the smile on their face is extremely bright]

🔆: I'm...I'm gonna, Mads! You better watch--by the time I'm done learnin' all I can here, Paldea's gonna have to crown a new Champion! Maybe even a new Top Champion, heehee!

[that gets madison to laugh]

👩‍⚕️: Well, look at you starting to dream big! You're gonna have a lot of responsibilities if you take the Top Champion position, though. Are you really prepared for that?

🔆: Nope! Not yet at least! But I'm gonna learn, and I'm gonna become the best damned trainer! Just watch me, Mads!

[madison laughs again, ruffling ren's hair a bit before separating; this time, ren obliges]

👩‍⚕️: Alright, kid! You get out there and enjoy all this Academy has to offer! But you better promise to keep us all updated, you hear me?

🔆: Heehee, crystal, Mads! Ahh, I should probs get going--there's probs some kinda orientation, right? But I still have...

[madison starts to gently shoo ren out the door, smiling a bit]

👩‍⚕️: Don't you worry about unpacking everything else; you leave that to me, kiddo. You get out there and start your school life!

🔆: Heehee, I will! Thank you bunches, Mads, I'll pay you back for the help!

[ren darts off after a wave goodbye, prompting a bit of laughing from madison]

👩‍⚕️: You try, and I'll repay it tenfold, kid. Focus on class!

[it goes quiet for a bit as madison seems to go back to getting everything organized for them. it last for a few minutes, and the recording almost shuts itself down, but...

madison's phone rings, and she picks it up without missing a beat.]

👩‍⚕️: Hello? ...I'm not sure if you have--oh! Oh. Hello, Detective. Yes, you've reached the right number, this is my burner phone. --Yes, this is Madison. Can I help you with something...?

[...]

👩‍⚕️: Discussing the case and gathering information, huh...well, I'm at about the safest place both of us can be, so sure. I'll bite. What do you want to know?

[to be continued]

[rckyfrk]

3, 6, 8, 11, 21, 50 for fanfiction writer asks :)

I am SO very sorry for taking so long to reply to this. I double checked the date you sent this to make sure I was doing the right one.

3. Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

I really don't do either. I usually stick with characters from the source material, so I don't end up having many OCs. There are only two stories I've worked on that include an original character - Claimed and Summer of Learning. In Claimed, I added in a high school aged girl in "honor" of the exchange student that was staying with my family at the time and she had a great big crush on Aaron Paul/Jesse Pinkman, so I wrote them together just for shits and giggles. Summer of Learning is based off a prompt (Imagine your dad's best friend is Sean Patrick Flanery and he teaches everything you want to know about sex.) So I ran with it as an OC (but it's in first person, so technically kind of a reader insert?)

6. If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

Yeesh. I don't even know if it's still posted anymore, so... Anyway, it was from the very early days of Bethyl, and there was a song prompt for every day of the week, and I fell in love with "Poison and Wine" by The Civil Wars. I was a very new writer and I'd never done a prompt before and I took it fucking literally and made every reference to the song that I could. I mean, it wasn't cringey or anything, at least I don't remember it being so, but it was just so...very very literal to the song. Now I can look back on it and say, "Oh...prompts don't have to be word for word. That's just where you get the idea." Lesson learned.

8. Where do you take your inspiration from?

Anywhere I can get it. Inspiration doesn't seem to be a problem for me. It's motivation.

11.Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

The most I've ever amended was adding tags that I hadn't realized I needed. I've never actually changed any of the content once a story is posted.

21. Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

We are so fortunate in both the Bethyl and Hellcheer fandoms to have so many talented writers. I hate to leave anyone out, but you asked, so...in no particular order...

@gneebee for posting every single week like clockwork. I wish I had an ounce of your discipline? organization? time to yourself?

@piper1016 for how far she's come as a writer, and for never giving up, even when fandoms are waning.

@im-immortal for writing stories that suck me in, even when I have to read them in between my fingers because I can't look directly at them

@pipergirl17 for taking on that enormous task of creating 26 AUs in the yellow pages series. What I’d give for a fraction of that creativity.

@hangon-silvergirl @cunnninghams for writing stories that make me absolutely melt and swoon over Eddie and Chrissy

@majicmarker for taking my favorite characters and writing them as if I'm actually inside their heads, looking around at what makes them tick. And the smut. Dear GOD the smut.

50.If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Fluff. All the way. I don't think I'm great at writing angst (although, fluff without angst is just...kind of filler, isn't it?) I've gotten incredibly gun shy about writing smut. (I think it's been close to three years since I've written a sex scene. Not sure how to get back into the groove at this point...) But cute, fluffy moments between these idiots in love, showing them fall for each other over and over and making sure they get the happy ending they deserve? Yeah. That's my bread and butter, right there.

[theressomethinghappeninginparis]

It's been a while. I've been down with a cold and had more reasons not to leave the house. I made a wall- okay, don't call me silly. But I figured it was easier to recollect my thoughts after putting everything with sticky notes on a wall and organizing it.

Until today I haven't gotten a letter for trespassing and have high hopes it won't come. Even if it comes, it will be a nice distraction from what I saw in Werner's appartment. I took photos, yet it was pretty dark. Only the moon and my torch lit a few spaces. Here's what I found:

Transcript of the first page:

When you get into the narrow hallway you'll turn right and then you get into a gigantic room that is a living room, a study room and a kitchen. It is filled with antique stuff, most things I have never seen. The window was smashed and the glass was spread on the floor, there was still dried blood on the wooden planks.

Transcript of the second page:

Texts and words in an angelic font are on the wall, I think it has to be blood. The big symbol in the middle of the wall still has drippings on it.

Transcript of the third page:

More text. Note how big it was written and how high. There weren't shoeprints on the couch so did the Monstrum bring a ladder? Or is he simply really tall?

Transcript of the fourth page:

This is the thing on the wall. I shone my light at it and I wish I hadn't, it looks way too disturbing- it was made in blood. It was painted with liquid blod since it was dripping. I couldn't see whether it was done by finger or hand or with a brush. I have never seen this symbol anywhere and I should run it through thw library's pcs.

Transcript of the fifth page:

Werner's pc was unlocked, there was only a screensaver. I guess the police had already taken it with them and brought it back or, more likely, they haven't taken it in since Werner has nothing but his emails and a browser on his pc. Anything else is printed out and spread around his house.

He also has rooms further into the house, he lived in a maisonette apartment. Above is his bedroom and a small study room alongside with a bathroom. I saw some books on Nephilim on a desk and in his shelves.

Transcript of the sixth page:

Here I have printed out the two emails that were open in the mail account. One is by Werner to Carvier. I have more questions after reading through the mails.

Werner mentions a "Sanglyph" yet doesn't explain what it is. I hope there's information in books or somewhere.

A guy named Eckhardt is mentioned here and apparently he lived, and was killed by the LV.

The Lux Veritatis killed him, so he can't live until today. I found his name mentioned in several sources yet they never claimed he was murdered. I should check on him since Werner finds him important it seems.

Werner mentioned Vasiley, and I also have a letter that is by him.

What are "Obscura Engravings"? They have to be conncected to someone or something right?

Why would you want to x-ray paintings? There has to be something inside of them that can be spotted this way. Metal can be as far as i know, and bones,...

Transcript of the seventh page:

This one is a mail that Carvier has gotten from a man called Mathias Vasiley. Werner has the mail too, I think Carvier just talked to Vasiley first and then forwarded it to him.

The contents are from an art gallery in Prague. It includes their adress as well. I have even more questions now and perhaps someone can answer them? I wonder if there's someone with a tip or a clue or anything...please, if you know something, write me anonymously.

I will contact the gallery and keep on pretending I'm an art student.

Mathias mentions that the engravings are paintings as well. Paintings of paintings that is. Why would you not take a photo?

Random monastery somewhere in Spain. very good location, much clue, such information

Since there are five paintings it could mean these are theengravings, or they are the metioned paintings of paintings. Or what is it?

You can tell there is so much information and I still feel bad about breaking into Werner's place. I don't even know him. I just randomly stumbled upon...his friend and his murder.

I need to get deeper into this. My search for the castle still hasn't brought up anything. I want to look for everything at once and I think I might need more hands for that work. I'll get some sleep and hopefully get well soon to figure out what the hell is going on.

[supergay-supergirl]

Lena vs. the Social Contract

or, the autistic Lena fic we all deserve (under the cut cause it's 1560 words)

@broken-lycan enjoy

also, this is my third time posting this cause I keep having tumblr issues, please bear with me

Lena had always been… different.

At first, she thought it was because her mother had died. Then, because she lived with the Luthors. But when she saw an encyclopedia entry on autism spectrum disorder in the Mount Helena library, something clicked.

"I've suspected since I met you," Andrea said when Lena confided in her. "I have ADHD, so I recognized a lot of traits. But I didn't want to assume anything."

Andrea tried to help her be herself, but at a stuffy boarding school like Mount Helena, people weren't too accepting of kids who were different, and Lena was already enough of a social pariah as it is. At home, it was even worse. Lillian and Lex nitpicked her every movement, stray expression, and slip of phrase. "This kind of behavior isn't befitting of a Luthor," Lillian would say, gesturing for Lena to stand up straight. "Smile. Project confidence. It's not difficult."

So Lena learned how to keep her hands still with pens and glasses of water; to stare into people's eyes without really looking at them; to hide her discomfort behind crossed arms and prickly comments. She practiced controlling her tone of voice until it was almost second nature, and she could read the beats of a conversation and pull an appropriate response from the list in her head. Still, too often, it felt like nothing she did would ever be enough. Lillian still criticized her; Lex still dismissed her. She still felt different.

She thought that college might be better, but she was a fool to have hoped. Not only was she younger than everyone else in her class, but she already had more accolades than all of them combined, which ostracized her almost as much as her last name. She graduated as quickly as she could. Thankfully, if life didn't come naturally to her, at least science did, and she threw all her attention to plowing ahead of her peers and making sure she didn't completely dishonor the Luthor name.

Lena met Jack Spheer between the 610s and 620s of the Metropolis Public Library, sitting between two bookshelves with her head tucked between her knees. He jumped back a little when he saw her. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't know anyone was in here."

"Oh, don't be sorry," Lena said, making sure to intone correctly (updowndownup) and getting to her feet. "I didn't know anyone else in Metropolis was interested in engineering."

"Really?" Jack said. "Then you must not come here often." He held out a hand. "Jack Spheer, resident geek of Metropolis."

Lena shook (downupdownupdown). Jack's hand was softer than it looked, but his grip was oddly self-assured.

"I suppose I don't have to ask your name," he continued.

Lena caught herself twisting her fingers together—the one nervous behavior she'd never been able to quell—and casually crossed her arms instead. "Suppose not."

But as far as she could tell, Jack didn't look unnerved. He just glanced at the shelves full of thick textbooks and asked, "Here for a bit of light reading, then, are we?"

"Not at all. I'm trying to research biomedical technology, but the organization in this place is abysmal. I don't suppose you have any recommendations?"

Without looking, Jack drew out a book, wrote something inside the cover, and held it out to her. "Start with this one. My number's in there; call me when you're done with it." And that was that.

When she kissed Jack for the first time, it felt like a dream. She'd only ever dated one person before, her boyfriend in fifth grade, whom she was pretty sure Lillian had threatened into dating her. She and Andrea had gotten close, but neither of them had ever made the first move, both preoccupied with trying to get through a boarding school that seemed to be actively working against them. But being with Jack was like honey, easy and sweet and safe, and when the time came, it just felt right. And he seemed to think so, too.

That was, until Lex turned the sun red.

Suddenly, there were press conferences and court appearances and the world's attention all on her. Lena was the one remaining Luthor, the unexpected heir to the family company and name. Suddenly, Lillian was treating her like she was twelve again. Keep your poise. Look the reporters in the eye. Don't disappoint me, Lena. The streets of Metropolis turned concave, and all Lena could do was keep herself together, until finally she couldn't, and she fled to National City.

And then she met Kara.

Kara, who didn't seem to know where to look or what to do with her hands. Who raised her voice without realizing it, who hugged hard and blushed easily. Who cringed at loud noises and didn't mind when Lena couldn't act the way most people wanted her to.

She met Alex, who had grown up with Kara and still loved her fiercely. Lena hadn't known that was possible, but to Alex it was second nature—letting her sister ramble on and on about her interests, maintaining a stable volume with her voice, walking behind Kara so she could keep an eye on her. The more time they spent together, the more Alex adjusted instinctively to Lena's sensitivities, until Lena felt more comfortable around her than around most of the people she'd met in her life.

During Lena's first days in National City, Kara had told her that a hacker had broken into her private emails. "There are some potentially embarrassing things in there," she'd said. Lena hadn't known which of her secrets Kara was referring to—her relationships with women, her connections to Lex's off-record dealings, the secret projects she was running in L-Corp's underground lab—but Kara had surprised her, handing over the hacked emails without asking for anything in return. Months later, Kara told her what the emails had contained. Among other things, there was a confirmation email from National City Hospital linking to Lena's diagnosis of ASD. She'd set up the appointment on a whim—she did own the hospital, after all—and even though she'd never followed up, she was embarrassed to say she'd felt relieved, just like all those years ago in boarding school. Like solving a puzzle for the first time. Or rather, like realizing the puzzle had all the pieces it needed, even if they didn't quite match the picture on the box.

"I didn't think it was worth mentioning," Kara said. "I mean, I'm from—well, I never fit in growing up in Midvale. It would have been a lot worse without Eliza and Alex to help me cope. No one should ever be judged on something like that."

Lena spoke slowly so Kara would know she was being genuine. "Thank you, Kara. Truly."

"No problem." Kara smiled. "Just doing the right thing. And if you ever want to talk to someone about it, just give me a call. I've dealt with my share of sensory overload."

It wasn't until much later that she did finally ask Kara for help. But she gradually started to come out of her shell. First, just around Kara. Then around Kara's friends and family. Winn indulged her obsession with technology; Eliza mothered her more than Lillian ever had; James shared her passion for helping people. And Brainy. Oh, she liked Kara's friends, even if they were loud and disorganized and occasionally idiotic, but Brainy understood her in a way few others did. If Jack had been honey, Brainy was water, speaking without connotation, always jumping from one scientific conclusion to the next, his mind and Lena's working in perfect synchrony. If something required communication, they said it out loud. If it didn't, they stayed silent, secure in knowing that each of them would respond at the other's request.

She quickly figured out that Brainy, like Lena herself, was often overcome by emotion. "Little boxes," she'd told him. It was the same lesson Lillian had taught her over and over again in elementary school—lock away your discomfort, find some way to behave yourself. It had worked, or it hadn't, but either way, little boxes had led her here, and she figured Brainy could benefit from doing the same.

But then Brainy had evolved. And suddenly he was the one who understood emotions, and he was the one who knew how to be human, and Lena was left trying to figure out what she'd gotten wrong. Until one day, Brainy told her that little boxes had prevented him from connecting with others, and Lena decided to give the other way a try.

She let herself fidget. She stopped pouring drinks whenever she felt restless and started tapping her pen, checking her phone, or swiveling in her office chair instead. She broke eye contact when she felt like it and showed the expressions that came most naturally to her, rather than the ones she'd matched to situations based on careful cataloguing of the people around her. Perhaps more importantly, she allowed herself to have fun. The ins and outs of business interested her, but she had entered this industry because she wanted to invent new technology—to help people, to change the world. With Supergirl's team, she finally got the chance to do that.

And so, even though Kara was gone, Lena felt lighter than ever before.

She was different, but that wasn't a bad thing anymore.

[ashes-in-a-jar]

Thank you @appleciderpinegar for the fun prompt and thank you @iceeckos12 for the beta! This ended up going in a very interesting direction but it kept the theme of the prompt so enjoy!

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

Tim and Martin are working late. A mysterious sound distracts them. 

Word count: 1.3K

Rated: G

Tw: none

Tim groaned, threw his pen on the desk, groaned again when it rolled onto the floor, and hauled himself out of his chair to pick it up.

Martin, blinking rapidly, pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses; he could feel a headache coming on.

"Jesus, what time is it?" He half mumbled at Tim's direction.

"Time for these bloody statements to label themselves." Tim said, shoving the whole cursed pile away from him. "Way past work hours, if that's what you meant."

Martin looked up at him bleary eyed from where he was trying to type up a written statement. He's been stuck on the same sentence for the past five minutes, trying to figure out the writer's infuriatingly indecipherable handwriting.

"Just a bit more and then we're done for the week." He said, more to himself than anything.

"Screw deadlines, I've got places to be!" Tim threw his pen once again, this time pointedly ignoring its second plummet to the floor.

"Tim please, let's just finish this and then go. You know how Jon gets." Martin begged. 

"Don't I ever." Tim muttered and leaned to pick up the mutinous pen once more. 

They settled into a tired silence, interrupted only by the sound of typing, pen scritches, and the slow, rhythmic drip of water. 

Wait. Drip of water? 

Martin stopped typing and  glanced around. The sound seemed wrong somehow. He listened a bit more, trying to figure out why, but failed. Shaking his head, he resumed typing. But it just kept nagging at him. The constant gentle tapping of it.

A moment later, he realised what was wrong. For one, he'd never heard a drip in the archives before. Was there a new leak somewhere? And secondly, it came from a completely wrong direction. The kitchenette was across the room to his right, the washroom was way too far to be heard here, and the source of the drip was decidedly from neither.

"Tim, do you hear that?" He asked.

"The sound of my relaxing night slowly ambling away to find greener pastures? I've been hearing it for the past hour, Martin." Tim sighed.

Martin rolled his eyes. "No Tim. That sound. The... That drip."

Tim looked up. Silence fell as Martin let him listen. For a moment it was quiet again. Tim opened his mouth, probably to make fun of Martin's overactive imagination, when it came back, now at a slower rhythm than before.

"Huh," Tim said, tilting his head, "I wonder where that could be coming from."

"Not the kitchen, I think."

"Oh god, you don't think there's a leak from upstairs?" Tim looked around again, more on edge than before. "I swear if we have to dry off another mountain of moldy statements I'll-"

"Okay, Tim. I'm sure it's fine. Let's, let's just look for the source." Martin got up, relieved to finally stretch his legs and get his blood properly circulating again.

"Fine, better than whatever I was doing anyway." Tim muttered and got up as well.

The search was harder than they expected.  They found that the noise stopped every now and then only to resume at very irregular intervals. It also echoed through the space in a way that did not help their hunt.

"Found anything?" Martin called from where he was checking behind the yet to be organized shelves near document storage.

"Nothing here." Tim's muffled voice was heard from further past the shelves towards the entrance. "I swear, just looking through this mess now is making me want to fly to Malaysia and never look back. You are invited to join me if you want. We can jump ship together. Run off towards the sunset hand in hand." Tim said archly as he came back to the main area, winking at Martin.

"Tim, is there something in your eye? You should get that checked." Martin responded dryly, though he couldn't help the small quirk of his mouth. 

"Oh, boo. You know you want to."

"What I want is to find the source of the leak and go home." He decided to give up on finishing today. It'd gotten way too late as it was. 

"Oh, fine. Though if you ask me, this place needs a bit of an elemental touch, be it water or fire." Tim wiggled his eyebrows.

Martin snorted and shushed him as the dripping resumed. He looked around, suddenly having a sneaking suspicion.

He began walking slowly in a specific direction, and his intuition was confirmed as the dripping sound became sharper.

He approached Jon's office quietly, motioning Tim to join him. Tim silently followed.

Martin knew Jon was in. He was always in way after they all left, even on late days. He also knew making noises in the assistants' space was fine since Jon's door was always closed. Which is why Martin was surprised to find the door ever so slightly ajar, the dripping noise becoming more pronounced as he approached it, along with some quiet rustling of paper.

He turned to look at Tim and whispered, "It's coming from in there. Can't he hear it?"

Tim shrugged and Martin quietly peered into the room through the crack of the door.

What he saw took him a moment to process.

He supposed that he’d never seen Jon at these hours, and had no idea what his work process was like when no one was around. But he never thought it would be so different from the way he worked during regular hours.

It was...very different.

For one, Jon wasn't sitting on his chair. Jon was perched on his desk, one leg up, his chin resting on his knee and one leg dangling off the edge. In one hand he was holding a document up to his face, squinting at it in a very strange angle from above his glasses, which were nearly falling off the edge of his nose.

His second hand... Martin didn't understand how he was doing it, but with his second hand's finger and thumb he was tapping at his cheek, opening and closing his mouth to its rhythm, making an 'o' shape each time he did.

Each tap produced a sound perfectly mimicking the drip of water. Perfectly.

As Martin finally managed to comprehend the scene unfolding in front of him, he had to suppress the loud snort that was threatening to force its way out of him.

"What is it?" Tim said curiously, inching nearer, leaning under Martin to peer into the room as well.

Tim took a second. Then scooted back quietly, straightened and walked back and away towards the kitchen. Martin turned away from the door, red faced from the effort of  biting down on his amusement, and watched as Tim walked into the kitchen and began cackling loudly to the point of wheezing. Martin turned back to look one last time. Jon didn't seem to notice them at all, nor react to the gasps coming from the other end of the work space. He just kept tapping his cheek and swinging his leg like nothing in the world could stop him.

Martin took a moment to soak in the scene again. Something about it gave him a fluttering feeling. He didn't understand what it meant, nor did he want to. Instead he closed the door as quietly as he could, cutting off the sound once more, and walked back to join Tim.

Tim looked at him, struggling to breathe.

Martin looked back.

"Not a word of this leaves this room." He said sternly.

"Please, Martin, only Sasha, I'm begging you." Tim slowly collected himself.

"Fine. But only Sasha. Not a word to Jon. Leave him be, please."

"Okay, okay, fine. I will." Tim threw his arms out in acceptance. "But you have to admit. That's one hell of a talent."

[laurenmm62017]

Codywan Week Day 2~

The prompt I chose was AU.

I've been meaning to write an Aikido AU at some point in my writing career, and it's finally time!

Aikido (合気道) is a traditional Japanese martial primarily focused on protecting yourself as well as your opponent. It is defensive, non-competitive, and focuses a lot more on spirituality, depending on your dojo (school).

Something about the way both Aikido and Soresu are both defensive really sits right with me lol

I've done aikido for 13 years and recently received my 3rd degree black belt certification (sandan 参段), so this AU really means a lot to me and truly hope you enjoy it! If you have any questions, feel free to DM me or whatever~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32849761

@codywanweek

Summary: Obi-wan loved practicing aikido. Something about the way that he is able to subdue opponents much larger while also being able to protect that person from harm was very attractive to him. While training with visitors from New Zealand, he meets one of the most interesting and attractive people he has ever met.

Obi-wan took a deep breath in, extending his energy from his fingers reaching up down his arms, to his center, then exhaled and brought his hands down his body to his toes. He repeated this motion three times along with the rest of the class.

“Alright, class, line up!” The lead instructor, Mace Windu, called out.

The younger and less experienced students lined up in the back, while the higher ranked students, like 4th black belt Obi-wan, lined up at the front. Everyone settled into a kneeling position, and looked forward to the picture of O-Sensei, founder of their martial art, then bowed to Mace.

“I have a small announcement before we close class. Next class, we will be having a few aikido practitioners from New Zealand to practice with us. They are from a dojo that practices a different style, and may do certain techniques differently than we do, so please pay attention to what they do, and be careful when you train with them. Sometimes they have… a more aggressive approach. But, just remember that your style of aikido is different from theirs as well. This will help you both learn communication and cooperation. Any questions?”

No one raised their hand, so Mace dismissed class. Obi-wan led the closing bows and then allowed the children to exit the mat while those wearing hakama began to take them off, while others began to clean up the dojo around them. One of the younger students, Zatt, ran over to him and began asking him the usual round of questions.

“Who are the new students, do you think Obi-wan?”

“I have no idea, Zatt. We will find out on Friday, hm?”

“But that’s two days away! How long do you think they will be here?”

“Well, most people stay to practice for at least a few classes, so I would say we will see them at least a few more times.”

“Wizard! What do you think they’ll be like?”

“I haven’t the faintest, my dear. Hopefully there will be someone your age to practice with.”

Obi-wan smiled as Zatt jumped up and down in excitement, then ran off to get changed and go home.

“Obi-wan.” Mace called from his office near the back of the dojo. Obi-wan finished folding his hakama, then entered Mace’s office and closed the sliding door.

“Yes, Sensei?”

“The sensei of the group that is coming is a very close friend of my master, but I’ll be a bit busy while they are here, so if you are able to, I’d like for you to take them around the city the day after practice.”

“Of course, Mace. It’s the weekend, so I won’t have anything scheduled.”

“I appreciate it, Obi-wan. I’ll see you in a couple days.”

“Have a good night, Mace.”

~

The next lesson, Obi-wan arrived 20 minutes early to the dojo, hoping to get to know the visiting practitioners before actually practicing with them.

After he bowed at the entrance of the dojo, he straightened up and spotted two of the visitors. They were already dressed in their gi and hakama, warming up a little bit near the edge of the practice mat. They were both fairly tall, had short black hair, and sharp features. As soon as he entered the dojo, they paused and stood up straight.

“Hello there! You must be part of the visiting dojo!”

“Yeah, that’s right!” They seemed a little nervous?

“Pleasure to meet you! I’m Obi-wan Kenobi, part-time instructor here at the dojo.” He introduced himself and gave a short bow.

“I’m Wyatt Fett, and this is my twin, Baron. Our dad and older brothers are talking with Windu-Sensei right now. We’re, ah, just warming up before class. They take care of the “ambassadoring”, we’re just here to practice aikido.” Wyatt grinned and they both gave short bows to him.

“Understandable. I’ll speak with Mace in a bit. It was nice to meet you two. I’ll be right back.” Obi-wan bowed, and then walked over towards the changing rooms, listening to the two of them bicker. Something about being a type?

He placed his duffel bag on one of the higher shelves to leave room for the children. Just as he turned his phone to silent, the men’s bathroom door banged open, making him jump and almost drop his phone. He whipped around to see who made such a racket, but he only caught the sight of his back and a green belt around his waist.

“Hm… must be one of the visiting students. The teacher’s son?” He thought, before checking his phone one last time.

He finished up and exited the changing rooms to join Mace with the visiting teacher, a stern, older looking man, and two younger men. The older man was slightly taller than Obi-wan, still in street clothes. His face was stern, but he had smile lines around his eyes that softened his face, and dark hair with a few white hairs barely visible.

The younger looking of the boys… men? Had blonde hair, a little bit of baby fat stubbornly clinging to his cheeks, and was already dressed in his gi and hakama.

However, Obi-wan’s eyes were drawn to the older looking one. His hair was longer on top than the sides, pulled back in a small ponytail. His face was sharp, but somehow kind, and he had a wicked scar that curled around his left eye, and bright gold eyes that he shared with the other two men. But this man’s eyes seemed to bore right into his soul, making him a bit flustered.

“Ah, Obi-wan. Good to see you. I’d like you to meet Jango Fett, head instructor of the Aikido of New Zealand, Auckland branch, along with his assistant instructors, and his eldest sons.”

“I’m Cody, and this is my younger brother, Rex.” The slightly taller one, Cody, gave a short bow and a sheepish smile.

“We’ll be in your care during our trip. I hear you’ll be showing us around tomorrow?” Jango asked.

“Yes, that’s right. After class, could we all exchange numbers and arrange a time and place to meet?”

“That sounds wonderful.” Jango glanced at the clock and his eyes widened. “We should get ready for class.”

“Of course. Right this way.” Mace escorted Jango towards the changing rooms, leaving Obi-wan with Rex and Cody.

“So, have you gentlemen gotten used to the time difference yet?” Nice, Kenobi, thrilling conversation.

“We’ve only been here about a day so far? We don’t actually travel outside of New Zealand often, still getting used to waking up in the past.” Cody joked, making all three of them laugh.

“I can imagine. Well, I hope you will gain a bit of energy in the ten minutes we have before class starts.” Obi-wan smiled, and exited the office, onto a much more crowded mat than it was five minutes ago.

“Obi-wan! Obi-wan! I made a new friend!” Zatt shouted gleefully, dragging the young boy that he saw in the changing room behind him. “This is Boba! He’s from New Zealand!”

Obi-wan looked down at Boba who looked away from him and pouted.

“Hello, Boba. Welcome to our dojo. I hope you have fun with Zatt and the other students today.”

“Thanks.” Boba mumbled and then promptly pulled away to be introduced to others at their dojo.

Cody came up next to him with his hands on his hips. “I’m glad Boba is making friends.”

“Yes, the children have been very excited to meet you all.” Obi-wan chuckled.

“And you?”

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow, and turned to look at Cody, who simply smiled and waited for a reply.

“We’ll, I’m certainly looking forward to it.”

Mace opened their class with an introduction of their visitors and then moved onto warm up exercises. Obi-wan tried his best to pay attention, but he has done these exercises a thousand times and he was easily distracted today.

Like most men, Cody didn’t wear a shirt under his gi, so every so often, Obi-wan caught a glimpse of what was underneath.

On accident! Obviously.

Warmups ended and they all paired up for the rest of the class.

“If one person from our dojo and one person from New Zealand can practice together, please do that. If not, try to partner with someone close to your height.” Mace called out to the class.

Obi-wan glanced around and immediately spotted Cody glancing at. He smiled and walked over to him.

“Care to practice together? I’ll have to help out with demonstrating with Mace, but I’d love to practice with you.” Obi-wan smiled, and bowed his head, which Cody eagerly returned.

Practicing with Cody was exhilarating. They matched speeds perfectly, every attack and deflection was completely in sync. The rest of the dojo fell away and focused solely on the two of them and their space. The feeling of Cody’s hands and body on his wrists, his neck, holding him down, during pinning techniques was the best feeling he’s felt in a long time. Every time he executed a technique against Cody, he literally flew through the air and hit the mat with a thud that echoed through his entire body. And whenever it was Cody's turn, Obi-wan’s skin burned wherever he made contact; he felt like he could see an outline of his hands on himself, but maybe he was just tired. He never wanted this class to end.

Of course, right as he was thinking that, Mace clapped his hands twice and called out, “Line up!”

Cody and Obi-wan reluctantly bowed to each other, then separated. Obi-wan went to the front of the mat, and Cody went to line up with the rest of his dojo.

“I want to thank our visitors for practicing with us. They will hopefully be able to attend a couple more classes next week, but in the meantime, everyone please thank them for joining us.”

“ARIGATOU GOZAIMASU!!” All of the children screamed, and the adults of the class followed it with a more calm version.

Class ended and various students began shuffling off the mat to grab a variety of cleaning supplies to tidy up the dojo. Obi-wan grabbed a rag and began to clean the shomen, where O-Sensei’s picture hung. Their guests from New Zealand tried to grab things to help, but were told off by the children that they were guests and “It’s our responsibility!”

Obi-wan snickered and smiled at Cody, who shrugged helplessly and began taking off his hakama alongside his brothers and began to get ready to leave.

Once the dojo was clean, Obi-wan finally took off his own hakama and gathered his belongings.

Cody and Rex were waiting right outside the dojo for him.

“Excited for tomorrow, gentlemen?” Obi-wan asked.

“Yes, very much so.” Cody smiled, pulling out his phone.

The three of them exchanged numbers with Obi-wan promising to meet them in front of the dojo at 9am the next morning.

“Tomorrow will be a great day, I’m sure of it.” Rex butted in and patted Cody on the back.

“Excellent! I will see you all tomorrow, then.” Obi-wan smiled.

A good day, indeed.

[mercurysstars]

The Shadow Thief (part 3)

Summary: What happens when Peter has to work with the girl he hates to possibly save the world.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Swearing, Blood, Violence.

A/n: Sorry it took me so long to post again! I’ve wrote like 3 different versions of this chapter because I didn’t know what direction to go in just yet.

_

"Woah, dude. Did you see this?" Y/n held out Peter's phone shoving it in his face.

Y/n had gone over to Peters house early that morning to get the last finishing touches on their project done. So they both reluctantly decided to walk together to school.

Peter snatched his phone out of Y/n's hands as they crossed the street. "How did you even get my phone? It was in my hands." She shrugged and pointed back at the article.

Peter scrolled down the page. Incoming reports say Avengers went on a mission and since gone MIA. How didn't he know about this? And why didn't the Avengers at least tell him they were going to be gone. Peter was confused, to say the least. Were they in trouble? No, they couldn't be they are the earth's mightiest heroes. Right?

"They probably just had to extend their mission and forgot to report back in." Or at least he hoped. He didn't want to think of the latter. He decided after school he would go to the compound and make sure everything was alright.

"If you say so." They walked up the stairs to the second floor of the school.  Peter opened the door and they both walked into English. Y/n took her seat next to Mj and Peter next to Ned.

The thought of the Avengers missing did worry Y/n a bit. She wasn't a big fan of superheroes but she also was not, not a fan. It was complicated. Sure she liked the security of having someone to save the day. But she hated that they pretended to be better than everyone else. They judge criminals as they themselves have never done anything wrong. They tend to blame everything on everyone else and never take responsibility.

Y/n felt a nudge to her arm. She turned her head to face Mj. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"No, no it's alright I'm just thinking," Y/n said. She pulled out her laptop and opened her and Peter's presentation to have it ready just in case they had to go first.

Their opening slide was a picture of Anne Frank surrounded by a pretty border and Anne Frank’s name in cursive in the middle. Peter insisted their project had to look nice and not like some shitty last-minute one like she had originally done. Y/n had teased Peter relentlessly about it saying maybe he should be a graphic designer instead of Spider-Man. And he of course huffed and pretended to ignore her.

"Well, you just looked worried. Anyways tell me if you need any help." Y/n gave Mj a grateful smile. Y/n knew Mj could have this cold, hard exterior but she knew she secretly cared.

The bell rang signaling the first period started. The teacher stood up from her desk and walked to the front of the room clasping her hands together. "Good morning class. Today is the first official day for our presentations. We'll be picking who goes first by random. Any questions?"

One girl toward the front of the classroom stuck up her hand "Yes, Betty."

"Did you see the news? About the avengers?" The class erupted within hushed conversation everyone stating their theories of what happened and their worries.

"Alright, class settle down. I did see but we will continue like normal." She said. It kind of seemed like to Y/n she didn't care at all but she didn't really think anything of it.

The phone rang and the teacher quickly excused herself. Y/n picked at her fingers mindlessly. The teacher muttered a few words into the phone and hung up "Y/n, Peter." Her eyes snapped up at the sound of her name "They want you down in the office. And bring your things."

Y/n furrowed her brows. Her eyes met Peters "What did you do?" He mouthed just as confused as her.

What did she do? What the hell did he do. She hasn't done anything wrong. Well, at least nothing she gotten caught for.  "Dude if anyone did anything it was you! I've only been here for like 3 weeks." She whispered-yelled back.

He put his hands up defensively. Y/n shoved all of her things in her bag and zipped it up. Mj raised an eyebrow at her and Y/n just shrugged with a clueless look on her face.

Y/n walked over to the door opening it with her free hand while her chrome book was in the other.  Peter followed not too far behind. They step out and began to walk down the hallway shoulder to shoulder not a word muttered between them.

The hall was empty. No teacher, no janitor, no late students, not even the common lost freshman. It was strange to Y/n. She turned to Peter "This is weird. It's almost like it's too."

"Quiet." He finished for her. Peter felt off. His spidey sense wasn't alarming him with anything but it was almost like a gut feeling you'd get when some strange guy came up to you at a party being a little too friendly.

"Yeah." Exactly. They continued down the hall both on high alert. When they passed a window Y/n could see two men dressed in suits around the corner through the reflection.

"I think they're following us." She whispered to Peter. Y/n has picked up a thing or two of trying not to be noticed but the men behind them didn't seem like they cared much for subtlety. They had their eyes set on Y/n and Peter taking wide quick steps.

This time his spidey sense went off. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Peter reached for his web-shooters "We need to get out of here."

"You think?" Y/n back said in an aggravated tone. The next time they passed by a window she could see them screw something together slowly by their side.

Y/n glanced down to get a better look, it was a gun. All she could hear was the beating of her heart thumping loudly in her ears. Thinking quickly Y/n shoved Peter into a locker. A bullet whizzed past where his head once was and made a tiny thump when it hit the wall.

His eyes went wide momentarily stunned before he sprung into action. He shot out a web, grabbed the gun out of the man's hand, and flung it across the hall, making sure he couldn't get to it.

The men paused for a minute before muttering something to each other end breaking into a spring toward them. Well mostly at Peter luckily for her but still in her direction. Peter began to fight the one whose gun he had stolen hand to hand. The man got in a punch to Peter's face. Peter tripped him and tied him up with his webs.

The second man was coming toward her. Before she could second guess herself Y/n took her chrome book and slapped the man across the face with it. The man was momentarily shocked and Y/n opened an unlocked locker hitting him in the face. She watched him slide down the lockers unconscious.

More men turned the corner and came down the hallway. Y/n kicked a waist-length garbage can with wheels toward them as a small distraction. Peter grabbed Y/n pulling her into an empty classroom.

Y/n locked the door before she grabbed Peter and dragged him further into the classroom into a supply closet. They both crouched behind a mop bucket leaving the door cracked for a tiny bit of light.

"Would you like to tell me why there's someone outside this classroom trying to blow my brain out!" She huffed.

"Don't ask me. For all, we know they could be after you!" They both flinched as they heard the door handle shake.

"They were attacking you. Shooting at you. And you'd have a bullet in the back of your head if I didn't push you out of the way if I might add." She poked him in the chest.

The men began to start kicking at the door trying to break it down "Maybe if we figure out who they are we can get out of this."

"You know what I have an idea." Y/n reached back and grabbed the gun out of the waistband of her pants. Y/n started not to care much for introductions when they tried to assassinate her. Her motto was to shoot first ask questions later because she was not going down without a fight.

"What the hell Y/n! Where did you even get a gun?" Peter tried to put some distance between them but failed and ended up bumping into a shelf.

"Calm down bug boy I'm not going to shoot you." She rolled her eyes "I grabbed it off the guy while I smashed my laptop over his head."

"You are not shooting anyone!" He exclaimed. He was going to die with a psychopath. A literal psychopath. What would his uncle Ben say if he could see him right now?

"Fine whatever. How many webs do you have left?"

"Only one." He muttered.

"Only one! How the hell do you only have only one web left?" Oh lord. She was going to die in a janitor's closet with an idiot.

"Oh well, I'm sorry I didn't know I would have someone trying to paint the walls with my organs. I must have forgotten to mark it on my calendar!"

"Oh god, Okay." Y/n rubbed her forehead with her free hand.

She took the clip out of her gun and counted the bullets she had. Two. Okay, she could work with that, Somehow. She just had to live long enough to beat Peter up for almost getting them killed.

She turned back to Peter "Alright here's the plan so we are going to jump out of the window and see just how far that web can exactly get us." She could hear the pounds on the door getting more frequent and if she was being honest she was surprised it held this long.

"Are you crazy! You going to get us both killed." He didn't need the answer because he already knew she was. He swore he could see the shadows swirl around her for a moment but as quickly as it was there it was gone.

"Do you have any better ideas because I'm all ears, Parker?" He didn't say anything and just ran a hand through his hair letting out a frustrated sigh.

"That's what I thought." Y/n knew there was a good chance that they get hit by incoming traffic like a bug on a windshield but it was either that or the SWAT team outside.

"Let's get this over with." Said Y/n. They both stepped outside of the closet. The men outside the room gave the door one last kick and it broke off of the hinges. "Go." That was all Peter said.

Y/n shot the window with the two bullets she had. Peter ran over to Y/n and grabbed onto her tightly. They jumped through the window shattering it. Peter shoots out his last web hooking onto a nearby tree. At the peak of the swing, Peter let go of the web. They flew over the traffic narrowly avoiding the cars.

When they finally reached the ground they hit it hard. Peter took most of the impact but Y/n still hit her head. They continued to hold tightly onto each other as they rolled through the grass from the momentum of the swing.

They came to a slow stop and Y/n landed on top of Peter. She slumped off to the side of him and sat up. Peter did the same but with a groan feeling all of the bones in his body.

He noticed blood began to trickle out of Y/n's nose. "You got something." He pointed to her nose.

She wiped under her nostrils with her fingers and then again with the bottom of her shirt without a second thought "Oh, Thanks."

Peter rested his head on his knees. What was he going to do? As much as he didn't like Y/n he felt bad for dragging her into this. "We need to get going they are going to come looking for us soon."

"Where are we going to go?" The light was starting to become too much so Y/n put her hand over her eyes to shield her from the sun. She was starting to get a headache and just wanted to lay down. Peter stood up and dusted off his shirt and pants.

"Avengers compound." He held out a hand to her. She took it and he pulls her up onto her feet. They began to walk toward the street.

"I just don't know how we are going to get there." He added. They made it onto the sidewalk. Y/n was stumbling around so Peter kept his pace slow so she could keep up with him.

Y/n stopped walking "What do you think of this car?" She nodded to a 1997 Honda Accord.

"It's cool I guess." He said confused the car was a little old but he didn't say anything.

"Alright good. Now hand me your web-shooters." She held out her hand toward him.

"Okay?" He didn't really know what she was trying to get at. Peter just assumed she hit her head too hard but he complied anyway.

Y/n crouched down facing the car. She broke his web-shooters over her knee taking out two long curved metal pieces. She handed him back the rest of his broken web-shooters. Peter stared at her wide-eyed as she stuck the two metal pieces into the lock of the car.

"What are you doing." He hissed. Peter walked closer to Y/n trying to cover her as she picked the lock to the car.

"I just gave our problem a solution." She said without looking. She continued to twist the pieces around until she heard a little click. She gave a little cheer and opened the door.

"Yeah by stealing someone's car. Need I remind you is illegal."

" I like to think of it as borrowing. Besides I will happily leave you if you wish." She rolled her eyes. God, her head was throbbing.

Y/n took the plastic cover off of the steering column. There were three sets of wires and she grabbed the middle one. Y/n cut the red and blue wire. She touched the wires together until she heard the car start. She smiled to herself and lastly twisted the wires together.

She turned to Peter "Are you getting in or what?"

Peter looked around and then sighed "Fine, but I'm driving."

"What? No way, you don't even look old enough to drive." She crossed her arms.

"You have a concussion so I'm our best bet at not dying." He gave Y/n a sarcastic smile.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes but got out of the driver's seat.

"You know if you keep rolling your eyes they are going to get stuck like that." She flicked him off and he laughed.

Y/n basically collapsed into the passengers seat. Peter closed his door and started the car. He pulled into the street and Y/n rested her head against the window. The cool glass felt nice against her forehead. She notice a bruise on Peter's pale cheek from when he got hit earlier.

Every now and again he would glance at Y/n to see how she was doing. He figured she must not feel the best because she hasn't said one witty remark since they got into the car.

He hoped by now the Avengers were back at the compound and could Tell them what's going on and who was following them.

He looked over to her again and she had her eyes close. He jabbed her with his elbow "Hey, don't fall sleep. You might not wake back up."

"Hmm Okay." She said but didn't budge.

"I'm serious Y/n, open your eyes." Peter was starting to get worried. It wasn't that he cared about her. But he didn't know what to do with a dead body. Or at least that's what he told himself.

"Don't get your panties into a bunch, my eyes are open."

They pulled into the road of the compound. When it came into view Y/n suddenly sat up wide eyed "Holy shit."

"What?" Peter took his eyes off of Y/n and followed her line of sight.

"What the fu-"

Part 4

Taglist

@fandom-strumpet • @ginger-swag-rapunzel • @libraries-and-coffee

[mariaiscrafting]

I am so sorry to bother you, but I just had to ask as someone who is fairly new to the fandom: What has Karl done that made people mad at him?

I was also reading through your asks and saw everything on Dream (as a fellow Mexican- ouch.) But I guess my second question is which members aren't problematic and are okay to still like them? Sorry if it all seems random, I've just been trying to get some answers and this seemes like the best place to get them.

I'm not the best person to ask about Karl since I stopped paying attention to him by the end of February, but based on the asks I've gotten and the discourse I've seen here and there, here are the valid things I’ve seen people get mad at him for:

The autism charity stream many celebrities and CCs participated in, which Karl was invited to. Karl apologized on his alt Twitter account arguably later than he should've, and Mr. Beast continued on to participate in the charity anyways.

Traveling cross-country during the pandemic, before getting vaccinated: 1 2 3

Associating with and watching/being a part of the community of streamer, Ice Poseidon: 1 2

I have seen other criticism for Karl because people think he clout chases, dislike how loud/energetic he is, dislike Mr. Beast & co., etc., but personally? I think those are biased, evidenceless reasons that aren’t based on any moral transgression on his part, so I’m disregarding those.

(Note for others: please do not send me asks regarding this post, adding to the context for Karl. If you have any more information that I missed, add it in replies/reblogs, so the original anon can more easily see.)

*****

For your next question, my answer is that it’s okay to like virtually any MCYT creator, as far as I know. Welcome to mcytblr, where there is almost no right or wrong to the people you watch or stan! Despite everything I say about Dream, all the asks I get about Karl, or any of the other CCs I’ve criticized, everyone has the right to like or enjoy any CC they wish (to an extent). It takes a lot- like, extremist and/or genuinely harmful stuff- to convince me that a CC should be completely blacklisted from people’s radars. As of now though, no MCYT CC or Dream SMP member that I can think of besides CallMeCarson has done anything immoral enough to warrant the dictation of who can or can’t like them.

Almost every CC has done or said questionable things that could warrant “cancelling” in some people’s eyes. As I’ve previously said, there are many factors people can keep in mind when evaluating someone’s actions or words, and that final evaluation can vary from person to person within the fandom. Because CCs aren’t people we personally know, we get a very limited scope of their past, their intentions, and their personalities; as such, we each, based on our biases, preferences, and information received, will come to different conclusions on whether or not we forgive/accept the apologies of each CC. 

This isn’t Twitter. That is to say, most of mcytblr doesn’t want to dictate who you can or can’t stan. The MCYT CCs in this fandom have done an array of things, including- used ableist, racist, homophobic, and misogynistic slurs; joked about suicide, mental health, sexual assault, anti-semitism, genocide, feminism/misogyny, and racism; expressed classist, transphobic, racist, and misogynistic political beliefs; excluded colleagues and other creators based on bigoted beliefs; supported bigoted organizations and/or people. They have done these things over a span of time ranging from 7 years ago to a few months ago. Stated out-of-context, this makes it seem like this is a fandom full of people stanning bigots. 

But lack of context and snap judgements are for Twitter. The reality is that some people tweeted some edgy joke years ago; some people said slurs when they were playing FPS’s as young teenagers; some people made and/or make edgy jokes whilst never expressing genuine belief in those jokes. If you were to summarize the things I have done/said in the past 7 years the way a Twitter user or your average Tumblr anti-MCYT user would, you’d say: “Maria has said ableist and homophobic slurs; expressed xenophobic, Islamaphobic, homophobic, and racist political beliefs; and spouted transphobic and homophobic rhetoric.” That makes me sound like a horrible person, and who is to judge whether or not I am or even was a horrible person? Based on the apologies I have made, the way I treat people now, the length of time that has passed since I said those words or committed those actions, the severity of the bigoted things I have done or said, and the the actions I take and words I use today, the people in my life get to determine if they think I am currently ableist, homophobic, xenophobic, Islamaphobic, or transphobic. 

Along a similar vein, it is up to each of us to determine if we believe a CC has changed, if we should accept their apology for whatever they did. And if you don’t, then guess what? You don’t have to watch them.

All I suggest is, if it bothers you that much, try to collect as much unbiased information as possible, so you can make an informed decision. Don’t just rely on Twitter thread summaries or Insider/Medium-style articles or my posts to make your decisions. Find the original video, screenshot, etc. Find the timestamp. Watch the CC and determine whether or not they express the bigoted beliefs or prejudices their past actions would suggest. There is no “right” answer. I might think Dream hasn’t changed because of many reasons I’ve repeated entirely too many times, but there are many people who wouldn’t agree with me, and yk what? That’s fine. If you want to forgive a CC someone else doesn’t, who gives a fuck? 

Disclaimer: None of this applies to CallMeCarson or anyone else who has committed actions of a similar or more severe extent. Fuck CallMeCarson

[that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick]

Summary: Winry sat in the optimal place to study in the school cafe for the entire fall semester. Then spring came, and suddenly some self-entitled twit who dressed like off-brand Gerard Way decided it was his territory. He was so not going to get off easy.

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.8k words of coffee shop/college AU with a side of enemies to almost-lovers

A/N: It's finals week, I posted this on Ao3 at almost 5am, and if the rest of the sentence didn't make it obvious, I'm writing from unfortunate experience. Not beta-ed or proofread, although I happened to see one thing to fix when I woke up this morning. Feel my raw power. Rawr.

It wasn't that big a deal.

It kind of really was, though.

Every Thursday morning during the fall semester, Winry sat in the same spot at the same school coffee shop. It was the spot sent by the entire patron pantheon of cram papers. Maybe one person didn't need an entire booth, but it was in the corner, and the tops of the bench seats had opaque plastic barriers that just so happened to be perfect for minimizing excess visual chaos. For the most part, there weren't loud conversations, and the jazz music that came through the speakers helped her tune out people ordering coffee. Add to that the fact that she could use campus flex dollars and not her own bank account that was begging for mercy, and it was the perfect spot to get papers done.

But apparently not this spring.

As soon as Winry walked in, she noticed him in the corner. Some emo wannabe guy on his computer. Probably on Reddit complaining about how women didn't appreciate the amazing pics he sent them on Tinder. Or at least, it was a fair guess based on the sour look on his face. Why did this guy of all people have to steal the holy grail spot? Ugh. She was still gonna get her coffee, darn it.

"You know the deal, Sciezska. Medium roast with a shot of espresso and vanilla creamer."

"On it! You paying in flex?"

"Yeah." She scanned her student ID and lowered her voice. "Who's off-brand Gerard Way in the corner?"

"Who's Ger—"

"The punk kid."

"Ohhh. I can try to get his number for you, if you want."

"No, he looks like a total tool! And not the kind I like dealing with!"

"Which means you think he's hot. I didn't think you were into that type, but you're not wrong."

"For the last time, no, Sciezska! He took my spot! And I'm trying very, very hard to keep this to a stage whisper, but if you keep trying to set me up with some random creep, I won't be able to!"

A distinctly male voice grumbled, "I'm not a creep."

"Keep telling that to the girls on Tinder. I'm sure they'll understand eventually."

"Yeah, and I'll bet if you look at your 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign a little more, you'll understand it eventually." He mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Nice Guy?"

"Lay off, it's eight in the morning. I said the only reason I even have a Tinder account is because my roommate stole my phone while I was going to the bathroom."

"Well, if you didn't want it, why didn't you delete it?"

"Eh, I figured if I really got sick of being single one day, it'd already be there."

"Never would have guessed you were single," Winry said dryly.

"Come on, it's way too early to be rubbing that kind of crap in. Who says I'm not fine with being single anyway?"

Sciezska timidly spoke up. "Medium roast with espresso and vanilla creamer?"

Winry thanked her as red jacket boy continued. "'Edward Elric, Bachelor.' Almost sounds as good as 'Edward Elric, Bachelor of Science.'"

"B.S. degree. Sounds about right."

"About time you stopped acting like I'm an idiot!"

Winry snorted. "That's not what I meant."

"Hey!"

"And with that, I'm going to go find some other spot to write my paper."

Edward, as his name apparently was, scoffed and mumbled something that sounded like "good riddance". Maybe the librarians wouldn't get on her case too much for bringing in coffee.

-----

A week later, Winry walked into the cafe, assuming the circumstances of the previous week were an anomaly. They were not.

"Medium roast with a shot of espresso and vanilla creamer," she grumbled and sulked in the direction of the corner seat.

"Hey, don't start with me again, blondie. I've had a whopping four hours of sleep and I can't promise you'll like what comes out of my mouth."

"We're at a coffee shop. Get some coffee. I can't help it if you're too hung over to be polite."

"Now look, genius. I did not stay up until 4 A.M. working on a stupid chem paper for that sadistic pyromaniac excuse for a professor just for some random chick to accuse me of being hung over."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And for your information, coffee doesn't really help me wake up. It just helps me focus on homework." He lifted up his empty cup and gave it a shake.

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"ADHD is a weird thing, and yet, here I am."

"Huh, interesting."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pick up where I left off with the same stupid ten page paper I started last night."

"Oh right. Sure," Winry stammered. "Listen, I'm really sorry I just assumed things about you. It was wrong of me, and I'd like to make it up to you, if that's okay."

Edward eyed her suspiciously. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well...I could look over your paper once you're done writing it? I've got a paper of my own to write while I'm waiting, and I can sit right across the table here so you don't have to come get me. I won't try to talk to you or anything. Neither of us need that kind of distraction."

"Alright, alright. Get your coffee and sit down. The girl at the counter's been up there waiting for a good minute or two while you've been at confessional over here."

"Wait, she has?" Winry's eyes widened, and Edward laughed at her expense. He was kind of attractive when he wasn't scowling...wait what? She pouted and got up to retrieve her coffee. When Winry returned, she plopped down on the bench opposite Edward and opened her laptop. Peeking out from behind it, she added, "By the way, I'm Winry. I figured you ought to at least know the name of the person who's proofreading your paper."

"Well, Winry, you're the one who volunteered." The corners of his mouth twitched upward. The two worked on their assignments in silence, occasionally speaking up when necessary.

-----

Edward was in the corner again the next week as well.

"Hey, Edward! Mind if I join you for homework again?"

"Normally, I'd say no, but you didn't bother me too much last week, so you might as well." He turned away slightly.

"Great! Have you gotten your coffee yet? I didn't see a cup, and you got something the last two times."

"Eh, I haven't been here long. If you're going up and getting yours, would you mind ordering a caramel macchiato for me?" He asked, sliding his ID across the table.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll be back in a sec."

She returned and slipped his ID back before pulling out her computer. "Do you have anything for me to look over this time?"

"Not this week. But if you have anything you need looked over, I can do that, too."

"Actually, I do, if you wouldn't mind."

"Winry, I just volunteered. Just send the paper to my school email. Mine's 'elricedwa'," he instructed as he proceeded to spell it.

"Medium roast and a caramel macchiato?" Sciezska called out.

"Coming!" Winry replied and turned to Edward. "I just sent it, so you should be able to start while I'm getting our stuff." Eyes glued to his laptop, Edward gave a thumbs up.

Once she returned with their drinks, Winry sat down and wordlessly set Edward's drink next to him.

"Thanks," he muttered distantly. His lips mirrored the words he was reading. Though his lips weren't plump by any stretch of the imagination, they were shapely. His steely concentration made the air leave Winry's lungs. To top it all off, the first rays of sunlight came through the window just right, hitting Edward's hair in a way that made it positively glow.

What was she thinking? Those were only the sorts of things people thought when they had a crush. She'd only had two positive interactions with him, including this one. ...well, maybe it was a crush. She could certainly do worse than someone with a questionable fashion sense. After all, he worked hard, and he got good grades, if the quality of his writing was any indication. Okay, fine. He was also drop dead gorgeous, if you could see past his clothing choices. Yeah, she had a crush.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"...no."

"Figures. I finished reading your paper. It's not bad, I just left a few suggestions for sentence structure. Now I am going to enjoy my caramel macchiato." He took off the lid and breathed in the steam with his eyes closed, nearly drooping into the cup in content. When he opened his eyes slowly, Winry was awestruck by the similarity between the color of his eyes and his drink.

"What?" Edward furrowed his eyebrows.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything. At all. Nope."

"Okay." He shrugged. She reopened the document and went through his suggested edits. Gnawing her lip in concentration, she leaned forward a bit to settle in and tackle the editing.

"...hey, uh, Winry?" Edward gulped. "Are you going to drink your coffee?"

"Oh! Yeah, I almost forgot. Thanks, Edward!" she smiled.

"No–no problem. And you can call me Ed, you know. Most people do. Except for that excuse for a professor that calls me pipsqueak. Can you believe he's my advisor? I mean, come on, I'm a grown man. I'm not that short."

Winry made a poor attempt at containing her laughter. "Okay then, Ed. Prove it. Stand up."

"Fine." He slid out of the booth and stood. Winry followed suit and appraised their respective heights.

"Well, I'd hardly call you tall, but you're at least taller than me by a few inches, for whatever that's worth."

Edward grinned as if he had won some sort of prize. "Time for shorties to sit down now!"

"Watch it now. You're not too far from that label yourself, mister."

They both returned to their positions in the booth and worked steadily for the next hour. At the end of that time, Winry closed her laptop. "Ed, are you okay? You seem distracted."

"ADHD. I'm always distracted," he dismissed.

"No, like, are you sick or something? You did get more than four hours of sleep this time, right?"

"No comment." Ed's mouth twitched. He mumbled barely loud enough to hear, "Wouldn't have mattered anyway."

"Are you sure? If you're not feeling well, I can drive you over to the health center."

"N-no. That's not it." He exhaled, then slid a napkin across the table. His hands trembled slightly. "Anyway, here's my number. In case you need me to look over a paper. Or whatever. I've got a class soon."

Winry blushed, but tucked the napkin in her laptop. "Thanks, Ed. See you next week?"

"Yeah. Next week."

-----

Winry: This goes with your major, right?

Edward: Blocked

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Fractured Foundation: Chat Blanc

Summary: Since his own akumatization Chat Noir has been the perfect partner. Never questioning, never distracting, never asking for anything at all...

So, why wasn't it enough?

Ch.1 Double Standards

Chat Noir does everything right... But Adrien is still wrong.

---------------

Ladybugs swirled around him as Chat Noir came back to himself. Scanning his surroundings Chat Noir saw Ladybug helping who he assumed was a de-akumatized Backwarder.

Oh. It was over. The last thing he remembered was-

"Sorry about this Chat Noir."

... A push from behind. His heart spiking in fear. Backwarder's clock hand striking his chest.

"Chat?"

Looking up, Chat Noir held up his fist from touching the spot he was hit. He smiled at her "Bien joue, Ladybug."

"...Yeah. Bien joue." She bumped his fist and shook her head. "I need to go. Bug out!"

Vaulting over Paris, Chat Noir realized he never found out why the old lady was akumatized. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Ladybug won...

Adrien came out of the train's bathroom just as Gabriel did the same. Stiffening at the sight of his father, Adrien gave a slight nod and hurried to his seat. Heartbeat pounding far faster than when he was fighting Backwarder.

Kagami glanced at Adrien and he smiled reassuringly before putting his headphones in. At least he wouldn't have to sit through another lecture from Master Fu this time. Seeing as he'd be in London for the weekend.

Adrien would be in London for the weekend. No Fu, no Papillon, no Chat Noir. The thought made him feel... lighter. Taking his headphones out he turned to Kagami. "Is this your first time going to London?"

"No. Mother has taken me on several other business trips to familiarize myself with the company holdings." Kagami refocused her attention on Adrien. "But I can't say I've been sightseeing."

"Really? What do you want to see first?" Adrien fell into the ease of speaking with Kagami. Let himself enjoy this small moment of normalcy compared to the glorious disillusion of the akuma battle. Leaving Backwarder and Paris behind as the train accelerated.

----------------

Chat Noir soared over the rooftops. Grinning as the wind blew through his hair. For the first time in... he didn't know how long his heart raced with joy after a battle. He was useful! Sure he had to sacrifice himself so Ladybug could beat Gamer 2.0 but still!

Landing with a flip onto the designated rooftop he waited for Master Fu to show. Just like he did after (almost) every akuma attack. Except this time Chat Noir wasn't dreading it. This time-

The door opened as Master Fu stepped out.

"Master! Did you see... What's wrong?"

Master Fu held a stern expression. "Why did you not talk to Ladybug about what you intended?"

Chat's ears drooped as he pulled in on himself, enthusiasm forgotten. "Wh-what?"

"You sacrificed yourself without speaking to her first!" Master Fu sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ladybug might have come up with an alternative."

"But... I..."

"At the very least you should have let her know before you act."

You didn't tell her that when she shoved me onto Backwarder's sword.

Adrien flinched. "... Okay... I'll... tell her next time."

Even though she never tells me.

Satisfied, Master Fu's gaze softened. "You must be mindful of Ladybug's feelings." With that he turned back towards the door. Pausing at the threshold, he glanced back. "It was wise to give Ladybug the last fight."

"..."

Chat Noir dashed across rooftops. Blinking rapidly as the wind blew into his eyes. For a moment he forgot. He forgot that Chat Noir was always wrong. That Adrien didn't get what everyone else did. He wasn't like everyone else. What they did mattered.

... Nothing Adrien ever did mattered. The universe was simply issuing a reminder.

---------------

Adrien didn't want to be at fencing practice today. He'd fantasized about taking Kagami to Kitty Section's rehearsal with the rest of his friends instead... But if his meetings with the Guardian had a theme it was listening to his... betters.

As though the universe could hear him the akuma alert went off just as he finished changing into his fencing gear. Making sure the rest of his teammates were gone, Adrien transformed and leapt out the window. Hoping Kagami wouldn't be too bored without him.

Quickly going over what information there was on 'Desperada' Chat Noir realized she was last seen at the Couffaine's houseboat. He ran faster.

A pang of longing came over him as Adrien remembered how tempting it'd been to skip practice and join his friends. But that meant disobeying. And disobeying never brought Adrien anything. Not with Father, not with his teachers, not with the Guardian.

Leaping across buildings a cyan blur knocked him five stories to the ground. Rolling with the blow Chat Noir readied his staff. The cyan blur was a lyre that came back to the hand that threw it.

A guy in a vaguely snake-like suit with cyan colored hair. "Sorry, Chat Noir. You would've gotten caught if I hadn't done anything."

To prove his point Desperada appeared and started shooting yellow blasts of magic. Chat Noir spun his staff as he ran for cover. Ladybug's yo-yo wrapped around him and pulled him into the alley. "Good, you're here. Chat, this is Viperion."

"Hello again, Chat Noir." Viperion smiled gently.

"... Hey."

"So what's the plan?" Ladybug asked the new guy.

Chat Noir stared. Ladybug never asked someone else to make the plan.

"Okay, first we need your Lucky Charm..."

In the end it was very simple. Chat Noir and Ladybug dodged Desperada's attacks long enough for Viperion to distract her with music from his lyre. Then Ladybug used the saddle her Lucky Charm gave her to restrict Desperada's movements. All three pulling the villain in different directions while Viperion threw his lyre at her guitar case, breaking it.

There was an extra 'Bien Joue' in their fist bump and then Chat Noir was running back to fencing practice.

...He'd done nothing. Viperion did all the work. And apparently he was so good at it he didn't even need to use his power. Or... was knowing what was going to happen his ability? Is that why Ladybug let him plan?

...Maybe he was reading too much into it. 'Bien joue' felt hollow all the time now. Just because it felt particularly empty this time didn't mean there was a reason besides his own selfish desire to be useful.

Back inside the locker room Adrien detransformed.

The door banged open. Adrien flinched.

"What is the meaning of this transgression, Agreste!?" M. D'Argencourt demanded.

Heart pounding, Adrien fumbled over his words. "I-I can explain!"

"I should hope so! I will have to inform M. Agreste of this behavior." M. D'Argencourt informed him.

Blood drained from Adrien's face. "NO! Please M. D'Argencourt, don't tell Father!"

Eyes softening, M. D'Argencourt shook his head. "I am sorry, Adrien. A student disappearing under my guard and I knowing not where he vanished to? I cannot overlook this."

Cold. Adrien was cold and his mouth moved without words. He collapsed onto the bench behind him. Heart hammering in his ears as he imagined what Gabriel would do...

---------------

Startrain rocketed into space, Nadja Chamack reporting over the image of the akumatized train. For a moment Adrien merely stood there...

"Hey, kid." Plagg pointed at the container of transformation cheese. "We gotta go help."

"R-right!" Coming out of his head Adrien tossed the purple, potion-infused cheese into the air. "Plagg, powerup!"

Swallowing it in a single bite Plagg glowed as the potion took effect. "Astro Plagg!" Small, glowing wings appeared on his back and his fur was coated with small star-like points.

Opening his mouth to say the phrase Adrien... His throat closed... the words wouldn't come... They wouldn't-

Plagg placed a paw on Adrien's cheek. "C'mon kid, your friends need us."

Friends. His friends were on that train! Finding his voice Adrien set his shoulders. "Astro Plagg, transforme-moi!"

Flying was unlike anything he ever experienced. And Astro Chat was flying faster than anyone had ever gone! Sky darkening as he rose above the atmosphere. Startrain had a head start he needed-

Sunlight lit up the Earth, cloud cover obscuring far more of its surface than was usually shown in photos. It was so blue... so beautiful. Adrien remembered what astronauts said about looking at the Earth from above.

He'd heard. But he hadn't known.

Turning back towards the void Astro Chat zoomed after Startrain. It was already past the moon. The moon which Adrien saw as only a handful of people ever did.

There!

Startrain was slowing down? That made it easier to catch up! Astro Chat's heart raced with excitement, willing his wings to go faster. He was almost there! Just a little more and-

A great, glowing, green portal burst to life directly in Startrain's path. Chat caught a glimpse of Big Ben on the other side and then the train sped through. Portal closing behind it.

Leaving Adrien in the void. Of course. Of course Ladybug already beat the akuma. And if that portal was any indication she had help. He wasn't needed. Wasn't necessary.

His friends were on that train and he couldn't. Do! ANYTHING! He couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe! Everything was too big and too small! Infinity stretched forever in all directions and he was stuck inside this helmet! He wanted out! Wanted-

No. Focus.

As suddenly as his breath left him it came back. Adrien gasped and forced himself to breathe slowly... He couldn't stay here. There was nothing here.

Slowly, reluctantly, Adrien made his way back to Earth. Oh. Oh. He'd gone farther than he thought. Earth was a speck in the distance.

"A mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam."

Tiny. Insignificant. Precious. An oasis in a desert. The closer you are to something the uglier it looks. Adrien kicked the thought away. It was small and meaningless. If you looked too closely at anything you failed to see the whole picture.

Adrien wondered what the whole of his picture, his world, looked like...

[ltleflrt]

Hi! So i've been reading your fics for years, and just recently started following you on tumblr. You're great! And I was wondering if you possibly had any advice for someone trying to get through writing a large fic? I've just recently gotten back into writing, and what I thought would be a quick write has mutated into several chapters and feels a bit daunting. Even if you could just point me in a direction would be appreciated!

Hello!  Welcome to my messy corner of this hellsite(affectionate)!  Please don’t mind the stacks of reblogs, I promise I’m working on organizing them ;D

Getting back into writing is exciting news!  Taking breaks is supposedly good for the muse, but it’s not as fun as writing that’s for sure lol

It’s hard to give general advice without knowing what you’re struggling with specifically, but I can give you a rundown of my process.  It’s as messy as my blog because it’s something that just happens to me.  I suffer from longficitis and I’m ALWAYS surprised when I manage to write something quick and short.  The first fic I ever wrote was supposed to be a 1200 word one shot, and 2 months later was 78k, so uhhhhh.... oops? XD

Anyway!  I don’t plan shit, and I always think my stories are going to be short.  I am the very definition of a Pantser.  I write a little scene, and then I think “huh, I could expand on that”, rinse repeat.  This means I often write myself into corners, or into mysterious fogs that hide the future plot from me.  So at this point I whine.  Whining is VERY IMPORTANT.  It vents the frustration while also making me lay out what I’ve done so far and what I want to do and the options to get from here to there.  That’s a conversation I’m able to have without the whining component, but honestly the venting that comes with whining is cathartic and I wouldn’t give it up for anything.  Shoutout to @jupiterjames and @bendingsignpost for putting up with me when I get like this lol

And that brings me to the most important part of writing longfics (or writing in general, really).  Finding people you can talk it out with.  Someone you can bounce ideas off of, who can also be like “oh but you know what else you can do?” (because it’s not like I don't’ have a million plot bunnies breeding in my brain already, I must adopt those my friends offer me as well).  Now I know I make that sound simple, but it’s not.  Finding someone whose muse gets along with yours can take a while.  In the meantime though, find yourself a writing group.  Right now the writing group I like to work with is in the Profound Bond server’s writer cafe channel.  There’s always folks in there who will help me find the right word, help me rephrase a sentence I’m stuck on, encourage me, and talk out fic ideas with.  Sometimes I end up DMing someone and we chat it out privately.  And they’re WONDERFUL cheerleaders.  Sometimes it’s fun to just go in there and see if anyone wants to do a writing sprint, and see how many words can happen in the next 15 minutes.  You can find more info about them @profoundnet. 

Lets see, what else...?

Schedule writing times.  I write 1 hour a day, but not always all at once.  Sometimes it’s 15 minutes here, 30 minutes there, sometimes I manage to do it all in one sitting.  But I try to do it around the same time every day so I can get in the mindset for it.

Track your words.  It’s FUN and encouraging.  Don’t look at low wordcounts as a failure, ever.  Every number is a good number, because they all mean progress.

Keep notes of ideas about the story. It doesn’t have to be an outline, it can be messy and unorganized, just make sure it’s written down where you can find it.  Revisit the notes file whenever you’re in the mood to be creative, but not in the mood to make words happen.

Don’t be afraid to drop plot points if you feel like you can’t fit them in.  You might be able to use them somewhere else, either later in the story or in a whole different story.  Your favorite plot ideas will be better served in the right story that fits them, rather than forcing them to fit into a story that is wrong for them.

Try not to let the word count intimidate you.  Even after all the 100k+ fics I’ve written, I still look at my stories at the beginning and think “oh gods what have I gotten myself into?” and that could easily discourage me or anyone.  Just keep writing, you’ll get there eventually.

Some people like to write the exciting scenes first and then fill in the spaces.  Some people like to use the exciting scenes as their carrot on the stick to keep them chugging along.  I’m in the latter group.  Figure out which one works for you, and use it as a motivational tool.

Feel free to skip scenes you’re stuck on!  You can always come back to it later.  Heck, you might even figure out a way to skip it altogether and streamline the story.  Or by writing what comes after, you’ll figure out what kept you stuck on the skipped scene and now you’ve got your solution.  Longfics never need to be written in order.  (I mean, I usually write them that way, but I think I’m kind of an exception to that?  I dunno, we’re all different, and that’s neat!)

Anyway, I don’t know if any of this is new or exciting advice, but I hope it helps.  Good luck, friend!

[greycappedjester]

Hi I'm so sorry I'm just too shy to ask this on ao3 but I was wondering: how is Slade's relationship with Dick? I don't mind them as a ship in general but in the story sometimes I feel like Slade gets too close to Dick and I thought if there was something platonic on his side? I'm sure you wouldn't do that in the story that's why I'm asking if it's only on Slade's side. Sorry if this is a stupid question lol. Maybe it's just because I've read sl/adedick fics before. ^^D

Nah, I’ve actually been waiting for someone to ask about that. So....it’s complicated and will take awhile to explain so I’m putting it under a Read More before I get too long winded with my character headcanons:

This is going to get soooooo long, lol, so feel free to skim. Warning for Gotham in general and Gotham being naturally a bad place for kid vigilantes to grow up in. Also because this explanation gets somewhat dark in character interpretation....

Bonus short story at the end after a really long post.

-------

Alright, so first, I feel like I should mention again that I never watched the Teen Titans animated show past maybe the first two episodes and the movie my friends wanted me to watch that I don’t really remember. (I meant to watch that show, just never got around to it). I say this because I heard that the Teen Titans TV show portrayed the Dick and Deathstroke relationship much differently in a way that’s cool and fine but not something I can see myself really wanting to write about. I know their relationship more from comics where Dick was already an adult (albeit a young adult) when he first met Slade. 

So. Back to my After the Fall of Olympus universe and yeah, I’m slowly getting to my answer. The thing is....the story is entirely in Dick’s POV right now.

And Dick’s absolutely terrible at reading and picking up any form of affection others have for him. He understands it abstractly (he knows people care) but when assessing, he critically underestimates it if he remembers to account for it at all. This goes even worse with people he’s closer to--which is why it took him forever to realize why Jason actually did want to stay with him at the manor and why he still has no idea Barbara is in love with him. Even Kory who was really, really direct about liking him, it took him years to fully emotionally process and respond to that. He’s getting better...but remembering his own value (in others eyes) isn’t something he’s overwhelming good at doing.

My headcanon, he is abnormally good at reading people and picking up basic sexual attraction. He’s good at telling when he’s being flirted with or when people are attracted to him and, honestly, Dick’s charismatic and instinctively a flirt, too.With that, partly from growing up in Gotham with its weird and supremely dark villains, I think Dick very much divorces the two concepts of romantic attraction and sexual flirting in his mind--he’s aware they can go together, obviously with Kory--but he doesn’t naturally pair them as other people probably would. It’s also part of why he just doesn’t get the level of concern Tim has about Catalina.

Okay, back to my point.

The way I write Slade and Dick’s relationship is actually mostly done off screen. But, I think Slade started with approval of Dick’s skills and potential in a clinical/objective view, growing respect and interest (personal but not at all romantic) in him as a person, and much more recently in the story (as in that last conversation he had in Ch. 18), I think Slade realized he has some legitimate attraction and cares a lot about Dick in a way that’s probably romantic.

Slade also is very, very aware immediately that he’s not going to do anything with that and, in a way, doesn’t want to because Dick ever responding to that would be jeopardizing his relationship with his family, his team, his view of his morals (which are so integral to Dick) in a way that would be exceptionally out of character and concerning coming from Dick. In other words, something happening would be a lot more terrifying than nothing happening and Slade cares.

For Dick, it’s a lot more simple. He does not have any romantic feelings there. He does in a somewhat analytical, unconscious way recognize that Slade’s probably attracted to him (probably before Slade noticed honestly) but he’s....well, kind of used to that at some level. More so, Dick doesn’t connect it to emotional care and--like with everyone else--vastly underestimates that Slade does care about him in a way that’s actually pretty selfless for a mercenary. For a romance, your guess is absolutely right, it’s not going to go anywhere in this series but I wanted the undertones and implications to be there in the final third of the story

....But, that’s also more of a later/recent development in that relationship. For most of the story that’s posted so far, Slade sees his relationship with Dick as a lot of respect and even care but not as romantic in any way. I can promise no romantic undertones at all until Dick was already in his 20s because I really, really am not interested in writing underage. (for those curious about Slade’s age in the story, I think of him as mid-20s in his introduction in Year 3 and pretty early 30s here to Dick’s early 20s)

Above everything, they respect each other and would be almost friends if that were possible.

The team and his family doesn’t know any of this.

Anyway, that was long, so here’s a bonus short story from Slade’s view. I write a lot of After the Fall of Olympus short stories in other charcter’s views that I’m not planning on posting until After the Fall of Olympus.

This one’s between Year 5 and 6 and is titled “October 7th”:

-------

It’s October 7th, almost two in the morning, and Slade’s camped out in a somehow still standing bombed out apartment in a no-name village in the middle of a war-torn country.

He’s not exactly expecting visitors.

There’s a knock on the apartment door.

Slade cocks his gun and puts two rounds in the door before, for good measure, adding matching ones on either side of the frame.

He has two seconds to let himself pretend that’s the end of it before the door knob turns to the unmistakable sound of a skilled lock pick. 

Fuck, he’s too tired for this shit today. 

“Geeze, Slade, what if I’d been an innocent civilian?”

Slade’s hand stills on the gun in surprise then consideration before slowly slipping it back into the holster. 

“Kid,” he greets. “There’s no innocent civilians left around here. ‘Specially ones that can make it to my door without me hearing any footsteps.”

“I’ve been working on that.” Dick says, walking into the apartment. He isn’t even wearing his uniform, just plain black military style clothes with the lower half of his face covered by a piece of cloth. He pushes it down and smiles as he presses the door shut behind him. “You did tell me to get better, after all.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have,” he mutters without much heat. “You getting better almost left me out of a job.”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Please, as if both of us don’t know Luthor could’ve gotten out of those charges in months. If the Light didn’t erase them for him, anyway.”

Slade shrugs. Maybe another time, he’d find the energy to banter back. But not today. Never today.

“Why are you here, Dick? How’d you find me?”

The smile slides off of Dick’s face, leaving behind those far too heavy eyes to belong to an eighteen year old.

“You know I have your file, Slade.” Dick clears his throat. “I know what day it is.”

….Fuck.

It’s not like he expected anything else. Not since the moment he saw the kid. But, still...he doesn’t want to deal with this. Doesn’t want to deal with anything. Today, he just wants to crawl back into the worst, most deserted corner of the world he can find until the hours creep passed and he can find the energy to move.

Instead, he glares. “Good for you. Now get the fuck out, kid.”

Dick grimaces but shakes his head. “Not until you answer a question for me.”

Slade groans and, for a handful of seconds, honestly contemplates just killing him, considers it in a way that he hasn’t since before he even met the kid, back when he was first handed a file by a practically no name organization called H.I.V.E.

He’d regret it later. Sure. He has too much he wants to see out of the kid to kill him in a shitty, dusty apartment. But, that regret would come later. Later, once this day had finally passed.

That alone is almost enough to have him reaching for his gun. Almost

“Grayson,” he finally grounds out, “if you know what day it is, you know I’m not exactly inclined to play our game of hero and villain right now. You want information, find someone else.”

“Good, I’m not here to play either. Only problem is I can’t ask anyone else, you're the only one who knows the answer.” Dick lowers himself to sit on the floor across from him, like a particularly stupid mouse in front of a viper.

And then, he looks up and his eyes are too steady to belong to prey.

“Here’s the question: Do you really want to be alone today, Slade?”

The breath catches in Slade’s`lungs, harsher than if the kid had just punched him.

He pushes the reaction down, already knowing it’s too late, and says in the steadiest voice he can manage, “Yes.”

Dick stares at him, unmoving. “I don’t believe you.”

The air around them is too tight, too burning, and Slade’s being pushed down under it to suffocate. 

He can’t fight it, so he takes it and pushes it back into anger. “The fuck, kid! What do you know?  You said you have my file, yeah? How long have you had it? Because I’m betting you’ve had it since we first met!” He lunges forward. “So, why are you here now, Dick? What makes this year so special? What’s made you decide to pretend to care now? Because whatever it is, kid, I can promise you, I’m not worth it. So, leave!”

By the end, he’s gripping Dick’s shirt, pulling it tighter until the collar has to be digging painfully into his neck. 

Dick doesn’t look away. “No.”

Slade doesn’t look away either. “You know I really think I might kill you right now.”

“You won’t.”

 One of Slade’s hands moves until it’s pressing into the kid’s neck. A single sharp twist and he could snap it. “So sure?”

Dick nods.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I brought your favorite whiskey.”

A brown bag is pressed into Slade’s ribs and the man feels something rising in his chest that could possibly be laughter if it was some other time.

He drops the kid.

He takes the bag.

“Pretty sure heroes aren’t supposed to be contributing to alcoholism, kid.” He gestures to a half empty bottle of much cheaper stuff beside him.

Dick coughs, rubbing at his throat. “Please. With your metahuman metabolism, I bet you can barely feel it for an hour.”

“Depends how much I drink,” Slade counters, eyeing the bottle. “How’d you know my favorite?”

Dick shrugs. “Gotta keep some secrets to myself.”

He fishes out a spare shot glass from somewhere in the black folds of his outfit and pours a small glass for himself. 

Slade raises an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, you’re still 18, kid.”

Dick gives him an incredulous look in return. “Last time I checked, this place doesn’t have a drinking age...or a government, actually.”

Slade hums, amused, using a larger glass for himself. “True, but thought you’d be following the laws of your own birth city a little closer, hero. Gotham’s still at 21...on the record at least.”

“Technically, Gotham’s not my birth city.” Dick snorts and takes the shot. 

Slade tilts his head. “Where were you born?”

Dick pauses, thinking, before offering a sheepish smile. “You know….I actually have no idea. Somewhere in Europe, probably? I came early, the circus was still on tour. One of the lion tamers helped deliver me, used to be a doctor.”

“Always a surprise, kid,” Slade shakes his head, draining his glass. Tasting it in his mouth and pretending it’s enough to wash away the ash.

The next words come before he can stop them.  “...Adeline always wanted two kids.”

Dick goes quiet.

“Of course,” Slade says to his glass and fuck it, just fuck it,  “turns out we didn’t even get the one. Turns out I didn’t get either my wife or my son.”

Fuck, he hates October 7th.

He reaches for the whiskey, ignoring how his hand shakes. “Addy was a soldier, you know? A good one. Of all the stupid fucking ways she could go, I never thought it’d be childbirth. Maybe I should have. Always knew I’d kill her somehow.”

“You didn’t kill her, Slade,” Dick says softly.

“Sure. Whatever,” he agrees, too tired to argue. It’s not as if he hasn’t heard every variation sometime or another. It’s just right now, he can’t quite bring himself to debate about the cause when the end of it’s always going to be the same.

Dick drops the subject and the relief that Slade feels  is immense enough that it’s close to gratitude.

“What was your son’s name?”

“Grant. We were going to name him Grant.” He takes another sip. “If we had another one, we were going to name him Joseph. Or Rose for a girl.”

“Those are good names.”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

Slade doesn’t answer, looking up to eye the kid over his drink. Dick sees it, holding up his own glass in acknowledgement before knocking it back.

“Why are you here, kid,” Slade asks again. “We’re not friends, pretty far fucking from it last time I checked.”

“I’ve got my reasons,” he answers calmly.

“If you’re here to make your usual sales pitch about the virtues of heroism, I really will kill you. Whiskey or not.”

Dick shakes his head. “....is it so hard to believe I just didn’t think you should be alone?”

Slade thinks his skepticism is loud enough without him needing the words.

The look Dick gives him is steady in return. “Think what you want to, Slade, I know what grief feels like. It’s a poison. It’ll kill you unless you find a way to drain it.” 

Dick looks down at his own glass and Slade gets the feeling the kid’s no longer talking about just Slade. It’s still a tossup whether he means himself or the Bat.

Either way, Slade makes sure his next smirk is particularly pointed. “And, look at you. Tracking me all the way down here to try and save my tortured soul. Such a hero.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dick says with an eye roll, pouring himself another drink

Slade cocks his head. “Speaking of, don’t all the good little heroes have school right about now.”

Dick looks up, almost sheepish. “I’m ditching my classes. Don’t tell my brothers, I’m still trying to be a good influence.”

Slade snorts and takes a particularly long swig.

A good influence. As if a single one of his stupid, fucking team doesn’t think the fricking sun shines out of the kid’s ass.

Fuck. What is Slade even doing? Sitting in a run down apartment in the middle of a warzone drinking whiskey with a too trusting kid a decade younger and that he probably should have killed years ago.

But, then, it’s always been exceedingly difficult for him to do what he should---what’s the sane and logical thing--when it comes to Dick Grayson. And, one day--when he doesn’t have the burn of booze sitting in his gut and his chest doesn’t ache like he’s been shot--Slade’s going to take a hard look at why that is.

For now, he’ll just leave it like he usually does. The kid’s too interesting to die yet. 

Dick eyes his shot glass, contemplatively. “This whiskey’s way too overpriced, Slade. It’s practically aged vodka.”

Slade finishes his off steadily. “Shows you have little taste, Grayson.”

Dick laughs and slides the bottle over. “I brought another one anyway.”

....Far, far too interesting.