#and i need to write a new HH chapter

[pecanwriter]

I firmly believe that being able to both somewhat write and somewhat draw is the greatest curse that could be bestowed upon someone. I just. Make dudes in my head. All the time. I literally didn't even go to the grocery store this weekend, didn't step outside ONCE bc I was too busy making little chubby dudes kiss-------

[im-so-tired52]

Im back!!

So things have slowed down! So I’ll try to write the second chapter of ‘His Favorite Alibi’ either tonight or over the weekend! Expect it sometime between Friday 4/19 and Monday 4/22! Also my birthday is sometime in the last week of April (not comfortable saying when) and since I love writing and drawing, I’m going to be posting a drawing of all characters that will be involved in my AU fanfic (including ones yet to be shown ^^) sometime then! It’s a sketch currently and I’m not sure if it’s better colored or not. May post one earlier and the other on my birthday with a bonus character from HH in human form that you guys vote for to draw and possibly incorporate into the story! Going to post the WIP bellow. I’m not super happy with my Alastor and Vox. Deffo could have done better so I’m going to put a lot more time into this one!

I don’t know how I would make Lucifer and Charlie work. Like they still need to be themselves and they don’t have past lives. Maybe like characters loosely based off their personalities? Or maybe they just like hiding on earth idk. If you vote those please explain how you think they would be there…

(Ima vote for Tom trench so I can monitor the results+ I don’t think many people will pick him. Please don’t pick him just because of this comment)

Asks are open for ideas! I’m willing to alter my story based on my audience! Although I will decide if I like it or not of course

Ok here is the WIP!

I think I’m going to add in Rosie because yes. She’s gonna be Annie’s cool auntie

Tag list:

@greencurlyhair

@azzie333

[heavyhighlandheart]

Hawkins Hellraiser Pt.1

My first fic writing in yeaaaars, any comments welcome!! 

Chapter One: The Class

Summary: You're the new outcast at HH and Eddie is obsessed. Enemies to friends to lovers.

Warnings: swearing, use of the words freak, slut and bitch.

Pairing: Reader not gendered but hinted at female. 

w/c: 1.2k

“Fucking shithole,” you say to yourself, looking at the entrance to Hawkins High. The tiger banners hung proudly and you scoffed, another jock-ridden swamp. Your headphones hung around your neck, attached to the Walkman in your bag, scuffed up from you dropping it so many times and taped up at the edges to keep it shut. You know you could just buy another, but as long as it plays your cassettes, it still fucking works. 

You put your headphones back in their place amongst your mess of curly hair, styled with Stevie Nicks and Joey Ramone in mind, but there wasn’t much you could do to tame it. Your fringe hung just above your lashes, where you wore a thin slip of eyeliner and a touch of mascara, nothing too fancy, and you couldn’t be bothered with anything else. Your headphones tugged on your collection of ear piercings, drawing a slight grimace to your mouth. Pressing play, the bouncy intro of Dreams by Fleetwood Mac began, one of the only songs that could ease your anxious mind and racing heart. This whole cassette, in fact, was one of your own making, a compilation of your favourites. Ms O’Donnell’s was your first class of the day, according to the schedule stuffed in your pocket. “Get in, get out,” you think to yourself. Just a few more months of this and you’re finished with school and free to do whatever you please. “I just need to graduate”. 

All eyes are on you as you walk down the corridor. Your music is too loud to hear their whispers, but you can read their lips, “freak”, “slut”, “bitch”, sometimes in the same sentence. You’d heard it all before and the words passed right over you, in a way it had become empowering. You liked being the outcast because you knew nobody would come near you, and therefore nobody could hurt you. The chains hanging from your belt clinked against your hips, your black jeans hugging your legs in all the right places. Your black Docs were worn in places. They were at least twenty years old now, but still had life in them. They were the only gift your father ever gave you, even if they were hand-me-downs. You wore a ripped black vest, the faint outline of The Who’s logo still clinging to the torn fabric and threatening to show more skin than school would allow. Your blue denim jacket was your staple, you wore it with everything. The sleeves had been haphazardly cut off with kitchen scissors, a brass button was missing and the collar was about as straight as the curls on your head. A Metallica patch took centre stage on the back of your jacket. Ride the Lightning had been released a couple of years before, and you’d had it on repeat for months following. Smaller patches covered the front of the jacket, Thin Lizzy, Whitesnake, Fleetwood Mac, Blondie. Your taste was a tad eclectic, you could handle the pop they played on the radio but rock was your muse, and heavy metal had you in a chokehold. 

Walking into the classroom, you find that most seats are already taken. You pull your headphones down around your neck before reaching into your bag and pressing pause on the Walkman. “Hey, another freak!” a jumped-up basketball jock shouts from the back of the room. You shoot daggers at the overly-pretty blue eyes and flip him off while taking an empty seat in the middle of the room. 

Eddie couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Never had he seen someone who was so much like him, and yet so different, especially in Hawkins. You could feel eyes on you, but assumed it was just everyone staring and not just one person. You’d missed him as you walked in. He sat at the back of the classroom in the far corner, on a come-down from last night’s high and feeling a little groggy. He was leaning back on his chair and drumming on the desk with a pencil he’d found on the floor, of course he never brought his own. He dropped it when he saw you, which startled him and seemed to wake him up. He now leaned forward over his desk, arms falling over the edge, and then leaning on his elbows and then messing up his hair. He didn’t know how to hold himself. 

“Mr Munson, do you need something?” Ms O’Donnell asked. “Uh no, I’m good,” Eddie replied sheepishly, “just uh- can’t wait to get started with class, of course”. Ms O’Donnell shook her head and turned to write on the blackboard. You smirked as you got out your textbook and notepad, discreetly chewing a sweet, apple-flavoured gum. 

It wasn’t long before class was over, and you only had three spitballs in your hair, courtesy of the boneheads in basketball garb. You brush them out as you leave the room, a common gift received at every school you’ve been to. You’ve only got five minutes to get to your next class and you hate being late, so you pick up your pace as you enter the corridor. You hear the shuffling and squeaking of shoes on the floor behind you. 

“Hey! - Hey, wait!” 

Eddie catches up to your side, you glance at him briefly then continue to stare straight ahead, on a mission to get to your next class. 

“So uh- you like Metallica?” You don’t respond, you’re just here to get in and get out. “I’ve seen them live three times, they’re so fffucking sick. Have you heard the new album yet? It’s only been out like a couple of weeks but it’s so awesome. I’ve already learned Master of Puppets and, it’s well- it’s uh- not perfect but like- it’s just got this awesome fucking riff that goes like th-”

You whip around, hand on Eddie’s chest, pushing him into the nearest lockers with a hard thud, startling other passing students who start to scurry away. Your Docs add an extra couple of inches to your height, making you tower over Eddie as he’s slumped against the cold metal. 

“Listen, Munson- I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to do my shit and get out, okay?” Eddie was paralysed, his mouth open but making no sound, the smell of sweet apple on your lips making his stomach flutter. He looked down at your hand gripping his shirt and gulped, his mouth suddenly felt dry. “You keep to yourself, and I’ll keep to myself, got it?” Eddie nodded desperately, his lips now closed, “mm-hmm”, he agreed.

You felt powerful standing over him like this, it was a new feeling, a good feeling. You released your grip and Eddie slid from the lockers, catching his balance. You kept your stare on his big, brown eyes; they looked so innocent, it tugged on your heart a little. You walked away, headphones back on, pressing play on the Walkman, Creeping Death coming in fast. Eddie watched you leave, looking you up and down. He scoffed, running his hands through his own curls. Laughing to himself he playfully punched a nearby locker, sending a rumble along the wall. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Blondie.” 

[hazbinextgeneration]

Safe Haven’s Angel Book2 Ch4 End

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. Like the last chapter this'll just be my Alternate HH/ZP ocs until I figure out what to do with them further or until Hazbin Hotel comes out.)

-Maggie:

Maggie still helps her mother and her Aunt Charlie run the hotel and eventually does start dating Charles despite he likes to annoy her many, many...MANY times.

-Nightshade:

He's in a much better place now having cutting all ties with his mother and her gang after his father eventually divorced her and cut contact with the rest of their family and getting back with his old flame Tyco. He's a lot happier with his older sister and step father around and working on self improving himself.

-Buttercream:

Happily working in the hotel with her mother Nifty and working with her in the kitchen. Also may or may not have made her feelings known to Gossamer who also may or may not have become flustered at her antics.

-Mitzy:

Although her dream of stardom never took off she's making a very good living for herself by opening a successful dance club and bar.

-Charles:

Has followed in his father's footsteps of becoming a tyrant even if his mother and girlfriend disagrees with it, but it makes his grandparents and father proud of him. Still also his annoying self and loves to tease the ever loving hell out of Maggie still.

-Howl:

Has made his father proud and became the successor to his mother's place as Castello's body guard.

-Gossamer:

Like Maggie he helps his mother and Miss Charlie run the hotel and despises his father for being a demon hunter although he doesn't wish to ever meet or run into Fitch as well. May or may not have developed feelings for Buttercream to the annoyance of her overprotective father.

-Jaluna and Mango:

Jaluna joined her mother and younger half sister in conquering more terf and becoming powerful overlord quartet. her half sister being the pyromaniac she is takes delight in blowing things up and gaining more power.

-Thomas:

Thomas is living a normal life with his parents working and helping around his father in the studios making sure to stay FAR away from Katy Killjoy.

-Alejandro:

Enjoys his days terrorizing and becoming his Uncle Castello's successor to most of his family's pride except for his Uncle Angel and Two cousins. Even though he misses the freedom he had before becoming his Uncle's successor, he's trying his best to make to make his family proud of him.

-Valentine:

She's very happy with both her father and little baby brother she spoils rotten to death. Going on to become a very famous actress and performer for her father's Hell Movie career and met has actually started dating Mitzy and testing the waters. So far their relationship is going pretty well.

-Lance:

With his father being a famous director and his mother a famous singer it's only natural he would go on to also take those traits, becoming another E District top singer and performer making both his parents proud of him.

-Turquoise:

Turk has followed the footsteps of both his parents and love of performing and with help from his favorite teachers (Alonzo and Jackie) decides to take up teaching and becoming the new Drama Teacher at Z.P.A taking over for Jackie once she retires.

-Guinevere:

Still enjoys staying in heaven and using her abilities to heal those who needs it most.

[rauhauser]

Time In A (Klein) Bottle

Starting in 2010 I’ve had fairly regular trouble with right wing hate groups. The most distressing lesson in this was discovering the cozy relationship between neo-Confederates and law enforcement. I keep records on what I do in the same fashion a lawyer would take contemperaneous notes while dealing with a sketchy client. This stuff gets backed up off site and I have a longtime friend who holds an air gapped copy.

That’s the set of events, 2174 of them, during the time I’ve been working on my new project. Almost nothing in there has anything to do with the new material, this is evidence, occasionally civil or criminal for someone else, but mostly exculpatory for me. Those files have at least a YYYY-MM-DD date stamp and a small percentage have YYYY-MM-DD-HH-SS. I used a little awk script to stamp the file modification times based on their names, and then The Timeline Project can ingest the whole directory.

There are a couple other tools with temporal capabilities in my kit.

Elasticsearch started life as a machine data indexing system – for handling consolidated logs of all systems in a data center. It’s grown from there into many areas, and for me it’s been a way to handle large volumes of Twitter data. That all came to a screeching halt back in April, but the historic material lingers. This historic image is the creation date histogram for Elon Musk’s new followers, from the purchase through the end of my API access.

One of my tasks this month is getting temporal data in and out of Sentinel Visualizer, as I described in Conversion Therapy. This is a law enforcement/intel grade link analysis system. I guess I could put my timeline material in there, but I’m much more interested in date/time data that has coordinates. I want to fully exercise its geospatial and temporal capabilities.

There are couple telemetry things I have going around the house. The only one that presents a nice visual output is Fitbit's sleep monitor.

The combination of contemporaneous notes with a sleep monitor are a sledge hammer that will be employed if I face another malicious prosecution attempt.

So that’s work,health, and the side effects thereof; what about the project?

Here’s some time related mood music.

I tried feeding the lyrics pages to the IBM Watson named entity recognition transform in Maltego but none of the top three sites worked. Wikipedia was the only thing that coughed up some names, and this is messy and poor quality.

Wikipedia has a marvelous resource in this area in its 239 pages of band member timelines. That happens to be the members of southern rock titans Lynyrd Skynyrd, one of a number of bands in that genre who've been touched by tragedy.

There are some things in this world that literally are best left to Philomena Cunk ...

Or to a series of related Gallifreyan adventurers.

The point here is that you are probably not going to be able to find a TARDIS in a timely fashion, even if you could afford one. You will need to "tool up" to follow things. You'll need a way to handle discrete events, things that happen over periods of time and ... for the brass ring ... the ability to handle fuzzy time. Things that happened no sooner than or no later than become vital to understand complex flows of events.

I've suggested The Timeline Project and mentioned one other tool, Sentinel Visualizer, that I use, but which would be a frightful expense for someone just following along for fun. The other way to come at this is not intuitive for investigators, but don't laugh ... at novel writing software.

You will encounter people, places, and things - all of which can be modeled as characters. There will be various vignettes - scenes and chapters. You might not have a full understanding of how to order events, but the Snowflake Method applies to sense-making as much as it does to writing fiction.

[endless-whump]

Genuine question do I have too many stories/characters because I feel like I do and now I have like 3 new character/story ideas and I think my brain needs to be confiscated from me :sobs:

[fooltofancy]

Best IF blogs to follow? Either sexy WIPs or just people posting about them generally.

before i actually answer this i need you to know i have like 54 tabs open in my phone right now and every single one of them that isn't the tab i do browsing in is an if.

THAT SAID, apart from @interact-if i don't think i follow any blogs that are specifically geared toward interactive fiction, but that's a great place to start!

without further rambling ado, some recs -

the porthecrawl witness by @porthecrawl-witness - we love us some time shenanigans in insular little towns, tbh. real melancholy undertones but without feeling abject or unhopeful? dig it.

diaspora by @diasporatheblog - genuinely stressful political intrigue couched in impeccable worldbuilding and some of the warmest characters and relationships i've encountered in IF? just. love the hell out of diaspora. also long. if you want to spend a solid Many Hours just basking in a well-developed world, diaspora is for you.

the golden rose by @anathemafiction - i am SO jazzed for the golden rose to come out my dudes i don't even have words. just like, the most charming experience. anachronistic history, i guess? can't wait to learn more about this world.

wayfarer by @idrellegames - the variation in this game? so much fun to explore, so many aspects of character development. fuckin love it. i have a lot of emotions and it's only been like.... half of a chapter.

speaker by @speakergame - desperate seer vibes, loving but exasperating family vibes, found extra family vibes???? love everything about speaker.

bad ritual by @heart-forge - do love a story the premise for which is just sort of a series of "aw, fuck"s and what you're gonna do about 'em. bonus giant, extremely loveable demons. shoutout also to manor hill and hybrid, both super cool projects.

virtue's end by @crimsiswrites - undergoing rewrites atm, and i'm full of excite. have determined that slightly baffled and full of monster is my new favorite character dynamic.

lost birds by @if-lostbirds - very brief demo at the moment, but holy shit the desolate vibes.

the remainder by @the-remainder - art and vibes IMPECCABLE. big old questions of identity and self via some ill-timed (self-inflicted?) amnesia.

body count by @bodycountgame - realtalk i wasn't super interested in this concept when it first came across my recs, but oh my god, dudes. the characters and writing are so endearing and i can't wait to see where it goes even though it's gonna hurt.

when it hungers by @roast-ifs - i have a thing for characters rebuilding life around trauma and lost memories, if that wasn't like. glaringly and painfully obvious. BIG THAT, here.

OFNA: birds of a feather by @ofna - i just really, really like birds. and liars.

project hadea by @nyehilismwriting - obviously i have been failing to summarize anything about any of these games, but i WILL say that any chance to play an idiot determined only to have their ass handed to them before the story really starts, i will take. project hadea def let me fulfill that impulse. sentinel is also so, so worth it.

larkin by @larkin-if - cowboys and vampires. 'nuff said.

faith of gods by @faithofgods - haven't had time to play through all of the recent update so i have NO idea what's going on, but u know what. character interactions are choice. and also fraught with unease.

blood moon by @barbwritesstuff - i love these werewolves. every single goddamn one of them. ALSO could not love the full moon updates more, like what a thing.

the northern passage by @northern-passage - i am so fucking enamored of these characters and this story, dude. the writing is gorgeous and i feel Very Many Both Painful and Wonderful Things about it that i don't really have the brain to express, but hh. tnp my beloved.

the nameless by @parkerlyn - LADS, this worldbuilding. the sheevra are a very cool play on fae tropes and mythos and i am here for it.

mind blind by @mindblindbard - did i mention i'm mildly obsessed with guilt and the process of overcoming that hugely traumatic thing, because i AM and i was NOT expecting that to be such an intense theme in this slice-of-life (trauma included) romp through psych-powered chicago. you're allowed to not play as an idiot, too, which is okay i guess.

event horizon by @if-eventhorizon - there are some very intense and difficult themes happening in this wip straight out of the gate on some paths (memory loss, loss of self, lots of trauma processing in a space NOT made for the processing of trauma), but i'm impressed with how they're handled and also already woefully attached to thirteen, to the surprise of no one.

[onecanonlife]

mx angelsdemonsducks i just want to pop in here to tell you thank you for writing thank you for putting your fics out there thank you because heres a list of things i Feel about your fics dude youve inspired me SO MUCH all throughout 2021, starting from:

a) CAREFUL SON ive read and reread this fic so very much it sits at the very top of my most visited fics in ao3 wrapped at 126 and god you have no idea how much this fic . gets to me . it has me in a vice grip its killed me dozens of times before and then its ending gives me a smooch on the head and i come crawling back to it dude. holy shit. chapters 7 (WAA) and 11 (THE FUCK MAN) and then 15 (OH GOD CHAPTER FIFTEEN) and 20 (A

b) THERE WILL BE NO SUCH ENDINGS do you have ANY IDEA how much i love time travel stories and how horribly barren the canon adjacent time travel scene is . Mwah incredible this fic slaps so hard i adore the mystery i adore tommys comedically traumatic past this is the shit and seeing dream in his early stages of villainy is … So Eerie /pos i love it so much holy shit.

c) SILVER LININGS dude . Dude. This one made me ugly cry it has every trope i adore . Dude . Wilbur almost dying thinking hes hated . Wilbur being soft for a child and being a Good Father Figure. Dude. Wilburs very casual self hatred and suicide ideation. Crimeboys. Fundy soot. Holy fucking shit. Apocalypse story. Wilbur whump (we also have a horrifying shortage of this). I was ugly crying when he started hallucinating about fundy and i couldnt stop all the way to the end holy shit youve Got me every story involving the egg plot you write just. Hits different. I fucking adore it

d) FOR THINE IS THE KINGDOM MX ANGELSDEMONSDUCKS THIS FUCKINF FIC HAS BROKEN ME your descriptions of wilburs plight and his Pogtopia Senses destroy me oh my god the running motif about dust and stone and teeth and eyes dude i go nutty i lose my little mind dude holy shit im BEGGING this man to tell somebody dude the foolish scene dude the ghostbur scene dude the revival scene dude the tommy dude th (i am carted away kicking and screaming)

e) EVEN CHILDREN GET OLDER i will be sending you a cease and desist letter (/j) i need monetary compensation for the absolute emotional devastation youve given me holy SHIT this one i can just SEE this one being canon you got their voices and their mannerisms so perfectly down and oh hh h h the “do you prefer ghostbur” talk and the “im not what you want” i will be screaming and crying and wailing for the foreseeable future

f) HOLD ON ONE MORE TIME jesus fuck. Jesus fuck. /pos. List of things that arent okay: THIS. (/j) dude the way you write wilburs fucking relationships ohh h h h h i am No Okay ohhhh rainduo and quirkyduo and crimeboys and fundy soot and Jack Manifold (also known as Thunder1408) (JackManifoldTV) dude. The fucking letters DONT you DARE do that again /j i am in SHAMBLES

mx cat onecanonlife angelsdemonsducks once again i just . I love your fics to no end and i could harp my praises for you forever youre one of the people that inspired me to write and to create and that STILL inspires me to write and to create i just . (Shakes you) . thank you for writing thank you for putting out these gorgeous works holy shit thank you for a sick 2021 in fic. happy new years mx cat i hope 2022 will be just as, if not More kickass for you <3

khio you are going to make me cry look at me i am sobbing there are tears on my keyboard look at what you have done wtf /pos

i don’t even have anything coherent to say i’m just. happy stimming. hands are going brrrrrrrr and bruh you. literally i cried multiple times reading ywc your stuff is so fuckgin good like wth you have inspired me (uno reverse card.png)

you are literally so cool and i hope your 2022 is absolutely amazing

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 7

look at me smashing out chapter 7 ahead of schedule !! but I’m gonna reiterate again that uni is starting up, so updates may begin to slow down. with that said, please enjoy!

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk (just ask if you want to be tagged!)

CW: pet whump, general violence, mentions of self-harm (but not actual), dehumanisation

-

And then Kasia would come again. He seemed to always know when Master was out of the house. It was no different today.

"Hello, pet," Kasia said. Rowe didn’t look up, instead sliding silently to his knees. Kasia had him well taught already. "You may speak, this time."

"Thank you, sir." Rowe’s stomach felt hollow with fright. Every time Kasia appeared he was unprepared. He always seemed to arrive just as Rowe had started feeling calm. Maybe even settled. But the minute he heard that voice he felt like he’d just been caught doing something awful. And this was all so wrong! This wasn’t his Master; he shouldn’t be grovelling like this. He was Master Tomas’s property. It went against all of Rowe’s training to let Kasia treat him like his Pet.

But… what could he do?

The gentle rattle of metal brought Rowe back. He mechanically pulled his t-shirt off and didn’t resist as Kasia put the handcuffs on, securing his hands in front of him, hanging between his hip bones.

"Tight enough?"

This was a game. Rowe could win this one. Kasia played it every time. "No, sir. Not yet." He gritted his teeth as the cuffs ground deeper into his wrists, hissing quietly, but it was certainly better than making Kasia angry.

"How are things going with Tomas? Are you being good for him?"

This was a game Rowe couldn’t win. "I- I am b-being good."

"Mm?"

"I’m being good," he said, clearer. "H-he’s gone out for grocer-"

A smack on the head made his thoughts whirl. "He?"

"M-master! Master To-omas, Master Tomas h-as gone out for groceries."

Another smack. "Stop panicking. You’re so damn annoying. And yeah, I know. He told me he always goes the same time each week so you won’t freak out so much. So lucky for you, he hasn’t twigged that it’s not him leaving that gets you messed up, so much as it’s me coming over. But-"

Kasia grabbed Rowe’s chin and hauled him to his feet. "You’re still giving him trouble. All your trembles and flinches and-" He flung a hand at Rowe’s face, stopping a hair’s breadth from his healing nose. Rowe couldn’t help but jerk away with a gasp. "-all that. So you see? You’re not being good. You’re being a fucking pain."

"I’m s-sorry-"

"No you’re not," Kasia said, matter-of-factly. "But you will be."

-

The knife trailed casually along Rowe’s collarbone. Tiny threads of blood ran down his chest, which was rising and falling normally. His back was perfectly straight against the chair.

"That’s good. Stay nice and calm for me."

"Yes, sir."

"Tomas needs a Pet that doesn’t cry all the time. You don’t want to stress your Master out, do you?"

"N-no, sir, no."

Kasia dragged the knife along to Rowe’s shoulder, digging it in deeper as he cut down his arm. Rowe focused on being blank, and obedient, and keeping his breathing calm, and not making any noise, and not pulling a face, and definitely not crying. He could do this. The knife was momentarily taken away from his skin, leaving the cut to fill itself up with blood.

"Does it hurt, pet?"

"That doesn’t matter, sir."

"Good boy."

Kasia kept his eyes firmly on Rowe’s face and slashed his forearm without warning, watching for any sign of pain or fear. Rowe steeled himself. He wouldn’t give it to him. He let the adrenaline of the sudden cut overcome the pain.

Kasia frowned, clearly hoping that Rowe would falter. He swung the knife viciously along Rowe’s bicep, then another above his bellybutton, then another frighteningly close to his neck- but Rowe was being good-, then another diagonally across his chest. Kasia stood, the knife hanging by his side, taking heavy breaths as he watched Rowe. By now, blood was running down Rowe’s upper body in rivulets, seeping into the waistband on his shorts and dripping off the end of his fingertips.

"You look creepy."

Somehow, this hurt more than being told he looked ugly, like Kasia usually did. "I’m sorry, sir."

Rowe felt a lump in his throat as he swallowed, and a new prickle of fear took over him. He couldn’t cry, he’d made it this far, Kasia couldn’t see him cry. He knew being obedient wasn’t enough to earn him any mercy- Pets were made to take pain, they didn’t deserve pity. He had to be perfect, and then maybe he’d only be hurt a little bit. He took a breath, and the way it hitched made his heart sink.

"What’s this?" Rowe screwed his eyes shut and bowed his head, but Kasia delicately placed the bloody knife under Rowe’s chin and lifted his face up. "Look at me, pet."

When Rowe opened his eyes all he could see were watery shapes- a blink sent tears running down his cheeks. Kasia clicked his tongue.  "I’m disappointed."

Rowe whimpered. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-"

This man wasn’t even his owner, but displeasing him meant more pain. Sure enough, Kasia dug the knife into Rowe’s thigh, slowly pulling it down until he reached his knee. The cut was perfectly straight. Rowe braced himself as Kasia lifted the knife, but he wasn’t prepared for it to nudge itself back into his leg, starting at the top of the cut and following it down, pressing a little deeper.

"You want forgiveness?" Kasia asked calmly.

Rowe’s breathing was becoming desperate, and he couldn’t suppress a whine as he opened his mouth to speak. "Hh- yes, yes, please-"

"Beg for it then. Be a good pet and beg."

"Please," Rowe gasped. This felt all too familiar. "Please, sir, s-sir, I’m s-sorry-"

"What are you sorry for?"

"Not good enough."

"I’m so-sorry f-for being such a b…bad pet! I’m sorry f-for crying," Rowe whimpered as the knife started its journey down the cut again. The pain made his limbs shake, only aggravating the cut further. "Agh- please!"

"Please- sir- I know I’m worthless, I- ah! B-B-But I w-want to be better- so please- f-forgive me…"

"And?"

"And- I, I, uh- agh!" Rowe cried out as the knife twisted in his leg, forcing his words out faster, "Ah, ah, th-thank you, sir, thank you f-for teaching me, I n-needed this, I’m- ah! I’m grateful!"

The knife stopped, but Kasia stayed silent, so Rowe continued. "I’ll b-be good, I’ll be quiet, I w-w-won’t inconvenience Master Tomas, so tha-ank you, thank you sir, th-this is what I deserve as a pet…"

He chanced a glance at Kasia’s face as he pulled the blade away. He was looking at his watch, frowning. "Time for me to go."

Rowe whimpered as Kasia moved around the unclip the handcuffs. Please, at least tell me that was good, tell me I did it right, tell me I begged the way you wanted, tell me I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…

…

The house smelt strongly of bleach. Tomas winced, kicking his shoes off in the entrance. "Only me, Rowe!" he called. Not five seconds later there was a small figure kneeling at his feet, forehead to the floor.

"Welcome back, Master."

"Hey pal. Up you get, I need your help with the shopping."

As the pair set the groceries down on the kitchen counter, Tomas wrinkled his nose again. "What have you been doing in here?"

Rowe looked up with frightened eyes. He hates being questioned, mused Tomas. Always thinks he’s done something wrong. "I- I was cleaning the furniture, Master. I th-thought it might please you."

"It does," he reassured. "It smells very fresh in here. And since you cleaned it, you might as well get to enjoy it, hm?"

"My…my place is at my Master’s f-"

"I know," Tomas held up a hand to stop him. "I’m not testing you. But a lot of pets are allowed on furniture." Well, my mate lets her dog up on the sofa. That’s close enough, right?

"O-oh, really, Master?" Rowe asked with a glint of hope, before freezing up again, "I mean! I’m n-not questioning you, Master, I d-d-didn’t mean that!"

"It’s okay. Yes, really. You don’t need to ask for permission- from now on, you’re allowed, okay?"

"Yes, Master."

"Now, let’s unload all this food, yeah?"

Tomas rummaged in one of the bags, bringing out a packet of cheese. He handed it to Rowe, underlining a word with his finger. "What does this say? Take your time."

Rowe’s lips moved silently as he sounded out the letters. "Ch…cheddar."

"Well done! That was so good! Want to try another?"

"Yes please, Master."

"Good! Now, I’ve got one I need to write down. It’s a whole sentence, but I think you’re ready."

Tomas looked back at the shopping. What was easy to read? What was pronounced phonetically? He didn’t worry that Rowe obviously already knew what everything was called- he was so keen to learn properly he wouldn’t dare lie. Eventually he handed him a small spice jar.

"Puh- ah- pap- r…rika. Ah! Paprika?"

Tomas smiled as he quickly scribbled the words on the side of the paper bag, keeping his handwriting neat and even.

"Try that."

Rowe brushed his hair out of his face and leant in. "My name is Rowe. Hello, Tomas."

"Hello, Rowe!"

Rowe took a step back with a jolt, looking up at him uncertainly. "I- I- I didn’t mean to- to address you w-without your proper title, Master."

"And yet you just did."

Rowe quaked, shrinking away from him, but Tomas forced himself to be steadfast. Come on Rowe, you can do this.

"You were. You’re being good. You’re still being good."

"I’m sorry! I d-didn’t- I didn’t me-mean to, I w-was doing what y-y-you asked Master…"

"Th-then…"

"Try saying my name again."

"T- T- T… I can’t," Rowe whispered, "I d-d-don’t want to be hit."

"I won’t hit you. It’s okay. I’m not your old master."

"I w-was trained to always address my Master properly."

"I know," soothed Tomas, not stopping to think too hard on what Rowe’s ‘training’ entailed, "I know being here is confusing. Can you just try, one more time?"

"T- Tomas…" he forced out, ducking his head and bracing himself. Tomas reached out and Rowe flinched, violently, before seeming to catch himself and force himself to stay still. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from trembling, even as Tomas gently rested his hand on the side of Rowe’s head, rubbing his thumb up and down. It took a few seconds, but Rowe leaned into the touch, his breathing coming under control again.

"There, that was really good. Well done, Rowe. I know that was hard for you."

"Master?"

"It’s okay, it’s okay. We can work on that. For now, I think your reading is coming along just fine. I’m very happy with you."

"You… you are?"

"Mmhm. Now, let’s finish putting this stuff away. I have some work to get on with."

-

Tomas’s smile vanished as he closed the office door. He hadn’t been imagining it. He’d kept calm, and casual, but there were definitely cuts on Rowe that hadn’t been there when he left. They were hard to miss, long searing red slices poking out from his white t-shirt and the bottom of his shorts.

He ran a hand through his hair, pulling on a curl by his ear. What to do, what to do? How had he got those?

He remembered a horror film he’d seen once where a woman had lived in captivity for so long that she kept harming herself even after she was freed, because living without constant pain was too unnatural for her. Had Rowe given himself those cuts? Had he- Tomas’s eyes widened- had he also broken his own nose? Was he that desperate for punishment that he was willing to punish himself?

His panic rose as he realised Rowe could be doing that right now. What was he thinking, making Rowe call him by his name? It was far too early for that, he was still learning it was okay to sit on the damn sofa, Christ alive Tomas.

He rushed back downstairs to keep an eye on Rowe. He had to figure out a way to stop this.

[bigsnzstanacct]

King’s New Allergy Part 4

This is wildly overwritten but at least I’m writing...? Here is the link to the other chapters of this story lmao. Of course it is also on le blue forum. After this chapter there is one more to conclude the story (which is already partially written!) and then there’s a chance I’ll eventually write an aggressively porn-y epilogue. okay byeeeeeeee!

------

My nose. My damned nose. By all the gods old and new, my insatiable, insufferable, intolerable, insistent, itchy, tickly, twitching, torurous nose!

“So the… th-thehhhh… the harvest in the W-weehhhhh… Western… -sniff-”

I was fighting.  I was fighting as hard as I’d ever fought anything. Harder. But to do battle against a swordsman, a sorceror, a monster, a ghost… that was child’s play. For that I had tools and training. Years of training in weapons and fighting. For this meeting too: years of training in diplomacy, in leadership. But none of that training involved a struggle to the death against your own damned nose!

“In the W-wehhhh… weeeeeeehhHHHH…”

Through narrowing eyes, I saw their faces: full of disapproval, fear, hands itching to clap to their ears, legs twitching to hide under the table, as though I really were a storm unto myself, and in taking cover, they might be spared the worst. Perhaps if I simply allowed the sneeze to come, it might not be so monstrous but… I could not. I could not bring myself to succumb so easily, to give in, to be weak. I chanced putting a finger beneath my nose. It was a desperate failsafe that had served at least a few times, but in truth I could never resist for long. I could no more resist these violent eruptions than the sky, overcharged with energy, could resist the lightning arcing across the sky, or the terrible roar of the thunder in response.

“Oh gods… I’m sahhhh.. s-ssaahhhhhh… s-sorreeehhhhhHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRSSSSCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! AnothhheeEERRRYYYYYYYYAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! hehhhh… hh-hehhhhhh… HUUUH! HHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

They came, thick, fast and violent. Each one felt like it took all my strength, as though I couldn’t help but through the full weight of my body—no, the full weight of the castle herself into each sneeze. And then, for a moment…

Bliss.

No itch, no tickle, no torture. As terrible as they were, as much as they terrorized my meeting, my castle, my citizens, my countryside… there was a guilty, fiendish part of me that felt such magnificent release and relief with each great roar that was loosed from my mouth and nose. Drained, too, of course. Exhausted as though I’d climbed a mountain after practically each sneeze, let alone a whole terrible fit of them like I’d done. But also, utterly and simply delighted.

And then I opened my eyes and the embarrassment flooded in, and then, barely a split-second later, the tiny, teasing, barely-perceptible blossom of the itch that presaged another sneeze. The urge to sneeze again was following closer and closer on the glorious feeling of release and relief. When this all started I could go half the day without a sneezing fit. Then hours. Now barely minutes. But perhaps if I didn’t think about it, if I just barrelled through and ignored the tickle… maybe it would leave me alone.

“My apologies again, gentlemen.” I said, and quickly, before anyone could comment upon my nose: “Now, the Western harvest is among the best we’ve had in some years, which means our levy at the current rate should be -sniff!-” the itch already was worming its way up. But I could hold out still. I could ignore it.

“At the current rate should be more than sufficient to provide for capitol needs, y-yes Minister?”

The Minister of the Exchequer tried to discreetly rub at his ears, but it was obvious what he was doing, trying to clear his head from my sneezing long enough to focus on what I was saying. I couldn’t bear it.

“Yes! It will be sufficient, I don’t need you to check my arithmetic. You may repohhh… re-re…” I gave a hard sniff, and allowed myself  a quick rub at the underside of my nose with the heel of my palm. It was an embarrassing, almost childish gesture but I was far beyond caring about small embarrassments. I had much, much larger mortifications to be concerned with.

“Youmayreportbackifneedsbe!” I barrelled out, knowing the tickle was already roused, and at any moment could turn the act of speech into feat as tricky as any in my storied questing career.

“What is the next item on the ahhh… hahhh…” my eyes swam, unfocused for a moment. Hands crept up towards ears, dread lining in every face of the council. I could feel my knights tensing behind me, as though bracing for an explosion, hoping not to be knocked off their feet. The sneeze wasn’t even ready, it would play with me for several more moment yet. It reminded me of nothing more than sparring with the quartermaster as a boy: putting up a valiant fight, certain I was on the edge of victory… only to find he was only playing a game with me. He would always win.

“The next agenda item!” I said, slamming a fist down on the table. I wasn’t angry with the council, and I hope they knew that, but. It was all so damned frustrating… I couldn’t speak without terrifying my council, not with my words but with the threat of my nose. Of all the mortifying.

“Well my lord, we have not admitted petitioners in over three weeks, owing to your condition. I was informed the Royal Physician as well as the, ah, King’s Right Hand will be pursuing some possibilities for treatment, but the peo---”

“Damn the conditiiIiiiHHHHHH… HHIIIHHHHHH!!” May noses and sneezes be damned by all the gods old and new! The urge was already prickling in my nose, fanning its way towards inevitability, as though to mock me for cursing it. By all the gods, I should be able to see my people, to hear their complaints and all because of my god’s damned lack of control, I couldn’t even do that… I felt furious as a boy, looking up at the quartermaster teary-eyed with rage at losing, at humiliation. And here I was again, losing. And to a thrice damned tickle in my thrice damned nose…!

My nose, on which the whole room hyperfocused, as intent upon it as I’d ever been on any foe on the battlefield. Every twitch garnered a flinch, every skipped breath a skipped heartbeat. My damned sneezes could be heard throughout the entire castle, throughout the entire town. I was just waiting for someone to announce they’d heard me sneeze at the furthest edges of the regions, echoing off the Black Mountains or the White Cliffs, resounding across oceans…

With all that, being so close to my sneeze must have been a form of auditory torture. And I couldn’t put my advisors through that. Not any longer. And not with the vague but unmistakable sense I felt that what was beginning to well up in me would be a fit to rival any I’d suffered since I came down with this accursed, irreparable allergy, this implacable need that seemed to be unmoved by any force physical or magical, on earth or in the realms above. I was going to sneeze, and the fit would leave me exhausted and the whole castle ringing, I knew. But the urge itself was small now, my winds gathering strength for the one man hurricane they would turn me into. What a curse, to make of a king a slave to his own body. I was disgusted with myself. And yet, I could no more stop the force building within me than I could will the rising sun to set or still the flowing tide.

This council meeting was accomplishing nothing. And dammit, I needed to sneeze.

Abruptly, I pushed back from the chair. Everyone rose with me. “Ladies and gentlemen, you must excuse me, I’m a-afraid… oh I…” I was doing my best to keep up a kingly facade but already I was faltering before the effort of damming back the torrent of sneezes that seemed to be pressing up against each other, jockeying for position, each demanding to be the first to erupt out of me. “oh gods, I have to sneeze. It’s going to be a terrible fit and I… Iahhhhhh… I m-muuhhhhh… I must r-repair to my… my chahhhhHHHHH… hAHHHHHHHHHHHH… w-with m-mehhhh…!”

I ordered my retinue to follow me, but I’m sure a number of them did so quite reluctantly, and frankly I couldn’t blame them. What I felt coming seemed like a sneeze to beat all sneezes, an itch to beat all itches, nothing which could soothed, calmed, or controlled by a little finger under the nose, a few rough rubs. I’d asked my former manservant more than once about his… powers. How he felt all the hidden powers of the earth welling up through him, the connection to the secret side of everything, how he could make it shimmer and dance. I felt the same sense  of something beyond myself intruding upon me, but it was not under my control. I was beneath its thumb, dancing like a marionette on a string in miserable abasement to, of all things, a tickle in my nose.

“Someone… someone please… huhhhh… p-put your f-finger… under…”

It was pathetic. At least I’d managed to get well out of the way of the council chambers before I succumbed. I’d only embarrassed myself like this once or twice before, but if this went on much longer, I’d have to appoint a knight to do this for me full time, to press and pinch and wrangle my nose in a way my own hands could no longer suffice. Perhaps that way I could at least forestall the sneezes long enough to do any of the duties of a king.

But for now, my only goal was fighting off the absolutely monstrous fit I felt brewing for a few more moments, until I could at least reach my chamber. At least then I could succumb in private, although such succumbing was never private. Before the curse even, I blushed to think a vigorous sneeze might echo through the castle, and I never could dam them back. But under the curse now… all of the castle, all of the city heard my every falter. The sound of my failure resounding back at me from every brick in the kingdom.

The Captain of the Guard slid a thick finger under my nose, and ever so imperceptibly the urge diminished. He pushed upward, hard. And all I could do was blink at him in acknowledgement. At this point a single word would send it all crashing down.

“Knights dismissed! I will escort the King further.” I heard his voice ringing out, and I was as grateful as I’d ever been for him. At least the knights would be spared the very worst. The captain alone would be with me to the eruptive end.

“Not much further now, sire. Please, hold out!” And there was an uncertainty or even... a fear in his voice. It wasn't as if I'd never heard such fear from the Captain of the Guard before. We had quested together, season after season. But this tone of voice ought to be reserved for a onrushing army or a sleeping dragon. Surely there was no reason to steel himself so before my nose?

“T-t-traahhHHHH… tr-trying…” I choked out, scrunching my nose as aggressively as I could, as though if my nostrils recoiled from the irritation, I might dodge the sneeze—no, sneezes—altogether.

And suddenly, unimaginably, the urge… exploded.

It was as if I had never needed to sneeze before in my life. Tears sprang to my eyes, and the simmering flame of the urge became a wild forest fire. Helplessly, I jerked away from the Captain, scrubbing desperately at my nose even as the heavy breaths ripped themselves from me…

“HHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH… HUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

“My King, not yet!” the Captain insisted. Not to be deterred, he came up behind me and tried to guide me, but I was surrendered to the sneeze, overpowered by the urge, defeated by the invisible twinging need. He was practically pushing me as the sneeze swelled and swelled.

“HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… UUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

It swelled more and MORE, feeling more ferocious than any of my previous sneezes. I felt like a volcano on the precipice of eruption, as though my winds were swirling and turning and twisting and braiding their way towards tornadic devastation, as though I were not only a a lightning strike but indeed a whole storm set loose to wreak havoc across the land.

“Nearly there, nearly there, please sire you musn't give in…”

But it was too late.

“AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I exploded, and it was as though… some sort of… power erupted from me, from my mouth and nose from… from everywhere. The sneezes had always been incredibly loud but now tapestries on the wall flapped, armor rattled, it sounded as though something fell but I couldn’t tell because before I could so much as think, the next sneeze was already erupting: “HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUHHHH!!!! AARRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! HehHHHHHHH… HEEEEEYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTSSSCCCHHHHHHHHHEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! YYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!!!”

On and on and on the sneezes came, more and more violent, “volume” not even describing what I felt bursting from me. Somewhere, dimly, I heard the sounds of something falling over, and yet still the steady pressure of the Captain at my back, finally…

“Sir, your chamber… We must not let them see you!”

Whether I was able to exert some minimal effort even subdued by my sneeze attack, or whether the Captain just shoved me, somehow I stumbled into the chamber, still sneezing relentlessly, barely heard the door slam behind me, helpless to the urge. My whole world narrowed to my nose, and it was as though some block within me surrendered and the sneezes roared out of me, louder and more violent than ever before again and again and again…

I could not tell how long it had been when the fit finally ended. I felt… amazing. Warm and sated. Entirely itch-free, as though I’d never need to sneeze again in my life. Practically glowing. Maybe that was it? Maybe that monster of a fit had at last blown the insufferable urge away for good? But the moment of euphoria lasted barely an instant. I heard a… squeak? and I opened my eyes to find… him. The sorcerer. His robes and hair disheveled, and then, the room… The bed was without sheets. The mattress ripped, feathers piled against the stone wall, piled up with the rugs, half my clothes, my pillows, my chairs…

“Wh-what… what did I… what did I do?” I asked, panting and mortified.

He stood, mortified, as red as I’d seen him in years. His mouth agape. “I—I… I—I have to go!” He exclaimed, and rushed from the room.

Had I hurt him? Scared him? Surely he of all the denizens of the castle had no reason to fear… anyone. But as I cast my eyes across the disheveled, half-wrecked room, I began to see what he saw. Nothing to fear. But something to pity. An out-of-control freak. Certainly no King.

And even then, with a trickle of fear running down my spine… I began to feel the urge to sneeze again, sputtering back to life. I sat on my bed, feeling the weakened timbers sputter and creak with my weight, head in hands.

“By all the gods…”

[alexandenigtscreations]

Chapters: 6/7 Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Poisoning, blaster shot,... Summary:

Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev make a good team. But when a bank job goes horribly wrong, the injured pair are forced to lay low and hope the Carte Blanche can make it back to them in time.

Note: Bold Italic Writing signifies Nureyev speaking Brhamese 

Chapter 6: 

The dim light of the safe house shined supernaturally bright after the darkness outside.  The planetoid revolved slowly, so it would be another day or so before they found themselves back in the sun’s rays.  

Hopefully they would be gone by that time.

Nureyev blinked against the brightness, realizing he cracked a lens during the excursion.  At the moment he was too tired to care.  The Carte Blanch held a spare set or two dozen for just such an occasion.  

No, the only thing he had room to think about was Juno.

Juno, his goddess, was still sleeping on the couch.  Still in the same recovery position that Nureyev had left him in.  

"It's been a- a while - Juno-" he said to the still form.  Juno didn’t stir.  Nureyev hadn’t expected him to.  

All the same, the Thief stumbled over to the Detective and plopped down on the makeshift coffee table.  If he was being honest with himself, and he rarely was, there was something comforting about being this close to his partner again.  

Juno's chest rose and fell with a frantic rhythm and his eye danced under the lid.  Nureyev frowned.  Whatever dream he seemed to be having, it didn’t look to be a good one.  

Nureyev contemplated the wisdom of waking Juno.  If this was their room on the Carte Blanche, he’d have done it already, chasing away the nightmares that plagued him.  He paused, halfway to the pulse point at the lady’s throat.  

The pepper bomb residue still tingled on his skin, it probably wouldn't hurt Juno, goodness knows he was a tough lady- but all the same it would be best to wash up beforehand.

Rita had agreed to message him if she noticed guards near the safe house.  Judging by the live feed she’d sent, the security was still in a frenzy over Nureyev’s earlier theatrics.  That was something, at least.  

He sighed, wilting over his knees.  He should call Vespa.  He should report to the Captain.  He should be securing the safe house.  He should be doing anything other than watching the little dots on the comms screen buzz about his last known location.  

It was some time before Nureyev felt ready to stand again.

The smoke had worked its way into everything.  His hair, skin, clothes, makeup, everything.  This was promising to be a production.

Carefully he shrugged off his coat and set to work in the sink.  A quick glance at the mirror told him what he already knew.  Gone were the knife sharp cat eyes and the carefully contoured cheeks.  Now the coverage was patchy at best and gore splattered at worst.  Nureyev scoured down the grime on his hands and aggressively attacked the makeup streaks.  The water wasn’t working fast enough, each plunge setting him to ache afresh.  Under him, his leg was trembling, threatening to give out at any moment.  

There was nothing for it, he’d just have to shower the stuff off.   It wasn’t like he ever dried off from the earlier river dip anyways.  With an impatient puff of air, he sat himself on the toilet and stripped off boots, socks, corset and shirt.  All of these items have been protected from the worst of the fumes by the long coat.  Not so his trousers.  

At first the icy water activated the chemical residue afresh.  He scrubbed his skin raw with a bar of upscale hotel soap.  Well, the hotel it came from may have been upscale, but the soap itself was as mediocre as any other hotel soap.  He glared at it as though it was it’s fault he was in this mess.  Fresh scrapes and bruises blossomed across his chest and arms.  

The water ran off in muddy brown and rusted red, gradually fading sudsy clear as blood stains and dirt alike were rinsed away.  

Shaking with effort, Nureyev slid down onto the shower stool.  In his impatience, he’d forgotten about the bandage.  

First rule of thieving, Nureyev chastised himself, if you want to stay alive, keep a level head.

Numb fingers struggled with the bandage fastenings.  It was harder to remove the wrappings than it had been to apply them.  He expanded the tear in the leg seam to gain better access, exposing the burn beneath.  The sight churned his stomach, which was something.  He’d never considered himself squeamish.  There was something unsettling about seeing your own flesh distorted in such a fashion….

The angry red of the burn was expected, unpleasant, but expected.  But wasn’t prepared for the purple tinged veins webbing out from the injury or how tight the skin was stretched about it.  

File it away- just file it away.

As soon  as he was out of the shower and re-clothed; Nureyev decided to take Vespa’s advice and down a glass of water.  It repeated on him just as quick and he was left bowed over the sink, coughing and sputtering while his stomach roiled.  His knuckles turned to white over the porcelain as he waited for the nausea to die down.  

Face bare and hair free of product, he could plainly see the high flush on his cheeks and bruised circles under his eyes.  “Oh what are you looking at?” he rasped at his haggard reflection.   He should have known better, did know better.  He’d had enough experience to know when he could and couldn’t keep something down.  

That horrid chill bit deeper into his bones, conspiring with the fire of the injury to make him thoroughly miserable.  

This wasn’t right, he knew.  This wasn’t supposed to be how a blaster shot felt- fresh or no.  Goodness knows he’s had enough of them.  And the purpling veins were down right... unpleasant.

Nureyev sighed, bringing out two glasses of water and a clean cloth ripped in two.

“Juno, love.” Nureyev coaxed, all but collapsing on the tiny coffee table.  He could do this while he slept, but much rather the lady be awake to take his fluids.  “Love-” he coaxed, running his fingers through his curls like he'd wanted to ever since his return.  He was rewarded with a gentle moan and Juno pressing into his hand.  

“Love- You have to drink for me-”

“Don’ feel good.” his voice was so weak, Nureyev tried not to think about what that could mean.  

“I know-” he said, dipping the cloth in the water and bringing it to Juno’s lips, “J-Just take the water from that.”  

Juno pulled away from the cold, hand wrapping around Nureyev’s wrist.  “Naugh’ a child-”

Nureyev chuckled fondly “Drink, or Vespa will have both our heads.”

“Vespa?”

“I d-dare say she isn't too…. pleased at the moment.”

“Wha else ‘s new?” Juno commented, but took the cloth from Nureyev.  He was tentative at first but really started to pull on it, dipping messily back in the cup for more.  

“Slow, if you d-don’t want it repeating on you.” Juno hummed in affirmation.  That would have to do.  

Nureyev took a hit off his own cloth and turned his attention to the injury.  Though the surrounding skin had dried by now, the burn itself was swollen and oozing a clear fluid.  This close and the discoloration to the veins was easy to see.  He didn’t need Vespa to tell him that it had been contaminated.  Didn’t need her to explain that the speed at which the inflammation was spreading was concerning.  Didn’t need her to tell him there was nothing that could be done about it till he returned to the ship.  

File it away.

“Hh-hell, ‘Reyev-” He jumped, twisting to see Juno staring.  His eye was wide, glassy and his parlor was more ashen than before.  

“Lay back love.” Nureyev soothed, gently pushing Juno back.  The Detective collapsed under his gentle touch with a little strangled sound.  “D-don’t look.”  He hadn’t meant for him to see.  The thought of moving to another room, of having to stand another minute, made him sick.  Still, he should have tried harder to spare Juno.  

“It’s- bad-” as distorted as his words were, Nureyev could tell it was a statement, not a question.  

“Nothing that c-can’t be managed.” he shivered.  He almost believed it.  “Have some more water- i-if you can.”  

Nureyev tried to work quickly, using what little remained of the smuggler’s first aid kit to clean the wound and apply burn ointment.  The task was made difficult by clumsy cold hands.  The exercise may prove pointless, but at least nothing else was likely to add to the contamination.  

He should make a report to Buddy, maybe even get some answers as to what was going on with the Carte Blanche.  

Nureyev pursed his lips looking at the comms.  His mind was fuzzy at the edges, from fatigue and stress.  A call with someone who could see through so much of his cover on a good day, was daunting.  

And yet….

“Captain Auranko.” his usual smooth voice was rough and unwieldy.  "I believe it is t-time for a r-report."

"Pete, darling you sound dreadful." Nureyev couldn't tell if she was disappointed or concerned.  Perhaps both.  

"Yes well, a l-lot has... transported."

"Transpired?"

"Quite." He coughed.  "We have e-encountered several….troubles.  The b-box is fine but they are a-aware we are still within the c-city."

"Yes, I've heard something of your predicament Pete.  I assure you we are doing everything we can to collect you."

"When , Captain." He coughed harder, "we are r-running out of the…" he couldn't remember the right word " time- "

There was a pause, voices in the back, urgent and cutting.  He'd lose her- he’d lose her before he’d a chance to get answers, to get help.

"P-please, Captain-"

She sighed, "I'll be frank with you Pete.   Listen closely because we don't have time for questions."

The thief cleared his throat "Of course-"

"Planetoid Xnon is owned by Galactic Stars First Bank.  The entire place is on lockdown after our stunt." There was a strange sound like crunching metal  and Buddy gave a sharp intake of breath.  Shouting something to the Carte Blanche team.  

"They know t-the Carte Blanche is there."  Nureyev commented.  He didn't have to be a detective to put that together.

"Quite."

"Ah." The complicated note of emotion welled up within, there wouldn't be a rescue, they wouldn't be able to get close.  The bank would get them in the end and there would be nothing he could do about it.  Nureyev felt the knot in his throat before he had a chance to file it away.  "S-so we are to be… left b-behind."  Made to follow their pirates deal.  

"And leave two injured crew to fend for themselves against an overgrown bully?  I think not, dear.  Jet and Rita have been coordinating their efforts, we will beat them yet."

"Captain-"

"There is no need to be such a negative man Pete.  We will get back to you.  These bank executives made the mistake of coveting two things that are mine, my crew and my information.  I'm not in the mood for sharing."

Nureyev let out a strangled sort of laugh that was far from his usual chuckle.

"I will transfer you to Vespa, keep us in the loop darling."

"No need f-for the transfer.  T-tell her things are much the s-same on our end.  We will await the next contact."

"Very well, I'll defer to your judgement then Pete.  Buddy out."

Nureyev sagged at the call end.  He'd the distinct feeling like Buddy was withholding something from them.  He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad that ng, so he filed that away for future consideration.

"They kknow 'bout tha ship?"  Juno inquired in the lull.

"It would seem s-so." Nureyev said.  He had no intention of lying to Juno, even in a state like this.

"J-Jet and Rita are on it though."

"Rita-" Juno gave a snort, "almos' feel bad- for-” he gasped “'em- ah-"  His face twisted and he curled tighter on himself.  

“L-love, you should- reset.” he said, scooting himself over so that he was within reach of Juno.  

“You’re ss-switchin’ words- Reyev-” he was looking up at him with that glassy eye.  

“What?”  

“Switching- words-” Juno tried again.  “You’ve been- doin’ it a lot-”

Then it clicked.

“I-" he floundered, " Oh my.  I hadn’t realized-” and he hadn’t.  But now that he was actually thinking about it, he’d been doing it for a while.  His hand drifted up to his traitorous lips.  That was definitely a hit to his professional pride.  It had been a long time since he'd slipped like this; would that only get more common as he got older?  Or....

File it away-

"You're- tired- too-" Juno added, reaching out to put his hand on Nureyev's knee.  It seemed to be meant as a squeeze, but his fingers couldn't quite manage.  He'd likely be unable to work a blaster in this state.

He was defenseless.

Just file it all away-

"It's- alright." Nureyev shrugged delicately.

"No- it's s'not."

Nureyev hummed, wrapping his fingers about Juno's wrist, feeling the pulse point fast and light.  In truth, he would be alright as long as Juno's heart kept beating.

After Juno drifted off once more, Nureyev took to securing the safe house again.  Moving around more than was wise judging by the dizzy spells.  

One eye was on the guard locator Rita sent, another kept on his love.  

Two hours passed, Vespa called, Juno was examined again.  His heart rate was inching up but otherwise, he was much the same.  She didn't know when they'd return.  Nureyev's eyelids itched to close.  He could not rest yet.

He refused.  

To keep awake, he attempted a few mobility exercises.  A near collapse on the second set led him to abandon the attempt.  The movements weren’t hard, per say, but they were deceptively taxing.  One that left him shaking and gasping on the ground.  Forgetting that was a stupid, foolish mistake.  Nureyev was slipping.

The buzzing of an incoming call forced him back to reality.  He’d been dangerously close to nodding off again, lulled into stillness by the mirriorid aches and pains that plagued him.  It was Vespa, goodness, had it really been two hours?  

Her tone held none of it’s usual bite.  If Nureyev didn’t know better, he’d call it concern.   Juno was much the same, fast asleep, curled on his side, face pinched in pain.  Nureyev longed to kiss it away.  As if he was of any use to the Detective now.  

________________________

He patrolled the safehouse again, pausing in front of the crates. They easily outnumbered the pair.  The more Nureyev considered them, the more ominous he found their hidden insides to be.  What if they had listening devices inside?  Cameras?  Drones?  It could also be completely innocuous-

It was reminding him of the old earth thought experiment.  There was a cat in a box, and you didn’t know if the cat was alive or dead until you opened that box.  Until you did, both possibilities remained true at once.  He thought that old earthlings must have been very cruel or cowardly to trap such a creature in the first place and not check on it’s welfare.  In his current state, he related very much to the cat.  

Were the contents of the crate dangerous?  Or harmless?  There was only one way to find out.  

Nureyev pulled up a smaller box for a seat and set a plasma cutter to the side.  Slicing through the synth wood till it hung loose from the hinge left against the floor.  He glanced over at Juno and pulled.  

Tiny vials cascaded from the packing fungus.  Nureyev jumped, jarring his leg and hissing.  It was a far cry from what he’d been expecting.  Cautiously, he reached in and scooped up a tiny glass bottle bearing the legend ‘ Saffron Pharmaceuticals, Venucian SARS-97 Vaccine ’  

He grabbed another squinting at the label ‘ Saffron Pharmaceuticals, Venucian SARS-97 Vaccine ’

A brief investigation revealed the entire crate contained the long expired vaccines.  Nureyev stood, dizzied by the sudden motion and moved to the next crate.  This too contained medical devices, two ventilators and their accompanied equipment.  Another crate contained bandages and antiseptic.  Another filled with tiny computerized vital monitors.  Still another was cramped with some sort of scanning tech.  Crate after crate contained specialized medical supplies.  

Nureyev’s chest constricted, wherever these had intended to go, they were meant to save people on the Outer Rim.  Not be left to rot in a forgotten smuggler den.  

Out of morbid curiosity, he snagged a few of the vials for future consideration.  Then sent a picture of the medical equipment to Vespa with a caption “Would these items still be of use?”

There would have been many people on Brahma alone that would have benefited from such equipment.  It was near impossible to get on the war torn Outer Rim.  Frustration bubbled out from some locked file.  In his fatigued state, it was near impossible to hold it back.  

Just then, the Detective stirred.  The file snapped shut and Nureyev hobbled back to his love.  

Something seemed to have changed, even through the brain fog, it was plain to see.

“J-Juno?” Nureyev asked.  

Juno let out a low pained groan, fingers twisting into his stomach. “ ‘Reyev- ” he gasped, his chest stuttering.  “ Nu-reyev- ” he was struggling as if trying to force himself upright.  

“What’s ha-happening love-”

“Hu- hur’s -” he keened.  Nureyev’s blood ran cold, his hands fluttering over the lady.  Unsure whether he should push him back down or help him up.  

“Hurts?  Juno- w-what hurts?”

Juno swayed on his elbow, eye screwed shut.  

“ Love ?”

He looked as though he was going to be sick.  Nureyev pushed a bin under him just in time for him to wretch.  His whole body shook from the force of it, he was left gasping from the strain before it hit him again.  A curdled mass of red splattered against the bottom of the bin.  

Blood

Juno was bleeding on the inside.

Nureyev didn’t wait for him to finish, he called Vespa barely able to keep the panic down.  

“I’m kind of busy thief, if this is about the equi-”

“Juno’s Bleeding !” Nureyev choked out.  

“Whut?”

“Please Vespa- Juno- Juno is-” he groped for the right phrase, “How do you say- internal bleeding-'' the Brahmese slipped out of his mouth before he could think to stop it.  Juno heaved again, dissolving into dry heaves.  Nureyev wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.  “Sick on blood.” he managed at long last.  

“Wait, you're telling me he’s vomiting blood?”

“Yes.”

She swore.

“How d-do I stop it?”

“Ransom-” she sounded tired.  Almost defeated.  He couldn't understand.  There had to be something he could do, anything that he could do.

“Please- I-” he was hyperventilating now, getting dizzy from it.  Juno was shaking in his spare arm, just keeping himself from toppling over.  He couldn't lose him, not like this. “Please-” his voice broke.  

“Whoa, hey!  First Ransom, I’m going to need you to breathe for me!  Sheish!”  He tried, grounding himself with the heat radiating from Juno.  “Okay look, I can’t promise anything right now, but gonna need you to turn on the video feed, I need to see what’s going on.” He did.  

As before he followed her instructions.  Juno seemed to collapse in on himself, curling around his core.  

“Here’s the story Ransom.” Nureyev perked up, trying with all his might to focus on Vespa’s voice.  “He’s in bad shape.” he snorted, he knew that.  “But judging by the color and texture of the blood, it's a slow bleed.  We have the time to get to you.”

“S-so, I am to w-sit in idle the entire time?”

“Your Job, Thief, is the same as before!” she snapped, sounding more like her usual self.  “His heart and brain need blood circulation to elevate his feet.” Nureyev got a box to prop Juno’s feet on and carefully turned him onto his back.  Juno whined at the motion and Vespa swore loudly “Not on his back Thief!  Damn it!  Want him to choke if he ralfs again?!  Keep him on his side, the recovery position.”  Nureyev could kick himself as he hurried to comply, Juno made another piteous sound that tugged at his heart.  “No, it’s not comfortable, but it will improve his chances of survival.”

It was harder than it should have been to move Juno, he was panting by the end, the world swirling “What n-now?”

“If he can keep it down, get water into him.  Mostly just keep him alive until we get there.”

“When will that be- ” he was frustrated, tired.  He wanted answers.  He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to massage out the headache that had taken residence in his temples.  

“I don’t know what you are playing at Ransom, but I don’t speak Brahmese!”

“Wha- I-” he swallowed, he’d done it again.  Maybe if he just ignored it- “W-when are you coming?”

“Look, we’ll keep you apprised.  And goddamnit, do something about that chill.  I can’t deal with you keeling over on us.  Talk to you next check in.” and she hung up.

He just had to wait it out.

He could do that.  A shiver passed down his spine, clothes scraping over hypersensitive skin.  

He could wait.

________________

It was getting- hard- to concentrate.  Nureyev couldn't patrol the safe house anymore, could scarcely move.  So instead, he was saving what was left of his strength for what was to come.  Whatever that may be.  

The fatigue was crushing and still he kept his eyes open.  He would not leave Juno, not if there was anything he could do about it.  

He squeezed the handle of the blade, the sharp edges of the bare handle digging into his palm.  Over and over he squeezed until it hurt, and backed off, lulling himself into a half hypnotic state.  So long as he could squeeze, he could feel the pain, so long as he felt the pain, he could stay awake.  

It was different from the consuming burn in his leg, the unruly, hungry sort of agony that was far beyond his control.  Far beyond anything he could file away.

The squeezing distracted from it, in a small way.  Any relief was welcome.  

Nureyev bowed over his knees, eyes trained on the comms screen and the blurry dots migrating over the surface of the map.  Squeezing the handle.  Paying no attention to the moisture working it’s way down his wrist.  

It had been- hours- since they last heard from the Carte Blanche.  Hours since he heard a peep out of Juno-  The only way the thief could be sure Juno was alive was the heat rolling off his skin.  

They’ve been abandoned.  

He was sure.

Buddy Auranko had promised that the Carte Blanche would be more than a team, that it would be a family.  He snorted derisively.  He should have taken Juno and run right then and there.  Family’s only ever brought suffering.  

The burn gave a particularly nasty throb, Nureyev jumped, hissing against the onslaught, clutching high over the wound.  How long would they last like this?  

The comms started to beep.  Nureyev glanced down and saw activity on the screen.  The details were lost to him, but what was known was that the guards of Galactic Stars First Bank were on the move.

He wasn’t sure what that could mean, but it couldn’t be good.  

There was a rattling at the door.  Nureyev’s heart plummeted.   Now?  Of all times.  Why couldn't they just leave them alone?  

Someone, or something pounded on the door, a large someone judging by the racket it made, setting Nureyev’s head to pound.  There were voices from the other end.  Nureyev’s mind stretched them into something sinister and ominous.  He straightened his leaden limbs.  Preparing himself.

If they expected him to go out without a fight, then they were sorely mistaken.  

The door was flung open and Nureyev used the last of his strength to launch himself at the intruders.  The blade sung through the air, making contact judging by the grunt.  A large blurry person shouted, staggering away from the knife.  

They weren’t fighting back.  

That was strange.  Not only weren’t they fighting back, but they seemed to be calling out to him-  As though they- recognized him.

It did nothing to soothe his fears.

Nureyev collided painfully with the door jam wheeling around and-

“‘ansom!  Ransom!  We are not a threat!  Ransom!”

He staggered, a familiar figure in a tan overcoat swam before his eyes.  

Nureyev- knew that coat.

“J-Jet?” he asked, bewildered.  How was it possible that they were there?  They’d left them?  Hadn’t they?  Blackness encroached on what was left of his vision.  

“Yes.  We have come to collect you.”

“Oh- Thank the stars- ” and Nureyev knew no more.  

[lenjaminmacbuttons]

Rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better or catch up with (or tag whomever)

tagged by @javelin-woman!! kisses u

Last Song: i think it was probably flesh by simon curtis? oh no wait it was Girls and Boys in School by Neon Trees lol

Currently Reading: the love songs of w.e.b. dubois! it's actually a novel, but it does feature excerpts from dubois' writing between each chapter. it's about the different generations of a black+native american family, alternating between the coming-of-age of one girl in the 90s and the early history of the family in the beginning of america. it's super gorgeous

Last Movie: Groundhog Dayyy

Sweet, Savory, Spicy: so sweet. all the sweets all the time. though i do like all three of these flavors together. like the asian sweet chili wings sonic used to have...hh i miss those

Currently Working On: nothing it's the weekend. Nah im working on moving! We have until the end of the month to get a new place and wifey and i were gonna be super intense about getting everything done but then we both got sick the past couple days sdfghjk so. we're gonna be intense about getting stuff done later. And creatively speaking, I'm slowly adding stuff to the story I started for nanowrimo and some collages I'm making of the diamonds from steven universe out of people magazines that some rando subscribed to and gave our address. kimberly if you're out there...thank you for your people magazine subscription

Tagging: @justthatspiffy @usernamesaresohardimconflicted @carrie-kelley-deserved-better @theforgottenfreefaller @my-fandom-needs-me @nookisms @chozophilosopher @crooked-mantis aaaaand @ermiler mwah mwah mwah!

[chaoticspacefam]

2020 In Review: Wordcount Tag

I was tagged for this by @actualanxiousswampwitch​ , thank you! I’m not sure who’s already done or been tagged for this cause I am, once again, late to the party LOL but I shall (no pressure and sorry if you’ve already done it!) tag: @rainofaugustsith​ , @darth-bagel​ , @thatmmolesbian​ , @thelastenvoyyy​ and anybody else who wants to do this. Yes, I promise I mean you!

Words: 45,314

Published: 0 (I’m not counting the couple of Six Sentence tags I’ve gotten, they’re snippets of an unfinished piece & are included below instead :), or roleplay replies, cause that feels like cheating lol.) I actually wrote a lot more than I thought I had, this is a rough guesstimate as well, as my oneshot WIPs tend to be all over the place across something like 6 different documents, some of which have existed since 2018, so I had to guess at how far up to count from the end for some of them, but I think it’s a fair guesstimate XD I also have included lore/worldbuilding docs in this because that was a 3-month long Lockdown 1.0 Boredom/”Canon is a trash fire so I’m ignoring that and making up my own lore” passion project and I’m goddamn proud of how much I wrote for that. It’s the most I’ve written in one stretch (think I finished it over a span of 3 nights or so, once I’d done all the research and made all the notes ofc ^^)

Not Published: 45,314

The Breakdown:

swtor - 45,314

for creeping shadows (my main longfic/part one of the subterfugeverse series) - 1,553  - Aria, stop being difficult! *shakes fists* XD

oneshots - 16,223

lore/worldbuilding (for subterfugeverse naturally) - 23,001 (is this ALL tomato alien lore? pretty much, yes, yes it is :’D ~400 words is “the WIP reworked timeline to correlate my worldbuilding with the canon timeline that was released”, but 98% is just...me thinking way too much about Purebloods and how they deserved way better goddamn lore. I blame @fluffynexu ‘s amazing tomato worldbuilding posts,  reading them when I went looking for “canon” lore one day for the rp is what got me started down that rabbithole (it’s awesome and if you haven’t already you should totally go check hers out too :DD), I had a “fuck you then canon I’ll do it myself too >:L” moment and once I started I couldn’t stop until I’d crapped out literally over 20k words on the subject *whispering* thank you LOL)

zephyrverse au bonus oneshots - 4,537 (stuff I wrote to fill in time gaps or “just cause I had a plot bunny”, relating to mine and k-christine’s zephyrverse au rp. None of these will likely be posted publicly, but they still deserve to be counted as words I wrote this year :’D

As you can see, most of my “muse” this year came from sporadic oneshots :’D The Ahaszaai twins also properly plot-bunnied their way into my brain in late 2019 and haven’t stopped making a nuisance of themselves the whole fucking year. Every time I tried to carry on with a chapter, one of the two of them would pop up like “Nooo write about ME! pay attention to ME!” - Yes, Ni’kasi, I will get to you this year, I promise XD

New Things I Tried:

Just Writing. Not worrying about whether “it wasn’t part of the next chapter” or “it comes from a part in the story that I’m nowhere near close to posting yet”. If I felt like writing something, or for a specific pairing/feeling/scene, whatever. I wrote until I ran outta muse juice. Yeah, it meant I didn’t technically “finish” anything this year BUT - the important thing is I wrote stuff. and that’s all that really matters, eh? :’D

Polyam ships! May not seem like a big deal but I spent a long time talking myself out of them because of internalised toxic monogamy and finally saying “you know what, fuck it! I can ship three or more people together and it can still be a perfectly wholesome, healthy and loving relationship and that’s okay” was a BIG thing for me this year.

Dialogue Scripts: which I didn’t count as wordcount because really it’s just word vomit of general tone/inflection and dialogue that I came up with right before falling asleep which I didn’t want to lose. Basically, if an exchange or a particularly punchy or moving line of dialogue popped into my brain but I wasn’t ready to write the whole scene that it fit into out, but didn’t want to forget the line(s). I wrote it out in movie script/script-style roleplay fashion e.g. Character’s Name: (emotion, hand gestures etc.) [Dialogue here] and so on. I know this is probably a well known trick of the trade, but I never took it seriously until this year. Seriously, do it. It’s great.

Favorite Thing I Wrote:

Hmmm, a snippet for Andronikos/Ni’kasi that I started this week which isn’t posted yet (saving it for this week’s Six Sentence Sunday so look out for it! :D) was pretty fun to work on, I love their dynamic and Kas is suprisingly fun to write for.

Also the Aria/Vano proposal scene that I posted a snippet for the week before last. I’m having great fun with that scene, and I really enjoy putting a non-serious spin on the classic “proposal scene” tropes. Can’t wait to finish it, though it may be a while before the full one goes up on AO3, as it depends whether it ends up fitting in as part of the mainfic or as an additional oneshot

And I have a D’leah/Kissai oneshot that I need to give another once-over before I finally yeet it onto AO3 and Tumblr for you guys to see :’D

Favorite Fic I Read:

@sleepswithvillains Eleanora/Quinn fic, Helplessly Hoping. I’m horribly behind on chapters and I gotta catch up and read the finale this week, but it’s been a helluva great ride and I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the story! <3

Also The Invitation collab with @tishinada featuring Zas and Fiona had me squealing, I can’t wait to catch up on HH and see more of these two, they’re adorable ;-; @a-muirehen​ ‘s Relu/Merkara series of course! I’m a complete sucker for (friends to lovers to in Ariano’s case but yea pfpfpf) enemies to lovers ships and these two are just so good, I am on the edge of my seat every time we get a new snippet for them, ngl (grimace emoji) @darth-bagel ‘s Sylvas/Graz’zt and Sylvas/Liz/Rilfaen snippets which they’ve been spoiling me with on Discord @mercurypilgrim ‘s Ven’fir/Quinn AU oneshots, Cloudbank (Western was a particular favourite, but all are very good!) and of course @rainofaugustsith ‘s Lana/Viri updates are always fantastic, some personal favourites from this year were Almost There & Memory of Healing :3 (I totally still go back to read Commander & Advisor too sometimes, getting to see Viri be a little diabolical and messing with “MiNiSTeR LoRMaN!” was and still is my favourite thing XD)

If I’ve left you out I’m sorry!! These were the ones that stuck out in my memory, but I’ve loved everyone’s writing this year, it’s been great :3

Writing Goals:

to actually finish and post chapter 8 & 9 of Creeping Shadows. Then we’ll get to the meat and potatoes of the story and maybe Aria will stop being a brat and fighting me every time I try to stick to a semi-regular update schedule Get off my butt, finalise the name and get started on Ni’kasi’s part of the Subterfugeverse story. Maybe run the updates in-tandem with Creeping Shadows but idk if I want to wait till after CS is done before I start posting Kas’s side, or do them side-by-side yet, we’ll see ;) Keep writing! I know better than to pressure myself by setting a specific word count goal, that’s never worked well in the past

At least 2 chapters of each of the works mentioned above would be great though, more would be better! We’ll see how I go

Words of Thanks:

honestly, to everybody in the fandom I’ve met this year. Anybody that I follow, thank you for being there and engaging with me and/or posting amazing content for me to look at! I came over from deviantART where the SWTOR fandom is incredibly small and generally quite inactive and the contrast since moving over here has been incredibly uplifting. I very nearly cancelled Creeping Shadows and stopped posting fic for my SWTORverse altogether because I got next to no engagement on dA and it was very disheartening to the point where I felt I could enjoy the game and the rp partners I had, but the solo projects I’d put so much thought, time and love into already weren’t worth continuing. You guys took that spark and kept it going and I really don’t have enough words to say how grateful I am for that. Even if I haven’t published much this year, making posts on this tumblr, interacting with everyone and working on lore, plot points and so on for Subterfugeverse has kept me going through the Hellish Year of Nightmares that was 2020 <3

to the amazing new friends I’ve made in this past year, who have listened to me ramble about headcanons, character backstories, writing snippets (and rambled/sent some back), keep being awesome: @walk-ng-d-saster , @darth-bagel , @kyber-heart , @deepseacritter , @thedinalixlegacy to further friends and meme tag buddies, I get so excited every time I see a mention for a new meme or ask game in my inbox, so thank you!! : @mimabeann , @palepinkycat , @a-master-procrastinator , @raven-of-domain-kwaad , @actualanxiousswampwitch , @thatmmolesbian , @a-muirehen to my regular commentors/rebloggers/likers/askbox lurkers, I see every one of you and every time your users pop up I grin like a kid in a toy shop: @starlightjedi , @sparkles-and-rust , @wilvarin-chan , @sunsetofdoom , @ask-an-andalite , @thelastenvoyyy . @lyrishadow and more because Tumblr only goes so far back and I have the memory of Swiss Cheese. If you regularly comment, like, reblog, or anything, from me, know that I see you, and I love and appreciate you for it! <3

I couldn’t possibly remember to tag everyone and I promise if I missed you out it’s not because I hate you! Anxiety just sometimes be a bitch and I don’t wanna look like a clown calling someone a “friend” if I’m not explicitly sure we are, in fact, friends. I think you’re all awesome and I’m so glad to have moved over here and met you all <3

[kuroopaisen]

@kacchand (i couldn't tag your main but i wanted to make sure you saw this fdlkjfdlkj) 

hello dear! i’m sorry it took me so long to respond to this dflskjfdlkfdj i decided to answer your ask in a text post so i can link my thoughts to yours more easily! also, i know i'm going to Ramble, so i wanted to be able to keep it under a cut sdlkfjd

Hi rowan!! I've just finished the final chapter of aot and I just wanted to ask your opinion on it!

(SPOILERS THAT DEPICT MY UNDERSTANDING OF THE STORY'S MEANING AHEAD. READ ONLY IF YOU'VE FINISHED THE CHAPTER)

(FR )

(THERE'S STILL TIME TO BACK OUT)

(DO IT NOW. SPOILER ALERT)

I'd also like to ask a follow up question about it, because it seems that I've come to a different concl. from many of my friends and I'm feeling dumb abt how i feel w it.

first of all (and i say this as sincerely as possible, and if i'm coming off as condesending please let me know hh), please don't feel dumb because you've come to a different conclusion :(

we all read media at different levels (i’ve been told it’s ‘not that deep’ before fdljkfsdlkj) and identify different aspects in it, so the fact that you've had a different experience to some of your friends is absolutely not a reflection on your intelligence. and if anyone's making you feel that way, drop their @. i just want to talk :) furthermore, you’re not wrong for responding to something emotionally, especially if it really... makes you uncomfortable, you know? 

i'm from the PH & I've put off determining whether i'm comfy w the manga til the last chap,,,, but is it wrong that I can't shake the feeling that it's a justification of japanese expansionism and genocide? ik this manga has always been in the grey area, and that's what I love abt it! It often shows that no choice they make is absolutely good or bad, and does such a good job at showing you how each complex character came to that understanding (role of environment, etc...) but this last chapter felt too positive abt the rumbling? Like it was justified because paradis was able to advance and there wasn't much choice? idk.

that's totally valid! some of the best think pieces on the show i read mentioned that the concern with the narrative is less "is isayama a nazi sympathiser?" (he most likely isn't), but if he's a imperial japan apologist. and...

well, let's just say that my father is british, and when i was trying to say that colonisation was bad, using british india as an example, he said "well, we gave them railroads." it's... it's uncomfortable and gross and i think it encapsulates how countries with imperial pasts tend to talk about them; even if they don't officially endorse it, there's often a lot of talk about how "well colonialism was good for this country, actually--"

and if the manga felt like it was justifying japanese expansionism, then chances are it had elements that very much did point towards that. i've had a lot of trouble grappling with reiner, annie and bertolt, because they've existed in this grey area of 'victim of oppression' and 'war criminal'; and their existence raises the question of "do people who commit war crimes simply do what needs to be done?" and by victimising them it... it plays into the whole nuremberg defense of "i was just following orders". it's making you feel bad for the people committing said war crimes (and similarly with eren, and all the awful things he's done). but i'll get more into this point later dsfkjfd

i haven't read the last chapter yet (and don't worry about spoilers! i've been approaching aot from a very... specific perspective anyway, so i actually don't mind spoilers -- i read a bunch of analyses of the series before i'd even watched it hh), but... i think if it came off as too positive about, you know... an awful thing that happened, then it absolutely makes sense that you'd feel uncomfortable?

the modernisation narrative in general is one that always skeeves me out. it's one japanese imperialists use to justify the invasion of korea (and even those infamous tweets from the one account purported to be isayama talk about how the population of korea boomed under japanese imperial occupation, which... stop.)

it's also commonly invoked in cases of development. certain members of society (usually the poor), just 'had' to die for the good of the future. who gives a damn if they consent to that? they have to.

similarly, the 'we had no choice' narrative. that's... a concerning one that crops up time and again with history apologists, the argument that "oh if x country hadn't done y, then someone else would've!" or that acts of aggression were done as pre-emptive self-defence, which is so... ugh. i just. i just hate it.

It also feels really weird w the ymir and the whole loving fritz thing. i wish we got to see more of her thought process and what conclusion she came to that led her to destroying the power of the titans.

i... hate this so much. i get that abuse is complicated and victims often have multifaceted feelings towards their abusers, but... most people would focus on that in their story? the story would be about that? but instead, it's just... a thing in the history of the world and that's... icky.

also having the genesis of the titans come from a slave girl in love with her captor... there's many levels of ick to it and i highly doubt it was handled with the appropriate level of grace and sensitivity.

honestly, this might be one of the things that pissed me off the most because of how... contradictory her backstory was with That One Chapter (you know, instead of ymir crying because she wants to be free or because she’s been trapped she........ wants to see mikasa kiss eren’s decapitated head? i guess? what the fuck?) 

idk...I just think that context is sometimes everything. and i understand that media can portray incorrect things,,,, and that isayama likely didn't intend for it to become a global sensation, but i guess i'm just uncomfortable w the right wing nazis getting a comfort book ahaha.

i totally get that! even if attack on titan is meant to be anti-fascists, the fact of the matter is... a lot of fascists love it. and relate to it. which is... alarming. especially given just how popular aot is worldwide.

it’s hard because before the ending, attack on titan did feel like it was more grey; i remember saying that i wouldn’t know how to feel about it until the ending because the story was either saying “the military is corrupt and war is hell”, or it was saying “the military is corrupt and war is hell, but it is necessary.” 

still sorting out my thoughts, but yeah. I think i'm having a hard time understanding what they really accomplished with the rumbling and how they gave eren a sudden lelouch role and a lot of how they made it out to be a happy thing? perhaps I'm too biased to see it fully but to me it gives a "woah. eren was a hero. he saved us from destruction. those people needed to die for us to achieve this temporary peace and new start". i suppose the rumbling gave them a levelled playing ground?

OH MY GOOOOOD okay. i haven't finished code geass. but i really don't like lelouch. i mean... i think i just don't like characters that sacrifice other people for a purported 'greater good' (i could write an Essay about how much i hate erwin smith looking at him is enough to send me into an unhinged rage), but where i'm up to in the anime, i don't like the direction they're going with eren? i mean, i've never liked eren, but... that whole "martyr for the eldians" is just. ew. especially when you see several eldian characters disagree and resist him. 

why does this one guy get to make choices for everyone else? because he’s sPeCiAL? fuck off 

sorry for not being coherent. maybe i'm basing this too much on feelings ahaha. trust aot to finish it's scandalous run with a scandalous end.

no omg you're being perfectly coherent :( also, if anyone's making you feel bad or stupid for how you experience media, they’re... definitely not as smart as they think they are fdslskjfdlk. 

i'm of that mind that, while media consumption is in part an intellectual exercise, it is inherently very emotional; narrative media tries to make us feel as much as it makes us think. that’s what stories are for, you know? intellectual analysis is well and good but what’s the point of a story if it doesn’t make you feel anything?

that's to say, i don't believe there's such thing as basing your opinion too much on feelings :') especially since it's your personal experience with a piece of media; you don't owe anyone 'objectivity' (which is always a farce when it comes to this sort of thing) or 'logical analysis', because nobody's got any right to criticise you for engaging with media the 'wrong way'.

tl;dr I feel like the mood was too celebratory abt the rumbling, and didn't entail enough on the tragedy so much that it felt like a justification for genocide and expansionism. how do you feel abt it's ending and the message it leaves? is isayama responsible to give a morally correct answer to the cycle of hatred? you're not obligated to answer! and sorry for the rambling.

hhh yeah i guess that’s the thing at the end of the day... is isayama responsible for giving a “morally correct” answer? no, but the way the ending plays out is very telling. 

like armin thanking eren? mikasa’s e n t i r e character boiling down to being in love with a mass murderer no matter how poorly he’s treated her? and one could argue that kind of ending is supposed to be unsettling, supposed to hint that the cycle will just continue, but...

framing is everything. and it’s framed like a Good, Emotional Thing, Aren’t We So Grateful Eren Did All Those Awful Things 

YI think I would've been fine if we got to see more of Eren's or Yif you have a different perspective on how eren is being portrayed please do share! I just felt really yucky watching armin say "thanks for murdering all those people for us" with love,,, I suppose he was trying to make eren feel better. ach maybe I'm just overreacting. idk. im dumb ahaha . i'll send this in anyway cuz I'd love to hear your take!

HHHHHHH i just hate eren and i never got him. i felt bad for him in the beginning, but he's always been too... violent for me. there was a very short period of time in season 2 where i felt bad for him, but otherwise it’s just been... ugh. the main three have always been the weakest part of the series imo, so it’s really not surprising they’re part of the reason the ending was so. bad. 

and... well, that one infamous quote pretty much sums up my issue with armin. he's supposed to be the 'intelligent' one, but he's hopelessly devoted to a homicidal maniac with whom he has a very artificial, unbelievable bond with.

at the end of the day, the "thank you for becoming our monster" thing just makes it seem like attack on titan's core message is "war is horrible, but it is necessary." it feels like it's justifying massacre. and while fiction is fiction, and sometimes it's as simple as that, i think something as politically loaded as attack on titan needs to be looked at with a critical lens when discussing what it’s trying to say or what it means. 

do i think it makes someone a Bad Person for liking aot or being attached to it in some way? no, because that’s dumb, and what media someone likes =/= their Moral Goodness TM. ofc trends are a thing and certain pieces of media appeal to certain types of people, but it’s a false equivalency that misses the point. 

but by that same breath, nobody is wrong or stupid or has Less Valid Opinions just because what they took away from it makes them uncomfortable. 

i’m sorry this is So Long i have so many thoughts about this dskljfslkj 

but at the end of the day, 

levi sexy

[jam-is-my-food]

writing asks. all of them. ( for 50 uhh just write a paragraph about how hot emmy raver-lampman is in a suit please and thank you </3 )

fUCK YOU NESSIE

THAT’S IT IM DOING IT JUST TO SPITE YOU

this is gonna be long asf click keep reading at risk of death or boredom

1.     Do you listen to music when you write?

not usually, it's distracting

 2.     Are you a pantser or plotter?

naturally pantser but if i wanna actually finish smth i gotta plot it hh

 3.     Computer or pen and paper?

computer i'm not a boOmer /j i so am

 4.     Have you ever been published, or do you want to be published?

bitch i wiSh

actually technically i was published in this anthology thing once? and i think i have a piece in a magazine somewhere on the internet i forget those are cool

but yeah bye getting a novel published is my d r e a m (gotta write a novel first tho lawl)

 5.     How much writing do you get done on an average day?

n o t  m u c h

unless i get one of my bUrsts aka finishing a 2.3K almoons chapter before 8am the other week after procrastinating it for like two months 

but yeah jdsghliuedskj it um depends often none

 6.     Single or multiple POV?

i answered that for kiri so i'll just copy paste it over loll

mmm it depends. usually i do single? but i do do multiple occasionally. i almost never do alternating chapters, though, it’s usually more like part one is narrated by person a, part two person b etc.

 7.     Standalone or series?

baha like i could ever write a series (please, please be jinxing yourself rn refster) aside from that one trilogy when i was 7 but uh yeah atm just standalones but a series would be so cool in future 

 8.     Oldest WIP

the aforementioned trilogy. chronicles of clara. it is incREDIBLE. 10/10. so good. so, so good.

 9.     Current WIP

i haven't actually mentioned it on tumblr yet but hehehe it's called the wordweaver's apprentice it's fantasy and i'm v excited about it :DD that was ooc but :DD

 10.  Do you set yourself deadlines?

(also answered for kiri, copy-pasting over)

hahahahhahahuhdkjashdglauhsdaugediuskjlkehdsgihkdskhgdkjx

i? try?

it does not go well?

but then i never finish my projects?

send help pls im dying

11.  Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

lmao the list is too long

 12.  Describe your perfect writing space

somewhere w/o distractions

 13.  Describe your writing process from idea to polished

hm. idea. that's cool. that's cool. write it down. hype myself up. forget about it within a week.

el em mayo

but like

f r LMAO

okay but fr fr idk i don't usually finish stuff but it'd be idea, brainstorm, plot (sort of), write, agonize, write, finish, throw in the other direction and never touch again bc revision whos she

 14.  How do you deal with self-doubts?

cry and spam my friends

 15.  How do you deal with writer’s block?

i don’t - mm. i don’t tend to get writer’s block? or like - idk what to classify as writer’s block? bc sometimes i get blocked for a certain story, but then i get really into like poetry or sum for a week so it’s fine idk

 16.  How many drafts do you need until you’re satisfied with a project?

o n e as i said i don't - revision is a no

 17.  What writing habits or rituals do you have?

uHhHhhhhh idk???

 18.  If you could collaborate with anyone, who would it be, and what would you write about?

*laughs in gfc*

 19.  How do you keep yourself motivated?

i don't. if you have any ideas please hmu i need it.

 20.  How many WIPs and story ideas do you have?

m a n y.

21.  Who is/are your favourite character(s) to write?

mmmmmmmmm i love cass i haven't written her in too long but i think she's probably my most well-done character to date and i'm so proud of her badkghewiludkjs

 22.  Who is/are your favourite pairing(s) to write?

c y i l l

though possible imeini (ship name needs revision) in future we shall see (from twa) (the aforementioned newish wip)

 23.  Favourite author

there are Many

 24.  Favourite genre to write and read

fantasy maybe? ooh dystopia is fun

 25.  Favourite part of writing

everything about it when i'm motivated hh, my problem is getting more motivation

 26.  Favourite writing program

oh idk huh?

27.  Favourite line/scene

idk?

 28.  Favourite side character

j o o s t

 29.  Favourite villain

i def have one but i forget

 30.  Favourite idea you haven’t started on yet

too many

31.  Least favourite part of writing

motivating myself :/

 32.  Most difficult character to write

mmmm i'm not really in the throes of a wip atm so idk

 33.  Have you ever killed a main character?

yessir

 34.  What was the hardest scene you ever had to write?

drunk will was surprisingly difficult in a fun way. def not the hardest but yeah

 35.  What scene/story are you least looking forward to writing?

god idk

36.  Last sentence you wrote

And then Mei was gone, and in the space that she'd filled, Imani whispered, "I wish I was like you."

 37.  First sentence or your current WIP

It is said that when we came to this stretch of Tatys land, it was empty.

38.  Weirdest story idea you’ve ever had

mm there was one about anthropomorphic chickens battling sentient fruits, the fruits in question also being six-year olds

 39.  Weirdest character concept you’ve ever had

s e e  a b o v e

 40.  Share some backstory for one of your characters

cass's mom used to have a drug problem & she would leave her alone for long stretches of time, she went to rehab and is now sober but it's where cass gets her abandonment issues from

41.  Any advice for new/beginning/young writers?

just write! no one taught me how to do anything, and there's no rules per se, aside from basic grammatical stuff. do what you wanna do, don't worry about others' reactions. this is cliche asf but true.

 42.  How do you feel about love triangles?

mostly gross, but they can be good.

 43.  What do you do if/when characters don’t follow the outline?

adapt. i  g o  w i t h  t h e  f l o w.

 44.  How much research do you do?

not much usually, depends on the genre of story. i do as much as i feel i need to. and ofc i have the random writer search history.

 45.  How much world building do you do?

in the past, not much. twa (once again my new wip) is fantasy, though, so i' m attempting to remedy that.

 46.  Do you reread your own stories?

i do! it's fun to look back at them after a few years and see how much i've improved.

 47.  Best way to procrastinate

random character headcanons/doodle writey spurt thingies

 48.  What’s the most self-insert character/scene you’ve ever written?

bAHA this one scene in the cHrOniCLeS of cLaRa book two when this girl lisa who was 100% self-insert got annoyed at her little sister daisy (sister-insert) for chewing too loudly and then proceeded to use her wAtEr pOwErs to like flood the house. that part was less self-insert.

 49.  Which character would you most want to be friends with, if they were real?

bye that's so hard. c a d m u s & l a u r e n t tho cinnamon rolls are liFE.

 50.  Write a paragraph about how hot emmy raver-lampman is in a suit please and thank you

i don't gotta write my own bitch i have everything i need to plagiarize from right here

"Raver-Lampman’s enthusiasm is contagious. So is her laugh. It comes from deep inside, just like her voice, and it rings out — ricocheting off furniture and walls. Her head is shaved, all except for a distinctive swath of tight curls on the top and left side of her head. She has the tiniest septum ring in her nose, and a tattoo of what looks like a musical note behind her right ear."

- the clearly gay jessica belt

thank you for the ASKS darLING and thank you if you read this idk why or whether you're okay but yup

[rawliverandcigarettes]

WIP Whenever

I’ve been tagged by @natsora, thank you!

Tagging @arani-writes, @illusivesoul and @mordinette if you feel like doing it.

Today I’m going to share something that shouldn’t be. I was supposed to take a break from HH entirely as I finished the draft 2 and needed some distance. Obviously I did not do that at all; not only did I made adjustments to the outline for the next draft (I’m SO pumped about them), but I also started the draft for The Empire of Preys, which is the next story in the Halfway Home series.

great break, congrats me for being able to take healthy breaks, everyone is very proud of you. =_=

So have the first paragraph of the second chapter of The Empire of Preys (which is multi PoV, so it’s quite exciting to write)!!

Pranas’ first glow incensed the rainforest whole. The warmth was new and the canopy weak, shivering. Leaves and moss would fume soon: feshe qer, the first transfer, the lesser one. Bruised willows, xates, azul ferns and the ancient firols alike –all of them fluttered with invisible birds.

Jurlan inhaled the gentle steam. The earth was soaked with late-night drizzles. So were the barks in which aquaprimates burrowed, the webs of keptels sparking with the colors of a dying star. The pollen from the previous day had dissolved in the dew, but the flavors remained fresh on her tongue. Beyond the curtains of vapor, the sky glowed a brazen pink, tattered with blue.

She may have taken her time but, in the end, Voice-Dalatrass Hassad picked a pleasant morning in which to loose her mind.