#but also just rethinking about it has caused me to write down two more fic ideas whoops

[jnixz]

*Sits here contemplating once again on how psychic specialties and more commonly used powers can say something about the characteristics of a character, even just from the first game

from markmanship/psi-blasts being something that channels aggression into a more focused controlled and productive outlet as a step forward in achieving a goal. It is trained in a level that has different sides but all fundamentally the same in its design, with a literal target as the goal to be reached

to levitation, a power that comes more easily to the person when they are able to maintain lighter and more positive thoughts at a level of consistency, like having a little spring on their feet when in a good mood and being able to reach something somewhere like a boost in energy. The mindscape encourages a lively energy and litters with small challenges that rewards to the next section and back-up boosters to encourage moving forward whenever they fall down.

then there’s the counselor that encourages using physical capabilities and punching through things to get to the end, with a mindscape that appears harsh and a voice that eggs on to move (punch punch punch), pushing to complete a challenge to prove oneself worthy -- and again at a much more nightmarish level, although this time it turns out that communicating and understanding helps reach the end far more than fighting can

then we get an elder who is an teleportation expert that is quite literally and figuratively all over the place, a comedic and bizarre atmosphere fitting for the word play it serves. It is essential for a teleporter to land where they intend to, a freedom that like stretching out wings in the sky, to go where there where before quicker than anyone else can. With the pieces scattered, he is everywhere yet stuck in one place. 

He teaches all the other powers but never lets any visits to his mind. But bit by bit the need to be at right time at the right place seem to be coming closer, even when one doesn’t realize it at first 

(He questions why he feels the need to keep an eye on this kid like this, when he could just do it the way he does with the rest of the campers. One surprise little spoon-bender shouldn’t be all that different. But in each little training, a question itches at his mind. Something nags at him he can’t quite reach just yet)

And then when he is alone, by the campfire with all seven faces and a name, he remembers. 

Right time, right place. He doesn’t stay there for long.

Up till the kid calls him again (Right time, right place.)

then things start coming along together at last*

This game is so good you guys

[yanderes-galore]

TF2 lol Blu scout crushing on Blu medic darling is cute, how'd you write a concept for him? Like Blu Scout is almost like Darling's assistant as they practice wrapping wounds, without hurting Scout, they're like son and parent, almost until Scout's feelings start turning into love, despite Darling seeing scout as their friend

Sure! Bringing back the BLU Scout from this short, say hello again to Jez (The name of BLU Scout in my fics so Red can stay Jeremy)

Yandere! BLU Scout with BLU Medic! Darling

Pairing: Platonic (Darling)/Romantic (Scout/Jez)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Jez is a fan name I made, Platonic relationship turned romantic, Brief mentions of poor family life, Obsession, Slight stalking, Jealousy/Possessive behavior, Delusional behavior, Forced relationship, Mentioned/Implied kidnapping, Drugging, Manipulation.

As BLU team's Medic you've always been kind, too kind at times.

The perfect counterpart to the RED team's Medic, Ludwig

Jeremy's counterpart is Jez, the BLU Scout.

You've noticed the two Scouts look eerily similar... but so do most of the counterparts.

Jez is reckless, not quite raised with self-care in mind.

But unlike Jeremy, he's kinder and not willing to hurt his darling for the most part.

Jez gets attached to you because you patch him up.

Not wanting the young merc to hurt himself... you even teach him how to wrap his own wounds.

Jez likes you for your caring personality and the fact you look after him.

You find out later during a conversation with him that it's because his father wasn't around for him all the time.

It was just him and his mother before he left for merc work.

When you offer to take Jez in as an assistant when not in battle, he's surprised.

Although... Jez quickly becomes eager to assist you around the medbay.

Jez sees you as a close friend at first.

You give him the care he yearns for and he learns some important life skills.

The bond between you is that of teacher and student, despite your ages being so similar.

Many on BLU team know how close you two are.

Although it gets annoying when in the heat of battle Jez refuses to leave your side, begging you to pocket him.

Jez loves to learn from you because it's an excuse to spend time with you.

You tell him what certain medicine does, like pain killers.

You also show him how to properly bandage wounds.

Jez looks up to you... he cares deeply about you.

A specific event has to happen to make him realize he loves you more than a friend.

Maybe you accidentally brush against him, causing his face to flare?

Maybe he sees you talk to someone else and he feels anger?

That or maybe a deep conversation makes him rethink things.

The point is something has to happen between you two for Jez to fall for you.

At first he's hesitant or even ashamed he feels this way.

Yet soon he wishes to pursue these feelings one way or another.

Jez still struggles with flirting and romance like Jeremy.

After all, Jez follows you like a lost puppy.

He tries to keep signs of his attraction subtle but others can tell.

Spy can tell that Jez looks at you like an idol.

Jez definitely pilfers through your medbay in search of something to keep or learn more about you.

He's embarrassed to ask Spy for help, but he just can't stop thinking about you.

He wants to be the best man for you!

Although... Spy sees how eager Jez is and tries to calm him down.

Something feels... wrong deep in Spy's gut.

"Okay... I want to tell 'em I love 'em. I want to know how to show dedication! Y'know... so they don't look at anyone else but me...."

"Are you sure you want to this, Scout? You may be making a mistake...."

"Mistake!? Never! I love 'em... nothing's gonna change that."

"And if they don't feel the same?"

"... they gotta. Why else would they take care of me? Why else would they show signs!?"

Jez does a lot more for you in his obsession.

He watches you when you aren't looking and is a very attentive assistant.

"Ah... I forgot something."

"Got it right here, sweetcheeks. Here!"

He loves the idea of it just being the two of you....

Jez may even be delusional, dedicated fully to the idea of being the only one for you.

He does everything he can to show you he loves you.

You see it as him being a friend... a close companion who you took in.

The moment Jez realizes his attempts at having you are fruitless... he tries other methods.

There's no longer any need to be subtle.

He confronts you alone, clinging to you in an attempt to make you feel what he feels for you.

He tries to brush against you, he spills private info to show he confides in you.

Jez prefers manipulation to get your attention.

He's still capable of violence but for the most part he just wants to use sabotage to earn your attention.

If you like someone else, he'll make up some rumor.

If you're oblivious or are attempting to reject him, he refuses to accept it.

He hates the idea of losing your attention!

Who's a better lover than him? Your assistant?

Teaching him medicines becomes dangerous as how he knows what drugs do what.

Expect either and injection or chloroform over your nose as Jez hushes you to sleep.

He doesn't like the idea of drugging you but will if he has to.

He promises to take care of you.

After all, you've taught him everything he needs to know yourself!

"I love you, baby... I promise I'll not only be the perfect assistant, but boyfriend too."

[snickerl]

Of Miracle Births and Other Wonders

tagging @today-in-fic

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

The lady behind the reception desk sends Mulder and the two kids up to the fourth floor of the hospital. They find another reception area with another helpful nurse. She tells them a doctor will be with them very soon to give them an update on Scully's condition. The few minutes they have to wait tears every nerve in Mulder's body, putting his patience to a hard test. Then, to his great relief, a good-looking woman in her late thirties approaches them. "Hello Mr. Scully, my name is Dr. Hanson, I am taking care of your wife," she says, holding her hand out to shake his.

"Uh, nice to meet you, Doctor, but my name is Mulder. These are our children, Emily and William," Mulder says, nudging them both in front of him. "How is Scully? I mean, my wife? How is she?"

"Hello everybody," the doctor says good-naturedly. "Your wife is perfectly fine, Mr. Mulder. She is doing great with her breathing technique. Her cervix is at 5 centimeters, so we still have some way to go. The baby is in good shape, she is in good shape, so we believe we will have a smooth delivery in a couple of hours. Are you all coming to the delivery room?"

William is aghast, his eyes saucer-wide. "What? Ew, no way! Gross!" He shakes his head vehemently. "Never ever!"

Mulder looks at his daughter. "Em?"

Emily thinks for a moment but quickly decides against it. The thought of seeing her mother in pain, even if it was for a good cause, makes her uncomfortable. "I'd rather stay with Will. We don't want him sitting here all by himself," she says.

"I don't need a sitter," William snaps, "I'm not a baby."

"But you definitely behave like one," Emily fires back. "Now shut up and be nice so dad can look after mom and doesn't have to worry about us at each other's throats out here."

"Alright," Doctor Hanson says. "The waiting area is over there. There are magazines and a vending machine. If you need anything, ask the nurse at reception. Follow me, Mr. Scully...I mean Mr. Mulder, sorry...your wife will be happy to see you." She leads the way to the delivery room. Mulder presses a kiss on Emily's hair and waves at William who has already plummeted into a chair. "Okay, kids. See you later then," he says and hurries to follow the doctor.

"Say hello to mom from us," Emily shouts after him, "and good luck!" She looks after her father who disappears through a swinging door marked Deliveries, then trots toward the waiting area to join her brother. She places herself in a chair next to him, looks around, gets up again to leaf through a pile of magazines on one of the tables, finds nothing of interest, goes back to her chair, and lets herself fall onto it with a sigh.

"You could've gone with dad, if you wanted," William tells her without looking up from his phone.

"Nah, I'm good."

Both sit in silence for a while. William is totally absorbed in a game on his smartphone, Emily pulls a history book and some pencils out of her backpack and starts reading, writing notes on the pages in different colors here and there. William shakes his head when he sees her doing that. "That's so old school, sis."

"Well, it's good for me. This way, the information stays longer in my brain than when I read it on a screen. You may call it old school, bro, I call it efficient mnemonics."

"Whatever," he sighs, his eyes back on the screen.

"Hey, what you said in the car, that mom doesn't care about us anymore, what did you mean by that?"

"I meant what I said, whatever the baby needs comes first, and we will play second fiddle. Or maybe even third. But I don't care. If things get unbearable, I will ask to go to boarding school. They can play house with the new baby then and I won't be there to bother anyone with my presence."

"You're being ridiculous, Will. Mom and dad will never let you go to boarding school, and I can't believe it will be anything like you just said."

William only shrugs. The narrative in his head has solidified like concrete, and he can't imagine a worse place to be right now. The best he can do is immerse himself in this online game and forget about what is happening at the other side of the door his father vanished through. After some hours of playing (thank God he brought his charger) and a short nap with his head leaned back against the wall, his stomach grumbles. "Are you also hungry, Em?"

"Well, I could have a snack. How long have we been waiting?"

"We came here at 10:45 am, now it's almost 6," William tells her, looking at the big clock on the wall of the waiting area.

"Wow, seven hours already. Poor mom. I wonder why dad hasn't given us an update."

"Do you think something is going wrong and he doesn't want to tell us?" William says, his voice trembling a bit.

"I don't think so."

"It's not so unlikely at mom's age."

"And how do you know?"

"I read stuff."

"You read stuff. Where?" Emily has problems picturing her brother behind a pregnancy textbook.

"On the internet, where else? If you google 'late motherhood' you get thousands of hits. And they all tell you women should have babies in their twenties and thirties, not their fifties. There is a reason for that. Nature doesn't want you to have a baby when you're old."

"Mom's not old."

"For having babies she is. She should be a grandmother rather than giving birth."

"Well, if she was a grandmother, I would already have a baby," Emily points out pensively, then adds a determined, "no thanks!"

"I just can't believe they let this happen."

"Let what happen?"

"Getting mom pregnant. Why? How?"

"Well, I can tell you how..."

"Ew, don't!" William imitates a gagging sound. "But why?"

"I guess it just happened."

"There are ways to prevent getting pregnant, I hope you are aware of that, unlike our parents apparently. I don't want to be an uncle on top of this any time soon. How could they have been so dumb? I don't get it. For all the times mom lectured us about condoms and safe sex, she didn't follow her own words." He shakes his head showing his disapproval and lack of understanding quite clearly. "I will never have sex, that's for sure."

Emily gives a slight chuckle. At fourteen, her brother most certainly doesn't have any idea of the joy of it. When he gets older and starts fancying girls, he might rethink his attitude, but something else is hitting her the longer their conversation goes. "You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"Well, what else was I to do? It has been the main topic in our house for the longest time. I guess, sometimes they even forgot I was still living there."

"Bullshit."

William is done explaining his thoughts. His sister obviously isn't getting the point either, just like his parents. "Now are we getting something to eat, or what?"

"You hangry?" Emily asks with a smirk and he is glad she has taken the bait and they changed the topic.

"After seven hours of wasting my time in this stuffy waiting room, I think I am allowed to have a bite to eat. Do you have change for the machine?" The boy is inwardly fuming at his father for once again neglecting him by not giving him money for food.

Big sister overtakes Em again, "I am definitely getting us something more nutritious. There has to be a cafeteria somewhere with sandwiches and a drink with less sugar than what I see in that machine." The idea of having to deal with a cranky brother on a sugar-high isn't very appealing. She gets up from the chair, her mind set on improving her brother's mood with a tasty snack. Plus, the hunt for food will give her something to do instead of mulling over what her mother is enduring at this very moment in the delivery room. "Text me, if you hear something," she tells her brother before she leaves him alone.

He tries to distract himself with the game again, but his thoughts keep going back to six months ago when his world turned upside down. The situation was surreal. His parents had prepared one of their usual Sunday family dinners, Emily had come to join, and with the dessert they served them the news of the pregnancy. His sister's piercing shriek of surprised joy hurt his eardrums and he almost choked on the pie he had in his mouth. His mother annoyed him with science book citations about the finer points of late motherhood and male ongoing virility that made him want to cover his ears entirely and yell 'too much information' at her. The worst was his dad though. The puppy eyes with which he was looking at his mom and the silly petting of her still flat stomach caused a severe tickling in William's throat. To this very day, he hadn't gotten past the shock. He shakes his head to make the unpleasant memories disappear.

And then, of course, what had to happen happens: Emily is gone for about fifteen minutes when Mulder appears in the waiting area with an ear-to-ear smile on his face. "Waiting time is over, the baby's here! It's a girl! A healthy, beautiful little girl," he announces, his voice full of pride and also relief. He looks around, surprised to find William alone. "Where is your sister?"

"Getting us a snack. Is mom alright?"

"She is. She did great. I am so amazed by that woman." Mulder's whole face lights up. "She sent me to get you guys. When will Em be back?"

"I don't know. She's been gone for about 20 minutes now, it shouldn't take her much longer. I mean only if she hasn't met a cute guy she needed to get into a conversation with." William rolls his eyes so hard he sees the back of his head, his voice high-pitched on 'cute guy'.

Mulder is still so high on adrenaline that he doesn't chime in, although he too has been annoyed more than once by his daughter's tardiness, and the reason has often enough been a 'cute guy'. "Okay, gotta go back to Scully, I don't want to leave her and the baby alone for too long," he says. He points toward a long gray hallway with several doors on each side. "We're in room 302 over there on the right. As soon as Em gets back, come and join us. Mom is waiting for you guys."

"But dad," William laments in vain, his father is already around the corner. "Great," he mumbles to himself. First, they drag him out here and make him wait endless hours in an uncomfortable chair only to be here when the baby is born, and now that it is born, they don't have a problem with him standing around for God knows how long until his tardy sister is back. Typical. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, types in 'get here asap', his fingers flying over the screen, and slams the send button.

Impatience gets the better of him soon. There is no more sitting in the chair and playing online games for him now, he is pacing the waiting area, glad that nobody else is there to see him in this state. If Emily isn't back soon, he'll explode, he thinks, but it takes another 20 minutes until he sees her leisurely strolling down the hallway. He sighs in relief when she finally stands in front of him, a cardboard tray in one hand filled with two drinks and something to eat he can't quite figure out, and some flowers wrapped in paper in the other. "It's about time!" he lets her know.

"Sorry," Emily says quite relaxed, "I was just standing in line to pay for the food when I got your text. This hospital complex is huge and a bit confusing to be honest. I'm not sure I took the shortest way on my way back. Healthy muffins, iced tea, and something for your sweet tooth," she says with a grin, holding the tray out to William. "What happened?"

"What happened? What do you think happened? The baby's here, of course, and mom wants to see us!"

Emily gives a girly shriek that hurts William's ears once again. "Yay! Great! You could've been a bit more specific in your text rather than simply summoning me back here. I thought you were just craving the food."

"Yeah, well, there was food right in front of our noses." William points to the vending machine, unable to keep his outstretched index finger steady. "But you had to go on a hunting trip for some salad leaves and made me stand around here alone wondering."

"Where are they?"

"In room 302. They are waiting for us. It's this way." William nods in the direction Mulder showed him.

"Okay, let's go then."

Side by side, Emily and William take long strides toward the room they were told. "Boy or girl?" Emily asks on the way.

"Girl."

"Yay again! Ah, that's wonderful. I have a little sister," she chants.

William isn't sharing an ounce of his sister's enthusiasm. If he had been given a choice, he would have passed on this experience as a whole, but now that they are standing in front of room 302, by opening that door what he has tried to deny will become real. If only his mom is alright, he will accept all that comes with it: sleepless nights because of the baby crying, smelly diapers, more Thai takeout, and an annoying younger sister on top of an annoying older one. If only his mom is alright. Emily knocks and he hears his mother's voice say "Come in!" It sounds weak, he thinks, and his heartbeat accelerates. When he follows his sister into the room, he braces himself for the worst.

[lexpressobean]

The thing about writing fanfiction for me is that once I start a multi-chapter fic (tho I've only ever posted a grand total of 2 ever lol both still unfinished rip OTL) I apparently never brainstorm enough. Or too much! 'Cause by nature I live for "what ifs" and it's wrecking me lol, I can't move on...! But this is a Modern AU setting and now I can't stop developing Shibi and Shino in a general sense (and Shibi's involvement is very minor compared to other characters too like I need to chill??) But I guess this goes for my Modern AU in general, so here's are some thoughts no one asked for!

One big HC I have is that Shibi is a well renowned musician, and Shino also has a lot of talent in music as well. This is because in my head, though Aburame and their hive can communicate to some degree, they're also known to be affected by their respective Aburame's emotions. And they audibly buzz and get excited by it all and I seemed to unfailingly liken all that to vibrations, like of musical sounds, and then it kinda leads up to that fidgeting a person might do when they get very emotional or passionate but can't voice it because they need to stay quiet or simply don't know how to talk about something. In general I think both Shibi and Shino are decent enough communicators when it matters, but they ARE pretty quiet people. And I feel like one of the best ways to release and express otherwise pent up emotional tension and energy is by straight up blasting music to drown out everything else. And it feels even MORE satisfying by the end of it when you're the one who was actually putting out the notes!! Anyone can make noise, but truly inspired music is such a trip! Every single note accounted for (even the "rest" notes!!) symbolizes 1 kikaichu and so just the idea of being able to read and produce music and bringing it all to life just makes complete sense to me and fills me with serotonin when I think about Father/Son jamming sessions between them...!!!

more specific nonsense under the cut because idk how to shut up lol

And! And despite this being a Modern AU HC thing, it looks like Shino's actually been shown to semi(?)canonly play an electric guitar, and I've become fond of the idea of Shibi's first instrument being a bass guitar too~

Of course if that's the case, OBVIOUSLY Shibi would be a multi-instrumentalist. Obviously. And what I've been thinking is that by the time Shino is an adult. Shibi'd be a seasoned Film Score Composer. I feel like unless you're quite the music or movie fan, or work in the business, you probably aren't gonna be super into the composers in comparison to the actors and directors that work on the same movie lol So to the general public, Shibi Aburame isn't a name that brings out stars in anyone's eyes. But if you know, you know, and boy does Shibi have his work cut out for him. He's in demand for lots of those box office hits.

Also YES Shibi can sing, and he knows it, the man isn't the least bit shy to acknowledge it! But he never committed singing as a major part of his career as much as playing because that's just the kind of guy he is. These days he won't sing unless it serves a purpose in brainstorming for his next project or if he's in the privacy of his car/home, but even then it's more just soft but super accurate harmonizing on his part to a radio or stereo or whatever. But if Shino ever needed comforting, especially as a small child, he'd never hesitate to lull Shino back into calm with songs that he either liked or maybe made up together if the situation was appropriate. And ocassionally he'll start to sings at Shino as a means to annoy his son because why talk when you can sing to get your point across?? He's not always a serious guy, sometimes he can get soft too...!

Shino? Can also sing and play well without much effort at all. Though Shino didn't take it up as a career like Shibi did, and not as many instruments, Shino is definitely his father's son and is just as musically inclined. He could've if he wanted to but found he a had a strong preference to percussion and string specifically, and even then prefered plucking and strumming versus bowing strings, but his favorite bowed string is a cello! And being part of the newer generation, he might mess around with a laptop software/button pad/launchpad if he's feeling particularly inspired or wants to challenge himself a little more. But his bestest baby is the first electric guitar he bought on his own ;o;

Shino is more likely to sing at any given time in comparison to Shibi, but he's still usually alone, whether wiping off the board after class, doing chores, or maybe grading papers. Kiba and Hinata have both caught him doing so since they first met him, and Hinata compliments his talent when she does, but Kiba starts to dis his choice of music when he realizes Shino sings a lot older or obscure music "like a fucking hipster!" Shino doesn't dis Kiba's personal taste in music as much as disses Kiba for his lack of open mindedness and it makes Kiba rethink everything when Shino is able to play the melody of every song Kiba throws at him the first time he comes over to his house. Shino is very eclectic in his taste of music, but some of Shino's favorite genres for singing are indie pop, blues (especially older ones), and the occasional toned down but no less accurate musical number or power ballad just imagine him whisper singing fcking "Jukebox Hero" while he's scribbling notes vvvvrrmm.

Unlike Shibi or Shino, Torune isn't so big on making music as he is listening and writing poetry/lyrics DON'T TELL ANYONE SHHHH FCKIN SH. It's not that he doesn't have talent, he can also sing rather well and owns karaoke night, he is karaoke king! It not quite a discipline problem as it is a drive thing as he never seriously touched more than two instruments. He can manage about 4 chords on guitar, just enough to impress, but oddly enough he was drawn to and became terribly enamored with Shibi's vibraphone. He studied that thing profusely and whenever he comes back to visit from college and after, he always comes back to it and plays it as if he never skipped a day of practice. Will probably own his own vibraphone at some point for sure! So scratch that, it's simply a Family Jam Session I guess!

Idk, I'm ranting again lol

[ka-writes]

——————

Notes: I had already started on the second chapter before I posted the first one, so don’t expect updates every day... I also had to do a lot of googling for this chapter.

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Chapter 1 in case you missed it:

——————

Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

——————

Warnings: Cussing, needles, character conflicts, intentional poisoning, poisoning, Jaws reference

——————

“Humans are [and text here]”

Chapter 2: What is this, an interview?

Tommy was now restrained to a chair six feet away from the weird scientist alien. He had a dark brown lab coat with a fuzzy yellow sweater underneath, matched with black pants and black leather boots. His gold rimmed Harry Potter glasses slipped down his nose bridge a bit before he pushed it up and shuffled through papers. He wore a red beanie with a big whiff of his curly chocolate hair. His skin was a weird translucent grayish color with blue speckles decorating it. He had deep brown eyes with an odd electric blue circle outlining the pupil.

His tongue licked his finger as he turned the page. This was a habit that most of the weird teachers and counselors did. It always annoyed Tommy. This time fear was also mixed into that annoyance. His saliva was tinted blue and he had sharp teeth which immediately reminded him of a shark.

“You have shark teeth.” Tommy stated absentmindedly. Clearly, this caught the scientist alien off guard.

“I have what?” The alien asked, confused.

“Shark teeth.. ya know like the weird fish creatures that eat people.” Tommy started rambling causing the shark-alien to become even more confused and slightly alarmed. “I mean I think they eat people. That’s what the shark movie showed… what was its name, Jaws I think? I dunno, my foster mom freaked out in the middle of it and we went home. That lady was weird.. She made us wear itchy clothes and take weird photos before she sent me back to the group home.”

“What?..” The shark-alien asked. Tommy jumped a bit. He forgot he was rambling to a stranger. Alien stranger at that.

“Doesn’t matter.. What's the first question bitch-boy?” Tommy liked the way the alien jumped at the randomly timed insults.

“Er- right.. First off, what’s your name?” The shark-alien asked after collecting himself.

“Tommy Innit. Yours bitch-boy?” Tommy replied.

“Wilbur Soot. Stop calling me bitch-boy!” Wilbur huffed.

“Next question, bitch-boy!” Tommy emphasized the name, getting an even angrier expression in return. Wilbur’s weird blue circle flashed red for a second which caught Tommy off guard.

Wilbur took a shaky breath before asking the next question. “How old are you?”

“Old enough! I am a big man!” Tommy stated. Yet another thing that pissed him off.

“Age?” Wilbur asked, clearly irritated.

“18.” Wilbur raised a brow, “14.” Tommy huffed. His age should only be his business not some alien-bitch who didn’t even have his file.

“If you keep lying, I may have to get the truth serum from the back.” Wilbur half-heartedly threatened. Tommy, the big man that he is, did not get scared at that statement, only slightly unsettled which clearly showed on his face.

“Now, do you have a family?” Tommy tensed at the question. It was a touchy question and was not one that was asked often especially with his reputation.

“I am a big man. I don’t need a family to be great.” Tommy stated, happy with the answer. The alien-bitch shifted awkwardly.

“Right… What is your diet?”

“Umm.. I dunno, whatever I can find. I am allergic to nuts though..” Wilbur nodded in understanding and wrote things down in his notepad.

“What plants are poisonous to you?” Wilbur asked without looking up from his notes.

“Ermm, poison Ivy, poison oak… uh I think parts of rhubarb, and most wild berries. I am not sure other than that.” Wilbur nodded while adding bits to his notes.

“What was the place you lived like?” This time Wilbur glanced up to look at Tommy. This was again another touchy subject… How many times would this alien bitch get into the sad background?

“Shitty.” Tommy snapped. That was the only response the bitch was gonna get.

“Right.. Do you have music on Earth?”

Tommy scoffed, “Of course we have music, dumbass!”

“Can you tell me about the animals there?” Wilbur asked, almost hopeful.. which was weird. What was he hoping for?

“Erm I guess..” Tommy mumbled, trying to figure out where to start, “There’s a bunch of animals. Mainly on land. My favorite would be the cow.”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stained Wilbur’s face. This got Tommy excited; he was practically beaming as he started talking.

“Well they are these big ruminants that make milk and have horns. There are a bunch of types too like the highland cow, which obviously is the most poggers one. They are a Scottish breed with really long hair. I met one once, on a field trip his name was Henry.” Tommy rambled on for the next two and a half hours, jumping from topic to topic and explaining anything that wasn’t personal. He usually ended those paths with short insults.

——————

Wilbur hated to stop the kids' detailed story, but two and a half celestial hours had already passed, and Dream would be coming to check soon. Luckily, he had a couple new poisons that could pass off as a research development. He had even managed to send the distressed signal and no doubt Phil would already be there with the SBI craft ready to fly at any given moment.

“Alright Tommy.” His voice dropped to a serious tone causing the kid to stop his story of how he got poisoned by mushrooms on a camping trip. “You’re gonna have to trust me just for a bit. I am going to get you off the ship at the next stop but in the meantime I need you to tell me how allergic you’re to nuts.” The kid immediately tensed at the question.

“I am mainly allergic to tree nuts.. almonds being the worst. After a few minutes I can’t breathe properly and I usually pass out. The doctor said if I don’t get it treated within 15 minutes, death is most likely.” He took a moment to go through the information. The kid most likely has an anaphylaxis reaction to tree nuts. Meaning either he would have to know the exact time of landing and exactly where Phil was or he needed another poison that was less severe.

“Alright, here is what we’re gonna do. I have a chemical mixture that is similar to that of rattlesnake venom. I also have a chemical substance that numbs any pain you may feel. Side effects would include being very very tired and delirious over the next few days. Along with being knocked out for a good ten hours. To put it simply I am gonna fake poison you, in order to get you off the ship. It’s your choice if you’re willing to do it.” Wilbur paused to study the kid still restrained in front of him. It was odd how relaxed the kid seemed to be in a situation like this. He had no urge as far as Wilbur was aware, to fight against anything that happened. His complaints only being those that touched on personal matters. It was unsettling to say the least, and intrigued Wilbur. He really wanted to unravel the life the kid had lived before this and how he was actually dealing with the situation.

There was a long pause before the kid spoke, “I wouldn’t mind getting away from the weird smiley bitch.. plus you seem nice and to know what you’re doing so sure. Poison me bitch.” He said the last sentence with an enthusiasm Wilbur wasn’t expecting. He took a moment to rethink his plan, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Dream says you better have advanced in your stupid testing. Otherwise he’s gonna kick you off the ship at the next stop.” Stated the rather rude blazeling, Sapnap. The blazeling never liked Wilbur and made a point to argue against any advancements at meals. That led to Dream installing a new system of emails and Wilbur eating meals alone.

“Yea yea, it’s going!” He yelled through the metal door.

“Better be.” The blazeling snapped before making a non quiet track back to his quarters.

“Stupid blazeling.” Wilbur grumbled as he sorted through vials and picked up new needles and measured out the substances. “We are going to start with the anesthetic then move onto the poison.” He softly addressed Tommy.

Wilbur swiftly disinfected Tommy’s shoulder and gave the needle. He then gave the second needle. Immediately Tommy slumped over. Wilbur swiftly took off Tommy’s restraints and moved him on to the patient bed in the back corner of the room. After the transfer was done he clipped the body restraints around Tommy and waited for the alert signaling landing.

After about five minutes the light next to the door turned blue. He moved over to his seat and clipped on the safety belts. The light turned green and the ship shook momentarily before a thud could be felt. Quickly as Wilbur could, he emptied the needles into the waste bin and waited for his soon-to-be-ex-boss to arrive.

Dream stepped through the door and glanced around the room before heading to Wilbur for his report.

“Report.” The dreamon commanded.

“The subject's body would have gone through a painfully slow death and have multiple organ failures if I did not intervene. The chemical mixes used created a conflict in the patient’s body which resulted in the patient falling into exhaustion as they recovered.” He responded in a monotone tone. Dream looked over Tommy. He flinched back in disgust as Tommy grunted in his sleep.

“Is that all?” The dreamon questioned.

“No.” Wilbur swallowed down his panic, “This is the last testing I will be doing with this crew.” The dreamon scoffed.

“I am assuming you’re getting off at this planet?” Dream spit. Wilbur knew he absolutely hated when people left his crew as he saw it as a direct violation of his loyalty.

“Yes.” The phantom stated, keeping his even tone apparent. With that Dream stormed out cursing in Siestian. Somewhere in the mess of words he told Wilbur to get his things.

Without hesitation he grabbed his bag from his quarters, which was held in a small room that branches off the lab. He half sprinted down the short hallway and straight to the bed Tommy was on. He swiftly unrestrained the human and sat him up. He slipped on boots and gloves then tied a cloak around the kid. He pulled the hood up and carried him off of the closest exit. There were faint yells from Dream down the hallway and reassurances from the only two beings that put up with him. And with that Wilbur was off to find the only craft he had ever called home. The SBI ship.

——————

Chapter 2- End

Words~ 1774

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End Notes: ‘‘twas to lazy to reread... sorry for minor mistakes. Also suggestions are always appreciated!! Please reblog...

——————

Chapter 3:

——————

Wilbur:

[sknnymnne]

drowning (spencer reid x reader) part 1

summary: y/n mourns the loss of her best friend, spencer reid, reminiscing about how she always wished that they were something more. however, a case in las vegas reveals some disturbing information, causing y/n to rethink some things.

a/n: this is my first fic ever! i have some past writing experience, so hopefully this isn’t horrible. please give me constructive criticism, and let me know how i can improve :). i hope you enjoy! you can read part two here. (p.s., let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!)

...............................................................................

spencer’s death left a gaping hole in everyone’s heart. especially mine.

i was definitely a lot quieter. this grim attitude seemed to cloud over me, never fading. of course, i was constantly on the brink of tears, inches away from exploding from the pain that spencer’s passing caused. weeks after his funeral, my eyes remained glassy.

i wore spencer’s scarf every day, without fail. it didn’t matter if the purple fabric clashed with my outfit, or if it were 80 degrees outside. it was his favorite, and it had become mine too.

everyone had noticed my change in behavior. the glimmer in my eyes wasn’t there anymore, the glimmer of hope, life. i felt like an empty husk, walking around preforming my daily tasks on autopilot, just waiting for my best friend to knock on the apartment door.

spencer and i had clicked the day they met. four years, seven weeks, and two days ago. from the day we met, i had always wanted to be more than friends. however, spencer and his friendship was too valuable a thing to risk. so, i buried my feelings deep inside. stayed a respectable distance away from him on the couch. didn’t run my hands through his curls, didn’t wipe away his tears. my god, did i long for more. longed to say the words left unsaid, the ones spencer would never hear leave my lips.

“i love you.”

god, i wanted to love him in many ways, of course. i wanted to watch doctor who with him, laugh about inside jokes, learn new things together. pepper his face with kisses, hug him after a long case, lean my head on his shoulder on our way home.

at this point, none of these would exist in the real world. in the dream world, sure, but spencer would never come back. he would never walk through the elevator doors with a cup of coffee. he would never again come over to watch obscure german films. we would never split the last chocolate sprinkled donut. gone were the days of greeting him every morning, talking about each other’s weekends. it was all gone too soon. so fast.

i was drowning, and i was going down fast. grief was gripping me by the hips and pulling me into a state of ever growing darkness. there was nothing to grab onto. i didn’t know if i would ever be able to crawl back out.

...............................................................................

the first day back after his death was grim. as we reviewed the case file, a part of us waited for spencer’s excited voice to interject with a fact or statistic about serial killers. however, the room was filled with a mournful silence, accompanied by everyone’s eyes gravitating towards spencer’s empty chair.

“wheels up in 30.” hotch managed to whisper.

as we somberly packed their items, everyone seemed to be looking at spencer’s desk, his TARDIS mug still sitting in the corner. it was just the way he had left it. of course, i put on his scarf before heading over to the jet.

the case went by in a blur. nothing felt real anymore. it still didn’t make sense that spencer was gone. forever. they caught the unsub, sure, but that wasn’t nearly enough for me. all i could think about was spencer, how much i missed him, and how he died.

...............................................................................

spencer passed away on a sunday. ironically, the day of rest wasn’t relaxing in the slightest. it started when he began receiving fan mail from a “kathryn snow” in connecticut. she was just a curious college student full of questions, and spencer was more than happy to answer all of them. it was adorable seeing him so excited about helping someone.

eventually, it turned out that “kathryn snow” was actually “bryan evans,” and that bryan had an extreme obsession with spencer.

spencer’s life truly ended when he was kidnapped by bryan. bryan had tortured him, and just before we arrived, had tried to kill himself and spencer, ultimately failing at both. however, the damage to spencer was done. seeing him beaten and bruised like that it something i’ll never forget.

bryan was arrested, but escaped when he was being transferred to prison. every day, it killed me that spencer’s murderer was still out there.

spencer died on the way to the hospital.

we never saw his body.

...............................................................................

present day.

...............................................................................

“hey, y/n,” jj gave me a slight smile as she entered the elevator.

“hi,” i murmured.

“are you okay?” she rested a loving hand on my shoulder, her eyebrows knitted in concern.

“i’m fine,” i replied. “seriously”

“y/n, you know that’s not true.” she replied. “come on, tell me what’s wrong. please?”

jj always meant well, but i couldn’t bring myself to tell her about what had been going on. the nightmares had returned. of course i knew it was ridiculous to cope through them alone, and that they could compromise my skills at the BAU, but i just couldn’t talk about it. not now, at least. i was still drowning, and i was getting too deep.

“i’ll tell you about it later,” i managed to give her a small smile. “i just don’t want to talk about it at work.”

“okay.” she returned my smile, but i could still see the motherly concern in her eyes. “just tell me when you’re ready and i’ll be here.”

the elevator dinged as we reached the floor that the BAU was on, and we began to walk through the glass doors together. however, i stopped dead in my tracks when i saw spencer’s desk and felt my heart drop.

“what is it?” jj asked.

“his mug..” i mumbled. “it’s gone.”

ever since the day spencer died, i had made sure that nobody touched that mug. it had stayed in the same place on his desk for the past three weeks, collecting dust. it was somewhat comforting, knowing that would always be the same.

however, that comfort’s disappeared.

“i’m sure someone just moved it to the kitchen,” she tried to reassure me. “we’ll get it back, don’t worry.”

i knew that it was irrational to expect that no one would move the mug someday. an intern, and unsuspecting colleague. it was also irrational to think that spencer’s desk would always be spencer’s desk. someone else would sit there soon, with their own coffee cup. there was nothing i could do about it.

hotch breezed past jj and i.

“we’ve got a case.”

as we always did, we all sat at the round table, leaving spencer’s seat empty. it was a constant reminder of how easy it was to lose each other.

“four men in las vegas have been brutally tortured and murdered.” garcia winced as she showed the crime scene photos. “physically, they all appeared similar. it seems like our unsub has a pretty specific type.” she attempted to joke.

however, i couldn’t help but notice how familiar the torture was on each of the victims. the scratches, the cuts, the-

spencer.

“it’s bryan.” i blurted.

“what?” hotch furrowed his eyebrows

“look, the wounds are almost identical to spencer’s.” the words seemed to spill out of me. “we know that evans is meticulous, and the victims could be surrogates for spence.”

emily and jj both looked at me with that unintentional condescending concern.

“if you’re right, y/n, we need to get there asap.” hotch replied. “wheels up in 20.”

...............................................................................

we arrived in las vegas, and confirmed that my suspicions were indeed correct. it was bryan.

“it doesn’t make sense that evans would start killing just after he escaped.” derek mused. “he’s smart. he would know that we would learn about it and find him.”

“maybe,” rossi said, ”that’s what he wants.”

“what if it’s a trap?” i asked. “it’s definitely possible that he’d want us now that he got spencer.” i choked on spencer’s name.

“or he has reid and he wants us to know.” hotch appeared in the doorway of the conference room.

“what?” my voice shook. no. no no no. spencer was dead. he couldn’t be alive. he died in the ambulance.

we never saw his body.

we never saw his body.

“the emts who took him to the hospital,” rossi was just as shocked as i was. “were they even certified? did we even check?”

“two unsubs,” derek “evans, and another one in there with reid.”

“is he even dead?”

those last four words seemed to echo endlessly through my body. had this bastard had my best friend for three weeks, and i didn’t even know? had all my mourning been for nothing? was spencer even alive, or was i just getting my hopes up?

is he even dead?

god, i hope not.

[bearsinpotatosacks]

New Secrets, Old Truths- A Scones Fic

Leonard's hands shook as he fixed the clasps of his shirt together. He eyed himself in the mirror and smiled, he'd been getting ready for hours now and it had all paid off. Christine had helped him with the process, sharing face masks, plucking his eyebrows and providing him with actual shampoo, conditioner and body wash, in her book three-in-one didn't cut it.

She and Uhura were the only ones that knew of Leonard and Scotty, a weird change from Jim being his only outlet. He wasn't sure when they'd tell others and part of him was enjoying the privacy of it all. Usually, if two crew members went on a date the entire ship would know by the time they'd met. But somehow this rite of passage hadn't happened to them. They'd been allowed to appreciate the moment and see if it would go anywhere before anyone had to know.

All that was changing tonight. Their friends were having dinner to celebrate shore leave, and they were taking the chance to admit their secret in a place where the news wouldn't cause an intergalactic war due to shock.

Christine had gone to get ready a while ago. Her recent announcement of her and Uhura's relationship had taken their thunder during the last get together, making them rethink their plan so there wasn't too much news for their friends' busy heads to handle.

Not that this would be a nasty surprise for them. Quite the opposite, especially for Jim who was always looking for new couples to double date with. 

The natural fear was still there. A bubbling thing, that urge to give in and hideaway just to avoid the slight possibility that it could go wrong.

Maybe this was a bad idea? Monty and he had only been an item for five months. What if it could end at any moment? He'd opened up his heart to him, sat in while he did his routine checks on the warp core, been the sober one who had to carry him to bed after a rough day. What if all that went away once they went public?

The door buzzed and ran to get it, only to run back and swipe his hair once more with his creme, spray a few more squirts of cologne and take a deep breath.

"Len, are you in ther-" Monty stopped mid-sentence when Leonard left the room. "You look nice, is that a new shirt?"

"Yeah, I got it yesterday," 

He met him in the middle for a simple kiss, locking their hands as he pulled him to the turbo lift. The planet they were on was chilly, cold enough that Leonard had to wear a vest underneath every outfit, cold enough that he'd heard the same "this is warm in Scotland" rant from Monty four times.

Their hands clung together more as he began to sweat. All the what-ifs and bad hypothetical swirled around in his head as he felt himself walk out the lift and onto the harsh streets. 

"Len, what's up?"

They stopped under a streetlight. Scotty took both of his hands and sighed.

"Nothing,"

He gave him one hard glare, "Len."

"Are we doing the right thing? What if it's too many surprises all at once? What if everything changes for the worse?"

"And what if it changes for the better? What if they don't say anything bad and this is our best night together all because we told our friends, eh?"

He lifted his hands and kissed them, "I guess you're right, miracle man,"

They carried on walking just as Monty went into the same rant for the fifth time.

~~

The restaurant was calm. A band played in the corner, raised on a stage, the lights were an ambient orange. Plants hung around them, every single one having been identified by Sulu. Waiters on wheels hurried from table to table. 

That took a moment of adjustment, the android waiting staff. He'd seen the simple designed ones before but there was something about seeing an android with an oven where their stomach should be that threw him off.

Leonard looked at Monty opposite him. They met eyes and nodded, now was the time. No going back.

"What are you getting, Monty," He said, taking their clasped hands from underneath to on top of the table.

"Lamb? I'm not sure,"

They sneaked a glance to their right and saw the rows of shocked faces. Christine and Nyota kept their eyes down at the PADDs in the table, laughing all the while. Jim's face went through every emotion he knew, confusion, anger, sadness, acceptance, joy, then back to confusion.

"How long has this been going on?" He asked.

"What, Jim,?"

He went to stand up, hand flexed out towards them both but Spock smacked a hand on his shoulder and slammed him back in the chair.

"Don't 'What Jim,?' me, I'm talking about whatever you and Scotty've got going on over there,"

"What, the fact that we're holding hands?" He replied, deciding to have some fun to put the deep well of anxiety at bay.

"Yes, that and the fact that no one calls Scotty 'Monty'," Sulu said.

Scotty himself rolled his eyes, "If it'll put your questions at bay, yes, we're in a relationship, have been for about five months now,"

No one said anything. The new couple smiled at each other, satisfied, just as one of the android waiters rolled up to the table.

"Right, I'll have the lamb, he'll have the-" He pointed at Leonard, who mouthed his order at him. "Steak, what about everyone else?" 

Flustered scrambles erupted as the group scanned the menus and spouted off jumbled meals at the overwhelmed android. Jim maintained his sharp glances at the couple for the next few minutes, all until he saw Bones give an honest free laugh that was a rare sight from the pent up man. And then, he knew that they would work out, and they had his approval.

I hope you enjoyed this! I'm trying to write one thing for all my ships and this is my first Scones/McScotty fic. Also I deem them "the parents of the Enterprise" so there's that

[disarminglys]

genius and the (dream) thieves.

a/n: IT IS FINALLY HERE. this is my @grishaversebigbang​ submission in all its glory with all my wonderful materialki and corporalki. 

Corporalki: @dirtyhandsnet​

Materialki: @xan-drei​ LINK || @phy-be​ LINK || @rainbow-kueh​ LINK || @scarecrux​ LINK || @butterflysclaws LINK

Summary:  Kaz does not like to dream.

Or- no. That is not quite right. He has no issue dreaming, no problem with diving down into the depths of a mark’s subconscious to pull out the exact information that he needs, at the exact moment he needs it. Honestly, he finds the whole PASIV system to be quite useful. Crafty. Easily controlled. There are fewer variables to be worried about when you can change the world at will.

What he means is that he doesn’t like to dream for free.

aka the inception au that i HAD to write.

Ao3 Link here

wordcount: 14521 rating: T (some mild violence/blood, some language)

Fic below the cut!

Kaz does not like to dream.

Or- no. That is not quite right. He has no issue dreaming, no problem with diving down into the depths of a mark’s subconscious to pull out the exact information that he needs, at the exact moment he needs it. Honestly, he finds the whole PASIV system to be quite useful. Crafty. Easily controlled. There are fewer variables to be worried about when you can change the world at will.

What he means is that he doesn’t like to dream for free.

Not anymore. Not when he knows the value of his skill set, and what it can run him on the open market.

Truth be told, Kaz barely takes on jobs these days. And if he’s being hired, either the price has to be high enough, or he’s got to have a personal stake in the matter.

This job was the latter of the two, though the price was certainly high enough.

And for all his preparation, all his hypothetical outcomes, he still could not have predicted the way it would end or where he would be.

--

Van Eck found him in Prague.

It was a show of power as much as it was a reminder to Kaz that he was getting comfortable. When he was in the city, Kaz preferred a corner space in a chic lobby bar. Back to the wall, eyes towards both the front door and the elevators. Everyone wore crisp suits and finely tailored clothes and he fit in quite well amongst them.

Van Eck had arrived in the city that morning - Inej had spotted his private jet touching down in the small airport outside of town. Kaz wasn’t surprised to see his head of security walk through the glass doors. Surprised even less to see a sleek black car pull through and park in the valet drive.

Kaz was surprised by the slow, deliberate way the entire lobby (honestly, probably the entire hotel) cleared out, one by one. It was a neat trick, something Kaz himself should have thought of, because by the time the rotating door revealed the tall businessman, the two of them were almost completely alone.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Brekker.”

Kaz sighed, closing the lid to his laptop and leaning back into the velvet cushion of his armchair. He didn’t need to check his surroundings to know that there would be three men posted in front of the elevator, two by the back door, and a handful out near the car. Van Eck was nothing if not thorough.

“For your line of work, Van Eck, you’re a terrible liar.” Kaz looked up at the older man, noticing that he hadn’t taken off the dark wool coat from where it hung over his shoulders, trying to gauge just how confident Van Eck felt at that moment. Was he armed, or would he leave that to his men?

Van Eck chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled his hand free of his leather gloves, tucking them into his outer coat pocket as he casually walked further into the lobby. “I’m an exceptional liar, Brekker. You’re just not worth the effort.”

“Oh, but I’m worth the effort to- what? Buy out an entire hotel? If you need somewhere to burn your cash, I can suggest a few more worthy causes.”

The lack of response told Kaz that his guess was right, and with a tinge of annoyance, he made a note to find a new working spot in the city. Van Eck continued walking towards him, approaching Kaz with a measured kind of caution. There wasn’t any point to try and hide the crooked, pleased smile that came to him at that fact - pleased with the impression Van Eck had of him. One of Van Eck’s men stepped forward to pull the coat from the older man’s shoulders, and Kaz noticed that he was, indeed, unarmed.

Cocky bastard.

“But please,” Kaz continued, dramatically gesturing across from him. “Take a seat. I would never turn away an opportunity before hearing the proposal first.”

Van Eck flinched, almost imperceptibly, and Kaz noted it. Two for two.

“I have a proposition for you.” Van Eck started, settling into the spot opposite him. Kaz’s brow arched and Van Eck sighed. “A job.”

“You’re wasting my time.”

Because the thing was - Kaz didn’t need outside work these days. He’d been one of the first, fully formed thieves in the dream business. He’d learned all there was to learn about the theft of thoughts, of information, of work. And by now, with the PASIV program expanding into the legal space as well, his need for going under dwindled.

He had people under his employ for that. He had teams he could hire for that. Kaz Brekker was the most infamous dreamer who didn’t dream any longer. He’s retired.

“What happened to listening to a proposal before turning it down?”

Kaz rolled his eyes, lifting his foot to settle his ankle on his knee and laying his cane across his lap. “I’m a businessman, Van Eck. When was the last time you listened to a pitch for a partnership opportunity yourself?” As the CEO of the largest manufacturers of artificial sugar, Van Eck had one of the few remaining undisputed food empires in the world. Kaz had bios on him, on all his executives, on the history of his company.

He knew, one day, Van Eck would come to him. It had just been a matter of time. Most men with that much money tended to.

More than that, Kaz could tell it pissed him off. And Kaz enjoyed nothing more than making powerful men uncomfortable.

“This is not a simple-” Van Eck paused, took a breath, controlled himself. Kaz’s grin widened, enjoying the way Van Eck had obviously been warned about Kaz’s tactics prior to this conversation, and yet still found himself fumbling. “I have a very lucrative proposition for you, Mr. Brekker. And I promise it will be worth your time.”

Kaz snorted, his eyes falling to his crow’s head cane. He could feel the anger rising in Van Eck across from him, but Kaz wasn’t in any hurry. “And how would you know how much my time is worth?”

“Because I know everything about you. From that shithole town you grew up in, how you were conscripted into the PASIV program out of Juvenile Detention. How you got out and took a device with you and have been unstoppable ever since. You have a reputation, Mr. Brekker. And not a subtle one.”

He knew the stories. He’d heard the rumors. Kaz Brekker was the Nightmare Bringer, the monster under your bed, waiting for you to fall asleep. Because Kaz was a thief, yes, but he was also vengeful. Unforgiving. Manipulative.

I make money in my sleep. He’d once told Inej, just as they had started into this business. Why should I bow to the laws of reality?

“And?”

“And I know how much your services run for. I am willing to match that.” Van Eck looked pleased, like a cat who had just caught his prey. Kaz studied the look, picked up on each and every detail in it.

“I’ll pass.”

And Kaz watched, just as intently but much more pleased, as that pleased look fell off of Van Eck’s face, replaced with one of shock. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Kaz set down his foot and leaned forward to grab his laptop, stowing it away in his leather briefcase. Van Eck sat with his mouth agape for a moment, then a moment more, before Kaz continued. “I do not take on deals that match a previous price, Van Eck. We’re expanding. Progression does not stall. I’m sure you can respect that.”

“Ten million.”

Kaz did pause at that, sighing. “You know, I do usually prefer the men I do business with to be desperate. But piece of advice? This does not-”

“Twenty.”

A familiar curl in his gut forced Kaz to rethink. To study the situation at hand. He was trying to  judge just how much Van Eck would be willing to put on the table, with all the possible jobs he could have brought him. The pause seemed to be enough for Van Eck to take advantage of, turning to his left and snapping once. The man who had taken his coat stepped forward, and Van Eck slipped a hand into his inside pocket, pulling out a small, sealed manilla folder. He set it on the glass of the coffee table between them, then slid it closer to Kaz.

“It’s hardly the most ridiculous thing you’ve done.”

Kaz’s eyes were on the envelope, mind racing. Inej had built up an impressive enough profile on  Van Eck Enterprises, and based off of that information, Kaz could be reasonably sure what would be inside that envelope. But he also knew how much Van Eck was worth, and how desperate he’d have to be to be here at all.

What does he have to lose?

“Because-” Van Eck could probably assume Kaz was wondering why. “I need it done discreetly. I need no trace, no weak link, and no proof of my involvement. I’m not just speaking on privacy, Mr. Brekker. I want there to be no evidence that the dreaming even occurred.”

And you want someone to take the fail if there is.

“Do we have a deal?”

Kaz weighed the options, his eyes still on the envelope. He knew what team he’d collect, who all he’d bring in. No matter who the mark might be, or whose name would be inside. It could be possible, as all things were with enough imagination. Kaz settled on a thought, and then decided, sitting back into his chair once more.

“Thirty.”

There was a pause, tense enough that Kaz could hear the sounds of a passing truck out on the street. Long enough he felt he could hear Van Eck’s jaw creak. “Thirty-?”

“Thirty million, Van Eck, take it or leave it.” And with that, Kaz stood, buttoning his suit jacket as he did. Van Eck’s eyes followed him, wide and uncertain, but as Kaz finished and pulled at the hem of his jacket, straightening it, Van Eck finally spoke.

“Fine. Deal.”

Kaz grinned, reaching down and sliding the envelope from the table, touching the edge of it to his forehead in a mocking kind of salute. “Pleasure doing business with you.” He grabbed his briefcase, slid the envelope inside, and started for the door.

And you didn’t even check the job before you agreed? Inej would ask him, later that night.

Didn’t see the point. The deal is the deal.

---

“You’re telling me you didn’t even check-”

“Save it, Zenik.”

Nina turned to Inej for support, but Inej merely shrugged. The three of them were settled around a small table in the small dining room of one of Kaz’s safe houses. The older woman who lived downstairs had just dropped off enough pisto to feed an army and Inej had been the one to answer the door (meaning that she had, of course, accepted it). Nina, who had arrived in Valencia a few hours before, was not exactly jumping to get into business discussions without food present, which then led to a traditional Spanish dinner - eating and talking about things that did not include the job - for the next two hours.

By the time the job came up, it was well past midnight and Kaz had just poured himself a cup of coffee.

“And you still plan to go through with this?” Nina reached across her plate, picking up one of the photographs spread over the table. She tilted it towards herself, to get a better look, and then tossed it towards Kaz. “This is a kid, Kaz. That’s crossing boundaries I didn’t think you’d cross.”

“This is an information retrieval job, not a hit, Zenik. I’m not asking you to kill a child.”

“But you are asking me to rifle around in his head for something we don’t even know is there.” Nina scoffed, at the idea more than anything, before leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms. “This is a new low, even for you.”

Kaz glanced over to Inej, who was gently blowing over her mug of tea. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see there, but Inej seemed just as unsurprised by Nina’s outburst as Kaz felt, which didn’t make it any easier.

“The question is simple enough, Zenik. 5 million, direct deposit, one job. Information extraction. Yes or no?”

Nina sighed, tipping back her chair towards the wall. “It’s really important to me you understand how fucked up this is.”

“Yes. Or. No.”

“Fine! I’ll do it!” She said, exasperated. Kaz just barely caught the way that Inej smiled at that, a slow, sneaky curve to her mouth. “No way I’d want you bringing on anyone else and screwing with this kid’s brain. No way. After what happened the last time I told you to go screw yourself? I still feel guilty.”

“Jesper isn’t that bad of a forger, Nina.” Inej added, her tone more of a gentle reminder.

“Oh please, Inej. You’re too nice to him.” Nina shook her head. “It was embarrassing and I wasn’t even there.”

Kaz would have preferred to tune them out. He would have preferred to just up and leave and let Inej explain the rest of it. It usually went that way, with the other jobs, but there was a tugging feeling at the base of Kaz’s spine that kept him there through Nina’s babbling.

“Alright then, Brekker.” Kaz blinked, looking up to see that Nina has settled the legs of her chair back on the floor, her focus back on him. Professional. “What about the rest of the team? You’re orchestrating, as always. Inej’s is on Point. You wouldn’t come to me this early unless you needed help filling out the roster- so. Spill.”

Kaz let out a short sigh. Nina Zenik was one of the most talented Forgers in the business, and one of the most infuriatingly perceptive people he ever met. Usually, he liked to keep his time around her limited, for that reason exactly. But she was on his payroll, and he wasn’t about to chance a job like this.

“Jesper-”

“Is on Point too. Yes. You know how much you’ve ruined me for a normal team? No one else uses two Points.” Nina rolled her eyes again, exasperated, before picking up her fork to take another bite from her plate. “Architect? Chemist? You are using a Chemist, aren’t you?”

“Nina…” Usually, Kaz would have snapped back at someone using that kind of tone with him. Inej knew that much. And he appreciated, in a separated sort of way, her trying to check the other girl. But Kaz shook his head, once, letting her know he didn’t need it.

“I have a Chemist.” Kaz reached under the table, pulling another folder from his briefcase and tossing it towards Nina. She reached for it and flipped through, curious, before arching a brow.

“This is an embarrassingly thin background check for you, Brekker.”

“That’s all the information you need to know.”

Nina sighed, clearly annoyed but not surprised with his decision. “Fine, but I’ve never worked with this...Wylan. Before. Haven’t even heard of him around the dreaming circles. You sure he’s up for the job?”

Kaz picked up his coffee, taking a sip. “He has a new compound he’s been working on. It opens the mark up for heightened suggestions.”

“While dreaming?” Nina was immediately curious, and Kaz made note to watch Wylan’s job intake moving forward. He didn’t need Nina Zenik taking jobs out from under him with the possibilities Wylan’s drug could open up.

He nodded. “It’s a compound that keeps the mark under, but leaves the senses up for suggestion. Smells, temperatures, the other dreamers’ subconscious- whatever you can think of. It enforces the architect’s map.”

“And deepens the story you build underneath.” Nina sounded impressed, almost excited. “You realize what this could mean, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Kaz answered, voice flat. “We all get paid.”

Inej snorted, near-imperceptibly, and Nina shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m efficient and successful.”

“Impossibly so.”

“We’re still looking for an Architect.” Inej added in, setting her tea cup down on the table as the taller girl kicked her feet up on the only empty chair, getting comfortable as she picked through the case file. The file itself was nondescript, save for the colorless embossed crow in the bottom left corner. That had been Inej’s idea, when they started this so long ago. And people said Kaz had a flair for the dramatics. Inej glanced towards Kaz, the look telling him not to argue, before her eyes returned to Nina. “Do you know anyone who might be up for this?”

Nina tilted her head back and forth, her eyes passing over the pages that Kaz and Inej had so painstakingly collected together. Paperclipped to the inside flap was a school photo, about five years old, of a bright, grinning young boy. Written along the bottom of the photo in Inej’s clean-cut handwriting was the name “Kuwei Yul-Bo.”

The room was silent for a few seconds as Nina continued to read and think. Kaz was about to comment on it, about to tell her we don’t have all day, when she finally spoke.

“I have a guy who would work.”

Inej and Kaz passed a look between the two of them before Inej replied. “A guy?”

Nina folded a paper over the top of the folder, still reading. “Yes. I’ll need to talk to him first, but he’s good.”

Kaz thought he knew where she was going with this, and he didn’t particularly like it. “He needs to be more than good.”

Nina glared at Kaz over the top of the folder before returning to her reading. “He won’t want the money, though.”

“Everyone wants something.”

Nina was silent for the next few moments, and Kaz finished his mug of coffee. He needed to get more work done tonight before he caught a jet to Marrakech to track Jesper down. Inej, sensing his restlessness, spoke up. “Nina…”

Abruptly, she closed the file, nodding once to herself. “Let me handle it. Where are we meeting?”

“Edinburgh, seven days.” Kaz rose to stand, grinding his teeth at the sharp pain that drove up his leg. It was going to be a long night. Nina nodded, and Kaz pushed his chair away, reaching for his cane.

“You still have connections with the Russian embassy, yeah?”

Kaz looked back to her, face impassive. He asked “Why?” at the same time Inej answered “Yes.”

Nina simply nodded. “I’ll see you in Scotland, then.”

---

Jesper was never hard to find. Not when Kaz put his mind to it.

“I was turning things around, Kaz. One more hand-”

“And you would have lost the rest of whatever money you suckered some loan shark into giving you.” Kaz didn’t so much as look back to Jesper when he responded, his pace set. He could hear Jesper keeping up, though a few steps behind.

“I wasn’t-”

Kaz turned, sharply, into a back alley. The shit-hole apartment Jesper was keeping was just under half a mile away, but Kaz’s patience was fraying and their jet was leaving in three hours.

Jesper followed, breathing hard, and came to an abrupt stop when Kaz did. They were far enough from the street that they didn’t have to worry about being overhead, but Kaz’s voice was low when he turned to face him.

“When was the last time you took a job?”

Jesper’s face paled. “Kaz, I-”

“Last time, Jesper. When was it?”

Jesper’s vest was fraying along the edges. Loud silk patterns over louder colored shirts. Once upon a time, Jesper’s clothes were worth something. Finely tailored, expensive fabrics, well fitting. Now those same clothes were obviously worn, dulled and ripped, held together with haphazard stitching. Five o’clock shadow had changed the planes of Jesper’s face, but Kaz couldn’t tell yet if that was from malnutrition or something worse.

The last time Kaz reached out to Jesper for a job had been eight months ago. When he’d botched a forgery so badly they’d all nearly been stuck in a South African jail for the rest of their lives.

Jesper rubbed the back of his neck, guilty eyes searching everywhere else in the alleyway. Kaz waited, gloved hands wrapped around the crow’s head of his cane. After a moment, the other man sighed. “Ah- the last um. Cape Town.”

Kaz didn’t react. He had known the answer before he asked. “Have you gone under since then?”

“Kaz, I’m so-”

“Have you gone under, Jesper. Yes or no.”

He frowned, deflating. “Yes.”

Kaz’s brow arched, waiting for him to continue.

“It was once, Kaz. They have a den in the east neighborhood. I had a bad night, went under, and that was that.”

“And you haven’t gone back again?”

Understanding crossed Jesper’s face at that question, and the guilty look deepened. Dreaming, when you knew enough about how to do it intentionally, was addictive. Dangerously so. PASIV dens had started cropping up in major cities all around the world - Kaz himself had a working one in Amsterdam that paid handsomely. But the blurring of reality and dreams got harder, the more used to the drug you became.

Kaz had kept tabs on Jesper for eight months. He had more eyes in this city than any others. It was an investment of time, and of favors, and Kaz waited for Jesper’s answer.

Jesper’s jaw tightened as he stood a bit straighter where he was. He matched Kaz’s eyes, intentionally and stubbornly.

“No. Only once.”

Kaz didn’t actually need Jesper to answer the question. He already knew the truth. But still, he saw what he needed to see in that look and nodded, once. “I have a job for you.”

It would have been impossible not to see the hope cross Jesper’s eyes. “A job?”

“Jet leaves in two hours for Edinburgh. Be on it.” Kaz turned, then, heading for the street. His car would be turning the corner in the next few moments and he wanted to be off his feet. He’d made it to the side of the road when Jesper called back out.

“Kaz-”

Kaz paused, not turning back to him but obviously listening. He could hear Jesper let out a sigh.

“Thanks.”

There was no acknowledgement that he heard it, as a black car came to a stop along the sidewalk and Kaz got in.

---

The first crime Kaz Brekker committed was at the age of six. He and his brother had snuck out of their foster home and broke into a nearby house, raiding the freezer and eating as much ice cream as they could find.

Kaz had felt nauseous for two days after. Jordie had told him everything you want in life has a price.

They had been sent to the detention center when Kaz was eleven. He and Jordie had been running jobs for a small gang, taking packages back and forth between warehouses. Neither of them had known what was in the packages. Neither of them had thought to check. They were two orphans without job prospects and futures left for them, and the gang had given them a home. It had ended with both of them found guilty by the city and - thanks to a young, talented defense attorney and a bleeding heart judge - put into the same detention center together.

Enrollment into the PASIV testing program had been optional, with an increased possibility of decreased time. Think about it, Kaz. Jordie had told him, eyes bright. All we have to do is sleep. How hard could it be?

Harder than they imagined. Harder than they could have ever dreamed.

--

Kaz liked Edinburgh. There was a kind of significance to the dark smudges across the buildings. Stains left behind from years of progression, coal, smoke - proof that from what there had been, there is now more. More than that, the marks and stains were proof - proof that it had survived. Proof that it still stood.

Plus - the weather suited him just fine - clouded skies, slight chill, usually dreary. It left him in pain more often than not, but again, a price to pay. His leg was something of a reminder for him now, so even on the bad days, he could handle it just fine. And no one looked twice at his dark wool coat or his tall collar. He was just another businessman, just another body in the masses.

The warehouse was just outside the city, northwest of the city center. A large, two story structure that had - at one point in its life - been used for shipping containers. These days it sat mostly empty, owned by a local businessman, who forgot it existed more often than not.

Kaz has similar set-ups all over the world - a little bit of cash for safety reasons.

He arrived about four hours before the rest of the team was set to be there, but Inej had already started making the main floor home - setting chairs and equipment and tables up in a familiar pattern. She didn’t so much as acknowledge him when he stepped inside, swaying very gently to the notes of a hummed song that Kaz couldn’t quite make out.

For a few moments, he let himself watch her, staying back in the shadows, near invisible in the slowly retreating light. She had always been beautiful, a dancer even now, and it was only in the comfort of these shadows that Kaz ever let himself think as much.

And then the moment passed, and Kaz stepped out into the spacious room. Inej, hearing his movement in the corner, still did not look up.

“Running diagnostics. I’ll need a few more hours.”

Kaz continued towards the back corner, where a storage room and small office sat. “No one is supposed to arrive until after dark.” Both a reconfirmation of orders and a silent acknowledgement of her own early presence. He did not turn to look, but he imagined Inej smiling softly, shrugging once in her dark sweater.

“I prefer working in sunlight.”

He snorted, and if Inej hadn’t been smiling before, she surely would be now. But Kaz didn’t continue the banter, approaching the door to the office and quickly picking the lock. No one - not even Kaz - had the keys to this back room. It was his own form of security.

“Jesper’s coming, then?” Inej had to raise her voice a bit to echo across the space, and it gave Kaz a moment’s pause. A brief moment of tension.

Inej knew about Jesper’s last job. Knew what it cost them, knew how Kaz had reacted. A part of Kaz assumed Inej had most likely been keeping tabs on the sharpshooter, where he was and what he was up to, but she’d never be obvious about it. Not to Kaz.

He thought back to the jet ride. To the couple of hours he spent watching the anxious bouncing of Jesper’s knee. He’d dropped him off at a discreet hotel on the other side of the city. Told him to read, research, rest, and to be there on time.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

And Kaz stepped inside the office, letting the door slam shut behind him.

--

The first time Kaz dreamt, his eyes opened to an open field. The grass was swaying gently around him, reaching up to a cloudless, bright sky. It felt like home, but in that distant, distinct way that was never his. And never would be.

Somewhere, he could hear Jordie’s laughter. An echo along the wind.

But it was warm. It was peaceful. It was safe.

It wasn’t real.

“Well done. We’ll move on to the next testing phase.”

Kaz should have spent longer there. Should have lingered. A part of him wondered if he could ever go back, but he knew better. Had always, in a detached sort of way, known better. That he would never be welcome. That he would never return.

That was Jordie’s dream.

--

From his office, Kaz could hear everyone arrive. Jesper was first - good - with a loud, happy greeting for Inej. She returned the greeting in kind, and Kaz caught himself leaning a bit too much into the noise. Excited chatter, Jesper’s wolf whistle, and then a laugh. He pushed it away and got back to work until he heard the door open again.

Nina’s voice was the next one to echo through the space- greetings, more laughter, a few jokes at Jesper’s expense. Kaz did not hear anyone else among them, which meant that Nina’s architect hadn’t come with her.

She’d given him very little information - the basics for what he’d needed to know to let her bring someone in - so Kaz was curious. Matthias Helvar was a name he’d heard before, but only in connection with the military sector of the PASIV program. Nina had sworn it’d be worth at least talking to him, but Kaz was still wary.

Wary enough that he’d pulled up all the information on him that he could find. He felt better knowing he was walking into this with Mattias’ record, a copy of the warrant out for his arrest, and the knowledge of exactly who he’d need to contact in the Scottish government if deportation was in order.

When the door opened the third time, Kaz stood, collecting the rest of the files to be distributed to the team just as Jesper’s voice made it to his office.

“Oh hello there, darling. I don’t think we’ve met. My name’s-”

“Jesper-” Inej cut in, and Kaz opened the door, crossing the room to join the others. “This is Wylan, our chemist. Wylan, this is Jesper and Nina, who will be Point and Forger, respectively.” That wasn’t the first time that Inej has done the introductions. Kaz found it simpler if new team members met each other with Inej’s more peaceful demeanor. It started everything off more efficiently.

Wylan was young, Kaz knew that when he hired him into the job. And he looked all the part of his twenty years. Wide eyed, in over his head as he stood with the other three. “Point?” He looked from Jesper to Inej. “I thought you were Point.”

“I utilize two Points during my extractions.” Kaz broke into the circle, stepping past Inej to drop the stack of folders on the counter next to the PASIV container. Wylan jumped at his appearance, and Kaz could hear Jesper chuckle.

“Oh.”

“It’s not normal.” Nina chimed in, pushing off from where she’d been leaning back against a couple of stacked crates. He didn’t need to be watching her to know she was rolling her eyes. “Most teams have one Point and one Extractor.”

“We don’t take Tourists, either.” Inej added in easily.

Nina snorted. “Okay, sure, but no good team takes Tourists anymore.”

“Not true. Roddy takes them along all the time. You’ve seen how much people will pay to be part of the action.” Jesper dragged a chair from one of the surrounding tables, turning and settling with his arms crossed along the back. “You can double your pay bringing one sorry son of a bitch along for the ride.”

“You just like gambling with your jobs, Jes. No one who actually has a reputation brings tourists.”

“Ouch, Zenik. Low blow.”

Wylan’s eyes moved between the two of them like he was watching a tennis match, and Kaz felt a low grade migraine beginning to form. He hated these first meetings, especially with any new members added. They involved too much repetition and got very little done compared to what would get them paid. He was exhausted already, and they were still missing one.

Inej came to stand next to him, straightening the files he’d dropped. They stood like that for a moment, listening to Jesper and Nina bicker, until Inej leaned in a bit closer. “I haven’t heard anything from the Architect.”

He looked over to Nina, who was laughing at something Jesper was saying. When she noticed his eyes were on her, she met his look with a serious one of her own, mouthing he will be here. Wait. Kaz pulled up his hand, tapping one gloved finger against the face of his watch, and Nina rolled her eyes at him again.

After a moment, Kaz answered Inej with a low whisper, “We’re not waiting for him.” He tapped his cane on the concrete floor, a crisp thwick, thwick, thwick. Everyone’s eyes turned to him and he watched a frown pull at Nina’s mouth.

“Some of you I’ve briefed on the nature of the job. Others I haven’t. Here-” Kaz gestured to the files that Inej had straightened. “Is all the information we have that you’ll need to know. Anything we uncover during prep will be disseminated appropriately.” Nina and Jesper had both worked jobs with Kaz before, and barely so much as blinked when he began to speak. Wylan, on the other hand, looked lost. Entirely and completely without direction.

Kaz could feel the migraine growing at the base of his skull. He took a short breath as he turned to the Chemist.

“If you have questions - Wylan - ask Inej. I don’t have time for them.” And then back to the group. “This is going to be a very different job. For one- we’ll have two novices with us.”

“Matthias is not a novice, I told you-”

Kaz grestured to cut her off. “He’s a novice to this, Zenik-”

“He’s been dreaming just as long as you have, Brekker.”

“As a soldier with a confidential history that you haven’t looked into, and-”

“He’s a soldier who was legally dreaming with the military, of course his background is locked up!”

“And he’s late.”

Nina opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. Kaz’s brows lifted at her, expectantly waiting for an excuse, and when none came he nodded. Once. Point made.

Jesper whistled and Inej thunked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Not helping.”

“Um.”

The four of them turned to look at Wylan, who was pointing towards the warehouse door. It was dark enough out that the figure in the doorway was impossible to make out. But when said figure noticed everyone turned to see them, they started in, heading closer to the light. Kaz noted the tight clip to their walk. The militaristic way they held their shoulders.

“Nice of you to join us, Sergeant Helvar.” Kaz turned back to the group, gesturing for one of the empty chairs. “If you can hurry up, we may be able to actually get started.”

The figure slowly came into the inner ring of light, showing his closely cropped blond hair and strong jaw. Kaz wondered, for a brief moment, if they were genetic traits or if the military only went after a singular type of figure. But the thought passed as quickly as it had appeared.

Nina smiled, sitting up a little straighter. Matthias glared at every single one of them before finding the only open seat and settling. An elongated pause followed as everyone sized each other up before Inej - graceful Inej - coughed.

“Right.” Kaz continued, as if on cue. “We have two novices with us. And an untested drug.”

Simultaneous, and most likely the most in sync they would ever be, Jesper, Nina, and Matthias all asked in unison- “A what?” Wylan, at the same time as well, blanched.

And so Kaz gestured to him. “Wylan is a new Chemist, has never been under, but has a history of complicated compounds. Due to the nature of this job, he’s creating a new solution. Wylan, why don’t you explain.”

The eyes all turned to Wylan - in his university sweater and terrified eyes. Kaz gestured, when Wylan didn’t immediately start explaining, and he sat up a little straighter.

“The theory- I mean, because it’s just a theory. I won’t actually know-”

“I don’t have time for your confidence issues. Now.”

Wylan swallowed thickly before a new set to his jaw settled. “It’s a different type of combination effect. Rather than the rigid system that’s been built, it allows for suggestions from the outside world as well as the dreamers.”

“You mean like the projections?” Nina asked, suddenly leaning a bit more towards Wylan, curious. She’d gotten the explanation from Kaz, sure, but actually having the Chemist in person always excited her.

“No.” Wylan shook his head. “It’s more like if you had multiple Architects, under one level. Each of the dreamers will supply the world, and it will build over itself in an attempt to bring it all together. ”

“So like limbo.”

Jesper’s voice quieted the conversation for the few moments, the weight of what he was implying heavy in the air. Kaz was not the only dreamer amongst them who had been to limbo, and therefore the implications of a regular dream being anything similar didn’t fit well.

“Um.” Wylan, uncertainly, looked to Kaz. When Kaz nodded, Wylan nodded as well. “I guess- yeah. Each of the dreamers will have an equal say on how the world functions, what projections appear, and how the world evolves as we go.”

“Which-” Inej cut in, taking control of the conversation just as the tension started to expand to an incurable point. “Means we’ll all need to be synchronized on our vision. The plan, the layout, everything. It’s part of why we have two points-” She looked to Jesper and gave him a small smile. “And part of why we’re starting prep so much earlier than normal. We need to be a united front. A team.”

Nina snorted, and didn’t bother to hide it. Inej gave her a pointed but pleading look, and Nina let out a breath in response. Kaz, on the other hand, watched the way Wylan was worrying the sleeve of his sweater.

“There’s something else.”

“Better be good news.” Jesper chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. Wylan seemed to lose more color (a feat of will, Kaz assumed) and everyone got quiet once more.

“It’s not.” Wylan coughed, then straightened his back once more - resigning himself for whatever response was to follow. “It’s not bad news, either, really. It’s just something to be aware of.” He looked to the group, before his eyes fell back on Kaz - who hadn’t turned his own away from the boy since the beginning of this conversation. It could be Kaz’s imagination, the pointedness to Wylan’s words, but there was something there. “Because of how much the dream will depend on us all equally, it will also affect the dreams in turn. When dreamers go under, there is a part of your brain that remembers that this is a dream. That’s the same part of your brain that loses connectivity, when you fall into limbo. That’s why it’s so easy to get lost down there.” He swallowed, as if building up the nerve. “In the same way the compound opens up the mark for suggestion to the dream, it will open each of the dreamers. And if the dreamers don’t kick themselves out...”

The silence following only lasted a moment before Jesper - always Jesper - broke it. “If they don’t…?”

Kaz could feel Inej’s eyes on him. Secret, unassuming, but with purpose. Kaz ignored them, the grip around the head of his cane tightening.

What’s the point of waking up, when your dreams can look like this?

“It means-” Kaz broke in, the tightness to his voice hovering just under the surface. “The team is just as susceptible to losing themselves in the reality of the dream as the mark.” A beat. “It means that we have just as much of a chance of getting lost in the dream and being unable to ride the kick. Just like limbo.”

Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath in turn. When Kaz got fed up with the tension, he pushed himself to stand, favoring his good leg.

“I sure hope you’re all in control of your mind enough to survive. The money won’t help you if you’re in a coma.”

And with that, he turned back to his office, feeling their eyes on the back of his neck.

Think about it, Kaz.

He left the rest of the night to Inej.

---

The first time Kaz Brekker shot a gun was in a dream.

It was probably a bit backwards, assigning low level juvenile delinquents to a program that taught them how to create, handle, and fire automatic weapons. Even more so when the skills that had gotten them into the detention center in the first place were the most valuable while they were under.

Jordie was much better with the weapons than Kaz had been. It could have been his size, or simply the fact Kaz didn’t like how much attention they drew. He preferred the actual search and seizure.

The program was designed to test the limits of the dream. Because while the origins of the dreaming program were meant for soldiers, in order to effectively test those limits, you needed a control group who had less eyes on them and less to lose if it didn’t work. A couple of soldiers might not attract attention, but when the state wanted to keep testing even after it was ruled an illegal trade? That’s where the detention centers came in.

These tests came in the form of puzzles. Tests that had to be done by completing a task. A lot of these tasks involved finding items hidden in a variety of different settings - cities, forests, deserts, small towns. Each of the children were given items they could use at first, but then  encouraged to come up with their own as they ‘leveled up’. They started off with things like baseball bats, crowbars, shotguns. Then graduated onto maces, medieval swords, battle axes. Items that would help them during the tests themselves.

And those tests could range - some involved finding hidden targets - folders, trinkets, answers, items. Others pitted the children against each other - games of chase, of tag. Over time, these tasks grew in severity and complexity. Winners would have days taken off their sentence. Losers, days added. They picked up on tips and tricks that some of the kids had known going in - guns were useful for range, but loud, drew a lot of attention. Knives were more easily hidden but less effective at long range. Axes could be customized, bows and arrows could be more quiet, and some of them were better at longer games of survival than others.

The first person Kaz Brekker murdered had broken Jordie’s nose during dinner earlier that week. Kaz had missed his chest, the shot landing somewhere in the boy’s stomach, and Kaz stood over him as he begged to be woken up. That he didn’t mean it. That it hurt. That, near the end of it, he was sorry. Kaz watched, unblinking, for the five minutes it took the boy to die.

That boy never bothered Jordie during lunch, again. Or Kaz, for that matter. Very few of the children did.

They settled into a kind of rhythm - Kaz was better at the puzzles and Jordie was better at the people. Who to talk to, what projections were worth keeping alive. As a team, they were unstoppable. Separate, they were unforgiving. And the memories of what they did - real or not - were a heavy weight the two of them bore together.

Kaz remembers watching Jordie, gun in hand, jaw quivering as he tried not to cry. Kaz remembers the searing pain of a subconscious’ knife tearing into his stomach and leaving him to bleed out. Kaz remembers the rush of a successful theft and the joy of a job well done and the crushing, suffocating disappointment of waking up, his eyes fluttering open to low popcorn ceilings and wrist cuffs and fluorescent lighting.

Kaz remembers most vividly the image of the light fading from Jordie’s eyes each time they opened in the same room, leaving a little less of himself there to be woken up.

Years later, Kaz had done research into what happened to the program after he’d gotten out. What they were testing for and what kind of results it produced. There was information on the associated companies, how concentrated it had been on their area, and then the names of the individuals brought on. Where they went when they completed the program and were released. Who survived the testing, gotten out, had a life.

Or, more specifically, who hadn’t.

---

Kaz did not like running any of the prep meetings. He saw very little use in the dramatics behind explaining what Inej had put so much time into collecting in each of their folders. Each job that Kaz ran came with a certain set of expectations - of time, of attention, of professionalism, of when to show up and when to perform. Kaz did not run meetings, that was part of Inej’s responsibilities, which made Nina and Jesper’s look of immediate shock a valid response. Annoying, but called for.

He dropped another file - appearing identical to the others - down on the desk. Papers and reports and photographs were scattered around it, and though it barely made any noise at all, everyone went silent.

“We start test runs on Thursday.” He explained, leaning a bit more heavily on his cane as he settled into a nearby chair. Wylan’s eyes went wide at that, and Matthias’ attention shot towards Nina. It was to be expected - it had been less than a week since they began their preparations - but Kaz paid no mind to the obvious hesitation in each of them. “The layout of the dream will need to be complete by then. I take it you can manage that much, Helvar.”

Matthias’ eyes finally pulled away from Nina, turning his cold gaze onto Kaz as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.” Kaz turned to Wylan. “Compound testing will start next week, as well. It will need to be strong enough for all of us to go under at once, and for the dreamer to hold the map.”

“Kaz-” Inej sounded concerned, stepping in to take Kaz’s attention away from the paling Chemist. Probably for the best. He didn’t want to chance Wylan passing out and losing a day of work. “You told me we’d have a month before going under, why are you shortening my timeline?”

He leaned back in his chair, hearing the wood creak under his weight. Dark shadows clung to the beams that held up the warehouse roof.Along the blocked-out windows he could hear the distant sound of rain on glass. The space heaters they’d brought in kept the center of the room warm enough that the chill didn’t stick, but it was getting colder. Fall was settling in.

“Things have changed.” Inej didn’t like that answer, judging by the way her jaw tensed, and Kaz shrugged. “Kuwei’s father just passed. The funeral is in three days, and Kuwei has decided to take some time off from his classes. He is planning to backpack across Europe. We have six weeks.”

Nobody said anything for a long moment. Originally, he’d planned for plenty of time for testing, for trials and errors. Originally, the whole job was going to take them about five months, potentially more. There were now too many moving parts and no time to control them all, and Kaz hated every second of it.

The clock was getting louder. Closer. Faster.

“Six weeks.” Inej repeated, glancing to Jesper, who shrugged back to her. It was an impossible task, for all of them. Kaz knew that. Kaz knew that even on their best days, six weeks was pushing it.

“Yes.” His team traded looks, uncertain and hesitant and afraid, and Kaz let out a short breath. “Which is why I’m coming too.” Wylan and Matthias didn’t understand why Inej, Jesper, and Nina’s attentions all snapped back to him. They kept looking between the others, hoping to find an answer in Nina’s slacked jaw.

It was Jesper who finally broke the silence. “You’re joking, aren’t you.” A beat. “This has to be a joke.”

“Kaz Brekker doesn’t have a joking bone in his body.” Nina didn’t take her eyes from Kaz, so when he lifted his own to her, she was staring directly at him. He could feel Inej grow tenser at his side, but he didn’t need to see her to know what she was thinking.

Kaz regarded the Forger for a moment, and then a moment longer, as if waiting for her to test him. To say too much, and cross a line. Nina, as if aware of his silent challenge, said nothing.

“Kaz…” It was Inej, closer to his side now, voice barely a whisper so the others couldn’t hear. “Do you really think that’s…”

He did not have time for this conversation.

“Wylan. Update the equation. There will be six of us.”

Startled out of his trance, Wylan’s voice cracked a bit around the word. “Six?”

Kaz nodded, once, tapping his cane on the cement floor beneath it. “Six. We’re all going under. It’s the most efficient way to keep complete control over the setting.”

“B-but you told me three? I don’t have enough-”

“Double it, then.” Kaz was losing his patience. “I already purchased the supplies. And Helvar- you’re going to have Wylan help you with the layout. I want sketches in twenty four hours.” Matthias jumped, though it was nearly imperceptible.

“What? Why?”

“If you have the time to ask, you’re running behind.” Kaz reached back over his shoulder to grab the folder, handing it to Inej who quickly read through the articles, absorbing the information before she shook her head as she handed it off to Matthias.

Kaz didn’t wait to see if Matthias would look at the information, because it didn’t really matter. “Zenik, you and Jesper are going under tonight. Inej has a PASIV set up.”

“Yeah-” Jesper cut in. “So Nina could practice her aliases.”

“Not tonight. The Russian over there is a decent enough Architect, maybe, but he has the imagination of the arctic tundra.” Nina winced, but didn’t argue. Kaz continued. “It will work for some, but not the entire level. You two are going to have to pick up some more flair if we want this to work. Plus, we don’t have time to work out kinks. You haven’t really dreamed in eight months, Jesper, and I will not accept mistakes because you’re out of practice.” That shut Jesper up, and when Nina didn’t chime in to fill the space, Kaz gestured over to the PASIV set-up, where he’d left a pile of more folders. More information. More research. “Four sets, four cities. Inej is going to check your work when you’re done.”

Kaz could feel it in Nina’s eyes - resentment, and an unspoken snark. Eight months isn’t two years, Brekker. You should be the one practicing. But Kaz didn’t allow her the time to speak, turning his back to the two of them, ending the conversation and turning to his work.

When there was a moment of silence following, he looked back to everyone - annoyed. Impatient. He motioned towards the PASIV with his cane. “Go, you heard the deadline.” And then he turned back to his desk.

With his back to the room, he couldn’t watch each of them move off to their separate corners. But he could still feel Inej’s presence settling at his side. When he glanced to his right, she was leaning against the desk, arms crossed, staring back out into the rest of the team.

“This wasn’t what we agreed to.”

“Plans change, Wraith.”

“Not yours.”

Kaz didn’t bother responding to that, looking through the material they’d already set out on the table. Early sketches, profiles, photographs. He kept looking, moving and stacking pages together where they went, when Inej’s voice dropped again to that whisper.

“Is this really a good idea?”

Inej knew why Kaz hadn’t gone on the last couple of years worth of jobs. Had been on the last job Kaz had gone under for, and had seen the way the world had fallen apart around them. The darkness, the smell of death, the chaos of an unseen assailant. Knowing Inej, she had probably seen Jordie as well. A face in the corner of all of Kaz’s dreams.

Kaz found what he was looking for, a stack of photographs of a young boy and his father on vacation. Kaz’s eyes fell to the cover of the book in the boy’s hand. He stood.

“Doesn’t matter. The decision has been made.” He passed the photo to Inej, who glanced it over - a photo she’s seen a hundred times. “Give that to Matthias. See what he can make of that book.”

Inej frowned at him. “Kaz-”

But he was gone before she could finish.

--

“It’s not meant to hold this many dreamers.” Wylan’s voice shook- both with strain, emotion, and exhaustion. He was scared, but he was also annoyed. Kaz idly found himself wondering what he would be like when he snapped.

“Unfortunately, Wylan, that’s why you’re here. To make it hold this many dreamers.” Kaz settled into the leather armchair that Inej had gotten Jesper and Matthias to drag inside for their practice sessions. Due to the fact the dream itself would have to last hours longer than normal, she found it important to bring some comfort to the process.

Kaz, with expert fingers, slipped the needle into his arm. Inej was sleeping next to him, and Nina next to her. Then it was Matthias, and then Jesper. They’d been under with the four of them a few times now, with varied results. But this would be the first time Kaz would be under with them, and Wylan was visibly nervous.

“I haven’t had enough time to prep-”

“You’re preparing now.” Kaz flicked the vein in his arm, pulling his leg up onto the footstool and settling into the cushions. Kaz closed his eyes, forcing the tension out of his limbs and shoulders. “Make sure you get it right.”

And then he was under, a blink of an eye and darkness. Emptiness. The loss of self. Of everything around him.

The sensation was familiar enough - the feeling of falling, the feeling of loss, the panic and the warmth and the familiarity of a reality that is not, wholly, yours.

Kaz opened his eyes in the middle of a storm. It was freezing, ice and snow and shards of rock flying around him. Distantly, he could hear Nina yelling. A part of the earth around them shot up into the sky, and Kaz noticed someone who had to be Matthias knocked to the ground. Nina jumped off to the side, avoiding another piece of earth and ice.

Jesper was somewhere in the flurry, screaming “What the hell is this?”

And Inej, who Kaz found immediately at the sound of her voice. “Some kind of earthquake!”

“No.” Nina’s voice sounded guilty. Like she knew exactly what was happening, and as if she was standing right next to him. “We’re under attack.”

This was supposed to be a simple creation dream. They had started to decide on the layout, on the general weather. It was going to be in the north, a kind of tundra (had to make it easy for Helvar, after all). It would be an empty landscape, it would have weather, and that was that. It was supposed to be a trial run of the compound, not an event-heavy training dream.

“I need a distraction!” Jesper was still out there somewhere, in the sleet and rocks and wind.

“Get down!” Wylan’s voice - which meant he was here now, too. Had followed Kaz under like he was told to. Officially, they were six under with the new compound. Kaz tried to feel satisfied with how it was working. Proud, in a way, that Wylan’s chemistry panned out. But when he looked around to find the boy, his eyes fell to Inej, who was signalling to him. A familiar look.

He settled back against a large rock slab, settling his weight, threading his fingers together. Inej started running, and in half a moment, she used his hands as a springboard to get over the slab of rock keeping them held together.

There was more screaming, shots rang out, and then the storm started to settle. Kaz, now able to see more than five feet around himself, took a look at the scenery. The location. The damage. They were all in costume, different clothes and different looks that, somehow, still managed to fit the feel.

Another explosion. Another rock fell. And then the six of them started to collect.

Nina looked haunted, exhausted, and Matthias was helping her to her feet. Jesper was checking the pistols in his hands, like he was truly enjoying them for the first time, and Wylan looked both terrified and pleased with himself.

Once they were all in ear shot and Inej had returned, Nina brushed off the front of her red...he assumes it’s a robe. Some kind of cloak.

“What was that?” Jesper finally asked, sliding his pistols back into the holsters at his hip.

“That was...me.” Nina admitted, out of breath. “I don’t know why. I usually have more control over this kind of thing.”

“It’s the compound.” Wylan admitted, just as guilty. “It’s stronger than I thought. It’s something to know going forward, too. If we all are going to be able to bring in this level of chaos-”

“You all need to train your subconscious more strictly.” Matthias muttered, with a hand still at the small of Nina’s back. “We can’t deal with that during the mission. Right, demon?”

But Matthias’ voice was a little too far off for Kaz to really hear him. Too far away for him to notice everyone’s eyes turned to him. Instead, he was staring off to the horizon. To a single dark shape right outside of his vision. Inej, who approached him then, tugged at his sleeve.

“Kaz.”

He blinked, pulling himself from the trance. Inej was staring at him. As was Matthias, and Nina. Jesper and Wylan were fumbling with the pistols and the explosives split between them, unaware, and Kaz was momentarily thankful for that.

There was another set of eyes on the back of his neck, Kaz knew, but he forced himself to keep attention here. To ignore the slowly building feeling of panic that started bubbling at his gut.

“We’ll need to up the practice times. Everyone needs to be comfortable being this open.” The irony was not lost on him, no, but he didn’t need that look from Inej, either. “Now- get settled. We need to start building together. Wylan-” Wylan jumped, turning his attention to Kaz like a student being reprimanded. Kaz motioned to the wreckage around them. “This is your compound. Show us how to use it.”

Wylan nodded, stepping in closer to Matthias and Nina to start explaining some of the finer details, and the conversation moved. Kaz could still feel Inej’s eyes on him, which is why he found himself jerking his arm away. “I’m fine.” He muttered under his breath.

Inej, suspicious, simply nodded and turned to the others.

When Kaz looked back to the horizon, the figure was gone. But in its place was the barest brush of a warm wind. The smell of grass. A shining, bright blue.

This is Jordie’s dream.

---

The first time Kaz watched Jordie die, it was at his own hands.

It was an accident. Jordie wasn’t supposed to be the body on the other side of the door. Kaz had been hunting, running from the fear of something following him. He’d been prepared to protect himself. Do anything necessary to protect himself.

Jordie, later, admitted he didn’t know it was Kaz he was hunting. There had been this need to find whatever was running from him. This urge to collect it. Save it. End it.

There was so much blood. Warm, and sticky, and thick. Jordie’s face was surprised, before it lost all color, and he crumbled into him. Kaz, terrified, unsure, panicked, young, desperately trying to press at the gushing blood like if he could just make it stop it’ll be fine.

When they woke, Jordie had promised him it was fine. It wasn’t the first time he died. Wasn’t the first time he’d been attacked.

It had taken three weeks for Kaz’s hands to stop feeling sticky. Stop feeling warm.

He still wore gloves, to this day, to protect himself from the feeling.

---

The breakdown of the dream was supposed to be as followed:

STEP ONE: Get Kuwei under.

This has been left to Inej. She was the only person Kaz could trust with access to his funds, and the professionalism needed while blackmailing.

She had been given the full length of the job to secure this step, and even with the shortened timeline and her annoyance with that limitation, she had it handled.

"A hostel?" Kaz's brow arched up at her, and Inej ignored his condensation.

"His first stop is in Sweden, but he is going to Amsterdam for a festival with some friends from his university. Four days. Everyone is staying in the same hostel." She dropped a stack of photos and a blueprint of room designs on his desk. "Co-ed rooms, four sets of bunk beds."

"I take it you bought out the room?"

"I bought out the floor." Inej looked down to the watch on her wrist as Kaz looked up to her. When she noticed him staring, Inej shrugged. "It was more efficient. And I was pressed for time."

Kaz felt his lip curl into a grin. "Not bad, Wraith."

Inej rolled her eyes as she turned to the door, leaving Kaz with a quick- “Don’t cut my timeline again, Kaz.” before leaving as silently as she'd entered.

STEP TWO: Convince Kuwei of the world.

The biggest problem with this job was simple: the mark was Kuwei Yul-Bo.

The only son to the first known Chemist. The only son to the man who not only built the dreaming world, but who left an indelible impact on how you dreamed. Before Bo Yul-Bayur, there was no real understanding of how to make the dream stable. Night terrors turned into manufactured nightmares where the chemistry of the brain couldn’t separate what was internal or external. It was chaos. It cost the first few testers their lives, and a lot of people a lot of money.

Enter internationally renowned chemical engineer Bo Yul-Bayur.

Finding sedatives that worked to keep sleeping bodies under but left the minds and imaginations stable enough to create and master the creation of dreams was his first step. The second and third involved his sudden removal from the board after a cross interaction with a couple of heads of state, his mysterious disappearance, and the widespread access to the chemical makeup and equation for his most successful solutions.

Bo Yul-Bayur could be single-handedly credited for creating the dreaming underground. Kaz owed him his life savings, and all the recognition and respect the world kept from him.

However, that also complicated the situation when it came to his son. And this was the only reason that Van Eck would have stooped down to asking for Kaz’s help.

Because sometimes your greatest asset is the fact you’re the only criminal insane enough to agree to the job.

Kuwei was, in every essence of the term, the Son of Dreaming. Which, for Kaz’s purposes, meant that a militarized subconscious was the very least of what they could expect.

Normal jobs, and a good portion of abnormal jobs, would end there - a militarized subconscious not only meant a quick death once you went under, but could - depending on the level of militarization - risk your sanity. It hadn’t been as dangerous in the first few stages of the dreaming underground, but as marks and rich men became more aware, the need for extra levels of protection grew.

That meant this job, Kaz’s job, would have to be out of the box. It would have to be undefined. Beyond abnormal.

“Let me get this straight-” Nina pressed her fingers to her temple, her voice cutting directly into Kaz’s explanation. “You want Kuwei to be the one building, and populating, and creating the dream?”

Kaz felt everyone’s equally concerned eyes turn to him as they waited for his answer. It was raining (it almost always was this time of year in Edinburgh) and Kaz’s leg (as it tended to do) ached. But that was only partially at blame for the sour look to his face. “Isn’t that what I just said, Zenik?”

Jesper leaned to his left towards Wylan and probably thought he was whispering when he explained, “Another word of advice- Kaz doesn’t like to repeat himself. Like. Ever.” He was, of course, loud enough for everyone to hear.

And Nina, as always, was unfazed by the look. “How do you think that’s going to work? We just go in unaware and unprepared into Kuwei Yul-Bo’s mind?”

“Nina-” Inej tried to mediate, but it was Matthias who spoke up.

“I didn’t sign up for a suicide mission.”

Jesper laughed. “You didn’t sign up for jack shit, Helvar.”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, Fahey.”

“Enough.”

The sharp edge of Kaz’s tone was enough to knock Wylan back a bit, the bottles around him clattering at his wince. It was an effective silencing tool, and everyone’s attention returned to Kaz, waiting for whatever explanation he would surely give.

“It will be his dream.” He confirmed. “But it will be our direction. Wylan’s compound-” Wylan blanched once again at the attention, but Kaz kept going. “Is going to open him up to suggestions. The more of us who are under, and who are going under with the same idea, the more Kuwei will accept it.”

“Which means,”  Inej stood, then, the sudden movement jerking them all out of the trance they’d fallen into. “We have to be in agreement when we go under. If any of us question the world, or what we find there, it will invite unrest.”

Wylan swallowed enough for it to echo up in the rafters. “U-unrest?”

“If he is the dreamer and questions the dream, we will end up sitting ducks.” Nina explained, still massaging her temple. “Why is this different from normal? We always go in with an understanding of the dream.”

“It’s more than an understanding. It’s a United Front.” Mattias muttered darkly. “You mean to tell me that you expect this group to be in step? Complete cohesion? You’re insane.”

“Then maybe you should get to work.”

STEP THREE: Work the narrative from the outside, inward.

The plan hinged on Kuwei’s subconscious accepting the dream as his own. But more than that, it hinged on Kuwei’s interest in it. In wanting to see the story play out. If he was distracted by the story, his subconscious would fill the necessary open safes with his secrets, and then it would be up to their work to find the information Van Eck was looking for.

Additionally, if Kuwei fully accepted the storyline, the projections - if given the opportunity - would be ample resource to find out what information it is that Kuwei was hiding.

Which meant that the majority of the dream would be a combination of a narrative to be played out and accepted, as well as an engaging enough setting that would allow complete acceptance of the world and its laws. Part of that involved Wylan’s new drug, and part of it involved the richness of the world itself.

The latest nights they pulled were in going over this aspect - refilled mugs of coffee and Jesper’s restless tapping pulling them through session after session.

And in the end, it was Kaz who broke through the initial hurdle, his eyes held tight to the file that Van Eck had given him as it laid open across his desk.

“Make it a heist.”

Nina and Matthias froze where they had been bickering, exhaustion and their exceedingly unnecessary sexual tension driving almost every disagreement to yelling. But it was Inej who sat up from her spot on the floor, turning to Kaz with a curious eye.

“A heist?”

Kaz nodded, once, and heard Jesper’s fidgeting freeze and felt Wylan’s eyes turn to him too. He tapped his finger on the file, though not for any kind of direction. “Kuwei likes adventure novels. And pirate stories.” It was in the research- Inej was always thorough. “So we make it an adventure. He’s been kidnapped-”

“Because of something he knows.” Nina joined in, picking up on the direction that Kaz was moving in and stepping in to take the seat to his left, leaning over the files on the table. “Something important, world altering, that no one else knows but these people are willing to do whatever it takes to find.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to be the pirate?” Jesper asked, looking from Nina to Kaz and then to Inej. “If he likes those kinds of stories, why would he dream-”

“Because the people you tend to admire in stories aren’t the ones you end up being in real life.” Wylan answered, having left his rustic laboratory in the corner to join them. “Your favorite characters aren’t usually the ones you identify with the most.”

Kaz nodded in agreement. “He’s an academic. Dreaming for a life of adventure, but never quite able to find it outside of books. He needs to be saved by the characters he idolizes.” Kaz paused, waiting to see if anyone would fill in what he was referring to.

“We’re not saving him.” Mattias’ low growl was obstinate, and Nina shot him a quick look. “What?”

“And so we- the heroes- show up and save him from his prison.” Jesper grinned, a kind of alight excitement burning behind his eyes. Kaz knew that look was dangerous- that look had gotten them both into nearly every problem they’d ever run into- but it was contagious.

“You know…” Inej was feeling it too, smiling when she caught Kaz’s eye. “This might just work.”

“Might?” Matthias cut in again. “We’re going to have to do a little better than might.”

“Oh, thank you for your contribution, Helvar.” Jesper cut back, even as he was grinning.

“Enough.” But despite it all, Kaz could feel it too. The excitement of a next step, the energy of movement. Progress. He turned to Matthias, expectant. “Now, tell me about this prison.”

STEP FOUR: Find the information required by the job.

Every dreaming job is different - it is why, as an industry, it attracts the more creative criminals. Some extractions are straightforward - bring a mark into a dream, build safes and rooms for the mark to fill, steal the file, get out without it appearing suspicious. In the early years of dreaming, and dream-theft, enough of the population did not know about PASIV devices or dreaming that you could go under without anyone realizing it was happening. But as it grew more popular, and as it grew more widely known and subconscious security became the norm, the art of the theft had to get more creative.

Gone were the days of a simple maze. Gone were the years that personal security was all that was needed to protect your mind. These days, Kaz Brekker got what he wanted by being creative. By thinking outside of the dream, and then the box, and then the space within that.

For this job, it was going to involve the prison. A heist (seeing as Kaz has found that hiding behind the obvious works well in dreams) to break Kuwei out. And buried within that narrative, the information. They would depend on the projections, too. They were looking for an actively hidden amount of information, information that would have gotten Kuwei taken - if the narrative is to be believed. They would find out from the projections that Kuwei would supply what the information is that they’re down there to take, find said information, and break Kuwei out.

Kaz, in deciding to join the active crew members and go under, would be tasked with the information itself. The story did not need him, though he would play whatever part would make the most sense and would create the least amount of resistance. But he was not necessary, and would instead spend his time doing what he has always done best.

Breaking into safes- or in this case, cells.

STEP FIVE: Play out the remaining dream-time without a kick.

This is where things got a little more complicated. They were only going under one level, which left them vulnerable to Kuwei, if he had any training at all, to notice the constructed nature. And since they were only going under one level, and to uphold the authenticity of the dream, they would not induce a kick.

It would keep them under for much longer than they were used to. It would force them to play out the roles with Kuwei’s presence. Whatever happened to the narrative of the dream would have to be upheld for days, maybe weeks, after the actual event.

This is where their flair for the dramatics would come in handy.

STEP SIX: Leave undetected.

If everything went as it was supposed to, the compound would leave Kuwei’s system with enough processing time that it would feel like an intense dream, and nothing more.

They would leave their rooms at errant intervals that worked with their stories, and they would all cover their own returns to Edinburgh. They would reconvene at the warehouse in one week’s time to receive payment and their exit meeting, and from there, would be on their way.

Another job completed. Another payment received.

---

The last time Jordie closed his eyes, Kaz had been mad at him. He remembers that much.

It had been about something stupid - one of the directors of the project, man by the name of Pekka Rollins had offered the brothers the chance to take part in testing a new compound. They would be the first humans it had been used on. There were dangers, there were always dangers, but Rollins promised years taken from their sentence and Jordie’s attention had been caught.

Kaz didn’t like the idea. Something about the man’s off-putting grin and well to do nature did not sit well with him. He tried to mention it to Jordie, that his gut didn’t trust the way Pekka Rollins had looked at them, but Jordie had snapped back.

We don’t really have a choice, do we? I don’t want to spend my life in jail, and time is running out.

Jordie had a point, which Kaz knew. Because of the way the tasks had worked, Kaz and Jordie had only taken one, maybe two years off their combined sentence. Jordie had less than a year before he hit eighteen and would be moved to the adult prison. As the days went by, Kaz wanted Jordie get more and more worried about the counter. The dwindling numbers of days he had left.

But I don’t trust him, Kaz had pleaded. Not this time. Please. We’ll make it up somewhere else-

Doesn’t matter if you trust him. We just have to get the target and get out.

Jordie, I don’t-

It’s not up to you, Kaz. I already agreed.

And the dream, at first, had seemed normal enough. Dark streets of an old city. There were canals that wove through the tall buildings, and the air was putrid. Damp. Kaz and Jordie had taken off, into the city and into the lives they would need to complete the task.

Then there was the plague.

It wasn’t abnormal, facing disasters and catastrophes in dreams. The program wanted to test the limits of creation, and men - more often than not - gravitated towards the weight of death. Hurricanes, tornadoes, mass shootings, holocausts. But this was Kaz’s first plague, and with the setting, it was cataclysmic.

Kaz had gotten sick. And so had Jordie. They weren’t even aware that they could- but it felt as real as anything Kaz had ever experienced while awake.

He’d passed out, at some point. And Jordie alongside with him. When his eyes opened, it was on a barge - a barge of bodies. Dead bodies. Projections.

Except that wasn’t the whole truth, was it? Because amongst them, Kaz had found Jordie. Bloated, pale, cold. Kaz was still feverish - had to be - because he remembers screaming for hours. Hours.

Wake up!

Jordie did not. Not then, and not when Kaz finally woke back up topside, either. They had to sedate Kaz a second time just to get him out of the room, and the image is burned into the back of his eyelids every time he closes them.

Pekka Rollins, thoughtful and curious, standing over Jordie’s unresponsive body.

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

---

The plan, at first, went as it had supposed to.

The Ice Court was near-flawless. Their jobs as convicts breaking in was set. Every projection they met fulfilled their roles and reinforced the status quo. They were here for the plot, all of them pawns to a greater need.

Kuwei was inside. Kuwei was part of the dream. Kuwei had taken the bait.

When Kaz opened his eyes in the truck full of bodies, he nearly lost consciousness a second time. Whether it was the detail the other members had placed in their set-up, or his own anxieties poking holes into the plan, it had almost ruined everything.

Almost. But not quite. Inej had grabbed his arm and held him up upright and Kaz pulled himself back together again.

After that, things fell into place. They each knew their roles, where they were supposed to land and where they were supposed to be. Kuwei, picking up on the threads of the story that their subconscious fed him, played along. He would be inside an inner cell, waiting to be executed or tested on or whatever it was that he would assume would be worse, and the rest of the team would arrive to save him. Six people, six heroes, six parts of the reward. The projections agreed, leaving notes on why Kuwei was held, what was happening, what they would need to find.

Except that things - as they did - started to go wrong.

A woman from Inej’s past arrived at the grand party. She was not supposed to be part of the attendees, but there she was, in all her peacock feathers and dangerous sneer. The old Commander from Nina’s time in the military whisked her away into the cells for a grand tour, and Nina had followed. Matthias had been the Architect, which meant that the most of his subconscious would color the setting itself, but even he couldn’t be prepared for the weight it would be on him. He followed after Nina, panicked she was lost to the dream too.

Wylan was a nervous wreck of a boy - doing his best to keep up but doing the most to attract attention to himself. Jesper did his part to keep Wylan from dying before the mission even began, but Kaz knew better than to assume that would keep up.

Kaz, after the initial run in with the truck of other prisoners, was able to hold it together. They made it into the cells, they made it out of those cells. And then they were running - Kaz had a safe to find, if there was one. Kaz had the information to gather. Kad had his job, before all else.

And then there was Pekka Rollins.

Kaz was not prepared. Not prepared for him. They’d gone under in training and Kaz had been able to hold his armor together for that, but this. This was different. This was heavier. Kaz was supposed to be working. He was supposed to meet Inej down by the boiler room. But they were on the stairs, the clock ticking down, when the feeling settled in his gut.

When Kaz turned, it was Jordie’s face that was waiting for him. Sickly pale, ghost-like, bloated, but solid. He watched Kaz from a floor that was not originally in the layout, a line of cells that was not supposed to exist, and then he turned around. Started to walk away.

Kaz knew that this was the drug. Knew that this had nothing to do with the plan, and would ruin everything if he took too much time. But Jordie glanced back to him, color suddenly returning, and grinned.

You’re not going to let him go, are you baby brother?

Bells. There were bells ringing. That was his cue. But Kaz took a step forward, because Jordie was there. For once, for real, he was just thirty feet down that hall. Was stepping through a door. Kaz had spent his life learning how to get through doors - whether locked or otherwise - and he would not let this one get in the way.

Jordie disappeared, and Kaz could hear Pekka Rollins’ echo of a laugh. Strong. Settled. Comfortable.

For a brief moment, all Kaz could see was Pekka standing over Jordie’s body back in the testing room. A disappointed shake of his head as he turned away. The panic in Kaz’s chest because Jordie was supposed to be waking up, Jordie is supposed to be waking up. It’s a dream. It was all a dream. Everything that happened, everything that Kaz had done, it hadn’t been real. Then there was the feeling of large, strong hands under his armpits. Dragging him away. Someone pulled a sheet over Jordie’s body.

The bells continued, and if Kaz had been paying attention, he’d know that this was the exact moment that Inej would be climbing. That Jesper and Wylan would be waiting, anxiously, at the bottom of the shaft. Nina and Mattias would be gathering Kuwei. Would be bringing him along. Kuwei, fully entrapped in the narrative, would follow. He’d understand. He’d be a part of the story.

Kaz was supposed to be joining them down in the boiler room. He was supposed to be taking the shaft up, and out. They are so close. So very, very close.

But then the door is gone. A gunshot echoed from somewhere down the hall. Jordie’s laugh, and then silence.

It’s not up to you, Kaz.

Kaz ran after it.

---

The very few times that Kaz dreams, unencumbered and undirected by any device, it always starts off the same. A quiet field, a low breeze, and grass up to his knees. He can smell hay, and pollen, and somewhere far off, livestock. The sound of the field is all around him - buzzing and fluttering and moving. Alive. Everything is alive, and it is warm.

And then Jordie is there. Somewhere. Off in the distance or hiding beyond the ridge. Kaz is never quite sure when Jordie got so good at hiding, that was Kaz’s talent, but he’s always just out of sight.

Kaz calls out - “Jordie?” - and runs after him.

Then it all changes. In the blink of an eye, the grass at his legs are limbs, the wind pulling at his face are fingers. The smell of death, and rot, and dark decay envelop him. Jordie’s voice echos off in the distance, calling out for him but hauntingly distant, and Kaz always comes to a stop.

In his hand is a card, blinding white against the background of death, and a single crow on its face.

Kaz recognizes his totem, recognizes that he is the only one who knows it, and Jordie’s voice gets louder. Louder, and louder, and louder, until the two words ricochet like bullets in Kaz's skull.

Wake up.

But Kaz can’t. Not this time.

---

What do you mean he didn’t wake up?

He’s not waking up, Inej. Try for yourself. I don’t-

Wylan, what’s happening?

It’s the drug. His subconscious clung too heavily to the stimuli. It’s-

What does that even mean?! Why isn’t he waking up?

Don’t yell at Wylan!

I-I- It’s like he has sleep paralysis. His subconscious thinks he woke up, but it believes what we gave it. He believes what he all saw down there is real.

You mean he’s still in the dream?

How can he still be in the dream? Matthias is up. Shouldn’t it have fallen apart?

Yes. It should have. Unless he memorized the maps himself. His subconscious could have clung to what I showed all of you…

But the dream is over. The drug should have worn off.

Unless he fell deeper.

He’s in limbo…

No! God damn it Brekker, of all times?

What are we going to do?

We have to go back in there.

What?! Are you insane? Into his subconscious?

It should mirror the same world we built for the dream. Same stories, same rules. It’ll just be what his subconscious built of it.

Oh, great. So not only are we going into his limbo, but we’re going into his version of the fucked up dream we built for Kuwei? You have to be kidding me.

You all don’t need to go, I can do it.

Are you serious, Inej? No way. You’re not going alone.

He’ll need us all. Without the complete picture, he’ll know something is wrong.

We should go down now. Before he’s locked in there for a lifetime.

I need more time. I need to make sure they know we finished the Kuwei job. They’ll be waiting for an answer…

Then we’ll go down first. Inej, you can join after. Okay? It’s only two levels deep, right? So it shouldn’t be too sped up.

Okay. I guess we’re doing this.

The demon should be paying us a lot more than just-

Matthias, not the time!

Okay. Everyone get back to your device. We’ll sync up and go back. We’re all prepped for this world anyway, right? On my count. Three, two, one--

---

Kaz opens his eyes, blinking twice to shed the heaviness.

It’s dark, and there is a weighted, warm sort of moisture clinging to the air around him. It makes his leg ache.

He sits up, slow and cautious, with one thing on his mind. It’s a familiar thing, something he is comfortable with holding, comfortable with carrying and knowing and understanding. It’s something he’s lived with his entire life, and something he will most likely continue to live with, however long that may be.

It is sweet, in the back of his throat.

Van Eck will pay for this.

Revenge, as it were, was the greatest form of motivation. And Ketterdam knows it well.

[thorne93]

The Softest Fire (Part 4)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 1948

Warnings: dealing with animals(??), angst

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy​​​. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​.

I heard the unlocking of the door from where I sat at the kitchen table. The noise made my heart hammer in my chest. This was it. I was about to tell him. What could go wrong? Other than losing a job I love and Newt distancing himself from me due to being uncomfortable… 

Yes, this would go well… 

I tried to remain positive. I was a catch afterall. Powerful, knowledgeable, cunning, humorous, kind… What’s not to love? Unless, of course, he didn’t love me… But why wouldn’t he? 

Gathering the courage I’d collected through my years of hosting meetings, gatherings, and hunting criminals, I stood, smoothing my champagne colored outfit. I checked my hair one quick time in the tiny mirror that hung on the wall and stepped into his living room as he came in, suitcase in hand. 

“Welcome home!” I announced, a large grin on my face. 

He’d been gone a little over a year now and seeing him was like breathing for the first time. Air sucked into my lungs as my eyes raked over him. He looked even more handsome than I remembered.

“Thank you, Rosaline,” he sweetly greeted back, taking off his scarf and hanging it. “How did everything go?”

“Everyone is perfectly happy. Except the kelpie, he has missed you quite a bit.” 

“I’ll be sure to see him, but I have some news,” he stated, excitement in his voice as he got close to me. 

I grinned widely. “Me too.”

“Go ahead, share yours first,” he offered.

I shook my head. “No, no, you just got home. I want to hear all about your adventure,” I insisted.

“Very well,” he responded, biting his lip before grabbing my upper arms. “I think I’ve fallen for someone.” 

My eyes twinkled, my throat dried. “Really?” I asked, wondrous. Good, I hoped Newt would somehow say this first. 

“Yes, her name is Tina and she lives in New York of all places,” he informed. His words felt like ice as the news slithered through my body. 

“T--Tina?” I choked out, peering at him. It felt as if someone had deflated me, or stuck a needle in me and pulled out all of my happiness.

“Mhm.” He let me go and walked around to the kitchen, to pour himself some tea. “She’s American. We met because… well we met because a muggle got into my suitcase and the demiguise got out and the niffler ran amuck and -- it was this awful ordeal. I wish you’d have been there. You probably would’ve wrangled them all in half the time.” 

“You don’t say,” I muttered, trying to keep my heart in one piece, at least until I could get far away from this flat. 

“She helped. It was quite the challenge. I met her, her sister Queenie, who is a legilimens, can you believe it?”

“No, I’m in total shock,” I replied before he came around me and went to his sofa. My words, however, weren’t meant for the question he had just asked.

He began talking again and I took it as a cue to come sit next to him so he could finish his story. “The muggle and Queenie seemed to have hit it off but--”

“But it’s illegal for them to be together,” I finished, sad for this muggle and the witch.

“Precisely. The muggle, Jacob… he saw a lot. I showed him the case, the creatures, he went into MACUSA, in fact I was sentenced to death…” 

“Newt!” I shrieked. “What the hell happened?” The pain of Newt’s rejection and love for another was still very fresh, but this news was alarming to me so it pushed the pain a little farther in the back of my mind.

“The obscurus. Tina and I were sentenced to death and they sentenced Jacob to be obliviated.” 

“But that’s… they did all that for an obscurus?” 

“Yes. We barely escaped.” 

“I’m so sorry to hear that. That must’ve been terrifying. I can’t imagine the fear you must have felt.” 

“I’m quite alright. But other than the news of Tina and meeting a rather interesting muggle, um… I also came face to face with Gellert Grindelwald.”

My eyes went as wide as they would go. “Grindelwald?! You…” I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. “Why? How? What did you do?” 

He launched into the full story about Credence, Graves, Grindelwald, and everything that happened. The news of this left me spinning, that and this new Tina woman. 

“So you’re in danger?” I wondered.

“It’s possible but… I’m not sure. I think I’ll be alright, he’s in custody now so... Tina and I promised to write and keep in touch. I’d like to give her a copy of my book in person as soon as it’s released.”

“Sounds like things are getting serious rather quickly.”

“I suppose they are, yes. It’s pretty exhilarating.” He looked off, seeming to reach back into a memory and smile. I never thought that smile would bring me as much sadness as it did in that very moment. “But what about you? What’s your news?” 

I drew in a breath. “My news? Ah, right, my news… I… I got the occamies to warm up to me quite a bit.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic. Great. It’s so good to see you. I missed you.” He leaned forward suddenly and hugged me, but the touch of him on me felt like fire, it nearly hurt to be this close to him. 

I pulled away from him and stood up. “Right. Well you’re probably tired and you want to have some time with the animals. I’ll give you a full report tomorrow morning. Good evening.”

And just like that, I apparated out of his flat. I couldn’t even stomach one more second to make it to the door. Outside on the sidewalk, I caught my breath, trying to fight this feeling back. This was something I’d never experienced before, I couldn’t even put a word to it, but it sure as hell made it hard to breathe, and it made my chest hurt.

Before I could rethink anything, or do something I might regret, I apparated to my own flat. My own flat felt like a foreign country to me now. I only visited it once a month to use the pipes and grab clothing. Looking around though, I realized... this wasn’t home. It housed my things, yes, but home was wherever Newt was. Whether I was in his suitcase, in a hotel room, at his flat. He was the reason I felt warm, welcome, and safe. Not these four walls…

I sat down on my blue velvet settee, the one Nora had teased me for. She thought it was so feminine, very much not her style. Thoughts raced in my head faster than I could catch or comprehend them. 

Newt had… he’d met someone, and from what I could see, the infatuation wasn’t going away any time soon. He’d had a whole boat ride to determine if it was a fleeting emotion, so clearly it wasn’t. So this was serious, very serious. Newt had never shown interest in anyone, not really. Well… other than his peculiar interest in Leta, which I had yet to understand. But two women in nearly three decades wasn’t promising. He wasn’t the type to latch onto someone if he didn’t like them. This wasn’t a fleeting fling. 

I had some real competition. There was some woman out there that had somehow entirely captured Newt’s attention in less than a week. I’ve spent years with him and he hasn’t even flirted with me.  She’s American, an auror, she works or worked for MACUSA, that part wasn’t exactly clear… What was so special about her anyway? 

Should I tell Nora? Well, even if I did, what could she do? Nora wouldn’t want to get in the middle of this, it would only burden her. None of my other comrades even knew I had feelings for Newt, so they were off the list. 

How should I even begin to move forward? I wanted him to be happy, of course, but I wanted him to be happy with me… Now, I had to choose between letting him be happy or myself. I spent the better part of a year waiting at home for him, like a dog, a loyal companion, only for him to kick my hope in the teeth. It wasn’t his fault, he had no idea… but it still stung.

Now I would have to face every day with him, bottling my emotions, keeping them locked inside. I was so ready, I had gathered all of my courage to tell him. I was ready for acceptance or rejection, I would’ve respected either reaction. But this… this was a bloody mess! 

What would Nora do? Nora would probably say her piece anyway, because she’s fearless, brave… And what am I? Clearly nothing that Newt wants… 

With a sigh, I stood, putting on a record, letting the music wash over me. As the song started, I poured a glass of sherry and swayed by myself to the tune. 

All alone, I'm so all alone

There is no one else but you

All alone by the telephone

Waiting for a ring, a ting-a-ling

I played the music over and over, until I could barely stand from exhaustion. I let the record player continue as I carried myself to my bed, settling under the covers, hoping things don’t look as bleak in the morning.

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

The following morning, I went to Nora’s shop to possibly tell her about my utter failure. I was only there a few moments when Newt had walked in. Just seeing him caused my stomach knot up.

“Oh, hey you two,” Nora greeted as she came up from the back. “I’m so glad to see you!” Nora stated from behind the counter, her face beaming beautifully. 

“Good to see you too. I see you managed to keep the place running in my absence,” Newt commented with a lopsided smile. 

“It was hard, I assure you,” Nora teased. “So! Tell me all about it!” 

“Ah! Yes. Well you won’t believe it but I’ve met someone.”

Her eyes flashed to mine quickly and my eyes went to the floor. 

“Oh, you don’t say,” she mused, her eyes narrowed imperceptibly and she raised her eyebrows questioningly. Her eyes flickered back to me before looking again at Newt.

“Her name is Tina… She has eyes like salamanders.”

“And this is a good thing because…?” Nora questioned.

“How is it not a good thing?” 

“I suppose that’s fair.” She turned to me. “Rosaline, I put a kettle on in the back, would you go check it for me?”

I knew exactly what she was doing. She was giving me an opportunity to escape. Giving me a chance to get away from the pain and strife he didn’t know he was the cause of. She’s always done this. She was protective over me when she didn’t have to be, when I was merely her younger, orphaned cousin. Even now as an adult and one of the world’s strongest and most powerful witches, she still protected me.

In this case, I very much welcomed it, because the tears running down my face were entirely foreign to me, and I had no idea how to continue a relationship with my boss with whom I was in love. 

Nora could sense my distress, moving behind the counter to pat my arm and whisper that she would be with me as soon as she could. It comforted me on some small level, but right now, listening to Newt, I could hardly breathe or think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[darkpoisonouslove]

Here are “some” fic writer asks for you: 1, 5, 6, 9, 10, 20, 32 (I know you’re pro smut, but I’d love to hear why), 34 😁😆

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Angst, angst, angst. XD While that is true, I will try to give you more than that because I am sure that you already know that part. A typical me fic has two characters (that is law), three max. I like exploring stuff in more depth and with larger casts of characters that becomes harder because there are way more PoVs to figure out and juggle while you also try to keep it somewhat in check when it comes to length and opportunities to shine that you give the characters. So I prefer to work with smaller casts. Besides, it happens naturally in my stories because the focus of the story is usually the relationship between two people so there’s no need to put anyone else in there. I also love writing about established relationships without using the word in a romantic context. I just love it when the characters have years upon years of interaction behind them and know each other so well, yet there are still things to figure out and explore between them because human nature is just so complicated. I like to have some fantasy elements or better yet fantasy characters in a non-magical/fantasy setting. That is one of my favorite things and something that I blame mostly OUAT for but not only (I have always liked that kind of thing). Oh, yes, how could I forget (smh)? Love is always present in one form or another. What kind of hopeless romantic would I be if I missed to include that? XD Also, I usually like to write more relaxed things in terms of action. Not that I don’t love me a good action adventure story but mainstream media usually plays harder into those because they’re more “exciting” so there is an abundance of that already while the emotional aspects of the situations usually get glossed over and I like exploring those exactly. So most of my fics are the characters conversing and killing each other with words. I’m sure there’s more but I can’t think of it rn.

5. Share one of your strengths.

I don’t wanna say dialogue again because that is always my answer to this question but what other strengths do I have???? (You’ll have to forgive me for this but I am going through a fun bout of doubt over here that is about personal matters but I see it has affected everything else as well.) Okay, if we count the whole writing process and not just the actual writing parts, I’d say that I am very good with connecting the dots. It’s why my plots click together and all the details piece like they were just a puzzle waiting to be put in the right place. Finding the bonds between separate elements and exploring those bonds and the way they function has always been of special interest to me not just in writing, but in anything I do. I want to know how things work and why they work like that, why event A causes reaction B from character C. I think that has helped immensely with building cohesive and (hopefully) comprehensive character arcs to base my stories on.

6. Share one of your weaknesses.

Now that I have to point out an actual weakness, I am stuck again because the doubt decided to fail me now (or is it my pride? or perhaps my analytical skills?). Anyway. One of my weaknesses is just powering through the details that I can’t figure out at the moment. I can’t do that and it really slows down the writing process a lot sometimes because I am stuck on the little things. However, I’d say that with me the little things very often influence the big things if not even take over them which explains why my process is like that. However, that doesn’t change the fact that I should just write the word I can think of even if it isn’t the right one instead of losing the rest of the sentence while I try to remember what is the word that I know will be perfect in that sentence. Or just put a placeholder for someone’s outfit and finish my damn outline instead of halting work on it for two months (yes, that is a specific example about a specific thing that has been annoying me).

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

Hardest to write are definitely the ones that are still unfinished. XD But from the complete ones, I’d say that hardest was The End of Never because it dealt with so many things that I know nothing about, emotionally speaking. It definitely required a lot of empathy and thinking and rethinking and overthinking... which is why it took so long to write (a year and 3 weeks).

10. Which fic has been the easiest to write?

I’d say that Heartless and A (Plot) Bunny Is Never Lonely were the two fics that were easiest to write. Heartless practically wrote itself while A (Plot) Bunny Is Never Lonely was supposed to be a joke, then a drabble, yet it kept growing until it was a full fic of its own. There definitely wasn’t a lot (or any) struggling with those two.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

I don’t really have any. But my requirements are usually a table with a chair or a bed, some music for background and my concentration to be present (like it hasn’t been recently which is why I gave writing a rest for a while). Oh, yes, and sleep usually helps even though it is not an essential condition.

32. How do you feel about smut?

I love smut if it is written the “right” way (I am saying that completely subjectively). For me a perfect smut scene is something that involves the characters in their wholeness as people, not just the physical aspects and not just the romantic ones either. Smut is actually something that can be so personal I love it when it influences the characters on a level that reaches outside of the sex scene and even outside of their relationship with each other, when it affects the way that they perceive themselves and each other, even the world around them. It has to be a profound experience that means something outside of physical pleasure, a connection of the souls. The way I see it, sex is something very intimate and a scene that is set during it can and should bring out something about who the character is, about how their current actions during the smut are influenced by their whole life, by the previous experiences they’ve had with lovers and not only. A sex scene can be very raw with what it says about a character and how they’ve been treated by life and it is made even more interesting by the fact that that happens in such a vulnerable moment. It is the perfect opportunity to explore trust or the lack of such, thereof. And not just trust but blockages the characters have that seemingly have nothing to do with sex. (Can you tell it’s the psychology talking? XD)

34. What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

I actually like reading both non-con and dub-con if there is a point to it and it is not written only for shock value. Following my thoughts on smut, non-con and dub-con give an opportunity to explore the reactions of the characters to having their whole belief system violated and that can really show what a character is made of. I am not sure I can articulate this well but it’s about the defiance and strength that a character relies on to get through a situation like that, about the recovery that speaks volumes about their will to live and not let what was taken from them hold them back, about the fact that even when you move on, that remains a part of you and even the acceptance of that fact is forced on you because you have to accept it in order to be able to live without being ruled by it. I don’t think I understand my own feelings on it well enough in order to be able to explain better.

Send me fic writer asks

[forthegothicheroine]

Dear 2020 Yuletide Author...

Hey, I’m RobberBaroness on AO3, and thank you so much for offering one of my fandoms!  I say that every year but I especially mean it this time, since I picked more obscure stuff than usual.  Now, let’s get to it!

General likes: Fairy tales, gothic literature, film noir, revenge tragedies, bodice rippers, melodrama, dark comedy, heroine/villain/hero love triangles, heroine/villain dynamics, rescue romance, mythology, maledom (non and dubcon are welcome), bdsm, bondage, character studies, what-if AUs, genre swapping AUs, vampires, folklore, knight and lady dynamics, epistolary fic,  interactive fiction.

DNWs: Pushing away female characters, fetish universes, character bashing, fully mundane AUs for fantastical settings, unrequested identity headcanons, Christmas or other Christian holiday-themed fic, abrupt character death (character death fully earned and explored is fine), a focus on bodily fluids or byproducts in porn.

I’m open to both Crueltide and Yuleporn, but I’m also okay with getting neither of those.

Waxwork (1988)

Sarah, China, Dracula, Marquis de Sade

Such a fun, silly movie!  And absolutely perfect for anyone who likes to read or write Problematic Fanfiction.  You can write about all four of those characters, or just focus on one of the two heroine/villain ships (China/Dracula or Sarah/de Sade.)  The movie (and its sequel) have lots of references and homages to classic horror movies, so that would be fun to see here!  In any case, this is a great place to pile on all the gothic tropes and aesthetics your heart desires.

Some ideas:

Sarah and China are very much positioned as the Virgin and the Whore, respectively, but surely there must be some more to their characters than that!  What if they were the two survivors who had to rally troops of monster-hunters against the forces of darkness?  (Mark can be there too if you want, I have nothing against him.)  How would Sarah deal with being put in a position of leadership?  How would China deal with having to think about the well-being of people other than herself?

Tell me about the women whose situations the girls found themselves in, Dracula’s victim and the Marquis’ plaything.  Tell me how they ended up in those situations.  Alternately, what if they found themselves in America in the 1980s when Sarah and China took their places?

Explore the darkly sexy situations Sarah and/or China were in if the camera hadn’t cut away (China) or Mark hadn’t been there to rescue them (Sarah.)  Straightforward porny stuff is fine, or you could spin it into a full story of the aftermath.  (I know the Marquis plans to whip Sarah to death, but I’d rather that didn’t happen- he can spare her life or she can escape, whatever you want.)  This can be a seductive dom-sub scene, full on noncon, or anything in between.

Dracula and/or the Marquis de Sade don’t get killed and have to adapt to the modern era.  Will China and/or Sarah pledge themselves to hunting them down, or grudgingly and grumblingly help them adjust?

The sequel has characters hopping between times and alternate universes, so if you want to bring that into the events of the first movie, that could be fun.  Sarah and China find themselves running from one sexy horror movie scene to the next, having to deal with a whole range of hot villains interested in them!

Dragonwyck (1946)

Nicholas Van Ryn, Miranda Wells

I love Vincent Price and I love Gene Tierney, and I really love them together.  Movie Nicholas seems a lot less cold-hearted than his book counterpart, and I think he probably was in love with Miranda before grief over his son’s death and opium addiction drove him mad.  (Which is not to excuse murdering his first wife- he’s still a very bad man!)  Another thing I like about the movie adaptation is that there’s a lot less blame put on Miranda for daring to want to leave the farm, and an understanding of why she’d be dazzled by the Van Ryn’s lives.  For this canon, I’d really like to explore more of Nicholas and Miranda’s relationship, doomed though it may be.

Some ideas:

Seduction!  Either before or after their marriage, Nicholas tempts Miranda with the pleasures of sin.  This can involve sex, or just sensual pleasures (kisses, fine wine, scandalous poetry.)

Is there any way Nicholas and Miranda could have had a happy ending?  If he and his first wife had divorced (with all the trouble that would have caused at the time), if he hadn’t accused her of being barren, if he had gotten better after their marriage instead of worse?

A darker look at their relationship, with obsession and possessiveness and madness inspired by beauty.  (Would rather this didn’t involve physical abuse, but sexual or psychological is okay.)

What if Nicholas had tried to corrupt Miranda to be his partner in crime?  Would she have stood firm against his temptations, or find herself weakening towards sin?

Revenger’s Tragedy (2003)

Gloriana, Vindice, the Duke, Lussurioso

I know for sure one kind of fic I’d want- Gloriana lives fic!  I’m very sweet on Vindice’s devotion to her, and I’d like to know more about the woman herself!  (I once saw someone call her a Mary Sue, which baffles me- how can she be a Mary Sue if all we know about her is that she was pretty and nice?)  Mind you, this doesn’t necessarily mean a nice and happy story.  The bloodthirsty nature of Revenger’s Tragedy is one of the reasons I love it, after all!  If you don’t want to write that main prompt, you could write something where any of the nominated characters reflects on Gloriana, or where the revenge plays out in a different fashion.  You can come up with something gruesome enough for a Jacobean playwright, I believe in you!

You can write these stories without Lussurioso, but he’s fun if you do include him.

Some ideas:

Instead of poisoning Gloriana, the Duke drugs her for his own ends.  Or, if you don’t want to get that dark, he does poison her but she survives after a period of illness.  Either way, she joins Vindice in his crusade of revenge.

Role reversal!  When the Duke makes a pass at Gloriana, Vindice interferes and gets killed for his efforts.  Now Gloriana is the one setting out to destroy the entire ruling family.

The movie seems to take place in a vaguely post-apocalyptic setting, so dig into that if you like.  Worldbuild away, so long as you include the characters!

For any of the above scenarios, what part might Lussurioso play?  Would he take over as the main villain after his father is dealt with, or could disgust towards his family’s actions (which he does seem to canonically show) lead to him rethinking his life and switching sides?

[starrysence]

the thunderstorm fic

heyooo i am back kind of with a lil ralbert piece to get back into the writing spirit! hope u enjoy! the fic will be under the keep reading link :D word count is somewhere around 1k and i didnt proofread this bc we die like men. also its a modern au cause i can 

tw for astraphobia (fear of thunderstorms) bc thats what this fic is centered around. 

the searing white flash of lightning that makes the rapidly falling raindrops visible is enough to alert race as to what will come next; he’ll never admit it, but he immediately begins to tremble, using every ounce of his energy not to move his hands up to cover his ears and muffle the rumble of thunder. albert, who’s been sitting beside him for the better part of four hours to work on a project they’re partners for, takes notice of race’s sudden shaking and frowns.

“you alright, racer?”

race looks at him; albert, albie, al, his best friend, the guy he’s in love with (even though he’s still a little hesitant about admitting that part), and even though the answer to the question is initially no, looking at him does make race feel a little alright. just a little. he thinks about how this - his fear of thunder - is the only thing he’s never told albert about. it’s the one thing he feels too ashamed of to share with albert, but he’s always figured it’s not a big deal; albert wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

well, considering their current circumstances… maybe race has to rethink that one.

“yeah,” he croaks, almost flinching at how small his voice sounds. “yeah, al, i’m good.”

albert raises an eyebrow, and race knows he’s already lost this one.

“you sure? you don’t sound too sure of yourself an’ you’re, like, shaking right now.”

“dammit, albie.” race chuckles, attempting to downplay just how scared he really feels. the attempt fails as his voice quivers about halfway through the first word, and he wants to cry. but he doesn’t. “why d’you have to be so observant?”

“i’m not observant, tonio,” albert responds with a soft smile. “you’re my best friend, of course i’ll know when something’s up with you. i’ve known you long enough to notice when you’re not bein’ totally honest with me about somethin’. now, what’s the matter?”

race falls silent. he knows there’s no escaping this conversation, but he wants to try and avoid it for as long as he can. 

"race."

he sighs in defeat. he managed to successfully avoid it for a total of less than two minutes.

"promise you won't make fun of me," race says; he tries his hardest to make his voice firm and steady, but it comes out as a shaky, scared whisper. he feels weak. vulnerable. afraid. he doesn't think his shaking can get any worse but in that moment it does and it makes him feel so pathetic and helpless and suddenly he's trying to make sure his breathing is steady and his vision is clear.

in a second albert is by his side, gripping his hand and wrapping an arm around his shoulder, holding him close. he knows race likes the touch, and race is so glad he just knows because he thinks that if he had to speak another word he would start crying. 

"of course i promise not to make fun of you… whatever's got you scared this bad ain't somethin' i'll ever make fun of you for, tonio. you know, i'm sorry for pushing in the first place… you don't have to tell me if it's too hard for you." albert's voice is soft, his tone sincere, and race wonders how he got lucky enough to have a best friend like this.

"i wanna tell you, it's just… hard." race's voice softens more and more as he speaks, ending up as a whisper. 

albert nods. "i get that, racer. just… tell me when you're ready."

"yeah… yeah. thanks, al."

a silence falls among the rather small bedroom, but neither of them really mind; it’s that same, familiar comfortable silence that occurs in the few moments when they don’t have anything to talk about.

“do you remember when we met for the first time?”

race looks up at albert, surprised, and blinks. “i guess, yeah… what about it?”

“i just think it’s crazy, you know...” a small smile starts to form on albert’s face, and race can’t help thinking about how much he wants to see that smile all the time every day, how much he wants to kiss those lips. “how it all began, i mean, and then there’s where we are now. when you sat down next to me on the first day of school in second grade and started rambling on and on about how cool you thought stars were, i immediately wanted you to be one of my friends forever. you were the first person to talk to me that year, which was huge to me ‘cause-”

“you’d just moved into the area,” race interrupts softly. the storm is still going on outside, and it shows no signs of quieting down any time soon, and race still feels himself trembling, but this helps; talking helps. touch helps. he helps. albert helps. 

“yeah.” there’s a full smile on albert’s face now, and it makes race want to smile, too, but all he can manage is a small upturn of his lips. “and now we’re here, and i love how it is and i love you and i wouldn’t trade this for- for anything in the world.”

the world seems to still in that moment. time stops, noise quiets, everything fades away until it’s just the two of them. race is aware of how cheesy this all sounds in his head, but he can’t bring himself to care.

it was those three words, he knows it was. they've been saying those words to each other for so long; in quick, fleeting moments, in long, heartfelt talks. 

"can you stay the night?" race whispers. 

"'course i can," albert responds in a soft tone. 

“thank you, albie. i love you.”

“and i love you, tonio. always.”

---

i wanted to fit race telling al abt why he’s scared into this but i couldnt find a way to do that without rewriting basically the whole thing, and i love what i have so i didnt want to do that.

long story short… anyone want a lil part 2? :)

-sanj <3

tag list:

@one-candy-cane-please | @suddenly-im-respecsable | @intoomanyfandomstopickaname | @be-more-chill-evan-hansen | @aw-jus-let-em-try | @getchapapes | @well-the-kids-do-too | @auspicioustarantula | @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn | @have-we-got-news-for-you | @not-a-scab | @pineappapizza | @andthewoildwillknow | @concrete--donuts | @stopthe-presses | @thomasbeingthomas | @i-love-loki-and-sherlock | @maxvanna | @spot-me50-papes | @and-i-lostmy-shoe | @i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing | @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog | @backgroundensemble | @ridin-in-style | @sunshine-e-cigarettes | @macaroni-0verlord | @probablyeunoia | @thebroadwayaesthetic | @how-bout-a-crookedpolitician | @fellthroughableedingtrapdoor | @awkwardstranger98 | @bxnesof92 | @papesdontsellthemselves

[if you want to be added to my tag list, please shoot me an ask or a message letting me know! i’d be happy to add you!]

[inkforhumanhands]

1, 5, 7, 8, 11, 12, 13, 14, 20, 24, 29?

1. Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

Good questionnnn. I guess slightly ridiculous? But also slightly angsty? Also gay lol i can’t write het stuff ‘cause i ain’t one, RIP straight people (lol)

5. Share one of your strengths.

I don’t know if this is actually a strength since I’m sure like nobody else notices it but I have a weird habit of (maybe coincidentally) choosing words near each other with either nice alliteration or assonance lmao

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Okay this whole one-shot was really fun and chaotic, and part of the premise is that the two main characters meet for the first time at a punk show and one of them has his hair dyed red and the other his hair green and the colors clash. Anyway I Iike how I treated the colors as representing each character as he was unknown to the other one, yet they were both attracted to the other for some reason. These paragraphs don’t run together but I like them both as parallels:

A moment before he shrugs away from the action, that bit of green catches his eye again from somewhere in the thick of all the movement. He stalls. The color was on the kid’s hair, or it was the kid’s hair, or the kid’s hair is the color. Green, green, sour but not too sour, like the lovechild of a lime and a kiwi. Billie Joe kind of wants to taste that color, kind of wouldn’t mind tasting that kid’s lips, either.

and

He sees the back of his head first. The color irritates him before he can come up with a reason, but then he remembers that his own hair is green. There’s a bad joke to be made here somewhere, yadda yadda Christmas.

And then the asshole with the bright red, the Atomic Fireball candy red fucking red hair turns around and Tré maybe rethinks his position. The guy has a nice face. Tré digs the nose ring, digs the bold eyebrows framing soft, yet potentially devious eyes. Heck, he digs it so much he’s having trouble looking at him straight on, like the guy is some sort of eclipse. Or maybe he doesn’t want to be caught with his mouth open. He averts his eyes and brushes past him like he fucking hates baby Jesus. Time to seek out another joint.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

lol okay I like this dialogue that my Magnus Archives ficlet ‘Poptimism’ is based around. this like 80% of the fic because it’s short so sorry but:

“Sorry to interrupt, but Tim asked me to hand you the copy of the police report for State—hang on, is that Billie Eilish?”

Jon did a grumpy thing with his mouth. He had been hoping Martin would stick to business. This was one of the things he liked least about his assistant: too friendly.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Martin said, and blinked in a way that affected surprise.

“Is there a problem?” Jon’s scowl deepened.

“No, no. It’s just—”

“Just what?”

“Just you don’t…seem like the type to listen to popular music is all.”

Jon moved out from behind his desk and snatched the folder from Martin’s hands. “It’s called poptimism, Martin.”

“Popti-what?” Martin laughed, and Jon found his irritation deflating somewhat. Clearly he was too tired to waste emotions on this idiot any longer.

“What kind of music did you think I listen to, then?”

“Hmm, something a bit more indie maybe? Old-school emo?”

Jon snorted. “You would have me be some hipster, then.”

“Yeah, basically,” Martin agreed like it was nothing. “But now I know not to be surprised if next time I walk into the archive you have Lil Nas X blaring.”

11. Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

Somewhere in between? I used to want to be a writer of some sort and now I just do academic writing which is.....not fun. Maybe someday I will actually like write a book or something though. I would like to take it more seriously again.

12. Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

This isn’t direct inspiration but just like The Vibes from the scene where Matt loses his hearing for a bit in season 2 and then season 3 depression Matt are where it’s at.

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across? 

I’m biased because this is a huge pet peeve of mine when reading fic, but “don’t use epithets unless it’s called for” is great advice. It’s okay to repeat names and pronouns, it’s not repetitive, I promise. “The man” though, when you and the narrator both know who “the man” is? That’s awful.

14. What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

This one isn’t the worst, in fact it’s Good advice, but a lot of people don’t seem to actually understand it: “Don’t use purple prose.” Purple prose is by its nature unnecessary and clogs up a story, especially one that might have an otherwise faster pace. Purple prose is NOT, however, the same as just having a writing style that’s on the descriptive or metaphorical side. You wouldn’t say Virginia Woolfe’s entire body of work was purple prose; that’s just her writing style.

20. Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Writing on a better laptop than this piece of shit, that’s for sure. I would say maybe with a cup of tea beside me but then I’d have to keep getting up to empty my bladder, so... I don’t know, I guess just being comfortable (like a good chair that doesn’t kill my back) + being able to get down ideas fast before I forget them and/or being able to change/edit sentences easily so good technology are musts. Also like air temperature should not be too hot or too cold.

24. Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Nope, HOWEVER I did get banned from a website when I was 15 (LOL) and I recently did a web search to make sure the fic I had on it doesn’t exist online still because it was really bad (unrelated to the reason I was banned). Anyway it’s gone now and will never see the light of day again so if that counts as fic deletion then yes. Otherwise no, I would be too sad if someone liked one of my fics and I accidentally took that away from them.

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Okay not technically a sequel or prequel but I think it would be very fun to poke around in a_silver_sun’s Time Traveler’s Wife AU “Always Crashing in the Same Car”

[darklingichor]

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell *Major Spoilers*

I wrote a little about this book last month, but I want to write more. This is one of those books that has been lingering in my brain so what follows will be long and rambling.

Now, I haven't read Fangirl I've been pulled more toward action adventure and humor in my fiction, for a while now. Hmm, I wonder what could have happened a few years back  that would cause a Pacific Northwest liberal to feel the need for escape? Just one of those things, I suppose.

I need to read it, if only because I wrote Harry Potter fanfic for years and sort of lost myself in it right after high school.

Anyway.

I've heard people calling Carry On an HP knock off. I don't get this. Simon Snow is obviously Fangirl's Harry Potter. That makes Carry On more of a tongue in cheek homage to HP and stories like it as well as something of a love letter to fanfic writers.

A lot of the main characters start out as your standard for this type of story. "The Hero", "The Mentor", "The Damsel", "The Enemy", "The Unspeakable Evil."

Through the book it becomes clear that our hero is well meaning but ill-suited for the role that his mentor thinks he place him in. The mentor is shown to be unhinged. The damsel is sick of screaming and doesn't want to be in the story at all. The enemy is love sick for the hero and dealing with the puberty from hell. The unspeakable evil, isn't. Its just an unforeseen byproduct of the mentor's plan, in which, the hero, is a pawn.

The book plays with archetypes and I read some of them as being fairly meta about their expected place in the story.

Agetha, especially, seems to know her role and resent it. She's who is saved by the hero, whether she likes it or not.

Baz is so certain of his role as "The Enemy" that until his role flips, he's sure his destiny is to be killed by the person he's in love with.

Simon knows his role so well, he's on auto pilot as a defence mechanism. He's either going to die, or he'll get a stock Happily Ever After. He doesn't even allow himself to think too much about what really matters to him, because he knows his life isn't really his.

I would have loved this book because of everything I wrote above, but add to it the nods to fan contribution? It was enough to make me remember my old ff.n login!

I don't know if Rainbow Rowell researched fan fiction but I figure she must have.

I mean, the things I saw played with and reshaped in Carry On, are fanfic tropes. Rowell took things that grew out of fans having fun with their favorite characters and made them canon.

Main character going out with an exchange student, pop culture references, evil good guy, and:

Four words: Draco is a vampire.

Sure, not every fic that used these were the best, but so what? Many were sincere.

What better way to go to Hogwarts as a person raised outside the UK than to live though an OC in an exchange program?

It was weird that no one in the wizard world listened to muggle music, watched movies or TV. Even the muggleborns? I'm sorry, but I was in the same age range as the characters. In fact, if Harry were real, he would be three years older than me. You can't convince me that there were not at least a couple of muggleborns who were  sending an owl a week to remind their parents to tape Friends or My So-Called Life.

There were a fair few stories where Dumbledore or even Harry turned out to be evil. Even before we found out Dumbledore wasn't a saint. It can be fun to play with expectations and Dumbledore was too perfect for too long.

The vampire thing? I mean, why not? Either Draco or Snape. It fits enough for a fic, and you can get some fun stuff out of it. Besides Hogwarts allowed a warewolf, why not a vampire?

The point is, this book reminds me of some goofy fics I read but also reminds me of some that I sometimes have to remind myself aren't canon, because fan fiction can be amazing.

Example: It has been years but I still remember a great fic that someone wrote about Uric The Oddball's years at Hogwarts. I don't remember much about it off hand but I do know that if I re-read HP, when Uric is mentioned, I think of this story like it is something that is actually in the history of the series. (Dude, I googled "Uric the Oddball fan fiction" on a whim. Popped right up: Uric the Oddball and the Wild Hunt by Ariana Deralte. Guess I shouldn't be surprised! Maybe I should read it again to see if it's still as good as I remember).

So yeah, Carry On is so not an HP knock off and has a number of things that I think make me like it more.

The first one is diversity. It is very nice to have it explicitly said in the text that characters are of different ethnicities, sexualities, and abilities. Watford is a far better representation of a population than Hogwarts is, outside of fanfic (It wasn't there, people wrote it in).

Then there is magic itself, it comes from somewhere it's in the environment, it has to do with celestial alignment, people give words power to channel that energy.

That brings me to something that made me adore the world building here.

The actuality of Simon Snow's universe is that Mages cannot exist independently without the Normals. Without the Normals giving weight and meaning to turns of phrase, rhyme and songs, the Mages couldn't do what they do. Add to that, this means that magic is ever evolving and the Mages must learn about and be a part of, to some extent, the Normal world. This makes Mages who look down on Normals seem even more ridiculous.

I also think this book handled romance better than Harry Potter. I don't know what it was but the relationships seemed awkward and strained in HP. Maybe it was because most of it was shoved into one book, like Hogwarts's water supply was spiked with hormones? I don't know.

What I do know is that even though Simon and Agetha are going through the motions of being together in this book, they still feel like two people who have been dating for a long time.

We don't get a lot about Penny and her boyfriend, but the way she is described talking about him reminds me of how my best friend would talk about her boyfriends when she was visiting me. The way she would go on, you'd think that he was on the moon instead of 90 miles away. I bought that Penny and her boyfriend enjoy each other's company.

And the biggie. Simon and Baz

I almost didn't read this book for two reasons. First: Vampire main character. I love vampires, but I lived through the deluge of Twilight, True Blood, and Vampire Diaries, not to mention that every other book seemed to be about vampires. Even though I didn't watch or read all of them, I just got vampired out.

Second: I have never been one for the whole "enemies to love interest" thing. The Harry/Draco pairing never spoke to me.  Not that I never read fics that managed that ship well, it was just not my favorite, probably because I just never liked Draco.  I tend to prefer romances that are built on friendship (Remus and Sirius dated each other at some point, and nothing can convince me otherwise).

All that being said, I like the Simon/Baz pairing.

I like that Baz freely admits to the reader that a lot of his tormenting of Simon is pigtail pulling.

I like that Simon is more or less: "I like a guy? A guy who was my nemisis? That's new, let's go for it."

There's none of that "Hate turns to love" shit that I personally can't stand.  None of the "I am evil, yet his light draws me" or "His darkness is so seductive"

Baz isn't a villain needing to rethink his position. He's a slightly snobby guy with a lot of family pressure, who is in love with a dude who has been set up as opposition, by the adults in his life.

Simon isn't a good guy wanting to be bad. He's a guy who is following the path set out for him without giving context to his feelings with thought, because he doesn't think. So, when Baz doesn't show up at the first of the year, Simon knows 3 things for sure:

Baz is his enemy

His enemy is not there

He feels very uneasy about it.

Why?

See numbers 1 & 2

This equals out to "plotting" in Simon's mind because that's what enemies do.

It doesn't dawn on him that he was actually missing Baz and that he has romantic feelings for him until later

I also like the interaction between them. Again, I buy that they like each other. The simpler moments, like sharing food, or being flirty. It also makes sense that Baz is so nervous and guarded about the relationship. It fits that they would bicker and argue while trying to figure every thing out.

The relationships feel authentic.

In fact all of the relationships between  the characters feel authentic.  The sibling relationships between Ebb and Nicky, I know siblings that close. The interaction between Baz and his little sister, I know people like them too. The Friendships; in my opinion, too few friends in fiction are depicted messing with each other or being lovingly annoyed by each other.

I've known my two best friends most of my life. Not a day goes by where one of us doesn't say something that if it was said by anyone else, it would lead to a fight. Said by us, it's funny, or at least something we can't argue with.

So I related when Baz's friend complained that he had wasted his childhood hating Simon now that Simon and Baz were no longer enemies and Baz said: "What else were you going to do with your childhood?"

I spent my 20's with my friends seemingly taking turns crashing at my apartment. I spent most of my time ossulating between wishing they would go home and being glad they were there.

So at the beginning of the book, when Penny won't leave Simon's room? I saw myself in the way Simon felt about it.

That authentic and relatable quality was what I really liked about the quiet - if not Happily Ever After - then the Attempting Normal For Now ending each character got.

Well, as normal as you can get with a story involving  mages, vampires and powerful Elton John songs.

I am a dodecahedron of geekdom, btw and the classic rock side jumped up and down clapping hands at all of the music references (and giggled when Carry On was fallowed by Wayward Son which will be followed by Anyway The Wind Blows). 

And now we come to the reason I have not read the sequel even though it is sitting in a bag with the rest of this year's Powell's haul.

From what I have read, Wayward Son is, at least in part, about what happens after Happily Ever After and ends on a cliffhanger. 

After Happily Ever After with a cliffhanger and no release date... Yeah, that will drive me crazy. I haven't even read the second book and I'm already thinking about the third. Aw man! Who dies? Who breaks up? Who becomes evil?

So, even though road trip stories are right up there with time travel stories as one of my favorites, even though I love the idea of showing a character battling depression, even though I love these characters, period; Wayward Son will stay unread until I run out of new books to read, or the next book's release date is close. Whichever comes first, because I want to think of the characters in their quiet ending ending for a little while.

[magicalsalamander]

u always have such long in depth stories that are so well written. i've always wondered how you keep yourself motivated to write them and if you follow a schedule and if u have any tips to give to writers too

Thank you! I appreciate it!

An odd feeling fills my chest reading this because I don’t believe I’m in a position to be giving anyone advice. However, peer to peer, human to human, I’m more than happy to spare all the knowledge I got to you!

So, let’s break it down!

Let’s tackle the ever-pressing question: How to stay motivated and meth~od~ology. Again, this is just my input and methodology, so know this may not work for you or everyone, but maybe you can take bits and pieces of it and tailor it to yourself and find a better way to approach writing. Which is what I want you to do. My way of doing things is because...it works for me.

In regard to the product, I write long-winded stories because that’s how my mind works. Every author’s style is a “physical” manifestation of the way they process and emit information verbal, written, or symbolically. A writer’s style will match the author, so no style is wrong.

Sidestepping for a moment, but I’ll tie it in I promise. When I was younger I was painfully (I mean awkwardly painful that made others uncomfortable) shy. I even formed a stutter because I was terrified of speaking. Now, luckily, I can say that I have no issue with that and I’m totally fine public speaking or speaking intimately. I found my confidence by reading to pick up new vocab and mimicking people around me who were better speakers. I think by doing so I really formed the way I carry myself and write (i.e. going back to the point that a written is a manifestation of their personality). You can notice if you really look at a piece you can tell the state of mind a writer usually was in when they wrote this.

How does this tie into advice? Well, my “advice” is if you want to become a “better writer” work on yourself. Your perspective on life is unique. Mold your thoughts, ask yourself those questions that are hard, ask others questions, figure out different perspectives while you’re at it. This may be looking at things too seriously, but I want to give you a genuine answer. You know how politics can be divisionary? It’s usually them vs us? Well, both sides have their own reasons and to them, those are good reasons. Maybe not to you, but try understanding the opposite side, really look at their motives. You’ll be able to write antagonist better that way, and in turn, write a more solid protagonist.

So to bring it back, I write long stories because I found out I can’t do short fics (which I consider to be under anything basically under 5k) because it’s not how I process/imagine things. I’m huge on imagery, maybe because I’m also a traditional artist (drawing & painting) so I see the world with colors, shapes and relate those to emotions. I feel so unsatisfied if I write something that lacks a short background or gives the character a reason for something. I’m aware it’s possible to write short fics, because it’s the reader’s decision to interpret, but it’s not me. Know regardless of the way you write something the reader will have their own story.

This leads to my second point. I want you to answer these questions for yourself: why are you writing, who are you writing for, what are you writing about, when can you, where do you write? Simple questions, but they need solid answers. The simple things in life often need more attention than those that seem complex.

My answers to a few: I write for myself and no one else. I hope that this should be true all across the board. I find the biggest issue for writers on this platform (and maybe across other writing sites) is that individuals use it as a platform for validation. It’s not easy this day and age to go to a social media site and not be bombarded by likes, following, or any other feedback system that promotes that. However, I could care less if a post I put out has two, a hundred likes or a thousand.

Why you may ask?

Well, simply because—it doesn’t matter. This is for a number of reasons. A few of them are because people do click on the post but most often don’t leave a note or give feedback. This, I found to be true because people either forget, don’t bother to, or are too shy. This doesn’t mean that it wasn’t enjoyed, you have no idea the impact your post could’ve made, that could’ve been the best post they’ve read. I want you to keep in mind that you don’t need to prove yourself to anyone. Keep yourself in check with this. Also, remember, people will come to your story, sometimes it’s not the right time for them. Maybe the message in that fic, whether it be neutral or purposeful, will come to someone when they most need it. The time you post may just not be that time. So, don’t feel discouraged if you’re not getting notes.

You want long term building, not short term.

Motivation:

Motivation is such a fickle little minx, right? I want to address that usually the lack of motivation is because of many reasons, but typically its stress, anxiety, insecurity, and procrastination. Procrastination, the biggest factor in my opinion, under a psychological definition, is an irrational delay. It’s been linked to the activity under avoidance being the cause of stress and anxiety. When your feeling too overwhelmed you probably don’t want to write, right? It takes too much thought and energy. So when your feeling like this I advise you to either rethink why you write if it does increase your anxiety. Or distract yourself until you feel that you can come back with a fresh mind. There is no “deadline”. No timeline.

On the contrary, though, it’s a good method to keep yourself accountable, so if you can accomplish something with a bit of pressure then set a deadline. It’s how I was able to complete Gold Embers Touch the Blue Veil. I was so unmotivated recently. I always came home tired and nothing creative would come to me. But I said, “Nope, we’re doing this.” Because I knew if I just wrote something (i.e. drafted to draft) then I would feel better later because I gave myself a foundation. With that foundation and when I’m feeling frivolous with my words, I can now accomplish so much more because I have something to work with.

I don’t have a schedule. I write based on when the ideas come to me. How can I fit writing into my existing schedule? I always write a storyboard, then I tackle it from there, so start to finish always varies. Often my stories can take weeks if not a month or two to write. I take a few days break sometimes so that way I’m not hypercritical of everything I’ve written. I never rush to put out something for the sake of putting it out there. Rushing never usually gives good results.

There is no bad idea either. Don’t go into a story you’re about to write already knocking it down. Remember, write for yourself, I swear to you, if you enjoy what your writing someone else will too. You think J.K Rowling wrote HP thinking, “Ahhh, I need to change all this because my mind is telling me someone may not like this.” Hell no. She wrote her story the way she saw it and it’s amazing because it’s her.  

Methodology:

Write a storyboard. Will you for sure remember the thing you told yourself to remember in the morning? Did you forget to write down that appointment? Did you remember that you have that assignment due if you didn’t write it down? The majority will say they don’t. That’s why I’m a huge believer in having a “story board”. What that means to me personally is mapping out how you want the story to go. I personally can’t use the write-and-go method. I need structure so I can reference back and tweak it later. So, I recommend opening up a doc or whatever you have to use and follow this set up. It’s concise, keeps things neat and easy to follow. It’s basically a flow chart but a bit more professional. I’m sure you can find other templates, but this is mine.

Write about something you want, not something you think would get notes. Write it because you see that niche isn’t being filled, or if you want to add to that genre. As an example, there are a million and one coffee shop AU's, but what can you add?

Other things to keep in mind is the hero’s journey doesn’t have to be linear, Try to teach, teach the readers and yourself something. That way you keep something fresh for yourself. Grow each time you finish something. Whether you know it or not, you grow a little bit each time. Your opinions will change and grow, so take it all in stride.

With all that knowledge you’ll become a better writer because you’ll be able to see a wider breadth of ideas and put in details that don’t always seem obvious and develop your own style.

I’m sorry that this post was long and that I got preachy. But from my writing style, I guess you could already have predicted I would’ve done this, huh? Haha. I hope this was helpful!! Feel free to send me an ask if you have any more questions.

[ilovechristopheralexandershaw]

What would your ideal drarry fic be? Like, how would they get together, what tropes would be involved, what would be your ideal story line? Any squicks or triggers or things you aren't interested in? Any HC's with the two of them? :D

THIS IS THREE THOUSAND TWO HUNDRED AND SIXTY SEVEN WORDS OR SOMETHING HELP ME

Whoo boi, honey, lemme tell you, this answer gave me some s t r e s s. Tumblr, can you just...idk, have a save drafts option for asks? No?

Anyways, back to the point. Snuggle down into your blankets y’all, ‘cause this is gonna be one long post.

What would my ideal drarry fic be? Okay, siriusly, legit anything with angst. Copious amounts of angst. Drown me in the angst. I’m always willing to read an angsty fic, almost always as willing to read a fluffy fic and occasionally have an urge for smut but that’s like…every three months or so lmao. I prefer a story that isn’t based on the size of one’s cock. (Sorry if that’s a little crude). I’m fine with any length of fic, as long as it has a good story behind it and if it hopefully has some heart-wrenching moments that make me feel like I might have a soul after all. I love fics that keep their character – not too much, though – and have them arguing with each other all the time – its more real to me, and makes me laugh. I love drarry because of that, because it’s that ship that will keep their relationship, unlike idk shrek and Fiona who fall for each other and lose their old self completely. Drarry is that ship that stays intact and old and new at the same time, and that’s why I love it. 

How would they get together? I have this vision of the two getting together slowly. First it’s banter, insults, hexing, all the while having miscommunication and some serious pining because I’m an absolute sucker for that shit. As I said, angst. Hate turns to like and death threats to exasperated, witty little replies, private jokes between the two of them – a Malfoy Stinks embroidered on his robes in place of Healer Malfoy.

I love fics where there’s just that one, final leap of – I have to do it, otherwise I’ll never get another chance, I don’t care about the consequences. If it’s a kiss that gets them together, in that ‘final chance’ way, I love it when the other is too shocked, and the first person just loses all hope (I mean until like two seconds later when they’re snogging the life out of each other lmao). Basically just a slow build and all the sass 😊 

Tropes? Okay, I’m gonna admit that even though I’ve been in the fandom for a few months, I still can’t define so much, but I hope most of what I write here is legible.

I love coffeeshop Aus, I find them really cute and sweet, and a blushing Malfoy is always a bonus. Eighth year is my absolute jam, unless it’s a drinking fic in which case no thanks. I love friends to lovers or enemies to lovers – the slow build, especially if the author has timed it perfectly, is just argh, I love it. Pining has been mentioned like a hundred times already but I’m going to say it again just because. Roommates are okay, I guess, but not exactly my go-to. I do like muggle Aus, and even though I think Potter should be a teacher, I enjoy the action in an Auror Partners fic, too. Also uh..oops? This was supposed to be tropes that were involved not the tropes you like you dumb butt. That’s not what Nonny asked.

My ideal storyline for a drarry fic? Not sure if this is what you’re asking but I’m gonna go with it and if I’m wrong then I’m wrong y’know?

As I said, I like fics with pining. I love a number of storylines, but I’m just gonna choose one for this thing since it’s already almost if not over two thousand words (is anyone even reading this? Who cares, I’m having fun) okay I checked its like over 2600 help me. Also this turned out into a fic not an ideal storyline hhhhhhhh

I guess I like fics with slow-building pining, going from meeting together at work or having to work together for some reason in eighth year, or just seeing each other in eighth year. PTSD gets them together, but so does the (admittedly weaker) banter, since nobody understands either of them – the Saviour and the Ex Death Eater. The press is still going off about the war, and everyone has their own ways of coping. Soon enough, they’re friends – (ok let’s pretend this is eight year) and helping each other through the bad days. And soon enough, the insults that hit closer to home for others but not them, the inside jokes, the love of Quidditch, the homework assistance – all this time around each other turns to pining. Malf-Draco, with his white-blond hair and black turtlenecks that he kept even though that was what he wore as a Death Eater. With his now self-deprecating jokes instead of hurtful insults. With his smile, that shows his sneer lines of the past. With his blue-gray eyes. With his knowing smirk when they’ve done one of their own eighth year pranks. Even with his wonky Charms and obsession with stroking the Dark Mark and the way he stops in front of the Room of Requirement every time they pass. And Harry, with his mop of untidy hair and glasses that have had Reparo used on them who knows how many times by now? With his bright green eyes, with his surprisingly pale skin, with the way he disappears into the forest every now and then, staring at the clearing where Voldemort once thought him dead. They pine, they’re oblivious, and finally, Pansy spills it to draco, an exasperated ‘will you kiss him or not’ just as Harry rounds the corner in his invisibility cloak. ‘are you stupid. Pans? We’re just friends.’ (wow ideal storyline this is a mini fic by now what am I doing with life my math sheet is like right in front of me I should be doing that). The questions, that night, in their respective beds. And the finale, with Harry rethinking ‘we’re just friends’ in his head in the final Seeker-to-seeker game, Draco leaning in.

Finally. 

Okay, squicks. Here we go. First of all, I don’t really like fics where they speak really…I don’t know, childishly? To each other eg. too many cheesy pet names (‘Hi hun,’ he giggled, taking the offered plate), since my idea of drarry is a couple that banters all the time, not one that sits around squealing at each other. That’s the main reason I ship them, after all.

Another squick, although this just annoys me more than makes me uncomfortable, is when there’s a fic involving children where the author makes their speech like that of a baby. Five year olds and younger can make legible sentences, so it’s sometimes irritating when eight-year-old Scorpius is saying ‘dada give h-h-hoog’ if you get my drift.

Daddy kink is another thing. If you like it, good for you but personally, I- *shudders* no thanks. It’s just – okay, my dad’s like over fifty, and that’s what I imagine if I think of that. Sex with my dad? I’ll pass. Calling your boyfriend your ‘daddy’? I- no no no just no I’m sorry but no.

Okay, I’ll rephrase. Most, if not all kinks make me uncomfortable – I’ve said daddy already, Parseltongue (just any other language) is just weird to me (it’s not disgusting, I just find it kind of dubious I guess.), any sort of pet play is similar if not worse than daddy kink, choking or breath play sounds more like rape (I’m crude, handle it), lingerie is just hella weird and I don’t even want to know what tentacles are, thank you very much. I’ll stick to my vanilla sex.

Any sort of sex toy/tool use is also a squick (including painful BDSM stuff), but I’m not sure if that’s kink so I’ll just add it here.

I don’t mind OOC fics, but, again, if they’re too soft (unless it’s some sort of caring angsty oneshot e.g. most of @rose-grangerweasleyisbae ‘s ones) then they most likely don’t work with me either. 

Triggers? No, I haven’t read any fics that have triggered me in any way and I’m not sure if I have any. Most are squicks.

Fics, or tropes, I guess, that I’m not interested in would include either one being some sort of Magical Creature (although there are some exceptions – some writers make really good fics with these tropes), and by that I mean any humanoid creature such as a werewolf, vampire etc. Veela especially. Also, anything with mates. (Fun fact, in my first answer that got deleted, I wrote a headcanon fic thing with draco as a bowtruckle since I said I don’t know if that’s a squick bc I’ve never read it and decided to do it for fun)  ��   

Dunno what this is, but I’m gonna include it as well – I also don’t like fics where their entire supposedly ‘loving’ relationship is completely based on sex. I’m okay with it if they’re supposed to be fuckbuddies at that point in the relationship, but if this is what the author is calling their ‘established relationship’, I don’t really like it. 

Any fic that loses the banter after their getting together, where their world and source of happiness is completely revolving around the other – that is also one of my disinterests. As I said, I ship drarry for the sass and banter (and angst). Not the sappy love. 

I don’t really like unhealthy relationships – I read a fic where the whole reason Draco allowed Potter to date him was because he complimented his flying skills, not because he liked him. That’s a really minor example, but basically any fic without actually liking each other or as I said, an unhealthy relationship, doesn’t take my fancy. Unless, of course, they’re fixing it. 

A fic that starts somewhere in the books, eg. third year or something, don’t normally take my fancy, but, again, there is the occasional exception that I turn out to love.

Not exactly Drarry but any poly relationships with the two of them are also a disinterest – I feel like they’re the ones for each other. Dunno if this sounds polyphobic or whatever it’s called, and it probably does, but that’s not it. I just personally don’t think Drarry need another person. Other ships, maybe. Drarry? Not for me. 

Eighth year fics that are based on drinking and drinking games also aren’t my thing (omg there’s like eight million alsos here what am i doing don’t shoot me please (ok i fixed it)). I just don’t like them. 

And fics with any sort of bonding lose my interest pretty quickly, especially sexual magic bonds. Mpreg, as well, again, I’ll read the occasional fic but most of the time I don’t really like it. 

Age difference, again, are something I find strange, and I can go on for hours but this is now around three thousand words and I should stop so y’all can go read your fics lmao.

 And um I’ll give you two headcanons as my way of apologising for the unbelievably late reply

 Harry, lying on the ground, blood dripping from a massive slash in his stomach, chest barely moving, lips slightly parted, tinged red with drying blood

Malfoy, now just a colleague, they’ve lost the schoolboy animosity, hovering over him, wand casting diagnostic spells even though he knows they’re no use – he knows the curse but he doesn’t know the exact variation – and the wrong healing spell will kill the Saviour – he can’t take that chance.

‘Scared, Malfoy?’

His head jerks up, pale eyes widening at the old question thrown back at him. Shoulders slump, his lungs heaving from all he spells he’s cast

‘Yes’ 

Idk just the idea of that final admittance – yes. Idk, just, my heart, man.

Okay headcanon 2 which is more of a fic by this point (someone help me im so bad at headcanons. Like this is all fleshed out in my head but ugh)

Eighth year holidays, Draco is sitting alone at the blazing fire in the common-room, strangely enough knitting, as he talks, friendly but quiet to a surprisingly happy Moaning Myrtle (the common room is where the old bathroom was)

Hermione Jean Granger sits down next to him and he flinches, almost expecting a slap like third year – he’s had hexes from Muggleborns who had nothing to do with the war, and here’s the Saviour’s friend – of course she’s gonna –

She pulls out a massive textbook, quill, inkpot, blotting paper and three rolls of parchmment from her bag, tucks her bushy hair behind one ear, and starts scratching away

He’s surprised, but still too nervous to ask why

It becomes a habit, her sitting there there, him as well, talking to Myrtle, doing Potions work, knitting as well

They start talking to each other, he finds out she Obliviated her parents and doesn’t want to come back just yet, even though she knows the Dark Lord’s gone

She finds out he’s too scared to go home, with all the memories

They become friends of sorts, helping each other when they can

When the holidays end, there are a few double takes, but nobody really questions it. After all, it’s Hermione, she never was too against Malfoy (nobody really saw that slap) and she’s always been a rule-follower. They assume its part of Mcgonagall’s asking for peace between Slytherins and Gryffindors

I mean, Ron does complain about her hanging about the ferret nowadays and not around her boyfriend, but he gets it. Besides, their ‘sessions’, if you will, are always when there’s Quidditch practice for Harry and Ron (they help train the younger years)

So yeah, it’s not too bad (and this isn’t Dramione I promise although I do ship it occasionally)

One day, though, she brings out a bundle of knitting herself. To his surprise, she knits a single sock and puts it in a box

He asks her why

‘For Dobby’

And he remembers. He remembers the strange little house elf, the one he loved as a kid but had no way of showing it. He remembers his father’s hatred of that elf in particular He remembers scowling at the poor thing, ranting to it – it was a way of venting, but in true Malfoy-raised fashion, he’d been so cruel to it as well, laughing as it jammed its fingers in doors, encouraging its pain.

He leaves the common room early that night

Next day, the Golden Trio isn’t there. Hermione (no longer Granger) isn’t there

He knitted a single sock that morning himself. He’d heard the story from their talks. He wanted to contribute. A way of apology, if you will. If it even counted. Today’s the day the elf passed away, and Hermione had said she put a sock in there for everyone

It’s pretty obvious where they’ve gone. He Apparates there after class, and finds the grave easily. It’s got a bundle of Conjured flowers, stems wrapped around the rock that serves as a headstone, and the box of socks is right there too. (what am I doing this is meant to be a short drarry hc and I haven’t even brought potter in yet help)

He starts crying

He spent last night remembering. Remembering how even through all the pain he caused that elf, a single smile, a single ‘thanks for listening, Dobby’ would make the elf bow and weep at his feet. He remembers how cruel he was, how the elf just…took it in his stride. He remembers losing the house elf, realising Potter had stolen something else of his. He remembers

And he lets it go. He spills all of it to a gravestone, apologies and ‘I know it won’t mean anything’ and ‘I didn’t know but that’s no excuse’ and ‘you always listened, how did you always listen?’ and ‘thank you’ and most of all ‘I’m so so sorry’ stumbling over each other as he tries to explain, to finally let it out

He’s crying and sniffling and that’s making it even harder to speak but he needs to say this, even though Dobby is dead, even though he’s apologised to so many people – this is one of the few that listened to him, and he’s treated the elf like garbage.

Tears drip onto the single sock in his hands

It’s hours later when he finishes. Well, not exactly finished, but he’s said enough that he thinks he’s explained himself and said sorry – even though it’ll never be enough. He’s cast a Light Charm (not a lumos ok it’s bigger don’t correct me) and he leans over to put the now-damp sock into the box too. A final ‘I’m so sorry’ and he stands up, turns around

And comes face to face with the Golden Trio

Hermione stares at him, then grabs him in a massive hug

Ron looks at him, slightly awkwardly but at her glare, he offers a tight smile

 And Harry? (wow how long has it taken for me to get here god) is just staring. Openmouthed. Who knew Malfoy had felt this much about a house elf?

And yeah that’s the point where he realises Malfoy isn’t that bad and then they go back to Bill and Fleur’s (Hermione explains along the way that they went back to the grave bc they saw the Charm and were in shock – was Dobby back?)

‘did you hear all of it?’

‘we heard enough, Draco’

 And when they get back to Hogwarts, well, it’s slow building at first. Potions help when Hermione’s out on a date with Ron, a butterbeer in the school kitchens on a Hogsmeade weekend when they want to hide from the public but enjoy the drink

But over time, the pining and the miscommunication and Draco getting back to his (albeit weak) banter with Potter leads to one thing. You know what it is.

Drarry

You know what I’m having fun writing trashy hcs so here’s a third (although it ain’t drarry. It ain’t any ship)

Alright so there is no hairdresser at Hogwarts or Hogsmeade or anywhere near the castle (I mean it was never mentioned in the books was it so this is possibly canon)

Therefore, most kids have to use spells

But we all know that each of us probably has a haircut that is somehow slightly different to one another, and there aren’t that many hair care spells in the world let alone known by a few teachers in Hogwarts

While some kids know exact spells, others, for example, Muggleborns, just use Diffindio

I mean, it gets their hair cut, yeah? That’s pretty much all they need

Of course, Hermione knows each and every spell but let’s not get to that

And Malfoy uses his own spell and a litre of Sleekeazy every morning

But since everyone else cuts their own hair, it looks as bad as each other

And that’s why Harry wasn’t teased too much about his hair (yes, also bc he’s the Saviour bUT STILL)

That’s why Sirius had long hair and etc.

Basically none of the kids at Hogwarts really had good hair and they all looked like Halt from Ranger’s apprentice (also this one is long as heck I could’ve just said everyone uses diffindio and there’s no hairdresser why am I like this)