#i have no clue what went through my brain when i wrote this

[marokra]

honestly the jokes about hatsune miku creating minecraft are so fucking funny if you take into account the mcyt rp extended universe. girl is literally a watcher

[upon-a-starry-night]

There's this idea in my head that's causing real brain rot. So that one time, when Connor and Hank are on the rooftop, and he almost kills Hank? Can I request something like that, but with an f! reader? Maybe f! reader is on the deviant's side, and Amanda has already taken over, as a result, fight ensues. Major hurt/comfort. You choose how this ends. Thank you in advance 😭

Connor Rk800 x Gender Neutral Reader!

DBH Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, minor violence

A/n: I always thought Connor should’ve had another chance to become deviant at this rooftop scene so this is the perfect opportunity to write it! I hope you enjoy!

-

The night air is cold as you step out onto the roof, a distant alarm blaring as it fights to be heard against the harsh wind. 

You flinch and pull your coat tighter, watching your breath fog out in front of you, snow scattering in every direction. It’s a night you’d rather be spending in the warmth of your home, curled up with a good book and good company. Unfortunately, your good company chose to go bad cop on you and now you’re out here trying to get him back.

You can already feel your fingers growing numb and you regret not bringing gloves up here with you. As if life being a detective wasn’t hard enough.

You squint at the light illuminating from the giant Android billboard and instead focus your gaze on the figure near the edge of the roof. It’s the last place you want to see him right now. On this roof- on the wrong side of history. Making a mistake you know he’ll regret.

It’s all you can do to hope you’ll be able to convince him to come back. 

You don’t know what happened. One day he’s kind and funny and even a little flirty and the next he’s cold and calculating. Had he just been pretending the whole time? Did he tell you all those sweet things just to eliminate you as a threat to his mission? 

Whatever the reason, even if he was faking it with you you weren’t faking it with him. Over the past few months, you’ve formed a genuine connection with Connor. A connection you thought was more than just partners working on the same case. 

You think back to all those late nights Connor stayed up with you as you wrote your reports, cracking jokes so the police precinct felt a little less cold and dim. The time he helped you move your furniture after your previous apartment almost got broken into. The little moments where he’d walk you to your car no matter the time, or go out of his way to pick you up a coffee.

That couldn’t have been fake, right? Nobody went through that much effort just to make sure you were friends. It was because of the way he treated you and cared for you that you found yourself in love with him in the first place.

You sucked in a sharp breath and shook that thought from your head. You’d only just realized it last night. You’d planned to tell him today but something about him was different, he didn’t look at you the same way, though his body still lingered near yours. Then you’d gotten the call this evening about where he was headed and you knew you had to stop him.

The Connor you knew wouldn’t do this. But maybe the Connor you knew wasn’t real…

“You don’t want to do this Connor” He doesn’t even flinch at your voice. He probably heard you from the second you got there and was just waiting for you to say something. 

Perhaps that was a sign? Your Connor was always polite with you.

“You shouldn’t be here, Detective.” His voice bites at you with more coldness than the night air and it makes your heart sting. It’s a tone you’ve only ever heard him use with suspects or Gavin. Even when you first met and he seemed devoid of emotion his voice was warm, friendly. What happened?

Was it something you had done? Something you said that gave away your feelings about him? He was built to read body language and pick up on subtle clues after all. Had he known even before you? Was he disgusted by you? That a human like you could fall so easily for an Android?

He shifts the position of his gun, getting a better shot on Marcus and you take another step forward, if you could just reach him then maybe-

“You won’t stop me from accomplishing my mission.” Him and his stupid mission. It’s all he ever used to talk about before he started being open with you. You thought you’d become more important than his mission. Guess not.

“What mission Connor? What? You think you shoot this guy and it’s all over? The whole rebellion falls down? Is that it?” You scoff, shoving your hands into your coat pockets to try and garner some warmth. “You shoot Marcus, someone else will just take his place. Do you really want to spend your life hunting down Androids until you’re the only one left with a soul?”

He doesn't speak but you see the way he squeezes the gun tighter, your words clearly having an internal impact. 

“Come home Connor,” You say it out of instinct, your home had become a shared space with Connor, a place he knew you’d always welcome him into. “We can find a good movie and-”

“And what? Huh? Sit there and pretend like we could be anything other than a human and a machine?” His words cut deep, slicing your heart open and revealing all the ugly fears that had been festering in your brain. The urge to throw up fills your stomach but you push the feeling down.

What Connor thought you could or couldn’t be didn’t matter right now. Even if it hurt, you had to make sure you stopped him no matter what.

He places his finger on the trigger and you know you have to resort to the last thing you wanted to do. The last thing you thought you’d ever do to Connor. You pull out your gun and aim it at his back. Emotions well up in your throat as tears threaten to break free

“Get away from the ledge” You wish he couldn’t hear how your voice trembles but you know he does. You don’t know if you have the gall to shoot him and he knows that. Still, he stands up and turns around to face you anyway.

It’s the worst sight in the world- the image of him in front of the barrel of your gun. His eyes are cold and unrecognizable, and you take note of the fact that he doesn’t drop his gun. A strong breeze roars through and you shiver, watching the wind ruffle his hair.

The same hair he used to let you brush your fingers through as you spent hours talking on your couch. His head in your lap, his eyes closed, his LED spinning blue, and a content smile on his face. You remember wanting to take a picture of how cute he looked then, just like a happy puppy. 

Oh, how things change. 

Your hand shakes as you hold the gun, maybe from the cold, maybe from the anguish, probably from both. 

“Go home detective. It’s not my mission to kill you but this is none of your business” You nearly flinch at the word ‘kill’ but manage to hold your resolve. You couldn’t show weakness in front of this version of Connor.

You scoff, “None of my business? You call you killing an innocent man none of my business?”

“It’s not a man. It’s a machine-”

“He has a family! He has people who care about him and depend on him! He has a partner and friends! Like you and I were-”

“We weren’t anything but coworkers Detective. If you thought we were more, you were mistaken.” He cuts you off with the words you feared to hear more than anything. Words he promised you he’d never say when he told you “I’ll always be here for you detective” with that stupid sunny smile of his.

Wiping a tear with your shoulder, you shake your head as you try to get a read on him.

”you don’t mean that”

“I think I do” He tilts his head, in a way you always found cute but now just find menacing. 

“I can’t let you kill that man Connor” You tighten your hold on your gun and he narrows his eyes, sizing up whether or not he thinks you’ll shoot before going to put his gun down.

Your body relaxes slightly only to be met with the full force of his gun being thrown at you. You try to block it but it crashes into your arm, causing you to hiss out in pain. In the next second Connor is coming at you, disarming your gun and throwing it across the roof. 

You try to throw a punch but he swiftly blocks it, grabbing hold of your shoulder and throwing you to the ground. The impact is harsh and the cold only makes it worse. You can already feel the nasty bruise it’s going to leave but you don’t allow yourself time to dwell on it.

Grabbing a metal grate from nearby you launch it at Connor and use it as a moment of distraction, rushing towards your gun near the ledge of the roof with Connor hot on your heels.

Connor sweeps your legs from under you as you’re inches from the gun, sending you crashing to the ground in a fall that stings your palms. At least it helped that your hands were practically numb from the cold. 

Army crawling as hurriedly as you can, you manage to swipe your gun as it teeters precariously off the edge of the roof. In a motion that sends pain through your injured shoulder, you manage to flip onto your back and point your gun at Connor just as he stands directly over you. 

For a brief second, you can’t help but think that Connor was taking it easy on you, but then he smirks like an asshole and your flame of hope dies out

“You really gonna shoot me, detective?” The cocky disbelief in his eyes is the most emotion you’ve seen from him all day and in a moment of weakness, you hesitate because you’ve seen that look when Gavin throws his fits about Androids or when the other detectives think they can do his job better than him. Cocky was an emotion Connor didn’t often show but it always made you laugh.

He takes advantage of your moment of hesitation, twisting your gun from your hands and throwing it off the roof. It lands with a solid ‘clack’ in the snow below. You try to sweep his feet but he blocks your legs with his arm, grabbing them and pushing them to the ground. He reaches down and grabs you by the collar of your sweater, angling you so that you're dangling over a fall that would definitely kill and for the first time, you truly feel scared of Connor.

You struggle in his grip to no avail, eventually giving up as you stare into his eyes for what might be the last time. You feel tired and angry and heartbroken and you don’t have the energy to fight him anymore. You let the wind rage around you as you hold out your arms, daring him to drop you.

“Moment of truth Connor…what are you gonna do?” You struggle to catch your breath as his LED violently flashes red. “You gonna kill me for trying to be a good friend?” You wait for anything to happen, for him to throw you off the roof or respond but all he does is stand there staring blankly. His LED goes crazy, flashing from red to blue to yellow and back again, like he’s having some sort of internal struggle. 

His grip on you seems to loosen a bit and you inhale sharply “C-Connor” You cry out desperately and he gasps, his grip tightening as he pulls you into his body and clings tightly to you. He takes a few steps back from the roof, forcing your body to move with his as he brings you both back to safety.

His arms wrap around you in a tight embrace and you’re unsure what to feel until you hear his pained voice

“I’m sorry.” It’s more raw than you’ve ever heard it before and soon enough tears are streaming down your face as your arms reciprocate his hold. His hands clench tighter to your jacket at the sound of your sobs. “I’m so sorry i-” His voice breaks off and his chest starts shaking and you look up to see tears streaming down his face.

You’d never seen him cry before, you didn’t even know he was capable of it- and from the looks of it neither did he.

“A-amanda- she took control and I couldn’t-” His eyes refuse to focus on you, staring at the swirling snow behind you, so you release one arm to cup his face and bring his gaze down to yours. “I tried to kill you” He looks absolutely heartbroken at what he’s done and he quickly begins to scan you for injuries. His hands coming up to cup your jaw and tilt your face this way and that.

You manage a smile through your tears as you realize you have your Connor back. Relishing the gentle way he holds your face and the concern that never leaves his eyes as he looks over you. 

“No harm no foul” You attempt a joke and Connor’s lips quirk up for the briefest moment before his gaze zeros in on your shoulder and he frowns

“I hurt you” You pursed your lips, unable to deny that fact but not wanting to ruin the moment. Reaching up, you wipe the tears from his cheeks with a gentle hand, watching as he leans into your touch.

“It’ll heal.” You tell him instead, just happy to be bruised and safe rather than dead. “What happened back there?” He looks like he wants to say more about your injury but after reading the look in your eyes he drops it.

“ I broke free. I was stuck in this frozen garden for so long. I couldn’t control my own body or words but then I heard your voice and I had to save you” You lay your head on his chest once more, feeling the steady flow of Thirium pumping through his body, the cold long forgotten from your mind.

He rests his chin upon your head, pulling you into a hug once again. 

“You’re more important to me than any mission.” His voice trembles and it takes everything in you not to start crying again “I didn’t mean any of it- those awful things I said, I didn’t mean any of them… I Love you, Detective”

Your gaze snaps to Connors, a wide smile and a light blue blush dusting his cheeks. Those three words- three words ten minutes ago you were sure you’d never heard from him. You had to make sure you hadn’t misheard him 

“What?” your heart pounded in your chest

“I said I love you, detective” This was really happening. Connor loved you back. You couldn’t help the tears that fell at the genuine emotion in his voice.

“I love you too, Connor” A delighted laugh escapes you as you pull him in for a kiss, soft cold lips meeting yours. Sure this wasn’t your ideal confession but with Connor, nothing ever went as planned, and that was perfectly fine with you “Now let’s go home, it’s freezing up here”

-

A/n: peep me watching the roof scene over and over to get this right (and also just to admire Connor) ~ Starry

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

hiii, could you do geo x idol gn!reader plsplsplsplsplsplsplspslpslpslplspls :33

Auspicious (Geo x Idol! MC/Reader)

So...I have no fucking clue what an idol is, so I Googled it and went with the X-Pop style. ೭੧(❛▿❛✿)੭೨

Rejoice. I haven't died. Yet. Writing is how I cope with my IRL problems y'all.

- Signed by biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer

Auspicious: promising success; propitious; opportune; favorable. an auspicious occasion; favored by fortune; prosperous; fortunate.

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

Geo Oogami is a pretty famous person. Well, his father certainly is. Fame isn’t alien to him, he gets (unfortunately) recognised quite frequently in public, which is often why he tries to wear baggier, less distinguishable clothing in public.

If you’re an idol, or the front(wo)man of a band, you’ll probably have some level of fame in the city.

In Olympieus University, you’re used to people — complete strangers — approaching you out of fucking nowhere to get autographs, selfies or, God forbid, an interview.

You knew that privacy and fame just weren’t something that tended to come hand-in-hand, so you had to respond to these people as politely as possible.

You genuinely felt like a waiter, or even a retail worker, with how careful you had to be of your words with your fans.

Then you had to worry about the ‘bad eggs’ of your followers. The stalkers (Solivan Brugmansia), weird fanatics (Solivan Brugmansia) and even the occasional creeps who kept trying to date you or sleep with you (technically not Solivan Brugmansia but he does go into your residence quite often so it’s enough of a similarity for me).

Geo has definitely heard of you, so when Crowe brings you to the group, he’s already judging you. After all, how many famous people are not pretentious little airheads? He’s perfectly aware of the facades you, and other idols and celebrities, have to upkeep to maintain your status.

After a while, he realises you just want your personal life to be left untouched, and hell, you’re both actually quite similar; so he eventually drops his nastier opinions of you.

He may even secretly watch your performances on YouTube.

May even end up at one of them live, although he’s disguised; it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to understand him being spotted at your event — not to mention you’re both going to the same university — to get people spreading rumours and gossip.

Subaru Oogami SPOTTED at a live pop band CONCERT!!! Secret ROMANCE uncovered?!?!?!

Alas, he would still support you, in ways he knows how, which is through action.

If you ever felt paranoid about your safety, he’d get his bodyguards (or himself >:]) to ‘supervise’ you and the surroundings.

He’d probably walk/drive you home as well, which’ll probably lead to the both of you developing a pretty good sense of camaraderie.

If you did J-Pop, he’d probably be slightly more ‘invested’, solely because he is Japanese, and, well, anybody would like it if someone knew their language who wasn’t of that country’s descent.

If you did Cantopop or K-Pop, would still be interested, and would ask if you’re of the country’s descent.

You both maybe even end up talking about languages and your respective cultures.

One day, when you have writer’s block, you realise: it’s Geo’s birthday on one of your shows. What if you wrote a more preppy celebratory song for him?

“Oh my God. I’m actually fucking awesome.” - You

So, say that day comes, you sing ( in Japanese, if you didn’t know it you got tutored by Hyugo dwdw) said song.

And dear god it is a hit; such a hit 2 people died from getting trampled by other viewers at the venue!!! :DD

Anyway, Geo is probably going to suspect something’s up, but won’t say anything.

Until he gets annoyed with his unbounding curiosity and asks you about it anyway.

Your face became that of a zooted horse when he spawned behind you and asked whether that song was dedicated to someone you knew.

You forgot how to talk, so you mumbled a yes so you didn’t just stare at a random tree in the distance.

Geo’s actually not that judgy of you, in fact he has to stifle a grin at that.

He becomes more fond of you, after all, he thinks you genuinely care about him now, so he’s inclined to no longer be so distant with you.

Plot twist: he actually has a thing for you. *insert audible, dramatic gasp from every single reader here*

You ask him out through another song, one that you played privately this time (is it hard walking on stage with those balls of steel mate?).

So that’s how you both start dating.

And because you’re both rich, you both buy things for each other, like all the time.

Although the more the relationship progresses, the more domestically-inclined Geo becomes.

He’s the type to cut fruit for you or bluntly ‘comfort’ you if you’re anxious before a performance.

In short? Banger relationship…

Oh…I forgot. You both keep it secret. You both don’t want the paparazzi to stalk you guys, especially while you’re both in uni. That’d be horrible.

Still a banger relationship though. <3

[eetherealgoddess]

Hi! I love the way you write Kazutora and I'd like to request this specific brain rot I've been having about a female reader getting mugged by him and accidentally dropping and shattering her phone before she can give it to him, so he forces her to make up for the time and money he just lost, if at all possible with ar knife or gunpoint :)

Can’t believe I never thought of this even though I think of pervert Kazutora all the time. Also I think you meant noncon by “forcing her to make up for time and money,” so that’s what I wrote. Hope you enjoy!!♡︎♡︎♡︎

ꨄHow to Survive a Mugging ꨄ

Oneshot - Slight Yandere Mugging Au

Hanemiya Kazutora x Reader

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

How to Survive a Mugging

Your hand trembles as you attempt to pull your phone out of your leggings’ pocket while the knife is held against your throat from behind. You had just been going for a walk, something you haven’t done in a while. You had walked for at least an hour in total, ready to go back home for the day. Deciding to make a shortcut, you went through an alleyway so you didn’t have to walk back in the same long direction you took from the beginning. Unfortunately, cutting through an alley was one of the biggest mistakes you had ever made.

The arm wrapped around your waist tightens as you fidget in the stranger’s grip, the breath on your ear intimidating as the sharp object is held against your neck. You hadn’t brought your purse so you left your wallet at home. Considering you had no money on you, the only thing you could give the mystery man was your phone, something you hadn’t wanted to give. So when you grabbed it you purposefully dropped it to make it look like an accident.

“Shit!” He hissed against your ear.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m just really scared!” You cry out as he turns you around and shoves you against the wall. You stare in shock at the beauty on the man’s face, as well as his hair that is messily pulled back. His expression holds a stoic expression as the knife is against your throat once more, his other hand planted on the wall beside your head. You could only eye him with discomfort as you glance at your shattered phone. Fortunately, you’ll be able to transfer whatever you need into a new phone, content with not having given it to the stranger. Your eyebrows furrow when a smirk forms on his face.

“You did that on purpose.” His eyes shift to your chest before they run down your figure. He makes eye contact with you before he releases a chuckle.

“You’ve wasted my time. I should kill you.” His smile drops, giving you a cold look as the knife touches your skin. You flinch as you swallow against the cold object. You could already see from where he had used it on someone else, the dry blood that stained it prominent. Your heart pounds against your chest as your fingers fidget against your palms.

You thought about fighting back but you had no clue how to. You were terrified and ashamed at how weak you are as an adult woman. You knew the dangers yet you’ve been too lazy to learn how to fight or at least have the resources to take a few classes. You thought about pushing him away, though you run the risk of your neck getting sliced, so you stay in place.

He pulls back from you slightly as the smile grows on his face. He drops the knife to his side as he stares at you, his tattoo prominent against his neck.

“Wanna make it up to me?” He teases, a thumb caressing your cheek as his palm rests against your cheek. You don’t respond, seeing where he’s going with the statement.

“Get on your knees.” You shake your head.

“Please don’t make me do this!” He only chuckles as a hand meets your shoulder.

“Your begging only makes me want it more. Knees.” He demands with a close eyed smile. You had no choice but to comply.

“Pull it out.” You angrily unzip his pants as well as yank them down, tears threatening to fall in humiliation. He grabs your hand with the hand that isn’t holding the knife.

“Woah there, relax.” He chuckles. “I’ll slice your hand off if you’re too rough.”

You remove the erection from his underwear. A hand on your chin forces you to look up.

“Treat it like it’s yours, yeah? Any teeth and you’re dead. Understand?” You glare at him while nodding your head.

Leaning in, you drag your tongue along the mushroom top, circling it as you taste his precum. His hand rests on your head as he bites his lip. You ease his head in as you suckle the tip, him eyeing the lips surrounding his cock.

“Fuck.” He whispers under his breath, slightly thrusting his hips forward to ease the rest of his cock in, your lips meeting the base as he moans. He pulls your head back until the tip is at the edge of your lips before pulling you back to his base. His mouth is slightly parted with a red hue on his face, orbs eyeing you under heavy lids.

“Look at me.” You comply as you bob your head back and forth, accelerating your speed as you give your all in an attempt to finish him off fast. The squelching sound echoes through the alleyway, a mixture of saliva and cum dripping from your mouth as you take him into your throat. Your hands grip his thighs as he thrusts into your mouth. His head falls back before he thrusts harder, bringing his attention back on you when he looks down.

“Yeah, just like that baby. Take this dick.” He whispers as his hand grips your head. Your eyes shut as his thrusts become overwhelming. Fingers pinch your nostrils as your eyes shoot back open.

“I’ll fucking smother you with my cock if you don’t look at me.” He chuckles with a dazed expression. “If you wanna breathe, you better listen.” He says before releasing your nose and placing his hand back on your head. Tears stream down your face as his grip tightens, fucking your mouth harder as his hips thrust against your face. Moans leave his mouth as his body tenses, golden eyes narrowed at your own orbs.

Your nails piercing into the skin of his thighs causes him to groan louder, the sting mixing well with the warmth around his cock.

“M’ gonna cum.” He mutters before shoving his cock into your mouth, holding it in place as semen shoots down your throat causing you to swallow it all. You grunt as you try to breathe normally again once he releases your head and pulls his cock out of your mouth. He demands you to put his pants back on, watching you with amusement. He leans over, the tip of his knife poking your chin forcing you to look up at him.

“You’re my new cockslut. Let’s get your phone fixed since we’ll need that to talk.” You look at him with confusion.

“I-I thought you were gonna let me go.”

“I never said that.” He puts his knife away. “Let’s go.” He grabs your wrist, forcing you to get up from the ground.

[noisyquokka]

I know this is a very vague request and im really sorry in advance 😭… do you think you could write some headcanons/reactions for wayv? I noticed that most nct content is for dream, sometimes 127, and rarely my wayv boys and i LOVE them 😮‍💨, i dont really have a concept in mind i would prefer if it was made with a female reader in mind but gender neutral works just as well, and idk maybe a little bit suggestive if youre in the mood for it?? Idk anyways thanks for listening and im sorry im not giving you much to work with :)

+ OMG OK I JUST SENT IN A VAGUE REQUEST FOR WAYV BUT I THOUGHT OF SOMETHING NOW, idk if you’ll see this but do you think you could do wayvs reaction to a female reader whos more dominant, not necessarily in the bedroom sense (although that too) but just someone who looks more feminine but automatically takes on more masculine gender roles in a relationship like being big spoon, or bringing home the bag, or being the one to take care of things and fix things? Again i don’t necessarily mean in a sexual way just more in a general relationship because i know you said you werent confident/comfortable writing nsfw stuff, but if you wanted to take a more suggestive route too i wouldnt be mad, youre the writer here, im just here to support 💗, thank you again!

A/N - Not me having a whole-ass brain fart on gender roles as I wrote this🤪but ohhhohoo I love this idea!!! I'm sorry it took forever :( also some of these are longer than others, I apologize. But I still hope you enjoy 💛 Thank you for the request, Love!

WORDCOUNT - 1,165

WARNINGS - F!reader, suggestive if you squint from the other side of the galaxy??

Kun

you had told him that you were quite independent from the beginning of your relationship

perhaps you hadn't been persuasive enough, or it didn't register in Kun's head...

because when he comes home from tour, he doesn't expect to find you in the kitchen, cursing under your breath with your head ducked beneath the sink

it appears you're too busy groveling at the plumbing to notice his presence, the clanking of metal on metal hitting his ears

"What... are you doing?" is followed by a thud! and another hushed curse as you emerge from the cabinet, rubbing at the crown of your head with a grimace

you're met with warm hands and a concerned gaze as you straighten up, adjustable wrench in your grip

"The shut-off valve for the cold water failed," you wipe the sweat from your brow, eyeing the small space you have to work with under the sink, "so I went and picked up replacements for both."

and Kun's just standing there like 'woah, babe, go off'

but also a little worried

cue the "shouldn't we call a plumber", and the "are you sure's"

it's not that he believes you're incapable, far from it!

he's just got no clue about the tricks of that trade lmao

asks if you need help

will literally sit by and watch like a curious Retriever whether you need extra hands or not (without being in the way, of course)

he has no idea where your confidence comes from when it comes to these types of things, but it's kinda... 😏

you finish the job in two hours, checking for any leaks after you turn the water back on and let the water flow through the pipes to clear the air in the lines

after this, he quickly adapts to you taking lead around the house with similar things

he's so used to being the leader/taking lead on so many things that it's so refreshing for him.

you're just the type to say "Hey, I've got it!" with no expectations

he's gonna find his ways of thanking you for the things you do btw

cooking you dinner, cleaning the entire house, buying you something you've been eyeing for forever.

also lives and breaths you cuddling him

back hugs, waking up to you pulling him back into your arms before you're both falling asleep again

this man is so content being little spoon if it means you're right there

Ten

totally into it!

I'd bet that this man goes full doting boyfriend

probably the most curious out of all the guys

would be super invested if you were an HVAC technician or something just because of how physically demanding the job is

asks you if he could tag along to work one day like an excited child

to which you tell him that it's not as exciting for him to watch considering most of the job is you crawling into tight spaces

like you'd literally be in some dusty attic, sweltering as you work

it happens anyways, because you find that your HVAC unit is outdated, so naturally, you choose to update it yourself

cue a sneaky head peeking around the corner every chance he gets because, contrary to what you had said, Ten is very entertained

the man has the biggest heart eyes for you through the entire process - which is roughly 6 hours

"your attention to detail is beyond admirable!"

"I'd say it's necessary when I'm working with electrical, Babe."

wants to learn how to do whatever it is you're working on

doesn't matter what it is you're doing

soaks up whatever you teach him

mans is a whole sponge istg

at the same time he's absolutely gonna tell you to keep being the boss-ass bitch that you are

WinWin

supportive but a lil insecure :(

like he loves you loads, supports you 100% in all that you do

but sometimes it'll make him feel like he's not doing enough in terms of your relationship

I don't see the insecurity coming from your confidence of taking on a more masculine role, but more out of worrying that his time is so limited with you and around the house so when he is home, he feels like it's not enough

feels like he shouldn't tell you at first

like it sounds a little like an excuse to be an ass

but eventually thinks it's the best thing for your relationship

y'all take communication so seriously so why start holding back over something like this

you're quick to reassure him that he does more than enough

like sir, sit down and kick your feet up, you literally do so much for me, I will write you a whole list rn

it works to a certain extent, so you offer him some options "to make up for it" cough I'll leave this up to interpretation💀

fair to say that all is better with a little communication

Xiaojun

I say this solely for his safety and benefit

do not, under any circumstances, let this man know you can do some of the things that you're capable of!!

boy is too petty and competitive to have this knowledge

I feel like he'd be the type to see you so confidently take care of yard work and the next week turns into a competition of who can complete said tasks better

he wouldn't do it to make you feel less than, or to put you in your place (as if you wouldn't set his ass straight)

he's just a little dramatic

a lil competitive

he loses almost every time 😔

either makes excuses for it ("I didn't know there were levels to the lawn mower", "the handle on my rake was broken") or stays quiet

will be whiny for a few days afterwards

you have no issue giving him something to whine about-

Hendery

full cheerleader mode!!

he literally grew up with three sisters, ain't no way he's gonna be against a strong and independent woman doing her thing

is the best assistant when you need an extra set of hands

literally the kid that holds dad's flashlight while dad fixes the car except you don't have to remind him to hold it steady

he's on top of it, baby 😎

mans takes this as seriously as performing open-heart surgery

I'm talking brows set in concentration and hands as steady as my granny threading a needle (that woman was so talented)

tools are in your hand before you've even finished telling him what you need

bro is just that good

loves helping you to the point that when you don't need his help, he's just a pouty boy in the corner

like Kun and Ten, he'll just watch and cheer you on in those instances

he is the ultimate ally

YangYang

I could see him drawn toward a woman who takes initiative in a relationship

probably finds it attractive as hell

at the same time, I could see him not caring much about traditional gender roles

sees it as a social construct that is meant to be broken

he digs how dynamic you can be in any situation, definitely!

that said, he is the reason you fix so many things 🧍🏻‍♀️

listen, him being your boyfriend does not guarantee your safety from The Menace™

feels bad about it sometimes

but like... you never complain

YangYang swears he's a magnet for finding patient people that can tolerate his antics

which is exactly why he's wrapped around your finger

MASTERLIST

[n7punk]

How was your day bestie?

i discovered a new type of migraine i call the "store aisles at 6pm" migraine. this is actually a migraine ive experienced many times but. only in the store aisles at 6pm, so i didn't really understand what it was or what was going on, it was just very confusing and made it difficult to shop. this time it started when i was driving and persisted for about 40 minutes.

im sure this is an actual type of migraine with an actual name, but here's how i would characterize this migraine: little to no symptoms (except maybe impaired decision making) or discomfort, to the point where it's not evident when sitting still, except! when in movement, the entire world looks like one of those flat 360 videos that look awful if you don't have a vr headset. that link is to an irl video that i think gets the point across the best but this music video is moving through an animated space while in the 360 which is where you run into the main problem: there is no sense of space, orientation, or depth perception. everything moves at weird speeds relative to each other because you can't quite figure out how things parse off a flat plane.

i discovered this when i saw my first stop sign and realized i had no fucking clue how far away it was. luckily i was literally going to the store down the street so i never went fast and encountered very few cars, but then once i got to the store (it really would not have saved much driving to turn around so i just finished), it was hard to "see" things on the aisles in the store because again, everything was flat. and forget about trying to read things. i had to stand perfectly still and slowly let my brain parse the image to actually see labels or read. i was very careful driving home (i was also driving someone else's car because i discovered this morning that mine is dead and needs a tow, so it was even more nervewracking!), but once home i had issues even walking around my house because there's a lot of odd corners and things sticking out around turns that i couldn't gauge the distance of. and then when i sat it was fine, though i noticed discomfort whenever i tried reading.

anyway i only wrote 900 words today because i was having a very weird day lol

[wildbwills]

Before he Fell

Hi uh this is the first fic I’ve ever written. I was inspired to write something after reading @the-flaminhos story Real or Not Real (Also they were super awesome reading through it as I wrote so thank you! :3) This is Supposed to be Newt’s and also Minho’s perspective on a bit of their life before Thomas came to the Glade. I tried to make it as close to canon as possible, with the exception of the character Darwin (I made him up) Warning: This does depict Newt’s suicide attempt as well as his pretty dark headspace in the time leading up to it. There is also some description of gore (nothing worse than in the books) So be warned and take care of yourself. 8k words :)

*Newt*

The days started to feel the same. Every morning at the wake up he felt heavy. He had to be shaken and reminded that the sun was up and risin’. At dinner he pushed Fry’s food around in circles. The only time his mind was quieter was when he was runnin’. But then all he could think was of the walls. There was no way out of  the Maze, they knew that much. They’d figured out it’d just been repeatin’ itself, and would keep on doing that for ever and ever. Newt remembered the day where all the runners had sat around a table and laid out the maps, watchin’ the patterns repeat until their eyes went crossed.

Newt felt sweat bead on his forehead and drip down his face like tears. His runnin’ shoes were runnin’ thin at the soles. He’d tell Minho to send another note down askin’ for a new pair soon. Newt reached the last turn in his section. He knew he should keep on runnin’, keep on runnin’ back. 

Instead Newt just stood there with the blood rushin’ to his head. He felt so heavy with all of it. They were never gettin’ out of this buggin’ maze, they were never leavin’ the Glade and every buggin’ month they were just going to send more kids up  here to die. More of them to die until the big stone bowl of the glade was filled with graves marked with Gally’s hack-job headstones.

His watch told him the doors closed soon.

Would a Greiver be that bad of a way to go out? Newt groaned and started runnin’ again.

“You’re late klunk-for-brains!”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed. The doors were almost ready to close, he’d made it out with barely a few minutes to spare.

“Greivers kissin’ your butt ain’t enough for you?”

“Slim it Minho I took a long lunch.”

Minho snorted at him and turned around, joggin’ off towards the kitchens. Newt braced himself against the huge wall, breathin’ in and out. Minho was a piece of work.

When he sat down next to the other runners Minho had already cleared half the plate of Fry’s chicken. Fry was real sweet makin’ them special runner food. Newt looked down at his own plate, it was food alright, and good food too. But somethin’ in him was too tired to eat it. He felt like a piece of klunk for wastin’ Frypan’s hard work.

Minho glanced over at him so he quickly sawed off a bite and swallowed. Minho thumped his back.

“You’ve been real quiet lately, savin’ all your chatter for the next Greenie?”

“I guess so- what’d ya just call the kid?“

“Greenie. Like a fresh little greenbean straight from the gardens.”

“Minho likes makin’ up words doesn’t he ya big shank!” Louis laughed, flickin’ a chicken bone at Minho. Minho made a face,

“You lot use em’”

“Sure we do,” Louis snickered. Minho watched the other boys, smilin’ for a second before turnin’ back to Newt. Minho glanced around as if someone might be listenin’ before speaking:

“You sure you didn’t find anything today? Anything new that might have made you a bit late?”

“What? Mate- I told ya, I lost track of time on my lunch break.”

“Fine. Then what’s got you looking so depressing?”

Newt wanted to punch the look off his face, what wasn’t there to be sad about in this place? George had bloody died not a month ago. Newt could still picture all of the blood. After Alby had killed him he’d still bled. Red blood had spread over the green grass. And none of them had any clue what to do with his buggin’ body. The whole thing made him so sick.

Newt pushed his chicken up to the edge of his plate.

“There’s no bloody way out of this place,” Newt hissed. Minho’s head snapped up,

“We don’t know that, any day we could find something new.” Minho fired back. They were talkin’ in sharp little whispers, pretendin’ not to look at each other.

“That’s a load of crap and you know it. Out of all of the…shanks here you’re the one who’s supposed to tell the truth.”

Minho turned to look at him then, starin’ him down with angry eyes.

“Get your head on straight and be ready to head back out tomorrow, you’re the last person I expect to be giving up.”

Minho got up and dropped his plate into the dishwasher. Newt watched him walk out. Minho was right. Newt was the last person to be givin’ up. So they were all bloody doomed.

That next mornin’ was one of the worst wake-ups he’d opened his eyes to. He felt sick all in his stomach. He’d woken up later than any of the other Gladers. Maybe they’d gotten tired of wakin’ him up. Newt just wanted to roll over and fall back to sleep.

That night when he got back late again Minho was waitin’ at his door again.

“What’s with you?”

“Nothin’ got a late start this mornin’.”

“You know something I don’t?” Minho accused him,

“Mate I’m just tired, get out of the way,” Newt pushed him aside, feelin’ a horrible sinkin’ feelin’ he walked to the side of the wall and threw up. He kept lurchin’ a bit until his insides calmed down.

“What the hell?” Minho walked over to him, pattin’ his back. Newt swallowed the foul taste of his own stomach, wincing.

“I’m good now, I’ll just head on over to Fry’s-“

“Newt!” Minho shouted after him but Newt had started sprinting. Minho’s shorter legs wouldn’t reach him fast enough.

Like a pathetic little buggin’ kid Newt hid. Right behind the kitchen pressed to the back wall tuggin’ on the long bits of his hair that Alby kept tryin’ to convince him to cut.

He shouldn’t be a runner, really shouldn’t. Not anymore, not like this.

Minho wouldn’t make a scene, he wouldn’t try too hard to find him. Newt really hoped he wouldn’t. This was no way to see him.

That night Newt trudged over to convince one of the boys nearest to the animals to trade Hammocks with him. The boy was happy to switch right out of his noisy one. Newt woke the next mornin’ early to the sound of the big rooster screaming his bloody head off. Newt showered that morning, running his face he stared down his reflection in the sliver of mirror they’d hung up in the shower room.

If he felt like the world, the bloody Glade was fallin’ to pieces in his face the least he could do was act like it wasn’t.

*Minho*

Minho knew something was going on. He just couldn’t really figure out what. Newt was acting like a freaking crazy man. Could he have been stung? No way…they turned all ballistic and veiny. Minho watched him carefully in the next week, Newt seemed like he was going back to normal. He ate, slept, and ran like anyone else. Then the shucking alarm went off.

The damn thing rang for about half an hour before anything happened. It was annoying as hell. Even the other sweaty stinkin’ runners came all around when it was time for the box to come up.

“Hey what about what we said last time? About sendin’ a shank down with the box afterwards?” Someone called over the noise of the clanging alarm. Minho looked to Nick, he was standing with his arms crossed looking down the hole with an old man frown. Nick glanced over and shifted his stance slightly.

“Worth a shot I figure!”

Minho glanced at Newt, who was standing with his eyes stuck on the hole, freaking glued to it, the big doors wide open like a mouth.

The box came up clanking and shaking and eventually screeching to a stop.

“Hey, we got a big one!” A boy shouted as he tossed down the loop of rope, Minho leaned over the edge, getting a look at the boy. He was big, built like a bear with black hair and a long face. But the big boy was shaking like a little bunny.

“Hey there Greenie!”

“Is that what we’re callin’ newbies now Minho?” Alby elbowed his side, Minho looked to him and grinned,

“Yeah, Greenies, they’ll water all the plants in the gardens with a big fresh flow of tears.”

“Ay!” Several boys reached out to steady the Greenie. He looked about to klunk himself.

“What’s your name huh Greenie?” Minho asked the newbie, but Niel was already pushing past.

“My name’s Nick and I’m the leader of this fair place.”

“Fair? Yeah real shucking’ fine place!” Gally hollered. Nick glared him down before looking back at the boy.

“What’s your name huh? We all have em’”

The Greenie looked at him with big scared eyes for a second,

“I’m- I’m Mozart.”

Laughter erupted from all the boys, Minho couldn’t help but snicker, that was the dumbest shucking name he’d ever heard.

“We’ll call him Zart then right?” Minho suggested, catching the new boy’s eyes.

“Zart work for you man?” Nick asked, Zart nodded shakily.

“Zart the fart it is!” Minho announced, Alby elbowed him again,

“You’re scaring the newbie, keep your trap shut.”

Once all the supplies had almost been lifted out a boy reminded them of the plan.

“Hey what about sending someone back down!”

“Right, well Nick’s taken Zartie off on the tour,” Another complained.

“We’ll have to wait a month to try this klunk again, forget Nick,” Minho said, looking around. “Okay then, who volunteers to shoot back down in the good ol’ box?” Minho asked, rubbing his hands together and looking around.

“Darwin’ll do it,” Some of the boys murmured. Almost as they said it Darwin stepped forward. Darwin was a younger gangly boy with one arm shorter than the other and a shaggy haircut that was starting to look a bit like Newt’s if he didn’t cut it soon.

“I’ll do it!” He grinned. Minho nodded.

“This a good idea?” Newt asked suddenly, catching Minho’s eye from the other side of the Box hole.

“Figure if they come up safe in the box they can go back down in it right?” Minho shrugged.

They threw the stepping loop down, Darwin hopped right down into it, eager to be lowered down into the steel trap.

“If you see anything start hollering!” Minho shouted down to him before the boys helped shut the big doors.

They waited for the rumble of the shaft. Instead there was nothing, no movement, no clanking.

“Hey I don’t think this Box is goin’ anywhere!” Darwin shouted from inside.

“Give it another minute slinthead!” Gally argued back. Minho frowned.

“Gally slim it, he’s braver than you for being down there.”

“Braver than being stung by a Griever?”

“At least he’s never been stupid enough to waltz into the Maze!” Minho was a second away from screwing up Gally’s ugly nose a bit more. Newt had stepped forward and Alby had put a hand on Minho’s chest.

“Why don’t we all slim it and take that kid out of the box huh?” Newt said

The Gladers watching murmured in agreement, and the doors were pried open. Darwin was taken out, seeming unbothered.

Almost the second they’d closed the doors after Darwin got out the Box started rumbling down again.

“Well that’s that I guess,” Darwin said.

“I mean not unless we chuck someone down there,” Minho joked, giving Alby a shove towards the closed doors. Alby twisted around and put him in a headlock. Minho struggled against him screaming,

“Feed the freakin’ box hole with some fresh Glader meat!” he burst into laughter.

“I’d do it.” Darwin shrugged. Alby let go, Minho stopped thrashing, He looked Darwin in his Big ol’ brown cow eyes.

“You’re one crazy shank,” Minho said.

“No I mean it. Send me down in there, it can’t be too far down can it?”

“Get the crazy dude some Rope!” A boy shouted, and some of the builders were already off to go grab some.

Everyone burst into chatter while they waited. Minho stayed at the edge of the doors. Newt walked up to him slowly.

“You’re not gonna let him do this are ya?”

“Why not?”

“What if that kid gets hurt huh?”

“Look, we’ll get some real strong rope, lower him down about fifty feet, he gets scared craps his little shucking panties and then we bring him up. And just maybe he’s found something important in his way down.”

“Minho,” Newt’s voice was warning.

“Newt! You’re the one who went off about the maze having no freakin’ exit door! Why not try the other options?”

“This is a kid! He’s barely fifteen!”

“Newt, everything is going to be just fine, they wouldn’t give us a box hole and not expect us to poke around!”

Minho bumped Newt’s shoulder, “You get real jittery sometimes, but the only way we all get back to our mommies and daddies is if we find our way out of this clunk-filled hellhole.”

“You’re right I guess.”

“I’m always right, get used to it.”

Minho helped Gally tie up a harness for Darwin. Once the knots were tied down tight and checked three times to satisfy Newt they brought Darwin up to the edge of the box hole and threw open the doors. 

“You ready mate?” Newt asked, Minho rolled his eyes. Newt was probably hoping Darwin backed out at the last moment.

“Yeah, just send me down already!”

Minho patter Darwin’s shoulder for a moment before grabbing hold of the long rope connected to his back. Alby and a few other boys grabbed on as well. They brought Darwin to the edge where he sort of just hopped in. Minho and the others leaned back to balance out the weight.

“You good dude?”

“Yeah!” Darwin called back. All the Gladers had gathered around the rim of the box hole and were looking down watching the dangling boy. Minho watched Newt watch him, his face was tight in a little grimace. If only Newt would relax for ten seconds.

“Okay we’re gonna send you down slowly!” Alby announced down the hole.

“Right on!”

The boys slowly let the rope inch down. He went down five feet, then ten, everyone waited and watched slowly. Ever few minutes Darwin would hoot and they could hear the echo shooting back up.

Then about twenty feet down Darwin started to scream like crazy. The rope got about twenty pounds lighter and all of the boys pulling it stumbled back a few feet.

“Whats going on!?” Minho shouted, the boys watching looked just as confused.

“Get him out of there! GET HIM OUT OF THERE!” Newt was screaming, he ran to the rope holders and started pulling frantically, Minho joined him, it was easy now that he weighed about half as much as before. In a minute they had him out, he was still screaming. The second his body made it up some of the boys backed away in horror. He was sliced clean in half just below his belly button the rest was gone. Blood leaked all over the edge of the box hole. There was no way he was going to survive. Newt leaned down, kneeling next to the boy and holding his face. Darwin was crying. In a moment or two he went still. Newt slowly got up, he turned to Minho and punched him right across the face. Minho grunted and stumbled back a few feet as pain exploded in his entire face. He could have sworn it knocked some of his brain clean out of his nose. Then Newt turned and started walking towards the deadheads.

Minho spent a week in the slammer with a new runner taking over his section. He felt shucking awful about Darwin, he really did. Newts face had made him feel half as awful again. How had he been supposed to know the Box hole ATE people? They’d thrown notes and crap down there every other week. 

Alby visited him sometimes, mostly just to drop off food, but today he stayed for a moment longer.

“How’re you doing in there jailbird?”

“Just fine and dandy, some shucking idiot put a chair with a short leg in here.”

“That was your idea remember? Had a good laugh about it too,” Alby said, leaning against the wall to look Minho in the eye through the tiny window.

“Well I guess I’m a shucking genius then.”

“I’d keep that talk to a minimum for at least a month after what happened,” Alby warned,

“Right,” Minho agreed. He closed his eyes, 

“Tell Newt I’m sorry.”

“I did that already.”

“Well do it again! I mean it.”

“He knows you do, he’s not that mad anymore.”

“Tell that to the purple side of my freaking face!”

“He said he’ll talk to you when you’re not behind bars, then you can sort things out.”

Minho stood in silence for a moment.

“How’d I end up in here, and you get off free?”

“Because I got a big long talking-to from Niel.”

“And I’m in actual jail?”

“A talking to wouldn’t work on your stubborn ass.”

“I guess,” Minho sighed, touching the side of his face that was swollen. It hurt bad. He knew honestly that Newt hadn’t punched him as had as he could have. If Newy really wanted to he could have split Minho’s skull in two. That didn’t stop it from hurting like freakin’ hell though.

“You enjoy your thinking time alright?”

Alby jogged away. Minho groaned and sat back down on the crappy wobbly chair.

When Nick came to unlock him Minho could have kissed his shoes. The slammer sucked big time and cold meals for a week were enough to make anyone feel like a load of clunk.

Mostly though he wanted to see newt, and say a real big sorry.

“Minho,” Nick said. He had this deep drawling accent that made anyone turn their head.

“Yeah?”

“You ever do somethin’ like this again and you’re banished. You and Alby or whoever you drag into your crap.”

“I got it.”

“Look at me,” Nick growled, Minho looked up gritting his teeth.

“You killed that boy.”

Minho felt his stomach swim.

“You’re not running for another week, you’re going to help the new boy in the garden.”

“But-“

“Shut your hole.”

Nick turned to walk away, then paused. 

“And shower, you smell like…klunk.”

Minho showered a weeks worth of sweat off of himself and then went straight to Newt’s door. Alby shared a door with Newt and usually came out first. At sunset the Maze could be pretty freakin’ beautiful. The whole Glade turned red, the sun over the huge walls caught and shone in a perfect way. It’d be nicer if there weren’t freakin’ monsters after their butts.

Newt came out first, panting and jogging slowly he sped by Minho and then slowed to a walk, puffing in and out.

“You’re here.” Newt said, straightening up and looking him over.

“In the flesh.”

“Your face looks like a Greiver’s arse,” Newt joked. Minho nodded, swallowing.

“I’ll give your complements to its shucking sculptor you slinthead.”

“You’re supposed to apologise to me.”

“Yeah, I’m really freaking sorry.”

“Are ya now?”

“Newt I don’t mean for him to die you know that.”

Newt nodded, looking out over the glade with this faraway sad look he’d picked up. Minho tilted his head to catch Newt’s eye, “You good man?”

Newt didn’t answer for a moment, but he snapped back.

“Yeah, sorry about your face.”

“It’s alright, you’ve brought me down to about a regular level of handsomeness.”

Newt snorted, slugging his shoulder gently he started off towards Fry’s.

Over dinner Newt was quiet as usual. Nothing Minho did really changed anything. He could make the other runners laugh until they cried but Newt just chuckled dryly and stared back down at his plate.

Newt had his day off soon, Minho hoped they could catch up then, while he was stuck weeding with Zart the Greenie Fart.

But after their little meet-up outside the Maze Newt seemed bent on avoiding him. Or everybody really. Newt was sort of always wandering away, spending a freakish amount of time off in the Deadheads.

“Did the kid in the…box hole really get sliced in half?” Zart asked Minho quietly one day.

“Yeah, he really did,” Minho said, yanking at a little sprout in between the healthy carrots.

“In half which way?” Asked another boy, one who apparently hadn’t been next to the box when it happened.

“In half, no more legs, no more bottom,” Minho said, ripping at a larger weed.

“Someone said he was still screaming was he-“

“Can’t you shucks stick to farming?” Minho sighed, leaning back.

“Nick said he’s buried him with a window into his grave so anyone who needs a reminder knows not to be as stupid.”

Minho’s eyes widened. Newt’s been in the deadheads for days staring at graves.

“Holy shucking klunkballs- seriously?”

“I’m too freaked out to look,” Zart admitted quietly.

Minho found Alby that night.

“Man something’s wrong with Newt.”

“I don’t disagree with you but seeing a boy get sliced in half is enough to make anyone sick.”

“Yeah but you…y’know actually killed a dude a few months ago and you’re fine.”

Alby gave him a look.

“What I did to George was to keep all of us safe.”

“I know, that’s what I’m saying, and you’re all good now right? Newt’s the one bugging out.”

“Just give him space Minho.”

“What if he’s been stung or something? Shouldn’t we go try and-“

Alby grabbed his shoulders,

“People need time, after I…killed George I needed shucking weeks just to feel like I was Alby again, Newt agreed to our little box-hole stunt just as much as we did, you might not feel like a killer, but maybe he does.”

Minho scrunched up his full face and growled, 

“This place sucks, all of this sucks donkey klunk, I want my memories, I want you all to have your shucking memories!”

“Yeah,” Alby breathed, squinting up at the setting sun, “Yeah, that’s about right.”

*Newt*

Newt didn’t own much. He had the clothes on his back and the ones that sat in a pile next to his hammock. He had a journal too, Alby had handed it to him after a bunch of them came up in a supply delivery. He’d never wrote in it though, never had much to say. Other than  that he had just a few clear, sparkly lookin’ rocks some of the boys had found in the garden and passed around. Nothin’ worth giving away.

It was his day off tomorrow. He wouldn’t have to go in that bloody maze. He’d started to hate the maze, after his little freak out behind the kitchens he’d spent every day inside hating it more and more. He’d always hated it, the big stone walls and the long vines. There was no way out. Never would be. He hoped whoever built all those walls up was gettin’ their laughs in. He really hoped they were.

The maze was as shucking big as it would ever be. Beetle Blades shot out to watch him as he ran. Nasty, creepy buggers. The first time any of the boys  had seen them they knew what them Beetle Blades were for. With one steady red eye they were meant for watchin’, spyin’. Nothin’ could be done without a beetle blade slitherin’ through your ankles. If Newt hadn’t been so worried about Darwin, (worry that meant nothing to the dead boy now) he might have seen the Beetle Blades scurryin’ up close to get a view at the boy sliced clean in half.

The last dead end of his section was marked down. Newt turned on his heels. Nearer to the door he paused for a moment, reaching to one of the walls covered in vines. He grabbed one of them, pulling at it. It made a ripping sound all the way up until it stopped. Newt tugged at it hard. The vine held on tight. He tugged again. The vine stayed strong.

Newt paused for a moment. He closed his eyes and felt the weight of the glade, all the hell around him crash down. He took his hand off the vine and started to run again. He was going to get out of here. He was going to make it out.

When he got back he walked to the Deadheads. The baggers had already dug Darwin up a grave and tossed him inside. Nick had put a big piece of plastic over it so you could see right down where his body lay. Newt watched it sometimes. Maggots crawled from his rotting eyes, bugs gnawed at his skin. Just a week ago he’d been alive, runnin’ around, laughin’.

What if Minho was the next one? An’ then Alby after that? What if Newt was just goin’ to watch his friends die? One by one. Newt walked over to George’s grave. George had been in so much pain. It had been mercy what Alby did wasn’t it? So this would be mercy, Newt would be mercy.

He sat outside the kitchens. It wasn’t breakfast yet, but the runners were already heading out. Newt waved to Alby. Minho would be workin’ away in the gardens, Newt had to remember to say a fast goodbye and avoid him. The Glade felt quiet for once. He showered, a long nice one, running the waxy glade bar soap through his hair. He remembered a time, however long ago when he would clean off in a warm white tub. Newt had stopped searching for his old memories so long ago. All of them had.

Winston, he should say something to that creepy guy. Newt liked him a fair bit to be honest. When all the boys had gathered around the Box hole for their little experiment Winston had left halfway through, disapprovin’ of all their meddling’.

“Winston! Mate!”

“Newt?” Winston asked, turnin’ around and taking his hands off the big dead pig loaded onto a table. Newt looked away from it, focusin’ on Winston.

”You alright, having a decent day?”

”Yeah, ‘bout as decent as it gets, you?”

”Fine,” Newt said, taking a deep breath out, “Well take care mate, I just wanted to drop by, it being my day off and all.”

“Right on,” Winston agreed pleasantly, turning back to his pig.

Newt found Zart next, out all the way into the cornfields, the kid had a talent for farmin’. Newt only thought it right to say somethin’ to Zart, he was the newest newbie- or greenie whatever Minho had come up with now.

“Hey mate,” Newt greeted him, Zart looked up, nearly dropping his basket of freshly picked corn,

”Hey Newt.”

“How’re you likin’ the Glade?”

“Oh, well…” Zart looked down, and then everywhere except Newt’s eyes,

“Its s‘alright if you dont like it much, if you miss something you can’t remember, that’s how all these shanks feel, weather the shanks mention it or not.”

Zart nodded.

“Newt you want to know the worst part of the Glade?” Zart asked, and for a moment Newt felt an empty pit open up within himself ready to gulp down everythin’ he’d ever been, instead he swallowed it a bit, and nodded,

“Yeah?”

“Having a…shucking name like Mozart,” Zart snickered shyly, Newt laughed suddenly at that, almost in relief. He slapped Zart on the back, smiling.

“Thank Minho’s big klunkin’ brain for that one huh?”

“What’re you shuck-faced slintheads saying about me!” Minho burst from the corn, trampling a good part of it before shuffling up to Zart and Newt.

“Talkin’ to Zart, Bugger off.”

“You love me,” Minho announced, trying to sling an arm around Newt’s shoulder. He wasn’t quite tall enough, settling for another back pat.

”Sure I do, you and your ugly mug,”

“I told you, I’m down to human levels of good looks.”

“I’m assuming all is good with the almighty Minho?”

“Yeah, what’s it to you?”

“Just wanted to know.”

Newt turned away, starting to walk towards the Deadheads. Minho started walking to follow him, he had to jog with how fast Newt was walking.

“Newt!”

“Yeah?”

“Newt can we talk?”

“Sure.”

“Newt I just want a day to talk to you Y’know just catch up.”

“Minho that’s just fine, I gotta take my time out in the forest though.”

“Alright, I’ll wait for you back at the farm,” Minho agreed. Newt felt his heart clench,

“Don’t wait for me, I’ll be awhile,” Newt choked out.

“We’ll you’re-“ 

Newt started to walk, then run. He was seconds away from bawlin’ his buggin’ eyes out. Minho was gonna wait for him. But he couldn’t make good on that, he had to go now, before anythin’ horrible could happen again.

The Deadheads was the thickest a forest could possibly get, sometimes if entered at the wrong place he had to fight through leaves and branches, watch his feet for roots. And in the center was the graveyard.

Newt collapsed onto a bench right outside of the forest. He couldn’t go in there, not just yet. Minho was watchin’ him, he could feel it. Newt stayed still, staring at the ground until the feelin’ of being watched lessened. Newt closed his eyes and breathed in and out. It would all be done soon, really, actually done.

Newt pressed his hands into his thighs. He tried then to remember somethin’, anythin’ real. The thing that always ached inside of him wouldn’t quiet. There was somethin’ he must miss, must miss like a bloody limb. But it was gone. 

Newt got up, trudging into the forest. He’d worn a path down in the past week. Every time he headed through it was easier. The clearing was small, with about five headstones.

Newt knelt down. He felt his face fall. It was like the normal-ness suddenly drained from him and the only thing left was the hollow hole. What if today Minho came back stung, Alby with a chunk taken out of him by a shucking Greiver. What if the next time someone needed to volunteer for some stupid, death-trap plan it’d be Minho, and Newt would be dragging up his body, cut in two shucking pieces. The hollowness that had opened up stretched wider, the ache of longing something he couldn’t remember, the feeling he’d known since he’d woken up in the glade, how alone he felt, it grew bigger an’ bigger until Newt fell forward, his face twisted into pain. He started to sob, wrapping his hands around his head to try and quiet his thinkin’. He just wanted all of this to stop.

Newt pawed at his eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to wring the tears out of em’. Newt got up. He marched out of that awful bloody forest and out into the Glade. He walked out to the Maze door, the closest one, the one he’d ran in and out every buggin’ day. He knew it real well, knew it like it was just another part of him. His tears had stopped, face had set itself. He marched into the huge opening between the walls. He knew this section so well he could have walked it blind. He turned around the corners and walls, his walk turned into a run. He was looking for a wall, one covered in bloody shucking ivy, a big tall wall.

Newt found it.

The wall like all the others reached up almost into the sky. Newt was going to climb to the very top. He grabbed the nearest piece, this time he didn’t check if it could hold his weight, it didn’t matter. Newt dug his feet into the nicks and cracks, hauled his weight up with his arms. His breathing was shaky, he kept glancing down, was this enough? How much more? He was almost halfway up and suddenly it felt like he couldn’t go any further, like someone put a big bloody hand in his brain and squeezed. Newt pulled himself up a few more feet, then a few more. He looked up to the wall reaching up above him. He was sweating hard now, sure he couldn’t even make it up another shucking inch. Newt swallowed. He looked back to the wall clinging to the vines and breathing in and out. He heard it then, the little metallic clicking of a beetle blade. He turned his head to see the beady red eye of the creature starin’ him down. Newt met its eye, feelin’ anger fill him in an overwhelmin’ crash. 

He reached to the beetle and grabbed it, he’d never been able to touch one before, much less grab it, the metal cut into his hand, but the beetle stayed still watchin‘ intently.

“I don’t know who you people are, but I hope you’re happy. I hope you get a real buggin’ kick out of watching us suffer. And then you can die and go to hell. This is on you.”

Blood ran hot down his wrist and to his elbow. The beetle wriggled then, cutting deeper into his palm, he let go, kicked off the wall and let go.

Newt felt air rush through his ears, go up in a gust all around him. All he could think was Minho, Alby, Winston, George, Frypan, Darwin, Nick, even shucking Gally in a blur in his mind.

And then he hit the ground.

An explosion of pain ripped through his whole body. Newt cried out, he couldn’t move. One of his legs was bent the wrong way, it felt like hell, his whole body felt like hell. Newt inched up, Hissing and groaning. He shouted again, pure pain swaying his vision. He pulled his wrecked leg to his chest. He hadn’t bloody died, why didn’t he die? The bloody creators must have stopped it. Newt felt tears runnin’ down his neck, he groaned, shakin’. Everythin’ hurt so damn much. If he lay here he might die eventually. Newt drew his head back, starin’ up at the fake sky, he started to cry again, his broken body was wracked with horrible lurchin’ sobs that made his insides ache. Newt cried molten hate and molten pain. He should have died. He should have died. He grit his teeth hard together, screamin’,

“I hate you! I HATE YOU!” Newt nearly passed out. He heaved in big breaths, gasping for air. Newt didn’t know who he hated more, the shucking creators of the Maze or himself. His stupid shuckin’ self he couldn’t even die properly.

Newt fell backwards, his head hitting the stone of the ground. The pain was too loud, thumpin’ an aching heartbeat through his ears. Newt went out then, eyes rolling over to the hurt and exhaustion.

He woke up suddenly to hands grabbin’ him, draggin’ him forward. Newt groaned, reachin’ up to find the arm with a hold on him, he looked up and it was Alby. Alby glanced down at him.

“What shucking happened you idiot?”

“I jumped,” Newt admitted shakily. Alby stopped, starin’ at him. Newt didn’t even know what to say, his leg hurt so bloody much. Alby leaned down and lifted Newt up a bit, draping him over Alby’s shoulder. Alby grunted, stumblin’ forward. Newt had his cheek pressed to the damp shoulder of Alby’s shirt, breathin’ in shaky little gasps.

“Why?”

Newt didn’t say anything. He just let himself be dragged back. Right before they got to the door Newt gripped his shoulder tightly,

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Wasn’t going to dude.”

Alby dropped him off by the door and sprinted over to Clint. Clint was the only bloody decent Med-Jack they had. Clint and Alby came back with a stretcher. They helped Newt up on it and started running back to the homestead. Newt kept his eyes open, everyone seemed to be at dinner. He hoped Minho was at dinner, if he had to see Minho right now he might start shuckin’ crying again.

Clint had to set the bones in his leg. They didn't have anything except for a mild painkiller. Clint gave him about three pills, said that was all he was comfortable with.

“Newt, buddy I’m not gonna lie to you this is going to hurt like a shucking Greiver bite.”

“I broke the damn leg I can stand to see it sorted out Clint!” Newt bit back, hissing in pain.

“Alright,” Clint grabbed his leg, Newt shouted out, grabbin’ the sheets of the bed and nearly rippin’ a hole right through them.

“Bloody- Clint just get the damn thing over with!” He cried, Clint twisted his leg slightly, shovin’ it together. Newt screamed, his brain was so white hot with pain he could barely breathe.

“It’s done now!” Clint announced, steppin’ back and quickly gatherin’ bandages. Alby helped him arrange a splint to secure both sides of his leg. The whole thing hurt like torture. Clint gave him something to put him to sleep a bit faster. Newt took it greatfuly.

The next time waking up, after waking up on the floor of the Maze a different boy was watching over him.

Minho had a chair pulled up next to his bed, staring at him.

Newt grimaced, closing his eyes.

“Clint says you need to take some pills.”

“Clint could have told me that himself,” Newt mumbled. Minho frowned, handing Newt the glass and his medicine. Newt took it, swallowing the pills and smacking his lips. He looked up to see Minho still standing there. 

“What shucking happened Newt?”

Newt shook his head, picking at one of his fingernails.

“Newt what happened!”

Newt lay back down in bed, closing his eyes.

“He awake?” Clint asked, arriving and walking over to Newt’s bedside.

“Not anymore apparently,” Minho said. Minho could be a piece of work sometimes.

The next day Minho was back.

“Ably won’t shucking tell me what happened!”

“Good! He shouldn’t.”

“Newt you got hurt, how did that happen?”

“None of your bloody shucking business that’s how!”

Minho stood there for a while, just standing with a slowly rising and falling chest and watching Newt.

“Newt…what happened?”

“You know what happened.”

“I don’t.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Dunno, Greiver finally got your ass?”

Newt laughed out loud, his whole body ached at the movement. He winced, clenchin’ his teeth together. 

“Nah,” He choked out.

Minho pulled up a chair beside him and sat down.

They stayed in silence for a while. Newt couldn’t help but think how much of an idiot he was. To think Minho would have been standin’ over his grave just a week later, to think Minho would elect each new runner thinkin’ how they couldn’t make up for his being gone. Newt was such a shucking slinthead.

“Your face is getting better.”

“Yeah, all you shuck-faced klunkslingers are gonna have to start shielding your eyes, wouldn’t want you tripping over yourselves when you see my glorious mug.”

“I’ll screw your mug right back up,” Newt argued, smoothing out the sheets on the bed.

“You could’ve split my skull in two couldn’t you?” Minho laughed, leaning back in his chair.

“Maybe,” Newt shrugged.

“Oh polite little humble Newtie!” Minho whistled. Newt smiled to himself.

There was another minute of silence.

“Minho I tried to climb up one of the walls, ya said it couldn’t be done but I wasn’t convinced, I climbed about halfway up. Turns out those buggin’ greivers can climb because before I knew it a big nasty one shuckin’ jumped out of nowhere. I fell about the whole way down then Alby grabbed me and dragged me out like a brave little shuck warrior.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, we were real close to the door, lucky shanks we are.”

Minho looked down, biting his lip.

“Newt I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, nothin’ can be done about it now though, I’m just glad it wasn’t you or Alby.”

“Yeah sure, but it’s still you in a full shucking leg brace, I’d take that a hundred times before I let you take a fall like that.”

Newt felt his heart ache. He was so buggin’ selfish, how could he have left them like this?

“Aww, you’re a real sweetie aren’t ya?”

Minho stayed with him until Newt got drowsy and took his sleepin’ pills. Minho was real sweet, too good to him. Minho could never know about what really happened. Newt had to keep that until he died.

Thank goodness Minho was gone the next day, back to his Runner job. Newt spent most of the day staring at the ceiling and having boring buggin’ conversations with Clint.

Alby hadn’t visited him. He knew Minho had been banned from running for a while but Alby had his mornin’s and nights to drop by. What if Alby hated his shuck guts? What if Alby couldn’t bare to even see his face? On one hand he was terrified to hear what Alby had to say, on the other he was was achin ’ to find out.

That night Newt called Clint over,

“Clint, mate!”

“Yeah?” Clint got up, walking to the foot of his bed,

“My hammock is down by the bard, would you mind fetchin’ a journal I got down there? I’d like to write a bit.”

Clint through about it for a second, 

“Sure I can, but you gotta promise not to do anything stupid while I’m gone, alright?”

“Yeah, I’m not exactly fit to be klunking around am I?” Newt said dryly. Clint nodded,

“Good that.”

Once Newt had his journal, and Clint had given him one of the pencils he used to mark down sick boy’s names Newt got to writing.

My name is Newt. 

Newt wrote on the first page, and then stared at the sentence. He frowned, rubbing it out with the palm of his hand.

I woke up with the name Newt, It must not be mine because what bloody parent names their kid after a slimy lizard?

Newt chewed on the end of the pencil, thinking.

I live in a big stupid place called the Glade. My two best friends are Minho and Alby, they’re alright I guess if you like ugly-mugged shanks.

Newt laughed to himself, 

I’m just joking, they’re not too hideous or that big of slintheads, but sometimes Minho makes me want to tear all my hair out.

Newt breathed out shakily, relaxing. He put the book off to the side of his bed.

Alby came that night. Newt woke up to the sound of the bed next to his creaking. Alby had sat down, looking over at him. Newt groaned, sitting up.

”Hey there mate,” Newt winced, trying to shift his healing leg,

”Hey,” Alby mumbled.

they sat there for a longer silence than could have ever happened between Newt and Minho. Alby eventually looked down, and then back up,

“I’ve been thinking a lot, about what happened.”

Newt looked away quickly, thumbing at the sheets.

”I told Minho it was a Griever. He believed me, we can just pretend nothin’-“

”Are you going to lose it again?” Alby cut him off. Newt looked up, terrified of the judgment that might be in Alby’s eyes, but instead he just looked worried. Newt sank into the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I never felt worse than wakin’ up the next mornin’ and realizin’ you an’ Minho would be standin’ over my grave if I did the job right.”

Alby nodded. Newt closed his eyes and breathed in, he could feel his throat staring to ache and his eyes burning with tears. He breathed until it faded away. When he opened his eyes Alby was still there.

“We only got each other in here, and if- if there’s something you need to see, y’know get it off your chest you should say it.”

Newt shook his head,

”Nah, Mate I need…I need some time I think.”

Alby nodded again and scratched the back of his head.

“Minho worries his shuck ass off about you.”

”I wish he wouldn’t,” Newt laughed dryly.

”I worry my own butt too,” Alby added, Newt’s smile faded. “Don’t get bummed man, what I’m tryna say is, you mean a whole big deal to us, and if you were gone we’d be crying our eyes out. So don’t go anywhere any time soon okay?”

Newt nodded. Alby reached forward and sunk a hand into his hair, ruffling it.

Then Alby got up and left. Newt sighed to himself and reached over for his journal. He flipped it open and started writing again.

I don’t think I spend too much time thinking about how much they want me around. Might do me some good to think on that. Might do me a lot of good actually.

Epilogue.

Newt breathed a big sigh out. He was getting used to the crutches. His leg was all wrapped up and protected. He’d gotten used to swinging around the Glade, visiting all the keepers and their boys. Jeff the new Med-Jack had cushioned over the splintery beam that sat under his armpit, because Newt got awful sore there. No thanks to the builders for makin’ him sutch crap crutches.

Today had been long, he’d stood about watching the boys farm. Then he’d hobbled back to get lunch and headed over to the builders to watch them tack more wood onto the homestead. Spendin’ all his time with the keepers and their boys made him real familiar with all of ‘em. He knew the oldest boys and the greenest of greenies. He was a bit of a popular fellow himself, gettin’ waves and welcomes ever time he showed up anywhere. Newt wrapped up with the builders and headed out. Restin’ every once in a while he made the long trek over to Minho’s door.

Newt waited, leaned against the Maze wall. Minho was trainin’ a new runner, former builder, Ben. He and Minho came out at the same time, both red in the face and pantin’ like dogs. 

Newt tossed them both peaches from the new grove. They took the fruit gratefully, tearing into the fruit. Minho sent Ben along to dinner, and stayed back with Newt.

“How was your day?”

“Bloody boring, but ya know, better than layin’ around in bed, how about you?”

“Fine, Ben’s pretty sloppy, but getting better.”

Minho kicked a rock along as he walked, 

“What do Clint an Jeff say?” Minho asked, 

Newt paused for a moment, breathing hard. Minho, even exhausted from runnin’ all day quickly took Newt’s arm over his shoulder. Newt frowned, leanin’ on him,

“You don’t need to do that,” Newt said.

“Don’t you worry your little butt about it,” Minho grunted, shufflin’ along.

After a while Newt got back on his crutches,

“They say I’ll never be a runner again, busted it up that much, but I’ll be walkin’ fine eventually.”

“Screw Clint and Jeff, you’ll run however much you want.”

“Yeah maybe,” Newt sighed, lazily joinin’ in on Minho’s delusion.

That night back up in his clean white bedsheets Newt said his goodnight to Clint and picked his journal back up.

Well the dog that came up with supplies last month is fitting in nicely. Minho thinks he’s a real funny guy naming it Bark. The sweet thing is real quiet. 

I spent the day with Keepers. Zart is doing real well for himself in the gardens, Nick says he’s probably the top pick for keeper of the Track-Hoes (Stupid name I know, but Minho named it) Either way I hope Zart gets it, the kid certainly deserves it.

My leg is getting better, good as it can I guess. Haven’t had any feelings like going off cliffs anytime soon. Thank god I didn’t think of the real cliff when I was set on jumping a few months ago.

That’s all for tonight you nosy shank.

-Newt

[bagheerita]

finally finished DS9 and decided to post some thoughts in one big blob

I was honestly about to give up on season 7 and put the rest of this show to the side for a few months, but then Ezri and Worf have a 3 episode arc sorting out their relationship, only talking to each other because they're marooned/imprisoned, and I was so charmed by them being loud and messy that I managed to bull my way through to the end. I love the two of them as friends, they are adorable. 

I actually really like Damar and his arc, and it’s pretty rare I say that about a character who killed my favorite. 

I feel like the reason Section 31 exists, and they keep forcing episodes about it upon me, is because they wrote themselves into a corner with inventing the changeling disease to kneecap an unbeatable enemy and didn’t know how else to fix it/end the war except with secret secret spies. 

Ezri has this whole speech she gives to Worf about dismantling structures of power and I feel like they needed to end the show before anyone was like, hey the Federation kind of sucks and we should definitely do that. 

Garak’s mom showed up and everything was good in the world again.

Ezri and Julian are like “can’t deny the chemistry.” lol babes that's called being a young attractive allosexual. "Chemistry" is what Worf and O'Brien have in all the scenes where they're mocking you.

I’ve never felt the truth of the phrase “I support women’s wrongs” so intensely as I do with Kai Winn. I love her and I want to give her everything. I didn't love her getting assaulted by Dukat, but when she knows everything that's happening and chooses the pah-wraiths anyway, yes fuck it up. When she poisoned Dukat I was like, hot damn if this character dies as a footnote in someone else's quest for power I will forgive everything that this show has put me through because of him. But we can't have nice things. I did like that her last act was to choose to take their victory from them, and give Sisko the clue he needed to beat them.

I do love Martok but I feel like he’s going to be about as good a chancellor as Robert Baratheon was a king. 

Odo is The Last Unicorn, but with brain-melding: he’s going to share his experience of loving a mortal with the other immortals. I still don’t “get” him and Kira as a couple, their relationship literally went from -20 to 100% after a single all night conversation locked in Jadzia's bathroom and no actual onscreen development, but at least I believe that they believe they’re in love. 

Why the ever loving fuck is Julian so obsessed with the Alamo. Every time they bring it up I want to grab him and Miles and shake them. I get that it's supposed to be some sort of metaphor for fighting a hopeless war, but really? You want to go up to the fake room where you can do/be literally anything and you're going to repeatedly reenact a battle where you die to defend your right to have slaves and practice settler colonialism??? Even in the last episode they’ve won the real war and they’re still obsessed with reenacting this old battle. They also spend that one episode trying to figure out how to win the Alamo… babes, that actually happened: it’s called the Battle of San Jacinto- learn some actual fucking history, your side won the war. This isn’t about metaphors anymore, the metaphor has failed, now Julian just has a neurosis.

The Dominion War plot line goes on for way too long and there is so little internal emotional catharsis. (Maybe because for me the things that were supposed to be cathartic just induced more rage? 🤔) The ending was fine as far as character wrap ups but felt pretty rushed considering how long it took us to get to this point, and I really think they needed more time to handle the denouement. The overall pacing of the episodes/seasons is terrible: you wasted like a season and a half puttering around, with whole episodes where you forgot to mention the war; you added in mirror-verse episodes without bothering to use them for story or character development; Quark is one of my favorite characters but there are too many episodes about Ferengi shenanigans that do not impact the actual plot; there are whole scenes and arcs dedicated to a character who does not (within the internal logic of the show) exist. And then you slammed all the development into the last half of the last season. I'm not surprised now that I forgot this entire show after watching it while airing because it’s emotionally exhausting. I've compared DS9 to SGA in the past, but the Dominion remind me of the Ori: You've killed the enjoyment I found in this show and have made it a chore to watch.

I do like that what ends the war is Julian’s determination and Odo’s compassion. You've proven the Founders wrong, but this entire plot thread was so poorly handled that I don't know that anyone remembers one mention from four seasons ago about why this war even started and, honestly, standing on a planet where you just murdered millions of children it's kind of not enough. I like that they let Garak kill the last Weyoun, and I adore the scene where he lets Kira take the phaser, but honestly he deserved more. It wouldn't solve anything, and I think there's a nice parallel in Garak's fears inspiring him into attempting genocide being incredible grounded in reality and the Founder's similar fears being negated, but he deserves it, the head Founder deserves to be torn into tiny pieces by grieving Cardassians, and I deserve to watch it. (I also desperately want Garak to find out about Section 31 and the changeling disease just so he can be like, "Oh so when I try to commit genocide I get 6 months in jail, but when the Federation wants to commit genocide that's okay?")

I don’t know who on the production team is so invested in Mark Alaimo getting a paycheck, but by the end Dukat as a character has long outlived any interesting qualities he may have had at one point. The final battle shit with the pah-wraiths was pretty underwhelming; except for the deeper exploration of Winn's motives that this season has allowed for, "The Reckoning" was such a better structured episode. (At least at this point they've let Kira go off and be awesome without being forced into episodes with Dukat. The sheer amount of abusive old men sexually attracted to much younger women in this show is frankly unnecessary; I will never be able to unhear Curzon say he flunked Jadzia from the symbiont program because he wanted to bang her, and Dukat’s relentless pursuit of Kira especially/even after we learn he sexually assaulted her mother is disgusting.) 

I have mixed feelings about Sisko, and his character having a “white savior” role with the Bajorans. Like, I guess it’s a cool twist that he’s a black white savior, maybe that's the best the 90s can do, but also can we decide to not write stories where we give foreigners positions of power over recently subjugated peoples??  I was feeling pretty yikes about it especially after the beginning of this season and learning that he was basically genetically bred by the Prophets for the position, but… I dunno, I’m probably not someone who can or should have a deep opinion about this. I do like that arc for him as a character outside of what it means for the Bajorans, but his ending feels too open. I wish we got to know more about what he learns from hanging out with the Prophets, and I wish that the great "sorrow" he suffers from disregarding the visions felt more concrete. Kassidy is really the only one sad about this, Sisko seems excited to exist outside of time. (And I feel like a lot of the "yikes" of the character could have been fixed by making the character be Bajoran? You wouldn't need to invent a reason why he was chosen by the Prophets. He could even have been raised on Earth and still have those ties, and I think it would have made the pull between his duty as an officer and his duty as the Emissary more interesting. Also can you imagine if Jake and Ziyal were both half Bajoran and hanging out with each other??? But they don't pay me to write shows.)

Why do Miles and Julian have the gayest final montage? It's literally the first of the montages and they start it up over "The Way You Look Tonight" and I was just like... wtf did I accidentally put in a fan video? Miles is the only person in a relationship who has a montage without any mention of their significant other, though I guess Worf's does jump from his first meeting with Sisko straight to season 5 clips so they didn't mention Jadzia either. I love that Miles and Julian have such a deep friendship, and I feel like this show could use more interrogation of the concept of love and the fact that platonic love/friendship is just as important as romantic love, but the production has spent so much time "no homo"ing every relationship they can think of that it just comes off as bizarre. 

All the bts things I’ve read about this show pretty much amount to the production being like “we had no idea what we were doing with this character” which, when combined with the failure to manage season structure and some of the utterly bonkers episodes this show threw out there, leads me to believe that pretty much anything I enjoyed about this show comes from the actors. This is definitely a show I feel like I’m going to be “rewatching” through fanfiction and gif sets before I ever rewatch the entire show again. 

[ninyard]

Heya! I’m new to writing fanfic despite reading for more than half of my life, and I have maybe a silly question: do you get help from a beta? How does one…find that help? 😅 I have a TRC and a TFC fic I need to complete and no godly clue how to find someone to read over what I write so I don’t obsess myself into spirals on my own haha.

I don't personally! But not for any specific reason - I think if literally ANYONE turned around to me and said they would be cool with beta reading my fics I would LOVE that shit. With the amount of mistakes I miss even after half a dozen rereads, I probably should have one lol

In general what I do is just step away from things for a day or two once I think they're finished, then read through it all, and if I trip up over anything in my brain, or find anything that feels a bit too wordy/like a mouthful, I'll revise it. I hate second drafts with a PASSION but for my first draft I usually write out the whole thing, with its bare bones, and fill in the gaps later. If you get stuck on something, just move on and come back to it later. Need to describe another character but don't know what to do? Just write 'He had blue eyes and brown hair' and move on. Things like that. It's so much easier to come back to it and fix it then fixating on it and getting nowhere. (i do a lot of additions in my edits, hence how my most recent fic went from 13k words in the first draft to 18k after the edit.)

I'm one of those losers that gets inspired by reading my own writing, so stepping away from fics when you think you've spent too much time spiralling over it, to come back to it later, is a LIFESAVER. Things you thought you were stuck on will get so much clearer once your brain has had a break, once you've """forgotten""" the exact words you wrote down. Read it from the beginning like it's your first time reading it, read every word, and if something takes you out of it, then figure out why and fix it.

Most importantly try not to be too worried about numbers and other peoples' opinions. It's easy to become discouraged when you're 5 chapters into a fic and it feels like nobody is reading it or liking it, but write for yourself!

Practice makes better, because it’ll never be perfect. Just have fun, don’t take it too seriously, and write what you want to read. Make a post and tag the fandom on it asking if anyone wants to be a beta reader, or maybe ask if anyone wants to “swap” (you beta read theirs and they read yours). I don’t know though!!!! I have never ever written with a beta reader so I don’t really have any advice there:((

I'm sorry I know you didn't ask for advice and I hope this doesn’t come across as rude or anything. We all start somewhere!! Here’s snippets from a fic I wrote in 2016 vs a different one I wrote this year.

Everybody starts somewhere, I’ve been writing fics for like 12 years and I still doubt if my writing is any good. Sure, validation is nice, but you have to trust yourself (and like your own stuff!!). and if you feel worried about your writing just keep going!!!! You’ll find your style and settle into it but just trust yourself and have fun my friend!! You’ve got this<3

(This got way too long and I rambled too much I’m so sorry)

[jadetheblueartist]

hey :) how did you know and/or find out you were autistic?

Thanks for the question, anon!

Now, some of this stuff may not be relevant, but I’ll just take you through it anyway (in case we are the exact same person or something hahaha).

The very first time I ever really heard of autism was several years ago when I was talking to my mom about something that happened in my brain. I was like, “Yeah, so when I think of the number seven, I see green.” And she was like “Oh, really?” and then went on little thing about how she was pretty sure this was a symptom of something that geniuses had (I now know she was literally referencing synesthesia [“when your brain routes sensory information through multiple unrelated senses, causing you to experience more than one sense simultaneously” -Cleveland Clinic] and Sheldon Cooper hahaha). While I believe there is a correlation with synesthesia and autism, synesthesia is not part of the diagnostic material and would not be used as “evidence.”

The next thing was about a year ago. I was on Pinterest taking random quizzes, as you do, and I stumbled upon an autism quiz. So I, not really knowing what autism was, was like ooh yay another quiz. So I took it and it said I had moderate autistic traits. So I was like oh interesting and told my therapist this. Therapist was like, “ummmm okay maybe… but that is a single random quiz from Pinterest. It’s probably just social anxiety.” So I was like oh yeah okay and then moved on.

A few months after that, I was on Pinterest again and scrolling through some My Hero Academia stuff when I saw this list of reasons why they headcanonned Midoriya as autistic. So I was like, “Um. That’s what autism is? That just kinda sounds like me…” so I saved it because it was cool and scrolled down to related pins. Then I found a list as to why that person headcannoned Aoyama as autistic. So again, I read through and was like “… guys this is just me.” That is what sprung the deep dive. For the next several days I did literally nothing but watch all of the videos I could find of autistic people explaining their experiences, traits of autism, autistic masking, video essays of why rottmnt donnie is great autism representation, etc. I simultaneously wrote down every single thing I related to on a massive list. Then I got to my next therapy session. I spent the whole hour presenting as much of the information I could, and by the end, Therapist was like “hmmm, well I don’t really do diagnoses so I’m not super familiar with this. But we can go over the DSM-5 breakdown next week if you want.” So I was like, yes of course, and began prepping more.

In that week, I did some reflecting on my childhood and asking my family about my childhood (since I don’t have too many memories). Then I made a list of all of the childhood things that could be autistic traits (example: I spent all of my weekends researching ancient Egyptian Pharaoh Tutankhamen, lining up all of my brothers action figures for hours, I couldn’t stand the feeling of a super soft blanket on my hands or feet, etc). (Also at this time, I told my best friend about it and she was like “hahaha what do you mean? You’re too smart for that” so you can be autistic and have good grades? You can also be autistic and have bad grades bc they are not mutually exclusive :D anyway back to the main chunk) Icame back to therapy prepared and ready to go and we went through the criteria. At the end, therapist was like, “I can’t diagnose you, however, you do fit all of the diagnostic criteria” and I was like “ahhhh sick I knew it.”

So then I was like “Hey, Mom and Dad, I’m almost 100% percent sure I am autistic but I would like to get an official diagnosis. What do you think about that?” I wanted a diagnosis mainly to combat the gosh darn imposter syndrome (it kind of helps but the imposter syndrome is still there!! Ahhhhhh /lh) And since neither of them had any actual clue about autism, they were confused and not sure about it. I got them to agree by appealing to their practical side and said an official diagnosis could help me get job accommodations if I needed it. Plus it’s a lot easier to do it before you become an adult, so I should figure it out soon. Eventually they agreed and we got the ball rolling.

I was super excited bc everything said that the whole diagnosis process generally takes up to two years, but our doctor got us an appointment in a few weeks. Come to find out, he was just making sure we had any sort of valid reason so he could refer us somewhere to get the diagnosis. That was a bit of a bummer but it was still chill. We eventually got an appointment with this one place that actually diagnosed and again I was excited.

We went in for the initial appointment to figure out scheduling bc I had to do a few different appointments in total. The lady that would be administering the testing was about to leave that practice in a few months though (this was in November and she was leaving at the end of December). But she said she wanted to get it done herself so she just got us in quickly. We also somehow managed to finish what should’ve been a few hours long testing in an hour so I guess I’m just really good at autism hahaha (it’s probably bc we did the paperwork tests outside of the appointment).

Then in early January (she had already left by then but gave the report to someone else) we got the results, and I got my official autism diagnosis. It was a good day ^^

So yeah that’s basically my whole story. If you wanted me to go more into detail with anything like a DSM-5 criteria breakdown or something I would be more than happy to :))))) autism is a special interest of mine, after all.

This was really fun, Anon! Thanks so much for the ask and feel free to ask anything else you are curious about ^^

[trickstarbrave]

i wrote more concubine au stuff.

this is part 2, you can find part 1 here

i dont know why this has such a vice grip on my brain

once again content warnings for abuse being discussed, sexual assaulted mentioned, slavery, drugs mentioned. that will prob be for the whole concubine au even tho its mostly horny shenanigans of acting like they are concubine and master

--

Voryn waited anxiously for Nerevar to wake up, looking over the report the healers gave him. 

After being stripped, Nerevar had far more injuries on him. A few burn marks. Whip marks that healed and scarred poorly. Heavy bruising both internal and external on his stomach from being kicked repeatedly. Showing some signs of malnutrition. His body also showed signs that he was developing a dependance on skooma and was also taking, as the healer noted, “some hack-job birth control potion no one should be drinking, let alone so often”. 

It made Voryn feel sick to his stomach. His bright, shining guard and closest friend had suffered so much--and for what? His heritage that he had no control over? Because some smug bastard saw his pretty face and wanted him all to himself? Had Voryn known this would happen, he wouldn’t have let Nerevar out of his sight. He would have sent Gilvoth away from the stronghold and kept Nerevar close. 

Of course, such feelings of anxiety, hatred, and a desire violence that had been stewing in him the past 24 hours were not just due to seeing his friend suffer. 

Gods, Voryn was heartbroken that the man he had been so painfully in love with had been hurt so severely. Voryn would have done anything to switch places--to bear that suffering in his stead. But then he felt selfish for feeling such a way. Was he truly angry that Nerevar suffered? Or was he subconsciously angry it meant he had even less of a chance to truly tell Nerevar how he felt and have a relationship with him? That only compounded his guilt and made him more miserable. Did he have a right to be so upset over what Nerevar went through? Was he overstepping boundaries? Being upset for all the wrong reasons? Voryn didn’t know. Perhaps he never would. 

“Lord Dagoth,” A healer came, giving a short bow. “Nerevar has awoken.” Those three words spurred him into action and terrified him all at once. Did Voryn have any clue what he was going to say to Nerevar? Not one. He had no idea how to approach this, what to say, or how to comfort him. Yet he found himself drawn to the room, unable to stop the hurried steps, anxiously and desperately wanting to be close to him again. 

The room was quiet as he entered. Nerevar laid there, eyes closed, but the position he was in and the faster rise and fall of his chest gave away that he wasn’t asleep. 

“Nerevar…” Voryn breathed, moving to kneel beside his bed before taking Nerevar’s hand carefully. In response, Nerevar gave a firm squeeze back, his eyes cracking open to look at Voryn. 

“... Hey.” Nerevar croaked, giving a half hearted grin. Voryn gave a soft smile back, his heart swelling. Gods, despite everything Nerevar was still the same, wasn’t he? Trying to grin and act strong and cunning, just as he always did. 

“How are you feeling?” Voryn asked, unsure of how to start the conversation. 

“... Like shit.” Nerevar sighed, closing his eyes again. “Nothing new with me lately though… I usually feel like shit when I wake up.” Nerevar smiled softly again, his thumb stroking against Voryn’s hand. “The healers gave me something for the pain so… Hopefully I’ll be feeling better soon.” 

“Gods do I hope so…” Voryn breathed, gingerly stroking some of the hair from his face. “Even with the healers you will need time to recover, so just for now… Focus on resting, alright?” Voryn would even join the healers if needed, making a variety of potions to help heal Nerevar’s body. But the most important thing he needed right now was rest—lots and lots of rest.

Nerevar shifted slightly with a soft groan. Voryn hushed him gently, helping him move to a more comfortable position. He was thankful he had them keep the lighting low, the curtains drawn shut and very few else. No doubt his head was throbbing after being so intoxicated.

“Did you… Kill the bastard?” Nerevar asked, his voice quiet.

“The Morag Tong took care of it.” Voryn answered. “Perfectly legal and above board. Though I doubt House Dres will kick a fuss about him being dead.”

Nerevar gave a heavy sigh, though Voryn could tell it wasn’t in relief. His face was still twisted in the way it always was when he was thinking over a difficult problem.

“If it were that easy I would have just murdered him and run away.” Voryn raised an eyebrow. He had assumed the man was careful around Nerevar, keeping him bound in chains until he was physically too weak to put up a fight. If Nerevar had the chance to kill him and run, he thought Nerevar would have taken it. “Legally though, I am a slave.” He sounded disgusted saying such a thing. 

“What happened exactly?” Voryn asked, now eager to hear the full story. If there was a problem with their situation, full context would help him sort it out rather than leaving Nerevar to stew on it.

“I went to the mainland looking for work. Ran into my uncle who was working as a scribe or something for some nobles. He seemed to feel rather guilty about just up and leaving me in Kogoruhn, so he offered a bed for a few days while I looked for work…” Nerevar sighed.

“Had he been lying?”

“No—no, he was being honest. I stayed. Had some food. We discussed my mother a bit but to be honest I didn’t want to find out all that much about her or anything.” Nerevar’s mother was a sore spot for him. All he knew was she just left to go hunting one day and never came back without giving him so much as a goodbye. He didn’t have many fond memories of her because of this, and didn’t enjoy talking about her. “But it seems my stay managed to piss off the Ra’athim noble he worked for. He ended up getting stabbed—non lethally at least—for hiding me. I ended up in chains the second I woke up in my shitty little apartment I rented.”

“And they shipped you off to House Dres.”

“Exactly.” Nerevar groaned. “That bastard Anaryl was the first noble to look at me. He thought he might be able to just send me to the saltrice plantations or even force me to work as a guard, but during my… ‘Physical’,” Nerevar nearly gagged just saying that word. Voryn didn’t need to be told the details—they likely had him stripped down in front of the noble without even a thread to cover him. “He took a… Special interest in me we’ll say and decided to take me home.”

He no doubt saw Nerevar as some kind of fetish and conquest, something that made Voryn’s blood boil. But he tried to remain calm, letting Nerevar continue.

“After that I tried nearly everything to get away. Tried sneaking out. Tried bribing guards with sex. Bribing city guards—fucking anything…” Nerevar put his arm over his eyes, looking ashamed and defeated. “They didn’t help me out, not out of fear of Anaryl--they refused because they knew the other House Dres nobles would come after them if they did. Anaryl could die a thousand deaths or even be murdered by some skooma addict in broad daylight and they wouldn’t give a shit. But they did care about keeping me in chains.”

“Why you in particular…?”

“The Ra’athim clan took a pretty big offense to me going free, I guess.” Nerevar sighed. “Or at least that noble had a major stick up his ass… He paid them good money and told them if I’m seen walking free there would be hell to pay. Said it was disgraceful I was allowed to serve as a free guard for a great house and got tutored alongside their young lord.” Voryn’s eyebrow twitched, more rage bubbling away inside him. They were using the fact he cared for Nerevar against him, trying to punish him further all because Voryn didn’t see him as lesser. 

Perhaps if Voryn hadn’t been so attached and affectionate, this wouldn’t have happened. But Voryn refused to dwell on that thought, shoving it aside. He refused to blame himself for this. How was it his fault he wanted to be with his friend? That he had a crush on the white haired chimer with such a mischievous little smile and even more sly personality? It wasn’t. It was the stupid, bitter Ra’athim clan who clung onto blood purity like the foolish Altmer in the isles their people left long ago. They saw Nerevar—a gorgeous, intelligent, powerful mer—and decided his existence disproved their warped ideology, so they wanted to bring him low.

“And after my constant attempts at breaking out, I made more than a few enemies among the Dres nobles…Not to mention some others in the house are starting to speak up against slavery, which is threatening their profits.” Nerevar made a disgusted look. “You killing Anaryl they’ll have no problems with, especially with the guild. They expected him to die sooner or later. What they will have a problem with is you stealing a high value, expensive slave of theirs and trying to set him free. They’ll take it personally, and march up here ready to drag me back.”

“They—“ Voryn opened his mouth to snap that they would take Nerevar over his dead body, but he knew this was more serious than that. If this had been the Telvanni they would have let it go. Voryn killed a man and took what he was owed. If they found traces linking Voryn back to the ‘theft’ he could offer a trade to have them look the other way: spell scrolls, ancient tomes, some dirt on enemies, Dwemer metal, or even just gold depending. But House Dres were stubborn and would appeal to the courts rather than sort it out themselves. And Voryn knew legally they would win that case, regardless of what he wanted. Voryn would be let go with nothing more than a slap on his wrist given his status, but they would drag Nerevar back and punish him even more.

“… What do you suggest?” Voryn asked, his voice low once more, now hollow. He thought he had done everything right: he found Nerevar, killed the man holding him, and brought him to safety. He couldn’t bear having Nerevar ripped from his arms again.

“… I had a few plans in mind.” Nerevar began, removing his arm. “Very specific plans I was never able to put into motion, but now with some freedoms… They may work, though they’re less ideal.”

Of course. Clever, clever Neht would have been thinking ways out of this.

“What plan do you think would be the best?” Voryn asked. “Whatever it is, I’ll make sure it happens.”

Nerevar gave another long, drawn out sigh, closing his eyes.

“House Dres won’t stand to let me go free.” He began. “And they didn’t think highly of Anaryl, not trusting his judgment.” No doubt if Dres Anaryl hadn’t been the first person to lay eyes on Nerevar, the rest of the nobles wouldn’t have let Nerevar fall into his hands. “But we can use that against them.”

“How so?” Voryn raised an eyebrow.

“You can forge documents that make it look like he sold you to me.” Voryn blinked. “They’d have less of a legal case against you. The only problem will be they’d doubt it, and want to see it in person.” Voryn had to pause his thinking, letting the sentence sink in. Just as it was dawning on him what Nerevar was suggesting, Nerevar continued. “They might try to claim it’s fake at first and catch you out on it, but if they see you treating me like a slave and concubine, they’ll have even less in court.”

It was true. Even if they tried to take it to court, any judge would roll their eyes and send them out. Voryn would have the slave paperwork in order, no witnesses to the ‘deal’ being made, and treated Nerevar as a slave. As far as the court would be concerned, they’d have no proof of actual theft. Dres Anaryl was sometimes quite foolish, making poor deals or losing coin gambling. They can dislike it all they want, but as far as a judge would be concerned they would just be making a fuss over a shitty deal Anaryl made himself, throwing around accusations to try and double cross Voryn.

“Not to mention, since I’m disliked by several of them,” Nerevar continued, “They’d probably get a sick thrill knowing my ‘former friend’ bought me and was using me. To the point they’d laugh it off and go home, regardless of if you ‘stole’ me or not.” Another valid point, using their own sadism against them would be beneficial. There was only one problem with the plan that had Voryn so tense:

It meant treating Nerevar as a concubine. Flirting with him, touching him, kissing and groping at him… Probably more, to make it seem convincing. 

What torture it would be to have to touch and hold the man he loved dearly, but have to act like he didn’t mean it in private. Would he be able to stay sane? Would the mask slip? 

No. Voryn couldn’t afford to worry about that now. He could unpack it later, deal with it on his own time. Right now this was their safest bet to keep Nerevar safe. Once they left, Nerevar could enjoy a few years of peace in Kogoruhn before they figured out a new act to allow Nerevar freedom.

“… If you think it would be for the best,” 

“Voryn,” Nerevar reached over, taking his hand once again and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “If you don’t want to, I can think of something else.”

“No no,” Voryn shook his head, “Your plan is sound. If anything I’m just… Afraid I’ll hurt you more in our act. That’s all.” He could give a little white lie. Say he was only concerned for Nerevar’s sake alone.

Nerevar gave another soft smile, warmth dancing in his eyes. “We can take some precautions.” Nerevar reassured him. “Lay down some ground rules of what’s completely off the table. Get a safe word or two. Not to mention practice before they come knocking at our door.”

Ah, already the word ‘our’ was making Voryn’s heart flutter. But he shoved that feeling down; he could savor that tender affection for later, in the privacy of his own room.

“Well, I’m certainly thankful I was trained in seduction and torture then.” Voryn joked, earning a snort from Nerevar. “I suppose those skills will finally be of use.”

“I guess they will.” Nerevar gave a lopsided grin back, before reaching out to affectionately stroke Voryn’s cheek. “… I also trust you more than anyone.” Nerevar’s voice was soft and tender now, vulnerable. “I know you’ll take care of me and protect me.”

“I will.” Voryn swore, holding Nerevar’s hand to his cheek. “I’ll do whatever it takes. We’ll figure out our roles and how we’ll act once you’ve healed up and I’ve sorted out the paperwork.” Voryn could have kissed Nerevar from how beautiful he looked with that expression, but he held himself back. Instead he savored the feeling of Nerevar’s hand against his face, resolving himself to do everything to keep Neht here, right where he belonged.

[noforkingclue]

Dead or Alive- Chapter 11 (James Bond x reader)

Dead or Alive tag list: @slayerofthevampire, @jxvipike, @little-miss-cherry-cola

James Bond tag list: @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

It should’ve been an easy job.

On paper it was exactly what you were looking for. Someone wanted you to test out their security systems. While there were official channels for them to go through they wanted someone a bit more… underhand. To test things that went against the grain a bit. In hindsight, that should’ve been your first clue.

You were sitting crossed legged on your bed and drummed your fingers against your knee. You ran your other hand over your face as you tried to figure out your next step. Really, you should’ve been more careful.

Most people, when they got a virus on their laptop would go to an expert to get it cleared. However, you were an expert and nothing you could. You had tried everything you could think of and now your laptop was practically useless. You grimaced as the bright blue screen and resisted the urge to throw the laptop at the wall. You held your head in your hands as you cursed yourself for being so stupid. When you looked up you felt your blood turn to ice.

Well, this is awkward isn’t it?

You glared at the writing. Your fingers hovered just above the keys and your bit your lip as you tried to figure out what to type. Eventually you wrote,

Clever trick.

Thank you

Now can I have my laptop back?

Why should I?

I helped you out and this is how your repay me?

You frowned and narrowed your eyes.

If you have the ability to do this then why did you need me in the first place.

I wanted to see how good you are

What now?

I’ll be in touch. Don’t think that you can get out of this so easily.

Out of what?

You blinked and the blue screen suddenly disappeared, your original home screen replacing it. Out of what? What exactly had you gotten yourself into? You should’ve known that this job was too job to be true. You should’ve gone with you brain and not thinking about your dwindling bank account. You could’ve taken a couple more slightly lower paid jobs and you would’ve been in the clear. Now you were stuck on the receiving end of some madman.

Was this how your spooky friends saw you?

*

In Q’s line of work it was actually a benefit not to have too much of a conscience. It was something that most people learnt to abandon sooner rather than later. People who didn’t tended not to last very long in this profession. However, now he felt the unpleasant coil in guilt in his stomach and Bond’s triumphant smirk wasn’t helping matters.

Maybe it was, deep down, because he actually liked you. He had gotten to know you over the course of your involvement with them. Or maybe it was because he was enjoying the cat and mouse game you were providing and he didn’t want it to be over. He knew that bond was enjoying the challenge as well, even though he was too prideful to admit it.

“Now then,” said Bond, “blackmail the blackmailer.”

“Now we wait,” said Q, “and see what she does.”

[pastafossa]

as someone who has written over 130 chapters for TRT (big fan ofc omg i love you and your writing and your story so much) what's your advice for someone who's feeling burnt out after only the 3rd chapter. Like the plot is clear and I want to write it so bad but I just...don't write. And it's getting annoying

is this like a substance you're injected with? Is it the same as the determination in undertale? what keeps you going?

I am indeed an experimental subject, injected early on with a proprietary blend of ADHD Hyperfixation and Crow Brain Wanting To Show Readers The Shiny Thing conveyed into my brain by a base blend of high-caffeine coffee, you too can have this blend for the low low price of Procrastinating Household Tasks While Also Being Distracted By Shiny Things. Act now and we'll give you the free gift of Insomnia (tm)!

Ok but in reality - first, thank you so much anon! I'm so happy you enjoy the story!

First, I have good news - on TRT's full page index, you'll see: I burned out early on when things got busy in my life. I went almost two years after chapter four before I came back in Jan 2021 and began updating every week. So it happens to everyone sometimes, me included!

There are a couple of things I learned to help prevent burnout though, little things that have helped me keep going this long:

For me one of the blocks was perfectionism. I was editing as I wrote, essentially, judging the literally unfinished product before I was done, and that was stressful and exhausting. It's a bit like moping over a cake's appearance while all the ingredients are still in the bowl. 'This doesn't look like a cake, it's going to taste terrible, why do I bother' but I haven't even baked or frosted it yet! Once I learned, truly, that it's ok to have a messy rough draft, things got easier and less stressful, and it made burnout less likely.

I like to think happy thoughts about the chapter! I think about how exciting it will be for readers to read a romantic moment, or what they'll do with clues I leave, or how they'll react to a wicked cliffhanger. I basically pump myself up for chapters when needed the same way I would when I'm going to give someone a surprise gift or cook them something.

Include in the fic tropes you want to see! It's no secret with TRT that along with the more serious plotlines and romance, it's also me exploring some of my absolute favorite tropes - cuddle for warmth, slow burn, drunken almost-kiss, the Big Declaration Of Love While Unconscious, the mad scientist, etc. I get so excited about the chance to write those tropes, and because I've outlined the plot, I know how close they are, and I try to sprinkle them through at regular intervals as a treat for myself. These are carrots for you to help prevent burnout because holy shit you want to get to the treat, you want to chase it like a cat with a laser pointer, it's right there, all you need to do is go through a few more chapters, go get it! gogogogogogogogo

This is the hard one - there are some days I'm just like ggrrrr don't want to. And whenever possible, I force myself to do it anyway. It's miserable and it sucks, each word is like pulling teeth in the beginning. But the good thing I've found is that once I pushed through it early on, I was able to build momentum, and it got easier. It was like my brain figured out, 'well she's going to make me write anyway so I may as well just get it over with.' It's very important to remember point 1 when you do this - a chapter you're struggling on will most likely feel bad or terrible, you'll be convinced no one will read it. BUT everything can be fixed in editing, and most people will have no idea you struggled with it. I've got some chapters I wrote out like that in TRT and they fit in perfectly!

Outlineeee, outline outline outline. I hate outlining but it's important for a reason - because when I'm like 'I LITERALLY DO NOT HAVE THE BRAIN CAPACITY TO PLAN THIS' I don't actually have to. Because I have the outline, the roadmap, and I've already figured out what needs to happen. All I have to do is write down what happens, and then make it pretty, the same way going by a recipe is easier than trying to come up with a new dish yourself. <3

Honestly I don't judge anyone who struggles with chapter fics, and what I've done with TRT is very unusual. I won't lie though, it teaches you TONS about writing. This is most of the stuff I've learned and use to avoid burnout!

[eudikot]

I was looking through my files and discovered a mp100 Serizawa fic I forgot I wrote. I have no clue if this was supposed to be part of a larger idea, but after giving a quick glance over what I wrote to make sure there were no glaring errors it seems like it's rather complete even if not fully revised. BUT I do know this image is from this idea so without further rambling here's the little fic:

In Unnatural Places

Serizawa had always been inside.

He started that way, hiding the world from his powers. Hiding himself from the world. Alone and dark, where nothing could be hurt.

Suzuki offered him a way out. Outside of the walls where he knew every crack and every piece of chipped paint. But even though he left his room, he never left the confines of the inside world. He should've known that an umbrella opened indoors would only bring bad luck, but who was he to turn away the first person who proved that he could be normal?

Outside his room was inside more walls. The enclosed areas were safe, as if everything outside of them did not exist. It was contained in a size that Serizawa could handle, not the infinite land and sky that he occasionally saw through a window. The only times that they truly went outside were in the short minutes between building and car, or train, or plane, or boat. From one solitary enclosed space to a moving one. In the end, it was all the same. He had learned how to function without his umbrella when inside, the walls simply functioning as a bigger umbrella, but the moment he stepped outside it went up, no matter the weather. He might as well have been a vampire, shielding himself from the sun, but in reality, it was the noises, the light, the smell, the bodies, the plants, the animals, the skyscrapers, the cars, the pavement, the sun, the clouds, the way the Earth rotated despite the ground staying still. It was too much, and it would never be enough. Not under Suzuki's watch.

Then, he got in the way. The memories of a kid who had experienced it all bounced around in his brain. The way flowers smelled in spring, the joy of the warm sun on your skin, the sounds of children laughing and playing. There were still bad moments in those memories, but they were undertones compared to the moments spent in happiness. Something to consider, to grow from. Serizawa had never had the time to develop those thoughts. Inside, the building was pristine, not a single crack lacing its walls. Suzuki was there, ensuring that this inside was just like all of the others he had been in. Safe, comfortable, known. These new memories displayed the outside clear to see. The ground torn up, building collapsed, not a person in sight. It was nothing like the glimpses he got while walking to the car. It was the signs of a power out of control.

The same person that gave him his umbrella took it away. He no longer had his safety net, and no longer his supervisor. It was back to the start, an uncatered bomb ready to shift and ignite. It was back to the walls he knew, the only place he could keep everyone safe.

Then he came. The one that Serizawa had forfeited his life for. Reigen showed him that the world was nothing to fear, that one step at a time, he too could learn to enjoy things both inside and out. It had been raining the first day he went into the office. Newly re-acquainted to society, there had been no time to explore how he could buy an umbrella for himself. They had walked downstairs when Regien noticed, opening his umbrella outside and turning back to the doorway. His hand reached out, umbrella loose in his grip. Reigen told him to take it, that he'd get wet and catch a cold and that if he did that meant he couldn't work. Serizawa didn't want to miss work. He carefully took the umbrella from his hand, thinking about how much lighter it felt than his old one. Looking up, he could see the rain accumulating on its surface. Beyond that, the buildings, the trees, the cloudy sky. He was covered, yet he could still see the outside world.

Reigen declined taking it back once Serizawa realized this meant that he now had no umbrella, insisting that his immense power would keep him from getting cold. There wasn't much of an argument, for who could question his logic?

The rain didn't let up as Serizawa walked home. Water began to pool on the sidewalks, an interesting phenomenon. It didn't belong there, it belonged in lakes and rivers and streams. If it was supposed to stay there, then it would have been there this morning when he went to work. He crouched down to examine it, a reflection of himself looking back. Although it looked happy, smiling and laughing. He did not feel that way. His heart still ached. And yet, the reflection seemed to speak to him, as if saying that it takes time. But what was “it” and how much time?

He closed his eyes like the version of him in the reflection, trying to think about what could make him feel that way. There wasn't much that came to mind, as his world had been shifted again and again.

 "Serizawa," a familiar voice called out. He looked around, unable to see a source through the rain.

 "Hello?"

"Serizawa what are you doing?"

He looked down. The image in the puddle had changed, and instead of being still it moved. Pale skin, dark eyes, ginger hair. It was no longer him, but rather…

 "Reigen, how are you in a puddle?"

"What? I'm not- I'm in my apartment, looking at you through a portal- or something of the likes."

 "Oh." Serizawa didn't know what to say. Usually he hated the feeling of not knowing, but with Puddle-Reigen here, somehow it all felt okay.

"Okay, well, why don't we figure this out tomorrow. I'm tired. Goodnight Serizawa," He said, his body shifting out of frame before being placed right back and center.

"Okay. Goodnight, Reigen." He stood up, watching the reflection fizzle away. It all felt like a dream, like maybe he was going crazy and talking to himself. A buzz went off in his pocket and he fished out the phone, also something Reigen had given him. It was a little old and beat up, but he had said that as his employee he needed some way to communicate when they were not in the same room together.

-Maybe you didn't need a phone after all [6:47, Reigen]

Serizawa smiled at every puddle as he continued his walk home. Maybe things in wrong places weren't actually bad, but rather something special exactly where you need it.

[oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat]

hiii i absolutely adore your poetry known poem, but i really want to know more about it,, could you talk a it about it please...

Hi! And yes, I would love to. You're my first ever ask, so this is kinda cool :D

Beware, this is very long.

Okay, this is basically a sort-of-analysis of my own poem. If you want to analyze it yourself, just remember to tag me because I'd love to see it!

Anyway, so I wrote it during the aftermath of a panic attack. So, I was calming down from being very distressed about something and poetry helps me. So I thought: maybe it's poetry time? And my brain agreed, it was poetry time.

I first came up with the title. My brain was set in what I call "poetry madness mode", which is whenever I end up writing poems. Idk where the idea of Poetry Known came from, but I thought it was cool so I just went with it.

From there, I wrote the first stanza. Originally, I was only going to do the one lil stanza, but then poet brain said 'nah you aint done yet' and I wrote more. Idk why exactly, but apathy has the colour of grey to me. So that's where that came from. The line, "But you, my dear, are new to me" is kind of me saying 'I havent seen you before, or maybe it's just been a while'. You'll see why in a moment.

Next stanza: originally the line, "Ink so thick, it bends" was going to something different, but it just didn't sound right for the poem. It originally was going to be, "Ink so red, blood so thick- it bends". Maybe I'll save that line for another time. Mostly this stanza is about me writing in general, how it feels to write in present time.

The third stanza was a bit of an allusion to past childhood experiences, an indirect reference to Child Me lying to myself about my situation as a way to cope. Deep down, I knew it wasn't true or good, but I so desperately wanted to believe it so I choose denial over honesty.

The fourth stanza... I honestly have no clue where that came from, nor what it means. All I know is that it hits hard for me, and idk why.

The next stanza, number five: it's more of a reference to how writing was for me in the past, as a kid. How I treated others. How I contradicted myself. How my belief of how people are was contradicting itself, and how I didn't stay true to it deep down. More of a reference to middle school me. I find it almost poetic, in a way.

Stanza Number Six: this is literally just me calling myself out on my past bs. My apathy was a mask to hide feelings and protect myself, but it never truly worked well. It's the "remains of a cremated past" because it's all the words/rules I was taught in a not-great household. And I thought, for the longest time, that was just how it normally went. And I was terrified of breaking those 'rules'.

The seventh stanza was me saying (again) how I wasn't as apathetic as Past Me swore they were. I was so convinced I was 'thunderous'- creepy and scary, and kind of an asshole. That's how I saw myself, as a bad person. But I was still incredibly kind and generous, and I couldn't bear the thought of being mean to others. If I was so dark and horrible, then why would I skip class to help others through a bad episode? Why did I compliment and remain kind to all the f*cked up and rude kids, the ones who almost never showed me kindness in return? I gave light to others even when I couldn't spare any at all. I was a safe place (I learned later in high school because those I helped literally told me) to others.

Number Eight: idk what this one is about exactly, but I'm pretty sure it's just me addressing Past Me. Saying that I was my own friend, in a way. Not much to add otherwise.

The final stanza, number nine: it's short and simple, and I really like this little couplet. It's basically telling myself that when I'm ready to look at myself and figure myself out, when I'm ready to be honest about/with myself- then I will find solace. I will be at home, truly at home, and I'll be safe and loved and okay. That I will get what I give others, one day. Someday, whenever I'm ready to start that journey.

Overall, this is basically me talking to/about my past self and my misguided child self.

I really liked how it turned out.

Thanks @fayestales for the ask! If you have any more questions or things you wanna say, just ask away.

See ya around!

[adventurer-gearld]

'speaking of a sky that isn’t powered by electricity' somehow got me as such a beautiful phrase...

wait!!! but what about pearl?? :0 does she get her own memory thing?? ...do they not form off the hook at all ??? D: or does she get along with marina because of the connection they were supposed to have in the future???

Oh thank you! I pulled that phrase out of my brain 👍

Pearl is there! She is having a time all right

Pearl woke up and was going to greet someone good morning, only to remember she lives alone. It slips her mind as she gets ready for the day. Pearl woke up with a longing for a name on the tip of her tongue, for a face that’s just out reach.

She keeps looking to the side to tell a joke, or give commentary, nobody is there, why would there be? A flash of teal in the corner of her eye causes her to search for who’s wearing it, it’s never the right person, who is the right person?

She finds herself waiting for someone to step through the door and help when she’s stuck on lyrics. Getting more food than she can eat, setting the table for 2, asking for the second opinion of someone who she can’t name.

Then the clues started, they strung her along. Mount Nantai is where you met her. Pearl went there, nobody was waiting, why would she be waiting? You started a band with her, what’s it called? Off.. off the something, you can’t recall, but you want to make it again. You became the reporters for Inkopolis news with her, you wrote songs, you lived in the same house, you care deeply about her. Who is she? What is her name? You want to remember the name of your partner.

Finally, a clue that lead to a sewer drain made its appearance, it confused her but she recognized the area nonetheless. There’s an old cabin, and a table with people surrounding it. You see her, and you remember.

Marina, the one you love.

And Marina was being sad. She can’t even get close to contacting Pearl because how do you contact one of the richest people in the city?

Once reunited, they do reform Off the Hook, and using their already made songs, plus new ones, they manage to retake their place as reporters for the news in time for Splatoon 2.