#i have so many angst & whump drafts to get through

[asteria7fics]

I’m feeling uncharacteristically sentimental right now, so I’m gonna capitalize on it and make my personal RANT girl appreciation post! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

As I’m sure many of you have seen, I’ve found myself with the incredible fortune of befriending three of the coolest girlies that allow me to be utterly INSANE in chat. They are THE hype masters, and honestly I don’t think I would have even considered posting RSB had they not all boosted my confidence with their encouragement.

If you’re somehow unaware of my wonderful RANT Park girlies, then let me introduce you while I muse about how talented and wonderful they all are!!!

@1moreoffkeyanthem

Riley, the first letter and for me, the person that started it all. I don’t think I would have ever met the other girls had she not been so lovely in the comments of TSOB in its earliest chapters. Just knowing that someone out there was finding something to enjoy in my silly, self-indulgent fic really kept me going, both with continuing to post TSOB and during the drafting process of EWILY.

There’s a reason I’m constantly screaming at you guys to read Riley’s work. Every fic hits. Every. Single. One, and the queen has MANY to choose from. I have yet to find a PCE fic that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy. Between the beautiful prose, the perfect character dynamics and the level of creativity required to not only create deeply engrossing AUs, but to make so many of them bite-sized and easily digestible. I frequently marvel at her ability to pull me into her worlds in just a few sentences, every single time.

Don’t even get me started on the quality of whump. I’m not even a whump girl, or at least I never thought I was but man, I really am not joking when I say I think I’ve been converted. Riley helped me see the light you guys, and she can help you see it, too.

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it a million times more. IF YOU AREN’T READING PCE WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING???

And you can read Riley’s work right here!

@alwaysinstyle

Ana, the sickfic queen herself. Walking hand in hand through the hurt/comfort tag with Riley and absolutely carrying the fandom on their backs while they do it. The day Ana joined Tumblr was the day everything truly came together, and we literally would not shut up about missing her for the week that she was away from us!!!

Though I’ve only been able to scratch the surface of Ana’s writing, I am already consistently blown away by her works. She may very well be the smartest person I have ever met, and my god does she bring that incredible intelligence to everything she writes. Always the perfect word, always the most beautiful flow and poignant moments that have made me frequently and audibly gasp. I mean it when I say my greatest shame is that I hadn’t started reading her work sooner.

When I tell you guys that you need to bring tissues to the function when Ana is there, I MEAN IT!! Do not take this warning lightly!!! You WILL cry, and you’ll be better for it. The catharsis I feel after every chapter of Hourglass is simply unmatched.

Which you can read here, along with Ana’s other works, of which there are also a great many!

@boxwinebaddie

Nina, the baddest bitch on the block who has undoubtedly been subjected to the most insanity from me. I still laugh when I think about how wild it is that our first conversation was us bonding over fucking Saltburn, but I also fear it says a whole lot about why we get along so well. NASTY! GIRLS!!!

One does not simply read Nina’s work. Her works are an experience, the likes of which I don’t think this fandom has ever seen before, or may ever see again. I don’t believe anyone will ever be able to replicate the biting wit and emotionally devastating prose that she has given us, nor has any other fic made me cackle the way hers do. I’m serious you guys, she is HILARIOUS when she isn’t literally ripping my heart out with her dangerously powerful angst.

Despite being someone who loves the challenge of sticking as close to canon as possible, I am an absolute sucker for the ways that Nina pushes every single character in new and fascinating directions. Non-canon compliant done SO right, and I think that anyone that’s feeling worn down by derivative angst in the fandom needs to give her fics a shot.

I will die on Ravesey hill, and if you’d like to join me you can read Nina’s works here!

It sounds silly to say as someone who writes as a hobby, but I really don’t think I have the words to express my gratitude for these women. Their creativity, humor and unending resilience inspires me every fucking day, and I really don’t know how I managed to get THIS lucky.

Ladies, I love you endlessly. Thank you for accepting me as your Cartman-coded friend, for being my biggest cheerleaders, and for creating such incredible works for everyone to enjoy. This fandom, and my time within it, has been greatly improved by every single one of you ♡

[asteria-argo]

Answer the questions and tag five fanfiction authors you know!

tagged by the wonderful wonderful @altschmerzes

1. How many fandoms have you written in?

Written in about 15 but I've only published in two. According to ao3 it's five but that's because of the umbrella fandom of DC comics.

2. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Since I was around 6 and I'm now 20 so about,,, 14 years

3. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I read way more than I write, I read a bare minimum of 3 fics a day and I go through really long periods of not writing anything so I for sure read more than I write

4. What is one way you've improved as a writer?

since I started publishing my fics I've gotten a lot better at actually finishing them, but my grammar and tense has also improved A Lot just from practicing even if it's still not the best out there.

5. What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I mean it's not that weird but I get very hyperfixated on small details so I did a lot of researching into the different degrees offered at Yale and Harvard in order to decide what degrees I think would be offered at a fictional Ivy League university when I was writing character bios a little while ago.

Also for To All The Better Places I spent a truly inane amount of time researching grassroots U12 girls football teams for a side character so I could name one in the right area that would suit her needs the best.

6. What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

long ones for sure. I love getting long comments especially on my longer fics where people like,, point out things they liked or quote my work as me. Also love those like,, live slug reaction comments you get sometimes where people go paragraph by paragraph telling you their thoughts as they have them in one long comment,

7. What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

I have a lot of ambiguous gender feelings a lot of the time, and I also grew up watching a lot of "boy" oriented media that would only have like,, one or two girl characters at best so from a young age I was fascinated with reading like,, canon divergent "always-a-girl" trope fics and I have written a couple of them myself which I think is a bit of an unpopular trope in wider fandom.

8. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

angst and whump because I really struggle describing physical sensation and angst usually just ends up with me making myself sad and/or sick in the process of writing it if I don't have a happy ending planned and ready to go

9. What is the easiest type?

found family stories are my bread and butter, slice of life, friends just being friends, those kinds of stories

10. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

I usually write at home at my desk, since I study online I've got a pretty perfect set up to spend long hours there. If I'm not at home I'm at the library. I use Notion, because it's free, I have personal beef with Word and google docs sucks. It's not technically a writing platform in the sense I use it in but it works fine as one, it also makes it super easy to organise my files and extra notes of fics, on top of my editing and the drafts.

11. What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

I actually recently overcame my big too nervous to write fic. I am,, an asexual virgin but I also really enjoy reading smut. I've wanted to write some for ages, but on account of not knowing how sex works because I've never had it and also my inability to describe physical sensations I've been weary to give it a go in case it's terrible but I finally wrote some not long ago and published it over on ao3

12. What made you choose your username?

Well Asteria is just my name, and then Argo is a combined DC/Greek Mythology references. Argo comes from the Argonauts of The Golden Fleece myth, but it's also the name of the original supergirls home.

I do not know whose already been tagged or whose already done it so I'm just going to go for it and hope for the best @jamtartandsunshine @kvetchinglyneurotic @jamiesfootball @antitheticaally @its-not-easy-being-green-things

[poor-sickies]

irreconcilable differences

Read my post first! - TLDR: I'm releasing unfinished drafts!

Long prologue, fic is under the cut! (sorry about that)

Okay, I’m not sure if I’ll continue this or not, but it has been sitting on my drafts for literally five years, has gone through many edits, and I just want it out. Will I ever finish it/edit it? Maybe. If I do I’ll put it on AO3. If not, have this unfinished version. Edits were very inspired by my bf’s elbow surgery - things like this always make me wonder if the universe wants to curse me for writing whump, or urge me to keep doing it.

I swear this one will be the death of me. There’s fanart and everything. I might post it one day.

Initial goals with this one: This is a fanfic that started out as me just wanting Keith really miserable, and just wanting to grasp the concept of a nearly permanent injury. He broke his arm really badly, he knows how bad this is. In the back of his mind, he’s worrying if his arm will still work after recovering. Then I decided to turn it into angst - Keith living with the blades and “running away” from voltron, Pidge knowing about his kamikaze moment at the end of S4, Shiro finding out about that, and just putting everyone in a room to deal with their emotional stuff. Just angst in general. Ends with Keith writing to Shiro after a huge fight, sort of apologising and updating on his medical state. This is also the fanfic of Shiro yelling at Kolivan about the Blade’s protocols, which took me five years to get one single scene that I liked. It plays around with the Blade’s modus operandi and morals, and Voltron’s own view on that - and how much they might disagree, which I feel could have been something to explore in the show.

Plot: Set during S4 and S5. Double (or triple?) agents screw up with Marmora mission, also interfering with a Voltron mission. Stuff blows up where it wasn’t supposed to blow up, and Keith gets badly injured. Shiro wants to get to the bottom of this, so he sort of interrogates Keith soon after he wakes. Meanwhile, Pidge is sulky at Keith, as she knows he was about to off himself a while ago, and a difficult conversation ensues. Mission - it was a small Voltron Coalition outpost - the “blade members” had sent a message, warning Blades that the outpost was getting attacked by the Galra (this is an important, strategic outpost, and it’s important that the Galra don’t get it). They call specifically for high rank backup - that means Kolivan, their original target. But Keith goes instead, while Kolivan had stayed behind for some reason. When Keith goes in, the outpost is already taken over, and he’s attacked by the double / triple agents. Keith sends a message, but Kolivan doesn’t receiveit, because the comms were sabotaged.

There’s more, this is part one, I suppose. I have more written, but I need it to be more intelligible before I post it.

Keith feels himself being manhandled in and out of the ship by Kolivan, legs moving on its own accord, and not very efficiently, judging by Kolivan’s arms wrapping around his back tighter to keep him up. There’s voices around him, frantic, stressed, but he can’t make out the words. His ears are still ringing, and he can still feel the aftershock of his whole arm being twisted backwards, ligaments snapping and bones breaking instantly, making a nasty crunch in his shoulder first, and then in his elbow, when the Galra soldier had twisted more.

That moment, he had looked behind him, making out the Galra uniform, and the expression on the face he stared at wasn’t one of kinship. Keith’s hadn’t even begun to process his own confusion, when a cybernetic hand grabbed Keith's wrist and crushed it like a couple of twigs in his grasp. A knife had been jammed in his shoulder, and taken off quickly with a downward motion.

What followed was probably half an hour of trying to keep himself alive.

Now, the blood loss was certainly making itself known, with black spots dancing in front of his eyes. Adrenaline cursing through his veins, Keith was barely keeping himself up, even with help, and the pain was so indescribable he was incapable of forming words. His right arm screams with pain, muscles and ligaments throbbing in tandem. His chest aches where they kicked him, making every breath burn.

It briefly goes through his head how badly injured he is, before he finally succumbs to exhaustion.

*

When he wakes up again, it's slow and gradual. His elbow throbs with pain, and all of the other aches make themselves known quick enough. He wants to rub his eyes, but when he attempts to lift his left arm, pain explodes in his shoulder.

His vision blacks out, and tears immediately pool in his eyes. He grits his teeth and exhales, trying to get through the worst if it. When it's finally more bearable, he realizes his arm hadn't moved an inch when he'd tried to move it. With his good hand, he fumbles around in the dark, touching his shoulder first, then moving his hand towards his chest, where he feels a stinging sensation. His arm is in a sling, and from the tight sensation, wrapped in many layers of bandages. His breath hitches, and his fingers trail the path down his arm, until he feels a splinter, holding his wrist straight. His chest is bandaged too, and breathing takes a little more effort than usual. And to his dismay, he feels the prick of a needle sticking out the back of his good hand. He tries to ignore that.

Opening his eyes, he winces at the bright lights of the infirmary. A twinge of homesickness hits him when he realizes he’s at the Castle of Lions.

On his left, he hears a rustling sound.

"Keith...?" Shiro voice sounds, echoing a little, traced with exhaustion. "Are you awake?"

"Shiro...?" Keith slurs out, finding his voice not fully responsive. He rolls over carefully in bed, towards where Shiro seems to be, and gasps when his whole arm protests.

"Hey, don’t move," Shiro says, much more alert now, and Keith can hear his slow footsteps towards him, before he comes into his field of vision. He’s wearing his black undersuit, and has deep dark circles around his eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," Keith confesses, with a weak exhale.

Shiro’s hand finds his good shoulder, and rubs soft circles there. Keith closes his eyes and focuses on the motions the best he can.

"My - my arm, " he says, making his best to sound coherent. "How bad?..."

Shiro doesn't answer right away.

"Bad," he finally sighs. "Compound fractures, torn ligaments... Kolivan was hoping to get you here and into a cryopod immediately, but unfortunately one of the big crystals that powers them up is gone. Allura, Hunk, Lance and Pidge went out to get more."

"Bad timing to get this fucked up then," Keith chuckles humourlessly.

“Never a good time,” Shiro chides disapprovingly. “At least we still had some good painkillers, though they’ve probably worn off by now, huh?”

Keith shivers - if this is what’s like with painkillers, he doesn’t want to imagine without. “Uh, yeah, definitely,” he groans.

“You also lost a lot of blood, so it’s normal if you’re feeling weak. We had to stitch you up too,” Shiro adds. Keith glances at Shiro’s left arm, noticing the bandage peeking from the inside of his elbow. It’s hard to feel lucky right now, but by now, Keith knows he would be screwed if he had gone to space without an universal donor like him. He’d hug Shiro right now if he didn’t feel this bad. Guilt twinges at the bottom of his stomach. His eyes fill with tears again.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Shiro reassures, “you’ll be fine. I’ll go get Coran to give you something for the pain, yeah?”

Keith tries to nod, but he’s still dizzy, so he just grunts in acknowledgement. He knows if he tries to speak he’ll probably just start crying.

“I’ll be right back,” Shiro says, before walking, well, pretty much running out.

And Keith goes under again.

*

"Do you remember what happened?" Shiro asks.

It’s a few hours later. The Castle is practically deserted, with pretty much the whole team on the mission to retrieve the cryopod crystals. Coran had stopped by to give him some painkillers and check on him, and Shiro just brought some tea, and the alien equivalent of toast. Keith doesn’t eat - even with the painkillers, the pain is bad enough to make him nauseous. He sips the tea carefully, and even just that seems to sap all of his energy.

"I - we received a message from a fellow blade. The Kellan outpost was going to be taken over. We had two Blades stationed there… they attacked as soon as we left our ship. I - I don't remember much else."

“They attacked you? The guys that supposedly belonged to the Blades?”

“Yeah. Soon as I showed up.”

"Do you remember getting here? Kolivan brought you."

Keith nods.

“Keith… we need to know… what were those guys doing? Why were members of the Blade of Marmora blowing up the Kellan base? What did they know?” Shiro asks.

“It wasn’t part of any plan… I don’t understand. Those guys must have gone rogue, I- I really don’t know, Shiro,” Keith sighs, closing his eyes.

“Did you call for backup? When you realized something was wrong?”

“Yeah,” Keith rasps out. “I thought they’d received my message. But our comms were tampered with,” he says, shaking his head, “only realized that later.” He puts the tea cup back on the tray.

“But Kolivan knew you were in there,” Shiro insists, “why didn’t they come in for you?”

“I don’t know, Shiro.” Keith grits his teeth, and opens his eyes again to stare pointedly at Shiro. “I haven’t really had the time to ask Kolivan what exactly was their strategy after that. Maybe they wanted to play it safe, since a couple of guys we thought we could trust had just managed to sabotage everything.”

Shiro sighs. He knows it’s no use to torture Keith with more questions, especially not in the state he was in. He had to get his answers elsewhere.

“Get some rest,” he says, gently. Keith’s eyes close again, and he grimaces painfully. “Anything I can bring you? Do you want me to stay?”

Keith shakes his head. “Just need to sleep.”

“Okay,” Shiro says, placing his hand carefully on top of Keith’s, avoiding the IV. “I’ll be right here.”

*

Shiro is usually proud of his good temper.

How he's able to keep a cold head when things get heated - his good manners and politeness were what conquered the hearts of the Voltron coalition.

And even with the frequent battles they get in, and the stressful days that come with being a defender of the universe, Shiro is able to keep his good spirits.

Not today, though. Screw manners.

"I need more details on the mission Keith was sent today," Shiro demands, with an unwavering tone.

Kolivan doesn’t seem to react much. But then again, his usual expression betrays nothing. "That’s Marmora intel. We can’t simply-”

"He spent almost an hour there before you came in for a rescue!! With your ship hovering around the base!!" Shiro exclaims, waving his hands in the air. "How could you possibly-"

"We had been compromised. We had to make sure-”

"So he was all but lost bait for you? Was that it??"

"I couldn't safely assemble my men for an extraction right away. Under the circumstances, we did the best we could. We had no safe way of getting him out of there so quickly, and we couldn’t risk-"

"His right arm is destroyed!! He was alone for forty five minutes fighting rogue blades!! What kind of organization are you running when-"

"Enough!" Kolivan says firmly, enough to make Shiro quiet. "Keith knows the risks of participating in missions with the Blade - the same risks that are implied in any mission as a paladin of Voltron, might I remind you. He made his choice when he agreed to join the mission. We do not take risks. Better one man less than two men less, and he knows it. After a breach in security, we have to be extra careful, and not rush in foolishly."

Shiro stays silent for a moment, before muttering.

"We would have saved him immediately. As soon as we knew."

Kolivan lets out a huff, cold and bitter, more than Shiro has ever seen.

"If that’s what the Voltron coalition calls strategy, we may have to rethink how we work together."

Kolivan shakes his head, angry and offended, and turns off the comm.

It doesn't leave Shiro any more content. He feels hung up, stressed, like something inside him is wired up. He turns around and leaves the bridge - there’s someone who needs him right now.

[elliesgaymachete]

ooo fic asks!!! 3, 10, 14, 17, 36, 37, 43, and 71! that's a lot so feel free to take your time and answer whenever you have the spoons!

Ahh it’s so many, thank you!

3 - already answered!

10. Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up - Imogen blinks, unsure of what just changed between them. All she wants is to hold onto this moment a little bit longer before things go back to their weird version of normal.

14 - already answered!

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block) - i like to write the most bare bones, shitty draft, just to get the basic words and ideas down. Like just a full page of snippets of dialogue and two word sentences. And then later when i go back and fill in the rest, it’s a little easier because I already drew the lines and now i get to color it in!

36. How do you write kissing scenes? - i black out for a sec and then don’t remember writing them when i come to. Actually though i’m not sure, when it comes to things like kissing scenes i try not to think about it too much because when I think about it too much i get bogged down in how to describe it lol

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter? - usually I outline beforehand and when I do that, I also plan the chapter breaks! It’s easier to distinguish chapters when you’re looking at the big picture. But also sometimes once I start writing things change around and I might move a couple scenes between chapters and I just let it happen. My outlines are just always evolving as I’m writing lol

43. Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person? - i like angst with a happy ending. So i’ll put characters through shit sometimes, but it always pays off in the end! I think i wrote a full angst no happy ending fic once and i made myself cry and i was like never again

71. When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.? - honestly I just keep my outline as a working document so it can evolve with the story! If it’s for something original, i’ll list out characters/descriptions so i can keep track of them. If it’s a HUGE original world, i like to use world anvil to keep track of lore and characters and things!

[maplesyrizzup]

for @thiamsxbitch part 2

Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story? Yes, absolutely

Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc) Non-Con. Smut. Suicide. I don't think I would write a crossover, only because I don't think I'd be very good at it.

Best writing advice for other writers? Don't be too hard on yourself. Especially when you have writer's block. it's okay, it happens to everyone, you just need to wait it out.

Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you? I don't think I've gotten bad ones. mainly because I've only gotten advice from certain people

What fic do you wish you got more of a response on? I'm going to say Possession

Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride? uh, i'd say my writing is pretty tame, especially the humor, maybe: "Theo let me in." "no." is pretty funny

What is your most and least favorite part of writing? favorite: writing funny dialogue and scenes. least: it's not that I don't enjoy writing emotional scenes between couples, I'm just not very good at it.

On average, how much writing do you get done in a day? it really depends. sometimes I don't write for weeks, sometimes I write for a week straight. but if I'm trying i can knock out around 1.5k-2k

What’s your revision or editing process like? I read through it all. rewrite stuff I don't like

Do you share rough drafts or do you wait until it’s all polished? I share rough drafts and snippets

Do you start with the characters or the plot when writing? characters(?)

Name three of your favorite fanfic writers. Teen Wolf - @ksbbb -@sterekshipper-writer -@waterloou Others -@bvcksmunson -@vigilvntes -@chaseadrian

Do you want to be published some day? yes

Five years from now, where do you see yourself as a writer? i enjoy writing for teen wolf, so I hope to continue that

What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain?  Motivate.

How do you write kissing scenes? I haven't yet

How do you choose where to end a chapter? Suspense and/or cliffhangers

Would you ever write commissions? Maybe

Share a snippet from a WIP Liam wasn’t sure when he started to care, but he knew the first time he noticed it was when Liam asked Theo to stay. Well, actually with the way he phrased it, it didn't seem like a request.

If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see? something from Possession. maybe the scene where Liam is getting Possessed.

Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person? Yeah I reread them

What’s the last fic you read? Do you recommend it? Unintentional by @waterloou .YES. EVERYONE GO READ

Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person? I don't take joy in it but writing Angst is very fun

What mistakes do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you? Lack of describing the scene. I'm trying but it is challenging for me

Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh? Both!

How would you describe your style? (Character/emotion/action-driven, etc) A lot of it is Humorous gen

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting? Twice

What do you look for in a beta? I go to my friends

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them? I haven't yet, thankfully

How long is your longest fic? 40k

What’s your total AO3 word count? 18,926

Do you respond to comments, why or why not? Yes, it may take me sometime. i love to reread through comments, they make me smile

How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both? 50/50

Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones? Theo

What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on? My dialogue

Do you prefer editing as you write, or waiting until it’s finished?  waiting until it's finished

What part of the writing process do you enjoy the most? (Brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, etc)  editing

Does anyone in your personal life know you write fic? if not, would you tell anyone? yes some know but I only share with best friends and when I do share with them it's rare

Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like? Yes.

Why do you continue writing fics? Because I enjoy it

Thoughts on cliffhangers? Love them

Something you hate to see in smut. Non-Con.

Something you love to see in smut. Fluff and Smut. Love soft fluffy sex

Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project to finish Possession

How do you deal with writing pressure (ie. pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc.)? I try not to let it pressure me. i would like to get something out every month, but if I can't then it's okay.

Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas? I like both

What work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing? my adrian and eddie fics. they aren't very good

When asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write? embarrassed

When it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.? notes

[oonajaeadira]

🤡✍️❌

Hello, peachy friend. <3

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

I will never not love the exchange between Din and LB when he first shows her the lightsaber and she teases him about being Mand'alor. I giggled when I wrote it and it just played a big role in easing their comfortability with each other.

I also love writing Dieter because he has so much potential for ding dong boy comedy. In INFILA, I loved writing him being a putz at driving and a mess with his vows at the wedding and eating pancakes while high and failing at skipping rocks by just lazily plonking stones into the sea. Although casually asking Cakes without agenda if she wanted to hang out and watch porn was the one that made me giggle the most.

✍ Do you have a beta reader?

Nah. I just enjoy getting stories out of my head and onto the page. I do revise quite a bit though. I'll write a first draft and then go over it again and fix up any pacing or plot things that don't feel right or need explaining. Then a third time to polish language. Then I'll usually read it out loud a fourth time to make sure I take note of every word and don't miss little things. Then I paste it into Tumblr and go through it one last time--something about the different screen makes other things pop and the revisions there can range from moving/removing/adding whole paragraphs to adding a word here or there or swapping things around. And I like to make sure I don't do all of that one one day. So while I don't have a beta, I take my time with looking it over several times before it gets in front of anyone.

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Probably the same things I don't read: daddy kink/age gap and therefore no college AUs for me--I'm past college ages and I'm too old for P to be my daddy. Pregnancy/lactation stuff, although not to be confused with breeding kink--just because I don't want kids doesn't mean I don't love a good lizard brain urge, because breeding often plays upon the possession/claiming kink and I'm all about that. And I'm kind of addicted to writing happy endings, so I probably won't be heavy angsting or whumping it up any time soon.

But, if there's a trope you're interested in, I'm looking for them for an upcoming project I'm gearing up for soon. There really aren't too many I'd say no to, especially if I step back and examine how I might challenge myself to incorporate them or play with them in a soft way.....

.

Writer Emoji Asks

[justplainwhump]

#9 for Dany 😈😈

9: strangle my muse

This is not going to be what you expected. More action than whump, and of course really high on the angst. (If you ask me, it's really good)

And Dany surprised me in more ways than one.

Content / warnings: Lady whump, failed escape (?), some red flags of abusive relationships in the beginning, gun violence, strangling; references to dubcon, conditioning and pet whump; strong language (Dany gets emotional)

Ridley Lordin, B and referenced Leo Luciano are @what-a-whump 's wonderful characters and used with permission.

Thank you so much for asking this, @distinctlywhumpthing , because wow, character development.

[Dany Masterpost]

[Prompt list (still taking them for all my characters)]

Scene (1,500 words) under the cut

-

I look fabulous. I don't even need to look at myself in any of the dozens of mirrors decorating the ballroom. He wanted all eyes on me. And he gets what he wants.

Ridley's hand is resting on the back of my neck, fiddling with the thin white leather strap that he has me wear instead of the usual collar. It's somewhat reassuring. It means it's not that kind of a party.

My dress is tasteful, short but not revealing, tailored to fit so perfectly it doesn't matter that it's too white for my pale skin. It's summer. I should be tanned from days spent in the park, on the tennis court, by the sea. That's not what my days are, though. I spend them inside, nowadays, locked up in the bedroom of Ridley's penthouse, and I can earn the privilege of open curtains.

Sometimes, to my own shame, I do.

He presses a kiss against my neck. "Smile, princess", he breathes into my ear, his fingers lingering on my throat for a moment too long. "You know how Daddy likes you."

Pleasant. Pretty. Pliant. Have I ever been anything else, I wonder? Or have I only ever played roles others wanted from me, anyways?

I force my lips to curve into a smile. Of course I do. I'm tired of fighting. Ridley hums contently, before his gaze is caught by something - someone - else, a middle-aged woman in a red pant suit. Governor Hawkins. I know her, I know them all, the rich and powerful, from the events I've attended by my father's side, and I hate how they don't seem to spend a second thought on how I'm suddenly with this man they all must despise.

"I'll be right back, baby girl", Ridley purrs. "Don't move. Bee Bee?" He snaps his fingers. "Come."

B casts me a short glance, as if unwilling to leave me, before his eyes turn flat again and he trots past Ridley, scanning the crowd for potential threats.

I feel oddly uncomfortable around them, alone among hundreds of people. How many of them know? And how many just refuse to see?

A hand on my back makes me flinch. "Danielle", someone says into my hair. "Let's get you out of here."

Instinctively, I pull away and look over the crowd for Ridley. He doesn't like others touching me. Fuck, I don't like anyone touching me.

"Shhh", the man hushes and grabs my arm again, and only now do I turn to look at him. Matthew Carlson. My father's finance guy. There's a deep frown on his face and a pressed urgency in his voice. "We'll get you away from him."

"I-" I am cut off by a hand over my mouth from behind.

"Hurry", Carlson hisses.

An arm closes around me, drags me back through a door to the kitchen. White tiles and metal surfaces, some employees that seem to have been paid to look away. I struggle against the person holding me, try to bite the hand in front of my face, but they seem to know what they're doing, and I don't.

I want to get away from Ridley, I don't want him to see this. I want to be good, and I want to be free.

"Don't fight, Danielle, this is all for your father's best interest", Carlson says behind me. "You're his legacy."

Ridley will kill me for leaving my spot. Somehow Carlson and his man don't make me feel safe at all.

A cool draft brushes past my naked legs, as someone pushes open a door and they guide me outside into some back yard, stumbling down the flight of steps in my high heels. There's another man waiting near some dumpsters, under a flickering lamp. He's dressed entirely in black and looks me down with a cold frown.

Somehow, nobody hurries any more. There's no car waiting to get me away, no explanation, just silence and the damp darkness of a muggy summer night.

I step back towards the back door, but the man behind me doesn't move.

I turn to Carlson and lift my chin. "Please, leave me alone", I say firmly. "I don't know what this is, but I don't want it."

"Hmmm", Carlson hums, and there's a coldness to his tone that lets me shiver. "I bet you won't, but it's too late for that. You're a liability, Danielle. Your... involvement with Lordin, with Luciano, these... videos, they don't make you look good. You weaken your father's position. Or rather, ours, trying to save what is left of it."

"I'm a fucking prisoner", I hiss. "You fucking know what happened to me, because you let this shit happen to my father, and now I'm the one being sold and tortured and paraded around and hurt, while you fuckers think about your business? This is my life, you-"

"It won't be any longer", he cuts me off harshly, and nods to the man behind me. "Sorry, Danielle, it's not personal."

Something wraps around my neck from behind. Thin and soft and raw at the same time. I scream, but all that comes from my lips is a garbled whine.

The man pulls the rope tight and yanks me back. I thrash, my limps flailing uselessly. Desperately, I fight for air, but there's nothing. Nothing but pain and dread and a dawning understanding. I will die. These fuckers are killing me. My fingers cramp around my neck, fingertips brushing over rough rope, unable to grasp it, buried too deep into my skin.

A shadow moves in the corner of my eyes, a blur within a larger blur. I hear a sharp snarl, a muffled impact, a scream, as I tumble back, fall, landing on something soft. Air floods my lungs, and I inhale greedily, my breath coming out in ragged huffs.

"Do not touch her", B growls at my side, and lunges at the other men.

B.

He came for me.

Under me, the black-dressed man is struggling, whining as he grips his hurt arm and struggles against my weight on top of him. Fucking asshole. I clench my teeth and steady my hand with my other arm, as I ram my elbow into his throat. He stills once more.

Something solid is pressed into my back. His gun, tucked under his jacket. Still coughing, I roll over to my side to grab it. Should've just shot me, I think grimly. Stupid gangsters, trying to make a show of everything.

I struggle to get to all fours and cast a glance over to B. Carlson's guard is laying on the ground, unmoving. Carlson himself is down as well, B sitting on his back, wrestling back his arm, growling something low and inaudible, until the arm snaps.

He doesn't see the guard move beside him. A knife flashes in the guard's hand.

I shoot. Once, twice, three times, all aimed steadily at his chest, from a close distance.

Never stop after one shot, Dad has taught me, years ago. You shoot to kill. Make sure they stay dead.

This one is.

The silence after the shots is deafening.

"Oh, princess!", Ridley exclaims behind me, from the kitchen door, his voice perplexed, almost delighted.

Another fit of coughing shakes me, before I turn around, weakly. Ridley is standing in the doorway, upright, his too familiar silhouette framed by light, arms folded, as he is taking in the scene, smug and confident as always.

My eyes are trained on his chest. Carefully, almost tenderly, I lift the gun once more.

A shadow falls over me, blocking Ridley from my view. B. I haven't even heard him move. But he's standing there now, right between my and my target, wordlessly looking down on me from unreadable eyes.

"Please", I breathe. "Please, B." B knows, knows what Ridley does to me, asks of me, of him. He knows he deserves to die.

He doesn't step aside. Instead, he extends an open hand. I hate him. I hate myself. My stomach drops, as I secure the gun and rest it into his hand.

Wordlessly, B steps back and hands the gun to Ridley. "Nice try, baby girl", Ridley mumbles, as he checks the gun. "Wouldn't hurt Daddy now, would you?"

Casually, he steps down the stairs and considers the two men, groaning on the ground, me, kneeling next to them in my now stained white dress.

With his free hand, Ridley gently brushes over the fresh marks on my neck. "Which one did this?", he asks calmly.

I look aside, at the man in the black clothes, and Ridley steps over, lifts the gun, points it right between his eyes.

Another shot rings through the yard.

A strangled sob escapes me.

"B, tie that other guy up", Ridley says, but his eyes are on me. "Leo will deal with him, later."

He gets to his knees in front of me, pulls me into an embrace, the gun still in his hand. I sink against his chest, trembling with silent sobs, each breath hurting in my throat.

I had almost been free. One way or another.

"Shhh, now, baby girl", he whispers, as he gently cradles me against his body. "You're safe with me. I've got you."

[iwhumpyou]

I posted 107 times in 2021

57 posts created (53%)

50 posts reblogged (47%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.9 posts.

I added 120 tags in 2021

#envy answers - 31 posts

#whump meta - 14 posts

#batfamily - 12 posts

#writing advice - 12 posts

#whump prompt - 12 posts

#whump community - 10 posts

#compliment - 8 posts

#shitpost - 8 posts

#enemy to caretaker - 7 posts

#whump tropes - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 103 characters

#sometimes your readers' imaginations come up with things more horrifying than you can ever put to paper

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Trope: Enemy to Caretaker (Take Two)

See also: Enemy to Caretaker (Take One)

It’s about the power dynamics, see.

It’s about being vulnerable and helpless at the feet of someone you believe wishes you ill.

It’s about how people react when they have absolute power thrust into their hands.

It’s about how you can tell the depth of a person’s soul by whether they help when it is not required of them, when it is not expected of them, when it is not custom to them.

It’s about expecting pain and receiving comfort.

It’s about breaking - breaking in front of a rival, a villain, an enemy - and being handed the pieces to put yourself back together again.

It’s about what you give and what you take when you don’t have the energy for trust.

It’s about tipping the balance of power - through injury, through exhaustion, through emotional trauma - and watching them reach out and slowly tip it back.

159 notes • Posted 2021-01-14 22:00:41 GMT

#4

Aesthetic: ‘Please’

It’s funny how a single word can change everything.

It’s supposed to be polite.  It’s supposed to be good manners.

It’s not supposed to be a glaring target.

Because please means something.  Because please changes the context of the situation from casualness to desperation.  Because please is begging, is pleading, is hoping and praying and crying.

‘Please don’t hurt them.’

‘Please give it back.’

‘Please stop.’

‘Please.’

Force the plea from stuttering lips, drag it out of cracking defiance and impotent rage, arrange the pieces of broken confidence and control.

Please.

215 notes • Posted 2021-01-05 22:00:51 GMT

#3

me: I want to read something written with my favorite tropes, in my favorite style, with my favorite characters.

my brain: so basically you want to read something you’ve written.

me: yes.

my brain: without ever actually writing it.

me: .....yes.

587 notes • Posted 2021-06-14 01:04:29 GMT

#2

Every piece of work you create doesn’t have to be The Best, Perfect, Most Flawless Work for it to be meaningful.

The first story I ever started?  About teenage girls that get elemental powers and get kidnapped?  If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never tried getting stories out of my head and onto paper.

The first story I ever finished?  A YA fantasy with too many characters and flat relationships and a unnecessarily complicated plot?  If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never believed that I could finish a novel-length story.

The first fanfiction I ever uploaded?  A self-insert OC fanfiction that overused italics?  If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never gone on to spend a decade writing fanfiction.

The first novel I tried to query?  A draft I didn’t much like, a story I was fed-up with, rejections I knew were deserved?  If I hadn’t written that, I might’ve never pushed myself to figure out what the publishing process looked like.

The whump snippets I jot down?  Help me refine writing whump, writing pain, writing angst and emotions and feelings.

The new tropes/styles I try out?  Help me broaden my writing experience, better my writing, allow me to branch out.

The writing, day after day, even if it’s deleted, even if I hate it, even if I think it’s absolute garbage?  Help me write, help me get words onto the page, help me flex my fingers and imagination, help me figure out what I’m doing wrong so I know what to do right.

Everything you create is a step forward, even if you don’t see it at the time.

When you look back at old work, it’s easy to cringe, it’s easy to hide your face, it’s easy to wince and wish you did better and pretend like it didn’t exist.  But climbing a mountain means accepting that you started at the bottom, means realizing that the view is so much better for the effort, means remembering that even when you couldn’t see the clouds, you kept moving forward.

2247 notes • Posted 2021-05-31 15:04:04 GMT

#1

One of the best tips for writing descriptions of pain is actually a snippet I remember from a story where a character is given a host of colored pencils and asked to draw an egg.

The character says that there’s no white pencil.  But you don’t need a white pencil to draw a white egg.  We already know the egg is white.  What we need to draw is the luminance of the yellow lamp and the reflection of the blue cloth and the shadows and the shading.

We know a broken bone hurts.  We know a knife wound hurts.  We know grief hurts.  Show us what else it does.

You don’t need to describe the character in pain.  You need to describe how the pain affects the character - how they’re unable to move, how they’re sweating, how they’re cold, how their muscles ache and their fingers tremble and their eyes prickle.

Draw around the egg.  Write around the pain.  And we will all be able to see the finished product.

60058 notes • Posted 2021-03-06 16:40:09 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[drowningbydegrees]

Fanfic Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @lokibus! <3 <3 <3

How many works do you have on Ao3?

54. I've written quite a bit more, but I just can't be bothered to carry over most of the fics from my LJ days. Also, once upon a time I had a super insecure streak and I went on an orphaning spree, so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What’s your total Ao3 word count?

Apparently 457,241! Kinda same as above.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Though I Try Not To (The Witcher)

I'm so weirdly pleased about this. I fell into Witcher fandom totally by accident. I don't usually do fixit fics, but I couldn't help myself. This is, I think, the only fic to date where I've started posting as a WIP and actually followed through and finished.

Where All Roads Lead (MCU)

If there is one plot device I'm just eternally a sucker for, it's time travel shenanigans. This was one of the two time travely fics I wrote for Stucky fandom.

For The Space of a Heartbeat (The Witcher)

I'm honestly really surprised by this? This was totally just a self indulgent spur of the moment kinda thing, and it's only a couple thousand words.

Even in the Dark I Know You (The Witcher)

Okay, I lied. There were two WIPs I actually followed through and finished. This started as a random oneshot for a whump week thing, and then the prompt for the next day fit so well with a follow up chapter that this just turned into a whole story. I really enjoy subverting tropes and with witcher biology I see a lot of sensory overload kinds of fics, so I decided to play with the idea in reverse.

Even if it Hurts (Even if it Makes Me Bleed) (The Witcher)

So, most of the time when I settle into a fandom, there's one fic idea that I feel like I cannot leave without writing. For Witcher fandom, this was that fic. I have a lot of complicated thoughts about soulmates as a romantic concept, even more so when you're involving characters like Geralt, for whom fate is so often a double edged sword. This story was very much an excuse to dig into what soulmates mean for personal agency under the guise of a narrative. XD

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Admittedly, I do this with embarrassing inconsistency. Basically, what happens is: * Something gets a good response. * I respond to a few comments and then find myself overwhelmed (mentally, not as in there are a truly overwhelming number of comments). * I step away for a bit. * A month later I realize I still haven't replied. Cue paralyzing indecision about whether it's too late to reply. * Rinse and repeat.

I do want to! And I'm working on it. I've gotten a little better about it, but my apologies to anyone who I haven't responded to. Please know I'm not intentionally ignoring you. ;_;

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Oh hmm. I had a reputation for a really long time as primarily an angst writer, but pretty much all my stories have a happy ending for some given quantity of happy. I guess it kind of depends on how one qualifies that.

Noonwraiths and Other Woodland Forest Creatures maybe. It's got a got a pretty fluffy ending.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

It's a tossup.

I, The Paradox, which is my other time travel fic from my Stucky fandom days, with a paradox (shocking) that lands Steve with two versions of Bucky. For plot purposes even! It's not a particularly smutty story. It ends sort of ambiguously. There's a sequel outlined that was meant to resolve said ambiguity, but alas, it's still sitting in my WIP folder.

Truth in the Periphery. It's a psychological horror story I wrote for an event. I think it's the only fanfic I've ever written that was really intended as a hurt/no comfort kind of story.

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't, but not because I specifically don't. I've just never had an idea that felt compelling enough to follow through on.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Maaaaybe once or twice a long, long, long time ago, back when FFN was still the best option for posting outside of LiveJournal. I don't think it was even about the writing. I think it was someone was mad that my much younger self tried to sneak smut onto FFN.

Do you write smut? if so, what kind?

I have such a love/hate relationship with smut in my own work. I used to write it a lot because I felt like I had to. It was until I came to terms with being more or less ace irl that it occurred to me why I didn't enjoy writing it. Weirdly, I like reading it just fine.

The thing is, while I don't really care for the physical aspect of it, I like the emotional touchpoints of it, so I do still write smut sometimes. It just tends to be a little cursory in terms of action details and heavy on character dynamics.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. But I used to RP a lot, and it's always been a lot of fun, so I wouldn't be opposed to the idea!

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Oh shoot. From a romantic standpoint that varies so much depending on what fandom I'm currently feeling enthusiastic about. It's pretty much always a specific character that draws me to a fandom, so I think the most consistent ship I have is favorite character/unconditional love and support. XD

What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The sequel to I, The Paradox I mentioned earlier.

What are your writing strengths?

If there's one thing I feel like I have a consistently good handle on, it's emotional impact. I put a lot of thought into why people make the choices they do and how they relate to each other, and I would like to think I'm reasonably adept at leading readers to the emotional response I'm going for.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions. I'm just forever in awe of people who can just write settings/action naturally. It's a constant effort for me, and it's the thing I always feel like I fall short on. I can write navel gazing in my sleep, but an action scene? Pfftttt.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Very situational. Kind of like in movies and television. I don't have any kind of always x or y opinion on it though.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Inuyasha. It was back when I didn't have a computer of my own and would write at the library, so the only record of it was the site I used to draft and post to that is now defunct. No one is happier about this than I am. 😂

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

I think I'm genuinely pretty proud of everything I've written in the last couple of years, but if I had to pick right now, it'd be It Doesn't Break But it Bends. It's a time loop fic. Someone left "Recommended but you will sob." as their bookmark note for it and I think that might be my crowning achievement in fandom.

Tagging (if you want!): @mikkeneko @goodheavensgwen @writinglizards @plotdesigner And anyone else who wants to <3

[chubbydino]

Answer those questions while being as honest as possible, you can skip a question if it’s really too hard for you to answer, then tag three people to answer this list as well ! :)

Which of your fics you wish had more kudos/comments/bookmarks ?

Which of your fics do you feel is overrated ?

What is the fic that took you the most time to write ?

What do you think is the best fic you ever wrote (until today) ?

What do you think is the worst fic you ever wrote (until today) ?

What is the saddest thing that happened to you related to a fic (may it be success, a draft that erased itself and so on…) ?

What is/are the comment(s) you received that you can never forget even now (negative and positive) ?

A fic you’d dream to write even if you know it wouldn’t get much readers/feedback ?

Coming back to the last question, did the fact that a fic wouldn’t get many readers (rare ship/different dynamic and so on) already stopped you from writing it ?

Which of your fics represent you the best ?

What is your main source of ideas ?

Is there an author that inspired you ?

Is there a fic you wish people to read, because it left a big impression on you ?

What is your favorite topic to read ? And to write ?

What motivated you to make your works public ?

A word you’d like to say to people who pass by / who follow you / who read your fics ?

going under the cut.

Which of your fics you wish had more kudos/comments/bookmarks?

Concatenation or Divinity. And, I mean, Fool’s Gold, because I want it to reach the top!

Which of your fics do you feel is overrated ?

The Quarry of he Frost, probably. I’m still shocked that fic got as popular as it did and it STILL has more subscriptions than any other fic I’ve ever written and I abandoned it halfway through and the storyline was basically a ripoff of a few other fics I’d read smashed together.

What is the fic that took you the most time to write ?

Hm. Fool’s Gold feels like the most involved fic I’ve ever had, but I also remember a lot of hours on Concatenation and my first major fic, Horsepower.

What do you think is the best fic you ever wrote (until today) ?

Concatenation (the whole series) or Divinity. I always call Concatenation my masterpiece—I don’t think I’ll ever write a fic that well again.

What do you think is the worst fic you ever wrote (until today) ?

Oh god. I don’t really have a worst. I think that each one was important to my growth as a writer and I never publish anything that doesn’t have a purpose or that I didn’t care about. But I guess my unfinished fics are my worst because I failed my readers in that respect.

What is the saddest thing that happened to you related to a fic (may it be success, a draft that erased itself and so on…) ?

I can’t really think of anything. I guess there is one scene in Concatenation where several readers kind of insulted me for putting ”too much” angst and steve whump and I’ve always kind of been embarrassed about it, especially since the part in question actually happened to me and everyone said it was unrealistic. ‘^^

What is/are the comment(s) you received that you can never forget even now (negative and positive) ?

Negative? Someone once said I should get some help because my fics are “clearly just a vehicle fo severe depression” lol. And then people on ao3 get mad at me sometimes becaus ethey either 1) didn’t read the tags 2) didn’t read teh archive warnings (there is a reason ao3 has an “author chose not to use warnings” selection) or 3) just didn’ tlike the ending nad got up set about it. No sympathy, honestly.

Positive? I LOVE all of my comments and I hoard each one like a treasure even though I don’t respond to many. I have to say @krusca’s comments (particularly "this fic goes beyond fanfiction”) have stuck with me over the years but I think my all time comment was by an ao3 anon who went by “Stellie" (i was just telling @tarmaclicious about this lol)

A snippet of what Stellie said: “There is an expression in my first language and I'm sure I've seen/heard it in English too but I can't remember the exact words so I will improvise and try to translate it. "You were pulling out my soul with a cotton bud" - this is exactly how I felt the whole time during reading this last part of the story. You were really killing me slowly. I don't know how it's possible to feel an actual pain because of fictional characters and their tragic lives but truth is that there was a weight on my chest and tears in my eyes the whole time.”

The cotton bud phrase has stuck with me ever since.

A fic you’d dream to write even if you know it wouldn’t get much readers/feedback ?

I pretty much write whatever I want without thinking about the feedback etc. Most people don’t like sad endings so I already have a smaller audience than the mainstream lol.

Coming back to the last question, did the fact that a fic wouldn’t get many readers (rare ship/different dynamic and so on) already stopped you from writing it ?

Eh, I think Rovinsky is probably the only ship I’ve loved that I haven’t written about. It’s all kinds of toxic and a lot of people hate it which doesn’t bother me but I haven’t come up with an interesting enough plotline to actually write something. Not to mention it’s a rare pair.

Which of your fics represent you the best ?

Oh god. Each one is kind of a life snapshot in some sense. I think the one that best represents my “brand” is either Divinity or the Concatenation series. Or A Tonic For What Ails you. I dunno, actually all of my fics are pretty on brand lol.

What is your main source of ideas ?

A lot of times it’s been failed Omegle RP interactions where I get frustrated when someone doesn’t play a character “right” enough times that I decide to write it myself LOL. But for Fool’s Gold I just saw an awkward pic of Charles and Carlos and I was like “haha what if they’re forced to like each other,” messaged my friend, and the rest is history. The F1 2021 season gives me the inspo for that one obviously, even though my endgame plot has been pretty much the same since I started it.

Is there an author that inspired you ?

Maggie Stiefvater, Cormac McCarthy, Gordon Korman have all influenced me.

Is there a fic you wish people to read, because it left a big impression on you ?

I recently read Subjunctive History by sirius and kill monsters in the rain by blackwayfarers and WOAH. I don’t really ship either of the ships but oh man, they stick with me. Those are the two recent ones I can think of, because I don’t actually read fic all that much. 😅 I’m really picky about writing.

What is your favorite topic to read ? And to write ?

I like reading nonfiction military history, general nonfiction, and books where the plot is most important but romance is a big undertone (The Song of Achilles, the Crazy Rich Asian series).

For writing I like a sad ending that you don’t see coming but when you read it again you realize you were just blind to all the signs (like real life).

What motivated you to make your works public ?

lmao. narcissism i guess? every time i post a chapter/work i get attention so keep doing it, it’s liek an endorphin trip LOL. half the fun for me is seeing the audience reaction!

A word you’d like to say to people who pass by / who follow you / who read your fics ?

don’t expect a happy ending. :)

[anakinthetrashking]

BnHA One-Shot Fic Recs (pt1)

Making some fic-rec posts has been on my to-do list for a while and I’m finally doing it, yay! Currently I have 6 word doc pages full of just BnHA recs. So I’m splitting them up by length and completion, so first up is (part one of) one-shots! Let’s go!!!

Lets start with some classic Izuku and DadMight!

Pictures, Posters and Tender Beauty by ProPinkist (tumblr: @dazais-guardian-angel ) Rating: G    Category: Gen   ~4,400 words Summary: Izuku has virtually every All Might-themed item out there, and prides himself on all of it, as Toshinori is well aware. However, somehow, the boy still decided that there was something vital missing. This is fluffy and very cute. No one truly appreciates All Might as much as Izuku does, but 1A comes close. All Might deserves all the love, and this fic truly provides!!!

Dear Mr. All Might by QuizzicalCrow (tumblr: @quizzicalcrow​ ) Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~5,000 words Summary: As the #1 hero for decades, All Might has collected a lot of fan mail over the years. Toshinori tracks down a series of letters that only now, years later, does he appreciate for their significance.  I always love the thought of All Might looking through his fan mail, even if he can’t get to all of it. This was a wonderful glimpse into that AND it was made to be so, so personal and sweet. Go have some heart-healing fluff.

Growing Pains by LordofLies (tumblr: @theangelofchildren ) Rating: G   Category: Gen    ~5,900 words Summary: Izuku finds himself changed by his encounter with the Hero Killer, but changes of a more physical kind are in store for him as he begins to truly accept One for All as his own. Once, he would have been thrilled to look more like All Might, but now those connections are as much a source of anxiety as they are of pride.Or, Izuku wakes up one morning and sees the world through different eyes. Izuku having anxiety and Toshi being there to help him through it and calm him down? Sign me UP. Its also a pretty cool take on how One for All is able to change things about it’s holder. Could this happen in cannon? Who knows.... Regardless, it was a great read!

I’ll Carry You Home by Renesvetta Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~2,700 words Summary: While training with All Might, it wasn’t uncommon for Izuku to be so exhausted at the end of the day that he unwittingly fell asleep without regard for where he was. It consequently became part of All Might’s routine to help his young protégé home. During that time, Izuku may have let loose more than one sleepy confession towards his mentor.  Yes, it is as adorable as it sounds. Its tagged with “self indulgent Dad Might fluff” which is both accurate and appreciated. In other words: Superb you funky little writer!

Simple Gifts by QuizzicalCrow Rating: G    Category: Gen   ~6,700 words Summary: One year ago, Izuku received the greatest gift he could ever imagine. Now he’s determined to return the favor for the one responsible for it all with a gift of his own.  First off, I love the idea of Izuku and Toshi quietly celebrating the anniversary of passing on OfA from All Might to Izuku. Even just taking the day to hang out with each other. It’s a really precious idea. But there’s not just fluff! Izuku finds himself in a fight, again. (cool villain quirk, too!) I love all of the small details that are in this fic (and in Crow’s other works, too!) anyway its exciting AND very heartwarming, so go read it!!!

Affectionate by Sevi007 (tumblr: @sevi007 ) Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~2,600 words Summary: Toshinori starts to show affection very easily around his students. The  reactions he gets for that are not quite the ones he had anticipated - well, not all of them, at least.  Toshi is LOVED, APPRECIATED, and 1A feels like HOME. how many times can i say “cute” and “heartwarming” on this post?? bc these are some amazing writers, whom I adore, and their writing makes my heart WARM. AND. FUZZY. i mean, even just the first few paragraphs of this one just, really sets the scene of what i like to believe the 1A dorm is (on a good day, lol). its a really nice read, so go treat yo’ self by reading it.

paint me in trust by dinomight Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~6,400 words Summary: The first mark Izuku gets is a slight brush of green across his temple. It’s the soft touch of a mother holding her son for the first time. Inko has one to match, the same shade of green staining the tips of her fingers. Hers is more noticeable; Izuku’s tends to blend into his hairline. He loves it anyways. He has to. It’s the only soulmate mark he has. (Or: how Izuku goes from just green to a rainbow, UA-style.)  Ok, so this fic sort of plays off the idea of soulmates, and does not fit in with soulmates in the usual form of the trope. First off its completely platonic. Its categorized as Gen and sticks to that. Also it doesn’t seem to be as obligatory and permanent as you would think it would be. It seems to be more of the universe telling you who has the possibility of being important in your life. I really really loved this, it was so adorable and gives you that sweet, sweet Izuku angst, before healing your heart with the power of friendship and found family!!!

The Die Has Been Cast by ChiwiTheKiwi (tumblr: @chiwithekiwi​ ) Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~5,400 words Summary: “There’s something about that kid you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”When no answer meets him, Shouta tries again.“You know something about Midoriya’s quirk that you haven’t shared with me. Is that right?”(Or: A canon "What If" surrounding the latest manga events and focusing on Aizawa finally making a connection.) First off, this fic has spoilers for the manga, so dont read unless you’re past chp212! I loooooooove OfA reveal fics, especially when it’s Aizawa that finds out. He deserves to know!!! its kind of important!!!! This fic chooses a great moment to work off of, and does a great job with Aizawa’s character. I really enjoyed it and couldn’t keep myself from going back and reading it just now LOL

These last two are actually two-shots, but it makes it an even 10! also Izuku and dadmight, so we can continue the theme here...

Some Unspoken Thing by LittleKy Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~7,900 words (2chps) Green, Toshinori has always thought, is the color of life anew.(Or: It's time for Yagi Toshinori to finally accept that he has a son, now, in all but blood. It's time for Midoriya Hisashi to accept that as well.) YES ALL MIGHT! ADMIT THAT IZUKU IS YOUR SON! great portrayal of the characters and really hits the nail on the head for DadMight. and Izuku in this story is just the smallest green floof that you wish to give a hug. NEVER MIND ALL MIGHT, YOU TOOK TOO LONG SO IZUKU IS MY SON NOW AND IM NOT GIVING HIM BACK ( no but seriously i want to hug this fic its so cute TTuTT )

LAST BUT NOT LEAST! I See You by BirdAntlers (tumblr: @aarymk )

Rating: G   Category: Gen   ~15,400 words (2chps) Midoriya Izuku is a quirkless child, blind from birth. Yagi Toshinori is the most powerful man in the world, loved by millions. They could not be more different, and yet their loneliness is the same.   (From a pair of AU posts on Tumblr that got way out of hand; I wanted to put it here because it turned into more of a fic than a "what-if." Basically a vessel for me to vomit as much Dadmight as I can.) Hey, you! Yeah! You! Do you want to cry? Do you want to start sobbing in a public space?? Do you just want to be destroyed with words and be left there kneeling at the feet of a writer who has torn out your heart and stomped on it before they gently wipe the tears from your face? Yeah?? y oU Wan NA D IE??? READ THIS AND GET REKT.  you’ll thank me later

(under the cut is just me rambling, i kept all the important stuff up here, ur welcome)

Now that the actual recs are over I can rant here- look i really tried to slim my recs down, but i have almost 300 bnha fics bookmarked,some of them are “to read” or theyre in progress, etc but i managed to get this list sorta slimmed down? a little?(to only 58!!!) but as i was gathering this post together it felt like i dont have very many Dadmight recs on that list??? but i havent rechecked all the other fics i was just going through the oneshots. i... kinda read a lot more fics with AIzawa in it instead. it be that way. DadMight content is SO GOOD. but my fav is aizawa im sorryyyyy anyway i have another SEVENteeN oneshots to put in rec posts and that does NOT include the mulitchapter and friikin series and stuff... and like i said this is aaaaaaallllllllllllllll BnHA. batfam fic posts will come after, and then star wars, and then maybe star trek? we’ll see. i have a very specific taste in ST fics and that is Tarsus IV whump. which. i have not read in a while. when they say “that trope came from ST” for sooooooo many tropes, you WISH other fandoms had tarsus as a trope, holy crap it is TOP TIER angst fodder. if you love to write/read whump, angst, and h/c i would HIGHLY recommend that you take a bit of time and explore the content and stories there. heck maybe i will make a ficrec post for just tarsus angst. ok.

my INTENTION is to edit these posts later with little links to the other fic rec lists so that itll be easier to find. but., its me, so itll either happen in painful detail or not at all

asdjkdgh its 2:30am and i need to sleep and not be rambling incoherently again I WILL SAVE THIS AS A DRAFT. 

[natsora]

Splintered Minds Hype Post

Looking for a tension filled story featuring an aromantic main character? Do you enjoy a mystery and suspense that leaves you guessing at every turn? What about the mind fuckery of an unreliable narrator? If whump, angst, action and thriller checks all your boxes, I have the story for you. 

Presenting Splintered Minds, a Mass Effect Andromeda fanfic featuring Sara Ryder. Watch as she wrestles with her demons and tries her best to get her job done. Thwarted at every turn, she falls and falls only to stand again, but is this one time too many? 

Featuring amazing chapter covers illustrated by @seokanori​​, the brainchild of Seo and Natsora. Seo providing the character and the story idea while @natsora​​ (me) fills in the plot. 

Splintered Minds is a 39 chapters, 155k story, completely drafted and edited. It is posted on AO3. It is updated every 3rd Saturday. (Update schedule is a little complicated, suffice to say, you’d get at least one chapter a month.) It features: 

Dual POV of Sara Ryder and Harry Carlyle

Post-game storyline

A recovery arc for those who has gone through so much trauma

Sounds like your kind of story? Read Splintered Minds on AO3

Don’t just take my word for it. Here are some comments: 

This was an awesome read! I cannot wait for the next installment! :D

All this tension between Ryder and Cora. Nice work with that! It looks like there's even more tension now that it seems there is something between Cora and Scott.

Oh my!!!! Squealed loudly at this! First of all: i love the Sara/SAM relationship, and how she’s reacting at him telling on her! Second: I love love love the impending fight between Harry and Sara. One of these days when exams are finished I will leave a longer comment, but I love love love where this is going!

Slamming the kudos button! I was so happy to see this update, and my oh my! Their relationship is tense! 

Telling ANY Ryder to keep out of trouble is like telling a pig not to play in the mud :P

Ryder... Oblivion, really? :/ And the blanks are getting scaaaryyyyy!

There is sticky situations, and then there is this. Holy F. Ryder is in deep shit omg! 😱😱😱😱😱

This is literally the first chapter I've read of this fic and it sucked me in so hard I can't believe it. It's got so many of my favorite things: post-game aftermaths! Investigation! Mystery! Exploring Ryder's traumas instead of stuffing it into a stasis locker! I am hooked.

I can't wait to read the next chapter, I have a feeling it's going to be good

OH GOD THAT CLIFF HANGER!

An aromatic character is something I thought I'd never see and honestly I'm in love with her because I can relate with it.

Read Splintered Minds on AO3

[today-only-happens-once]

Scutum

Title: Scutum

Word Count: 9424

Summary: Sci-Fi AU. Roman sees the weapon first. The rest is just instinct. Found family. Platonic Logince, Platonic LAMP/CALM. Features Cartoon Therapy characters + Remy/Sleep.

Warnings: cursing (a lot woops); whump/angst/hurt/comfort; violence a la sci-fi/sci-fi weapons; science stuff that’s like 10% research and 90% made-up; sci-fi colonization stuff; passing mention of drunkenness; poison/being poisoned; feelings of guilt and misplaced blame and stuff like that; talk of death and dying; Elliot is briefly a little bit of a jerk but they’re anxious/traumatized and also kinda young so they’re doing their best; injury and blood; let me know if I forgot any.

A/N: Have some sci-fi escapist found family hurt/comfort. This took forever, wow. Several weeks and three drafts later and here we are. Glad it’s done! My huge, undying thanks to @creativenostalgiastuff for all of her help as my beta for this fic and answering my many, many questions and dealing with my general self-doubt. First time writing sci-fi. Would love to know what you think! <3

…

Captain Logan Sanders scrubs a hand underneath his glasses and leans his head back against the glass of the circular window. The metal of the spaceship—affectionately coined Foster by the ship’s medic, Patton Hart—creaks with a dull groan. The captain usually uses the window in the ship’s armory when he needs a moment alone, as its size allows Logan to comfortably lean up against the glass and look out into the “void of space”, as their pilot—Virgil Shea—tended to describe it.

Their relations officer and navigation coordinator, Roman Prince, usually hated looking too long at it. Logan had the feeling it made him feel lonely, or homesick. Maybe both.

Logan doesn’t mind it, though he also wouldn’t have necessarily called it a “void”. Billions of stars and the occasional swirl of color meant a certainty of life that existed out there. The universe is always teeming with it, and Logan finds a greater comfort from this distanced reminder than the crowded, bustling bazaars that Roman seemed to thrive in.

Logan hears the door swish open, his head swiveling over towards the sound. The light that floods into the room illuminates the dusty iron walls and the shelves of weapons—phasers and guns lined up beside one another, boxes of ammo on the shelf above—and Logan sees a familiar figure silhouetted against the light.

“Hey, Captain,” Kai Dwyer greets, unfazed by the sight of Logan sitting in the window.

“Kai,” he replies, pushing himself up to his feet off the window ledge. He grimaces slightly as he stretches his back, having forgotten how stiff the metal makes him when he sits too long.

Kai grabs a clipboard off the wall adjacent to the door. “Thought I’d do a quick inventory check before we dock.”

Logan frowns. “Are we close?”

“Virgil said we were still a few hours out. But I wanna be thorough. Make sure I know everything we need before get on planet.”

Logan inclines his head, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering stiffness before he crosses towards the door. “Acceptable. Carry on.”

Kai gives a small mock-salute. “Roger that, Cap’n.” The door slides shut behind Logan.

Foster is an old ship. Even to someone unfamiliar with the schematic, it’s evident in the grated flooring, the worn metal walls and beams that hold it together, the way the pressurizer hummed on occasion. Newer models tended to be sleeker, more streamlined, and generally brighter than the dark iron walls that adorned Foster’s interior.

Logan would never admit it—even to his own crew—but he trusted Foster more than he trusted other ships. Logically, he knew it was ridiculous. In the vast majority of cases, Logan believed that newer generally meant improved. But when it came to Foster, Logan had never even considered trading it in for a newer model. Instead, if something needed fixing on the ship, then Logan would consult Virgil and their engineer, Remy, to give Foster the needed updates. The ship was as much a part of the crew as any of the rest of them and it had gotten them through it’s fair share of close calls. As far as Logan was concerned, Foster had earned the loyalty of the crew.

But of course… that an inanimate object could earn loyalty didn’t make logical sense. So Logan kept that particular sentiment to himself.

Logan hears a familiar sound of the door swishing open down the short pathway and sees Roman duck out of his room. The relations officer is wearing his white and red armor suit, and Logan arcs an eyebrow when the officer meets his gaze.

“Hey, Specs.” Roman gives a small salute that echoes Kai’s a moment ago. Logan rolls his eyes.

“Greetings. Might I inquire as to why you’re wearing armor? My understanding is that we’re about to dock for a benign venture.” Logan pauses. “Unless you know something I don’t?”

“What? Oh.” Roman glances down at himself as if he’d forgotten what he was wearing. “Sorry to disappoint, Logan. Patton wanted to check the monitors in the suit, so I’m supposed to wear it around for a little bit. Make sure the readings are all right.” He bounces on the balls of his feet. “I’ve gotta say, Kai’s upgrades to the armor are pretty cool. Check this out.”

Roman stretches an arm out to his side, and Logan has barely registered that his palm has started to glow when something bright shoots out from it and Logan throws an arm up to protect his face.

A moment later, Logan lowers his arm to see a glowing hole through one wall of the ship. Through that hole, Logan sees the med bay and Patton staring out at them with wide, startled eyes. Picani is standing on the other side of the med bay, a ukulele in his hand, having just startled out of the chair he was sitting in. Logan clenches his jaw, turning a frustrated gaze at Roman before he hears the metallic clang of footsteps climbing up the ladder and the unmistakable voice of the ship’s primary engineer.

“Girl, you better not have busted a hole in my ship again!”

At the end of the hall, Remy García’s head pokes up with a glowering look as he pulls himself up onto the top layer of scaffolding. His dark goggles are pushed back into his hair, and he’s got streaks of grease smudged across his forehead and along his cheek.

“Your ship?” Logan asks, crossing his arms over his chest. His comment goes ignored as Remy stalks down the pathway and Roman starts stammering out either an apology or an excuse.

“You’re lucky you didn’t punch a hole straight through the outer shell or we’d all be dead.”

The intercom announces its presence with a familiar click and faint static before Virgil’s voice chimes through, echoing slightly off the metal walls. “Yeah, Remy and I might’ve fixed the damage from last week but we’d rather not test it while we’re floating through the great abyss of space.”

Roman’s holding his hands up in surrender. “It was an accident!” He glances through the hole in the wall. “Sorry, Patton. Sorry, doc!”

Patton waves. “It’s okay!” he calls from inside the med bay.

Picani chuckles and waves as well. “Nobody’s hurt!”

Remy sighs and looks to Logan. “That won’t be the cheapest fix, Cap, and we maxed on the budget for ship fixes last time we docked. That pirate gang did a number on Foster.”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Roman, it’s coming out of your pay.”

Roman opens his mouth as if to argue, then closes it before nodding. “No, yeah. That’s fair.”

Remy gives Roman one more glare before turning and heading back towards the ladder that descends to the lower deck. Logan is about to head to the bridge when he hears Roman say, “I mean… you gotta admit that was pretty cool.”

“I will admit no such thing,” Logan replies dryly as he heads in the opposite direction of Remy. “At some point, I’ll have peace and quiet on my ship again.”

“I wouldn’t be sure of that!” Roman calls after him brightly.

…

“We’re probably about 3 hours out from docking, Captain.”

Elliot—Virgil’s co-pilot—makes the announcement as the door to the ship’s bridge swishes open. The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks slightly, always impressed by Elliot’s ability to know who was coming through the door without looking. Anytime Logan asked them about it, they merely shrugged.

Foster’s bridge is relatively small. Green, red, and blue dots of lights cover both walls above a row of seats with harnesses for emergency cases. Each dot of light was information about how Foster was functioning, and Logan scans both walls quickly. Everything seemed to be operating efficiently.

“Understood,” Logan replies to Elliot.

A few feet past the emergency seats along the walls are the two pilot chairs, occupied by Virgil and Elliot. Virgil flips a small metal switch, then glances over his shoulder at Logan. Virgil had been the last person to join his team when Logan was first recruiting—Picani, Kai, and Elliot didn’t join until a few months ago. Logan had been uncertain when someone whose call sign was “Anxiety” responded to his flyer in search of a pilot. But word on the street had been that Virgil was the best of the best, and Logan was running low on potential candidates that measured up to his expectations.

Virgil had more than proved the rumors. Logan owed his life to him and his piloting skills more times than he cared to admit. The entire crew did.

“So why exactly are we docking in Vannaheim?” Virgil asks. “Not that I’m not, like, totally jazzed to be going to a planet that’s 99% desert.”

Logan crosses the short distance to stand between the two pilots chairs. “Vannaheim’s dune pattern is being impacted by gravity shifts that they can’t explain. We’re there to take some observations and perhaps help their scientists develop a solution.”

Elliot glances at Virgil, then snorts at the look on his face. “You’re just mad because you can’t wear your hoodie.”

Virgil points a finger at them. “I can, and I will.”

“You will do no such thing,” Logan interjects with a pointed look. “I will not have one of my best pilots suffer heat stroke.”

“It’s my aesthetic and I like to suffer.”

Logan shakes his head, looking out above the ship’s controls to the window that spanned in front of the pilot seats. It was a similar view to the one Logan had been enjoying a moment ago in the armory window, with the addition of Vannaheim in the distance—a small, red and orange planet that was approximately half the size of Earth. Hot and dry, but slightly higher oxygen levels than were present in Earth’s atmosphere.

Logan had been to Vannaheim six years ago when an old friend of his, Corbin Wright, had requested his help with developing vegetation alternatives given the arid biosphere of the planet. He’d been concerned at the potential ecological ramifications should they introduce flora and fauna that were not native to the planet. Instead, he and Corbin and a few other scientists spent a few weeks researching the native vegetation and fauna and determining what options were most compatible with human nutritional needs.

The effort had been met with some resistance from a minority of the colonists on the planet. They formed something of a resistance group—called themselves the ‘Retribution’, which Logan still thinks is a bit excessive—that started with some minor disagreement at community meetings, but quickly devolved into accusations that their ‘way of life’ was ‘under attack’. Which was ridiculous. Logan left as things continued to escalate, knowing that his presence on the planet was likely to only heighten the tensions. It was Logan’s original idea, after all.

When Corbin reached out about the gravitational shifts, he’d said tensions had remained after Logan left—even reaching moments when Corbin worried it would turn violent—but that things seemed to have mostly settled down in the recent weeks. Logan had asked if Corbin was sure that Logan returning wouldn’t have an adverse effect on the peace in the colony.

One way to find out, Corbin had replied dryly. Logan didn’t find it particularly comforting.

…

Two and a half hours later, Logan is passing by the med bay when the click through the ship’s intercom perks his ears.

“Heads up. We’re T-minus 27 minutes until we’ll be pulling into dock.” Elliot’s voice is distorted slightly by the static hum.

It clicks off in the same moment that the doors to the med bay swish open. Patton steps out, looking down at a chart that’s projected flatly from the gauntlet on his wrist. He glances up and smiles.

“Heya, Cap.”

Logan arcs an eyebrow. “Greetings. Everything satisfactory?” He inclines his head to the chart Patton had been looking at.

“What, this?” Patton glances back down. “Yeah. Just going over the charts from the new suit readouts. I was gonna have you try yours on before we docked, but Roman’s little… surprise earlier did some damage to the chest plate as I was downloading the software.” Patton laughs. “Kai said he can fix it, but not before we dock. I did manage to salvage your helmet, though. Ya have a minute?”

Logan follows Patton through the entryway into the med bay. Perhaps “med bay” was a bit of a gracious term for it. The room was relatively small, with two gatch beds fixed to one wall, and a variety of medical equipment and read-outs that Logan only vaguely understood how to use. The room was well-equipped for as small as it was, but Patton was also the only medical doctor on the ship.

On the left gatch bed, Logan sees black armor with blue accents—and the half-melted chestplate. It resembles, in style, to the white and red armor Roman had been wearing earlier.

“I updated the heartrate monitor display, plus the one for oxygen intake,” Patton is saying behind Logan as he minimizes the chart he’d been looking at and moves to a monitor on the far wall. “I also added a body temperature gauge and a toxin sensor since you can never be too careful, y’know?”

Logan nods, lifting the new helmet and inspecting it. The exterior of the helmet looks the same as before Logan had turned it over to be updated. A dark visor shields the face, the rest of it black with dark blue accents. It matches the damaged suit that sits in pieces on the gatch bed.

“Ya like it?” Patton asks. Logan looks over his shoulder at the doctor, who had stopped what he was doing on the monitor to look expectantly at the ship captain.

Logan glances back. “It appears to be the same helmet.”

Patton grins. “Looks that way. It’s cooler now, though. I also added in some ecological monitors. Simple stuff, at least for now. Atmosphere make up, surface temperature. Working on some other stuff, but that seems like enough for a prototype, don’tcha think?”

“I suppose it does make sense to limit variable additions when testing new technology.”

“Try the helmet on for me? Oh, and you should probably take your glasses off. Kai made sure the display will adjust for your vision.”

Logan obligingly slips the dark armor helmet over his head. He reaches up to his temple on the outside of the helmet and presses in. There’s a high-pitched blip and Logan’s vision goes from dark to a bright, staticky blue. Logan instinctively shuts his eyes against the blinding onslaught.

“Yikes!” Patton yelps, and Logan senses him suddenly standing beside him. A slight pressure on his left temple, a quiet blip, and Logan’s vision goes back to black. “I’m sorry, Logan. Not sure why that happened. I’ll have Kai take a look.”

Logan slips the helmet back off. “Not to worry, Patton. I’m confident in Kai’s engineering capabilities.”

Patton gingerly takes the helmet from Logan’s arms and sets it back on the gatch bed in front of them. “Yeah, but still. We were so close to all of you getting to try the new suits!”

Logan rakes his fingers through his hair to pull it back under control from its disheveled state. It was always a mess when he took his helmet off. He slips his glasses back onto his face. “Nevertheless. Roman and Elliot’s test runs on Vannaheim should still be adequate in assessing whether the new software you’ve developed will serve its functional purpose adequately.”

Patton gives Logan’s helmet a sad pat. “Yeah, you’re right. Well, thanks for giving it a shot, Cap! Good luck down there.”

“Your luck is unneeded, but appreciated. Thank you, Patton.”

…

The blast of arid heat stings Logan’s eyes slightly as Virgil lowers the ship’s docking track. Logan smiles politely at Corbin—slightly aged from the last time he saw him, but unmistakable regardless—and the two other individuals that stand with him. Roman and Elliot linger closely behind him as Logan descends the ramp and shakes Corbin’s hand.

“It’s good to see you, Logan,” Corbin greets with a faint smile. “Allow me to introduce you. This is my partner, Sloane. And this is Valerie.”

Logan shakes both of their hands, thinking idly that Sloane’s evident excitable energy rivaled that of Patton’s. Valerie has her dark hair pulled back into a high ponytail, which isn’t necessarily a surprise given the heat. The orange and yellow sands stretch into rolling dunes in the distance, unheeded by the small colony network they’d docked in. A bright blue sky stretches above them, and Logan sees Elliot slip on a pair of sunglasses out of the corner of his eye. Roman squints and brings up a hand to shield his own vision.

“Rainwall’s gotten bigger,” Logan remarks as Corbin leads them from the dock and further into the colony.

The last time Logan had been here, it had barely been a few temporary settlement structures—really just glorified tents, in Logan’s humble opinion--cohesive enough to call a colony network but only barely. The structures look more permanent now, and there are certainly more of them. Pathways between them are not paved but are certainly worn enough with foot and vehicle traffic, and Logan is pleased to see that they put his prior suggestion of solar panels to use. The roofs of nearly every building—most of them white and domed structures of varying sizes—are covered with them.

There’s a gust of wind, kicking up the sand and dust at their feet. Logan turns his face into his shoulder to keep from inhaling. Roman coughs behind him. “Oh great,” he says with an air of drama that makes Logan roll his eyes. “This planet is going to ruin my hair.”

“You get used to it,” Valerie says.

“I definitely do not want to get used to it.”

The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks. “We could return to Dal’tera, Roman.”

“I thought we agreed to never speak of Dal’tera again.”

“You and Virgil agreed to never speak of what happened on Dal’tera again. I made no such promise.”

Although Logan doesn’t turn around, he can feel the way Elliot’s gaze flickers between Roman’s face and the back of his head. “What happened on Dal’tera?”

“It was four years ago—”

“Which is why we are leaving it in the past!” Roman cuts in insistently. “Unbelievable. The lack of trust. First, Kai disables the cool blaster-thingy on my suit, now my own captain is betraying my trust.”

The accusation is empty and with a certain familiar affection underlying the dramatics, but Logan holds his hands up in mock surrender regardless. “To Kai’s credit, you did damage the ship less than half an hour after having the technology made available to you,” he says, and Roman makes an affronted noise behind him.

“It was an accidental—”

Elliot interrupts him, sounding amused. “Did you just call it a blaster-thingy? Really?”

Logan glances over his shoulder in time to see Roman look down at his armored hand. “I don’t know the name for it.”

“It should be named something cool.”

“Yes, I agree. Perhaps we should come up with some options to run by Kai when we return.”

As they pass one of the vegetation fields, a pair of colonists wave at them from a distance. Logan sees Sloane wave enthusiastically in return out of the corner of his eye. Corbin lifts a hand in a more subdued greeting. A pair of children cut out between the buildings in front of them and barely dodge Logan and Corbin at the front of the group, shrieking with laughter.  Behind him, Elliot and Roman chat about potential names for the new technology that Kai had inputted into the suit.

It’s a familiar thrum of background noise as they make their way through the settlement. The excitable chatter and increasingly ridiculous suggestions for naming technology makes Logan vaguely grateful that Kai tended to name his own tech rather than leave it to those two. Regardless, Logan is content to let them chatter away. Especially if it kept their attention occupied as they navigate through Rainwall.

As much as the colony had grown since Logan had last seen it, it doesn’t take them too long to reach the far end of the small town. They’re led to one of the white domed structures at the far end of the network of buildings and worn pathways. Corbin inputs a four-digit code into the keypad beside the door, and Logan hears a lock click before the door swishes open.

…

Logan feels the beanbag hit the back of his head for the fourth time and doesn’t even bother to turn around.

“Sorry, Captain!” Roman says, also for the fourth time.

Logan, Corbin, and Valerie had been pouring over data spreadsheets, charts, graphs, and notes regarding the anomaly in Vannaheim’s dune pattern for the past three hours. Roman and Elliot both had tried to assist for the first hour and a half, but while they were extremely bright and intelligent people in Logan’s opinion, neither were particularly practiced or well-versed in theoretical physics or planetology. Elliot’s understanding of piloting had been helpful briefly in identifying some smaller anomalies in the gravitational shifts in the planet’s atmosphere, but that was about the extent that their expertise could help.

The pod—as Sloane had been calling the one-room building they were in—was small and simple on the inside, but certainly functional. The couch and table towards the front of the pod had been pushed against the wall to make room for the game that Roman and Sloane had started with a beanbag that Sloane happened to have handy. Towards the back were several computers, and a few chairs. Corbin sits in one, scanning over the contents of the most recent read-out, and Valerie sits in the other. Logan stands and paces in the space between them and the game of beanbag. There were a few unpacked crates blocking part of the pathway, having previously housed brand-new computer parts.

Roman sheepishly jogs the short distance between himself and the beanbag at Logan’s feet, snatching it up. Logan opens his mouth to say something when Elliot cuts him off, sitting up a bit from where they’d been lounged against the couch.

“Did you guys hear that?”

Logan frowns, but it’s Valerie who speaks up, looking up from the tablet in her hands. “Hear what?”

But then they do hear it. It’s distant, but rapidly getting closer. Shouting. Someone screams. And—

“Was that phaser discharge?” Sloane asks, his face draining of color. Elliot scrambles to their feet, crossing towards Logan and further away from the door.

“Corbin, take Sloane and get out of here,” Logan says immediately. “Valerie, you too. Get somewhere safe.”

The shout is right outside the door. Corbin grabs for Sloane and yanks him back behind him as the door swishes open, fumbling to pull the phaser out of the holster at his belt.

Logan barely has time to register that the strangled cry from Roman is his name before he feels a weight slam into him, sending him crashing to the floor just as phasers go off. Logan doesn’t know who fired first, his ears ringing slightly and Roman, a heavy weight, on top of him.

“I knew he’d come back!” a new voice—grating and sharp and a little hysterical—shrieks. “I knew fucking Logan Sanders couldn’t keep his distance! You’ve ruined our way of life one too many times you fucking piece of—” Corbin fires his phaser, a streak of green light slamming into the figure’s chest. Even through the chaos, Logan can see the switch set to stun.

“Roman,” Logan grunts as he shoves his relations officer off of him, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Roman rolls off him with a tight grimace, an arm wrapped around himself. He doesn’t answer and he doesn’t sit up, and it’s only then that Logan sees the skin of Roman’s waist—a sickly green and black—exposed between his fingers and broken armor.

Logan’s mind kicks into overdrive, the shouting between Corbin, Valerie, Elliot and the intruders overlapping with exchanges of phaser fire fading into background noise.

Logan goes to reach for his comm at his belt before he realizes that it’s been shattered into pieces. Parts of it are melted, apparently having taken some phaser damage. Unusable. Logan changes tactics immediately, pulling the identical equipment piece off Roman’s shoulder and clicks in.

“Foster Crew,” Logan says, clipped and urgent. “Come in. We have a Code Black. Repeat: Code Black. We need immediate assistance.”

“Fucking shit,” is Virgil’s instant response, muffled from static. “What’s your location?”

Logan looks to Elliot on his left, who is staring at Roman with wide eyes having heard the call go through the comms. “Elliot,” Logan says. “Send our location.”

They blink quickly and nod, pressing a button on the gauntlet on their armor before firing another round of their phaser. It cracks against the wall. Elliot ducks back behind the create as the corner of it splinters into shards with a ricocheting crack.

Logan reaches for the wound on Roman’s waist, but Roman won’t move his hands. He’s pale, already with a thin sheen of sweat, and when his eyes flutter open, Logan doesn’t miss the glassy look in them, nor the way that they don’t seem to focus.

“Roman. Hey.” Logan taps his face, then pulls Roman’s hands away. “Look here.”

“Cap?” Roman’s voice is distant. Hazy. Confused.

When Logan yanks Roman’s hands away so that he can better assess damage, Roman makes a noise in the back of his throat that doesn’t sound fully human.

Logan doesn’t respond. The wound isn’t just phaser damage, from the little Logan can see. Phasers didn’t generally turn skin into that green-black mottled mess. There appears to be several tiny puncture wounds. Toxin, Logan thinks, and reaches for Roman’s comm again. He helps Roman sit up and lean against the crate behind him.

“Patton. Come in, Patton.”

Corbin is shouting something from where he’s taken cover against the wall on the opposite side to Logan’s left. He fires twice more.

“Roman’s vitals are all over the place,” Patton answers without having to ask what Logan needed to know. “Toxin levels are elevated and climbing. What’s happening down there?”

“Virgil, what’s your ETA?” Logan says instead of answering. He’s on autopilot, his mind racing. He can barely keep up with his own thoughts. Flashes of green phaser fire streak overhead and leave scorch marks on the white walls of the pod.

“Two minutes but it looks like you guys are pinned down. We’ll do what we can. Might be two and a half before you guys can get out.”

“Is anyone else hurt?” Logan asks to the open air.

“Not yet,” Corbin replies, ducking as another round of phaser fire hits overhead. “They’re Retribution though. No mistaking that.” He aims again, fires a few more rounds. Logan hears something heavy slump to the ground. Roman grunts and leans his head back against the crate he’s propped up against. His breathing is fast and shallow.

Despite himself, Roman gives Logan a pained smile. “I got pretty good reflexes, huh?”

“This situation hardly classifies as a testament to your reflex speed.”

“Virgil always said….” Roman grimaces. Shudders. Tries again. “Virge always said he was fastest but I could give ‘im a…. a run for his money.”

Logan frowns. “Your speech is slurring.”

“Sorry.”

Roman starts saying something about the last time he was drunk—Logan was there; they’d been celebrating Virgil’s birthday—but Logan has mostly tuned him out. His mind is still spinning. Toxin-equipped phasers were new technology to Logan. He’d heard there was potential for it, but he hadn’t looked much into the tech or its development. For it to be possible, then they’d need access to existing natural toxins. Synthetic ones wouldn’t pair as well with the phaser tech and would risk overloading or overheating the weapons. What natural toxins existed on Vannaheim?

More than one, from Logan’s memory. It had been a subsection of his research when looking into native vegetation options from the planet six years ago.

“Logan? Come in. Logan?” Patton’s voice over the comms not only interrupts Logan’s sprinting thoughts, but also causes Roman to cut off his slurred, barely coherent speech.

Logan grabs the device. “Here.”

“Roman’s getting worse. I think he’s panicking, ‘cuz his heartrate is through the roof, but that could also be the toxin. Do you know what it was?”

“I don’t. If I were to guess, based on the damage and situational factors, I’d probably assume it was a hemotoxin or necrotoxin but without more information or the ability to run tests, I cannot be certain.”

Virgil’s voice cuts into the conversation. “T-minus one minute.” Even distorted from the static, Virgil’s voice sounds strained in its own right. “Fuck, I’m going as fast as I can, Logan. Tell Princey he’s not allowed to die before I have the chance to kill him myself for being an idiot.”

Roman scoffs, but it’s weak and pained and sounds a lot more like a cough. “An idiot?” he demands incredulously.

“Message received,” Logan says dryly before setting the comm down. “Roman, take a deep breath.”

Roman sucks in a breath—shaking and thin—and winces. “Ow. Shit.” Roman’s arm wraps around his torso and he tosses a shaky smile to Logan. “I can’t believe I’m really gonna die having never beaten you at chess.”

It’s Elliot that answers him first, their voice tight and strangled and desperate. “You’re not going to die.”

“You’re not going to beat me at chess,” Logan adds. He can still hear shouting outside the pod. Roman gives a breathy laugh before his eyes unfocus again, blinking owlishly. Logan sets a firm, grounding hand on his shoulder. “Focus. Roman, tell me five things you can see.”

“Tell me five things you can see.” Roman blinks hard, then looks around uncomprehendingly. “Where… am I?”

“Vannaheim,” Logan replies smoothly despite the way his chest clenches. He cannot panic. Logan takes a breath.

Roman makes a face. “I hate Vannaheim.”

“Because the wind messes up your hair. Yes, you’ve told me.”

The door swishes open and Logan grabs Roman’s phaser from its holster and fires a shot. It cracks against the wall of the pod slightly to the left of the intruder. Logan had left his phaser on the ship. An oversight on his part. Deal with it later, Logan tells himself firmly.

“A prince has got to slay,” Roman says, his words slurred. He takes a breath that seems to tangle in his lungs, and wheezes out a cough.

“You’re wearing a uniformed suit of armor,” Logan finds himself saying. Wasn’t enough to protect him, something hisses in Logan’s mind. Logan shakes his head quickly. He’d deal with that thought later. “If you’re that worried about your appearance, wear the helmet.”

Logan estimates that it’s been about twenty seconds since his last communication with Virgil and Patton. They hear the door swish open. Valerie fires. There’s a startled cry and the door closes.

“I like the—” Roman cuts himself off with a clench to his teeth, his body visibly shuddering. He curls around himself, his head nearly pitching straight into Logan’s chest. The captain catches Roman’s shoulders, holding him steady until the trembling is back to a more manageable level a second later. He guides Roman to sit back again.

Roman’s head leans back to thump gently against the crate, his brow pinched. “Logan… you’re shaking.”

“Falsehood,” Logan replies distractedly, trying to tune in to the conversation Corbin and Valerie are having on the opposite side of the small pod given the lull in combatants. They can still hear the fight raging outside. Someone screams. Pounding footsteps.

Sloane is typing frantically into one of the computers. A second later, there’s a click by the door. “Doors are locked. Should at least slow them down,” he says.

Corbin glances back at Logan, his chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath. His jaw sets when his eyes flicker to Roman slumped against the crate.

“You’ve gotta get out of here,” he says. “Valerie and I will cover you. As soon as Anxiety gets here, make a break for it. They’re not here for a war. They’re here for you.”

Logan opens his mouth to reply but Roman’s strained, slurred speech interrupts him. “Logan… give m’ th’ phaser.”

“Why?”

Roman’s brow furrows together like he thinks the answer should be obvious. “Figured I’d take a few of ‘em down with me while… while you two…” He grimaces again, but Logan gets the picture.

“No.”

Roman levels a look that would be a glare if his eyes would stay focused on Logan. “Be logical, Captain.”

Logan doesn’t deign the challenge with a response. He just stares at Roman—the sheen of sweat, the shallow and rapid breath, the way Roman can’t seem to support the weight of his own head—and then looks back at Corbin. “If we flee and they’re here for me, it’s not impossible that they’ll give chase.”

“We’ll ground as many as we can,” Valerie says, quickly adjusting some calibration on the phaser in her hand.

“Captain,” Roman insists, but Logan ignores him.

“Virgil will just have to shake the rest,” Logan says grimly.

“T-minus five seconds. Incoming.” Virgil’s cracked, staticky voice breaks through the comms on Elliot’s and Roman’s shoulder.

“Speak of the devil.”

“Let’s move,” Logan says, crossing back to Roman.

He figures that offering a hand to help Roman stand up wouldn’t be enough support, given that Roman seemed barely capable of holding up his own head. A fireman’s carry? Seemed excessive, at least for the time being. Perhaps Logan would default to that should Roman lose consciousness.

“’m gonna slow y’ down.” Roman’s voice is quiet, and it takes Logan a moment to decipher what he said given the way the words run together.

Logan crouches down and takes Roman’s arm, wrapping it around his shoulders and bracing one hand against Roman’s armored chestplate. “Think you can stand up?”

“Not lis’ning.”

“Answer the question, Roman.”

Roman swallows. Shudders. His arm tightens around his waist. “Yeah.”

“Three. Two. One. Up.” Logan stands, bracing most of Roman’s weight into his side. Roman nearly pitches into the floor, but he manages to get his legs underneath him and though Logan can feel him shaking with the exertion of effort, Roman is standing.

Progress.

“I’ll wait to unlock the door until you guys are right in front of it,” Sloane says and if there’s a bit of strain to his voice—if he casts a long glance at Corbin—well, Logan doesn’t say anything about it.

“Logan,” Roman says. “Lemme… lemme st…” Roman spasms, and nearly pitches right out of Logan’s grip. His hand on Roman’s chest is the only thing that keeps Roman from tumbling to the floor.

Logan goes to take a step with him—he can see black bleeding up through Roman’s neck like spilled ink and it tightens something in his chest—but Roman doesn’t move. Logan gives Roman a sharp look, opens his mouth to explain that they didn’t have time to waste, but there’s something fiery and bold beneath the haze of pain and poison that clouds his gaze.

“’m not worth—”

“It’s not your decision!” Logan cuts him off sharply. Furious. His gut twists against what he knows was the rest of Roman’s sentence. Roman releases a breath that would sound annoyed if there wasn’t a bit of a hitch to it.

“Doors opening in three. Two. One.”

Corbin and Valerie duck out first, and it’s a mess of dust and wind as Foster’s engine roars overhead, touching down as close as it reasonably can. Logan hears the reverberating pops of phaser fire exchanged somewhere in the cloud of dust. Streaks of green light criss-crossing in the sand-clogged cloud around them. Corbin yells for them to go. Elliot fires off a few shots of their own, sticking close to the two of them to fill in the gaps of phaser coverage left between Corbin and Valerie.

They run.

Or, as best as they can manage. It’s barely a loose jog, really, with Logan having to support most of Roman’s weight. But Roman manages to put one foot in front of the other and from his strangled breathing and how hard he’s shaking, Logan knows it’s about all Roman can manage to do.

Logan estimates that the distance between the pod and Foster is about a hundred or so meters. At the rate they’re moving, it should take them about twenty seconds to reach the docking ramp that Virgil lowers as soon as they touch down. Maybe less than that, if they can push the pace a bit more.

It takes ten seconds before Logan feels bright heat rip through his upper right bicep. Warm liquid spills down his arm.

“Captain!” Elliot yells, alarmed, over the chaos.

“I’m fine,” Logan grits out. “Go! Go!”

Patton meets them on the docking ramp, his eyes wide, and takes Roman’s other side to help Logan get him the rest of the way up. Elliot fires their phaser twice more as the ramp closes before ripping their comm unit off and calling into it.

“Virgil, punch it. We’re gonna have tails.”

“Fuck. Everyone accounted for?”

Logan grabs Roman’s comm. “Affirmative. Get us out of here.” Logan braces himself, and Roman, for the shift as Virgil lifts them off and takes off.

Roman sways.

Patton reaches for his wound. “Ro—”

The navigations officer collapses. Logan grunts as he and Patton both catch him before he crumples entirely, the effort tearing at the wound in Logan’s arm. Bright, hot pain ripples down his arm and up through his shoulder. Logan clenches his teeth against the sharp cry that tries to tear up his throat.

“Roman!” Elliot steps forward, but Logan holds up a hand, trying to get his breathing back under control from the fresh wave of pain.

“No, Elliot. Pilot with Virgil.”

“But I want to help!”

His arm is throbbing and Logan glances down at it, noting with a certain level of detachment that it just looks like a normal graze. No sign of toxin damage. “Help Virgil,” Logan tells them firmly, leveling a steady gaze that leaves no room for argument.

Elliot’s expression darkens before they turn and head towards the cockpit.

“I gotta get Roman to med bay,” Patton says quietly. “And get you patched up too.”

“I’m fine,” Logan says, helping Patton hoist Roman up from his half-collapsed state on the floor. “Just a graze.”

“But still.”

“It’ll heal, Patton.”

“Logan.”

Logan’s jaw snaps shut. He gives a single, stiff nod in return.

…

The next several minutes are frantic.

Patton and Logan carry Roman to the medical bay and Patton immediately pries Roman’s suit off him to get a closer look. It’s a flurry of movement as he hooks Roman up to various machines to read off information about his vitals, extracting some of the toxin from his system so Patton can run different tests on it separate from Roman’s body, all of which is made more challenging by the frequent shift in g-force as Virgil and Elliot try to lose the ships that had followed them off Vannaheim.

Logan is still on autopilot. He doesn’t stop moving. Logan helps Patton as much as he can, and it’s not until Patton is very gently helping Logan into chair to bandage his wounded arm after Roman has been fully equipped that Logan realizes the warm liquid that he’d felt down his arm was his own blood. Logan stares at Roman on the gatch bed with numb detachment and lets Patton clean and wrap the wound in his arm. It’s while Patton is tying the knot on the bandage wrapped around Logan’s bicep that Virgil clicks on over the intercom.

“I think we’ve shaken the last of them. Status update on Princey?”

Logan and Patton exchange a glance. Patton offers a sad smile and slight lift to his shoulders. Logan stands from the chair and walks to the intercom on the wall. He presses the button, waiting for the click before he speaks.

“No change. Did we take any damage?”

It’s Remy’s voice that answers him. “She’ll hold together, but Foster’s warp drive is out of commission until we can dock and I get some parts. What the hell was that all about?”

Logan swallows and leans his head against the wall for a moment. A damaged warp drive meant that getting to the next planet would take a bit longer than originally planned. He glances over at Patton, whose lips press into a grim line. Logan swallows before he answers over the intercom. “It appears that some prior work I did on that planet in an effort of sustainability warranted a minority of individuals harboring some… hostility.”

Behind him, Patton is peering at the monitors with Roman’s vitals. “Seems like more than just some hostility.”

“And we’re sure Wright is gonna be fine down there?” Virgil asks.

“Reasonably,” Logan replies. “Their hostility was directed predominantly at me.”

“And yet Roman—oh, wait. Hey, Cap, you might wanna come up here. We’ve got a message inbound from Vannaheim.”

Logan sighs. “I’ll be right there.”

Logan isn’t sure what to expect. He can’t fairly say that he is surprised. It made sense that they would attempt contact, especially given that they had successfully evaded their trail. And expecting the message to wait certainly wouldn’t have made sense—they’d be out of signal range within a few minutes. Logan considers, briefly, letting the message go unanswered. But there couldn’t be any harm in talking, right? Perhaps Logan could even appease them enough to quell some of the hostile action that could—had, did—put innocent people in harm’s way.

His arm throbs. Logan looks over his shoulder at Roman, prone on the gatch bed. Pale, except for the side that got hit being a smattering of mottled green and black. The black bleeds in curling tendrils across his chest, up his shoulder, his neck.

Patton catches him staring and gives him another one of those sad smiles. “I’m doing what I can for him, Captain.”

Logan swallows and nods. He squeezes Patton’s shoulder on his way out.

He tries very hard to not look at the hole through the wall that Roman had blasted earlier today. Instead, he focuses on the weight of his measured, calculated footsteps against the grated scaffolding. The very faint and yet oddly familiar, comforting scent of iron that lingered on the inside of the ship despite Patton’s best attempts to fix it. He counts in his head how many steps it takes from the door of the med bay to the cockpit.

The answer is eighteen.

The door swishes open and Virgil cranes his neck around. Elliot doesn’t even show signs of having heard the door opened at all.

“Ready, Captain?” Virgil asks, his finger poised over one of the buttons in front of him.

Logan steadies a hand on the back of Virgil’s chair and nods. “Yes.”

The screen in front of them blips on and Logan stares in surprise as Corbin, Sloane, and Valerie’s faces fill the frame. “Hey, they made it!” Sloane says brightly. Logan can still feel tension pulling his shoulders taught.

“Barely,” Elliot says, so quietly Logan almost doesn’t hear it. Logan sees Virgil glance at them, his brow furrowing.

“How’s Roman doing?” Valerie asks.

“We’re working on it,” Logan says.

“You mean Patton’s working on it,” Elliot cuts in.

“Yes,” Logan acquiesces. “I do mean that. Our ship’s medic, Patton Hart, is doing what he can. How are things there?”

“Our earlier assumptions proved accurate,” Corbin replies with a shrug. “They followed you. The ones that didn’t were angry, but hostility tapered off once they realized they were outnumbered and that you were gone.”

“I apologize for bringing you under some fire. That wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s not like you could’ve known,” Sloane says with a dismissal wave.

“We’re about to lose signal,” Virgil says quietly.

“Hey, keep us updated about Roman, will you?” Corbin asks.

Sloane and Valerie both nod. “We’re just as worried about him as you are!”

Elliot mutters something under their breath that Logan doesn’t quite catch, but from the suddenly furious look Virgil shoots them, perhaps it was better that he didn’t. Logan assures them that they will let them know as soon as there’s any change to report. Virgil cuts the feed and flexes his grip around the ship’s controls.

“What the hell was that?” Virgil demands suddenly. For a moment, Logan frowns in confusion before he realizes that the question was meant for Elliot and not himself.

“Forget it,” Elliot replies with a quick glance to Logan.

“Bullshit,” Virgil shoots back. His grip on the controls look too tight to be comfortable. “You’re not good with confrontation. Fine. But you don’t get to sit there and make passive-aggressive jabs at our captain after the shit-show we just dealt with. One that he got you out of, I might add. What’s wrong with you?”

“Okay—” Logan says, placatingly, but Elliot interrupts him.

“What’s wrong with me?” they demand, waving a hand towards Logan. “What’s wrong with him? He doesn’t seem phased in the slightest! Roman was shot trying to protect him and he just acted like he didn’t care—”

“Because that’s his fucking job!” Virgil turns a glowering look onto Elliot.

“Virgil,” Logan tries, bewildered at the argument, but they both seem to have forgotten that Logan is even there.

Virgil continues, tearing his gaze back to the stars stretching in front of them. “He’s the Captain, Elliot. It’s his job to make sure shit gets done, and that is especially true when one of us gets hurt. Logan doesn’t fall apart during a crisis but don’t you dare suggest that means he doesn’t fucking care.”

Elliot is silent. Logan doesn’t know what—if anything—he should say. Virgil heaves a sigh and rakes a hand through his long bangs. “I mean, shit. Look, I know today has been a lot. The past two hours have been a lot. And you haven’t been with us very long. But if you don’t know anything about our Captain, know this: Logan speaks how he cares in his actions. All you have to do is pay attention.”

Logan blinks. He forgot sometimes how closely Virgil watched other people, including himself. He’d noticed it in the beginning when Virgil had first joined, but Virgil had mostly dismissed it and said it was an “anxiety thing”. Logan didn’t know that he believed that, but over time, Virgil’s steady, watchful gaze had become less unsettling and more comforting. Until Logan forgot entirely just how much Virgil paid attention to the people around him.

Elliot sighs. They don’t look up, but Logan hears their words regardless. “I’m sorry, Captain. I was… unfair.”

“It’s understandable,” Logan replies, surprised at being suddenly addressed. His mind is still reeling. Too full of information that is racing through his mind to fully process the argument that just ensued.  “Take a breath, Elliot. Get some rest.”

“I…” Elliot looks like they want to argue, but they seem to change their mind. They stand up and look to Virgil. “Are… you good?”

Virgil glances at them, and something softens in his expression. “Yeah, kid. I’m good here.”

Elliot nods absently, then disappears through the cockpit doors. Virgil glances over his shoulder at Logan. “You should get some rest too, Captain.”

“I’m fine.”

Virgil sighs. He doesn’t press him.

…

Days go by. Patton manages to get Roman to stable vitals and Logan thinks he can hear the collective sigh of relief across the ship when the announcement comes over the staticky intercom. But Roman doesn’t wake up, and Patton tells them that he isn’t sure when—or if—it’ll happen. Logan spends most of these days in the med bay, doing what he can with his scientific knowledge to assist Patton’s tests on the toxin. Kai joins them for short periods of time, putting his knowledge of weapons and tech to some use in the long hours.

They manage to come up with an antidote somewhere around what would be a little past two in the morning Earth-time of the second day. It cleanses Roman’s system of the poison, but damage had been done. It was difficult to ascertain exactly how much.

Logan doesn’t sleep much. He thinks Patton notices, but whenever the doctor tries to bring it up, Logan shrugs him off. His usually rigid circadian schedule had been disrupted by bad dreams that echo with Sloane’s pale face and Elliot’s shaking hands and Roman’s strained words. The last words he’d gotten out. I’m not worth—and every time, Logan wakes up before Roman can finish the thought. So Logan gets enough sleep to function, and he spends the rest of his time in the med bay and around the ship making himself useful.

All the crew find time to stop in on occasion as the days press forward. Virgil and Elliot take shifts. Picani makes sure that Patton and Logan are eating, and sometimes sits and talks to Roman’s unconscious form. Patton does that too—talk to him. Whenever he gives Logan an update with a new chart read out, he speaks as if Roman can hear him.

When Logan eventually asks him about it—if he thinks Roman can hear them—Patton lifts a shoulder and replies, “I don’t know. I hope so. And it helps me to talk to him anyway, y’know?”

Logan tries it when Patton goes to bed that night. He sits in the chair that Remy had grabbed and set beside Roman earlier that day and listens to the way the silence of the ship at this hour seems to echo against the old metal walls and bracing. Foster had been quieter in general in the past several days. Less laughter. Less teasing. Less… vibrant.

“That’s your fault, you know,” Logan says quietly, looking at Roman. “As much as I always complain about your insufferable noise level, I’ll admit I had grown… accustomed to it.”

Roman’s face is still startlingly pale, but it had lost the sickly sheen of sweat. He breathes evenly. Regularly. Logan listens to it for a moment, grateful that it at least wasn’t the shaking, shallow wheezes it had been on Vannaheim. The black-and-green stain on Roman’s skin had mostly faded. He’d have a scar, Patton said, on his waist where the initial hit happened. But the rest of it should go back to normal in a day or two.

“Now the quiet just seems…” Logan sighs. He listens again as the ship groans. “It seems heavy. Though you’d probably mock me for the use of the chremamorphism. Ordinarily, I’d qualify it with literal or figurative, as I know that silence cannot carry a physical weight, but…” Logan breaks off. It feels like a literal weight, hanging over the ship like a fog and darkening the iron walls. Weighing on the shoulders of those who move within the space.

Logan sighs. Scrubs a hand across his eyes under his glasses with exhaustion. “There’s something that has been bothering me, Roman. Something that I need to say to you.”

Logan leans forward. Bows his head. “You tried to tell me that you weren’t worth the risk of getting you to safety. Which is, honestly, bullshit. I don’t leave my people behind, Roman. You, of all people, should know that. And you… you shouldn’t have taken that shot. That was meant for me.”

Logan wonders, now that he’s said it aloud, if the weight on his shoulders from the silence is really the weight of his own guilt. Poised over his head like a pendulum on the verge of snapping.

Bearing Roman’s weight on Vannaheim had not felt this heavy. Logan realizes suddenly that his hands are shaking. He clasps them together in front of him between his knees.

“I’m the Captain,” Logan says. “It’s my job to keep you all safe, and I let you down. That’s on me. And… I am sorry, Roman. I am sorry for my shortcomings as a leader and as a friend. Because if you felt unworthy of being saved, I’m afraid I have failed in both responsibilities.”

A voice from the door to the med bay startles Logan. “It isn’t your fault, L.”

Logan looks over his shoulder towards the sound and finds Virgil leaning against the entry way. Logan blinks in surprise. He hadn’t even heard the doors open. Virgil just watches him with a quiet, unwavering gaze, even if there’s something a little softer in his eyes than Logan is used to seeing.

“Virgil,” Logan greets, pushing his glasses further up his nose and standing. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Virgil shrugs a shoulder, glancing to Roman. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d check in on Princey.” He pauses, his gaze flickering back to Logan. “And you, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“He doesn’t blame you for what happened,” Virgil says, stepping further into the medical bay and letting the doors swish shut behind him. He’s got his hands shoved into the pockets of his purple plaid-patched hoodie.

Logan shakes his head. “But I do. I should have been more vigilant.”

“Weren’t you the one who taught me that dealing with ‘I should have’ is a dangerous and unproductive thought pattern?”

Logan hesitates. He can’t argue with that. He remembers the conversation from years ago. “Roman shouldn’t have been put into that situation.”

“He did it to protect you.”

“I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“But—”

“Logan,” Virgil cuts in, tossing his hands up in exasperation, “All of us? On this ship? We’re a family. You didn’t ask for that, but it happened. You are not the only one who cares about other people on this ship.”

“I know that.”

“Then know that any one of us would do what Roman would do if meant protecting you. We look out for each other.” Behind him, the door swishes open again but Virgil doesn’t even turn around. “We protect one another. All of us. You protect us, we protect you. That’s how this shit works.”

Patton steps into the med bay in a cat onesie. His pajamas. He pads quietly into the room, tugging the hood off his head. “Virgil’s right, Cap. We’re a family here. Like it or lump it.”

“And while this may be your ship,” Virgil says as Patton crosses to the monitors on the wall. “We don’t plan to go anywhere any time soon. You’re stuck with us.”

Despite himself, Logan cracks a faint smile.

“Yeah,” croaks a voice from the gatch bed that makes Logan whirl around. “Couldn’t get rid of us if ya tried, Cap.”

Roman’s eyes are open and glinting with something that Logan can’t quite decipher in the dark. Amusement, but something softer too. Patton gasps and rushes over, helping Roman sit up a bit more and grabbing the glass of water with a straw that he’d been refreshing each day for this very event. Roman takes a grateful sip and leans his head against Patton in silent gratitude. Patton smooths his hair with a gentle pat before helping Roman lean back in the bed again.

“How do you feel?” Virgil asks.

“Like I was shot.”

Virgil snorts.

Patton asks him a series of questions that are a bit more pointed—“Any dizziness, Roman? Do you know who I am? Do you know where you are? Are you feeling nauseous?”—and adjusts some of the machines to accommodate for an awake patient. Roman is a bit slow with his answers, and a bit slower still for the orienting ones, but he answers them accurately and cracks a few jokes in the meantime, and Logan just watches, feeling some of the tightness in his chest ease a bit.

When Patton makes a joke and the ship hears Roman’s laughter for the first time in almost a week, Logan thinks maybe he’ll finally be able to sleep through the night.

 ...

Tags: @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, @theburntesttoast, @monroig, @secretlyawyvern, @puddinglec4t

[hjbender]

Hi it's that Donald Blake au anon, and I agree I don't like Donald in general it's weird and sometimes in the comics he has a stick that he's always holding onto then he bangs it and somehow becomes Thor, idk. But the au is something that really interested me cuz it has so much potential, like is Thor an Avenger in this au, does he have to wait til Loki is not looking to go and save the world? Or is he not worthy yet and somehow choosing to reveal himself to Loki the real way to be worthy?

OH HAI AGAIN, ANON. THANK YOU FOR RETURNING

Yeah, I’m kind of glad the writers and directors decided to leave out the whole “mild-mannered human alias” from the Thor franchise. Really, so many superheroes already have alter egos—Peter Parker is Spider-Man, Ryan Reynolds is Deadpool, literally every single one of the OG Avengers except Thor has another name—that for once it’s nice to just have Thor be Thor.

But as far as that brilliant idea you pitched, in the first couple drafts of my answer, I actually started to rewrite Thor (2011) to make your idea fit with canon. However, after getting stuck a couple times, I started thinking it might work better away from canon (specifically Earth 616), more like a true alternate universe, no Avengers or Thanos or anything. Or, to make things simpler, it could just be a Porn With Feelings deal where the story is driven by characters and drama (and, of course, porn).

For the PWP approach, Thor masquerades as an MD on Earth because he genuinely likes to help people and having a human form helps him escape detection, or possibly keep his powerful electromagnetic radiation field from harming humans. In any case, Loki is unaware of his brothers super-secret human identity.

Somehow Loki bites off more than he can chew or pisses off the wrong supervillain—it’s practically his hobby, isn’t it?—and ends up getting his ass beaten and thrown to Earth. Miraculously, Thor (as Don Blake) is there to help him, and Thor can’t risk getting his cover blown, so he just plays along while Loki regains use of his limbs and/or powers (a perfect opportunity for some hurt/comfort whump sickfic type tags). Thor brings Loki to his apartment until he can fully recover, and in that time, Loki finds himself bonding with this disabled and good-natured human man who reminds him so much of his brother… and thus begins the forbidden romance and angst-ridden relationship drama.

...okay, so the PWP setup actually has a lot more plot than your average smutfic. (But just think of all the opportunities for medical kink in this one. Like Loki pretending he feels hot and achy and insisting that Blake give him a thorough, private exam… on the kitchen table… with stethoscopes and tongue depressors and lots of poking and prodding and pelvic exams. Anyone? No? Just me?)

The actual canon setup is the one I tried (unsuccessfully) to write out, but here’s a bullet list of the basic plot (get comfortable, this gets kind of long):

After defeating the frost giants in Norway in 900-something, Odin secretly makes a deal with Laufey to raise Loki as his own son, then marry him off to Thor so they can establish everlasting peace with Jötunheim (just like Odin and Frigga did to stop the Æsir-Vanir war). Thor and Loki’s children will be heirs to both royal houses. Upon Thor’s ascension to the throne, Odin will then return the Casket of Ancient Winters to its rightful place, and Jötunheim will flourish again with Asgard as its protector/ally

Loki is a lot more autonomous and independent than his original cinematic depiction, traveling the realms to learn seiðr and be an ambassador (and cause mischief, naturally, but nothing that can’t be fixed or used to his advantage). He’s always held a secret torch for his brother but knows there’s little/no hope of it ever being reciprocated, thus he stays away from Asgard as much as possible

Thor loves and misses his brother (perhaps too much). Their parents would surely disapprove of their relationship, gods or not, and besides, Loki is too much of a free spirit, a wanderer, content with his own company. Asking anything more of him (like a grounded, committed relationship) is something Thor could never do

Loki returns to Asgard on the eve of Thor’s coronation with gifts and smiles, and Thor embraces him with deep affection. They almost confess their feelings to one another, but shy away at the last moment (damn!)

Meanwhile, Malekith the Accursed (comics version Malekith, who is a lot sexier and generally more interesting/diabolical than his MCU counterpart) doesn’t like that Laufey is planning to make peace with Asgard and sever his alliance with Svartalfheim, and somehow breaks into the Vault on Thor’s coronation day just so he can frame Laufey and sour the arrangement with Odin

Odin decides not to act, sure that something else must be going on. Loki decides to take the intellectual route and do some investigating while Thor and his warrior companions sneak into Jötunheim to kick some ass

Thor accuses Laufey of wrongdoing, just as Malekith wanted, and almost incites a war with the frost giants. Odin banishes him to earth to live as a disabled human man until he can learn some humility

After much screaming at the sky and manly weeping, Thor finally accepts his fate and his new human identity

Enough time passes (months? A year?) that Thor eventually learns to be humble and considerate, helping other humans physically and emotionally in the medical field (I imagine him becoming an orderly at a local hospital since being a doctor requires years of education and money. Also, being thrown to Earth without a penny to his name will help Thor work through some of his entitlement and privilege issues. I headcanon he was aided by some good-hearted humans who were able to find employment for him and a place to stay, help him get on his feet, basically)

With Thor out of the way and the royal family torn apart, Malekith begins preparing for his attack on Asgard

Loki doesn’t know that Thor is trapped in a human form, only that he was banished and all contact forbidden. Loki is suspicious of the frost giants and goes to Jötunheim alone, where Laufey reveals everything to him—including Loki’s betrothal to Thor

Loki is stunned at first, unable to believe that the thing he’s wanted most was always meant to be his, and he hurriedly leaves Jötunheim

He tries to sneak to Midgard without using the Bifrost, but Malekith catches him en route and they fight. He throws a binding spell on Loki to render him powerless and then beats the living daylights out of him

Loki crash lands on Earth not far from where his brother was banished (he had been following the last known path from Asgard to Midgard), and is rendered temporarily powerless and amnesiac, not remembering anything about his fight with Malekith, Thor’s banishment, or why he was on his way to Midgard

Loki wakes up in a hospital bed with a kind human man looking after him. After an unsuccessful escape attempt, he settles in and finds himself comforted by Donald Blake’s presence. It’s… soothing, somehow familiar…(maybe it’s the drugs talking)

Thor instantly recognizes his brother but he cannot reveal himself, either because he’ll look insane/lose his job or maybe Odin made it so he’s unable to even speak the name “Thor” until he’s worthy again. In any case, Thor decides it won’t hurt to beat Loki at his own game just this once (Loki has played this prank on him more times than Thor can count). He ends up taking Loki back home with him once he’s discharged from the hospital

As his memories and powers slowly return, Loki is surprised that Blake listens to and believes everything he claims to be, and soon grows to trust and even like the man. He’s never really had a true friend before… except for his brother, Thor, of course. Blake reminds him so much of Thor…

While things gradually heat up between Loki and Blake-Thor, Malekith disguises himself as Loki (just as he did in the War of the Realms comic arc) and returns to Asgard. Odin and Frigga learn that Loki had indeed traveled to Jötunheim and confront their “son” about what he might have learned there

Not knowing it’s actually Malekith they are speaking to, they reveal the truth about Loki’s parentage and upbringing, and the reasons for his betrothal. Malekith is shocked, then amused at his good fortune. He decides to use this information to his own advantage

Malekith plots to bring Thor back to Asgard and insist that they be married at once. Thor will be crowned king, and when Thor finishes swearing his oaths, Malekith will steal Gungnir and kill Thor with it (and the entire royal family of Asgard). He will then steal the Casket of Ancient Winters, return to Jötunheim, kill Laufey and all the rest of his clan, and then head to Midgard to finish off the last of that bloodline: Loki. Then, with the power of Gungnir, Mjölnir, and the Casket of Ancient Winters, nothing will be able to stop him from bringing war and chaos to the Nine Realms

My brain is smoking and on its last cylinder right now, and I know this post is already decades long, so I’m gonna cheat and skip the whole part where Thor and Loki somehow learn about Malekith’s plot (maybe the Warriors Four come to Earth to warn them), and Thor becomes worthy again, revealing himself to a stunned Loki, and they all go flying back to Asgard, beat Malekith in an epic battle, and save the day

Once the dust has cleared, Thor is crowned king to an audience of Æsir and Jötnar, followed immediately by his and Loki’s wedding. Everyone cheers, Volstagg weeps and uses Fandral as a handkerchief, and Malekith gets a tiny slice of the wedding cake down in the dungeons

The end 🍰

[tsarisfanfiction]

3, 10, and 11 for the get to know the author asks? :D

Get To Know Your Author

3) What order do you write in? Front of book to back? Chronological? Favourite scenes first? Something else?

I’m a cover-to-cover kinda author.  Sometimes, if I’m stuck, I might jump around, and it’s not entirely unusual for me to jump in mid-scene because that’s where the action is and that’s where my head’s at, but I prefer to go through methodologically.  Helps me escape plot holes and inconsistencies that might crop up, and also maybe it’s just me, but when I read fics where I have jumped around (Desert Sands is an example of this, and there’s a bit of it early on in Long Way From Home) I can see where the joins are?

It could be psychological, because I wrote it so of course I know where I meshed scenes together, but they never seem to be quite as smooth and seamless as if I just start at the beginning and roll all the way through until I reach the end.

I’ll jump if I’m really stuck, and I do have some random scenes jotted down in draft so I don’t forget them later (but with the knowledge I’m gonna be completely rewriting it when I get there... there’s a scene in Long Way From Home like that which you guys won’t see for, oh, at least another 100k words at this rate, I don’t think!), but for the most part, I start at the beginning and finish at the end.

10) Write in silence or with background noise? With people or alone?

Background noise!  Normally music, and yes, often music with lyrics.  I normally have some form of alternative rock playing (which is what often sparks a bit of whump, oops.  I have a playlist called “Scott” and some of the song titles are things like End of the World, Heavy, About to Break, Bleed and Scream, etc.), but I’ve also been known to throw on a good old Eurovision mix on youtube, particularly when I’m trying to write something upbeat or fluffy, or I head over to Celtic stuff if I want something a little more... emotional?  A fair chunk of the Tales From The Heart Penguin and/or Shachi hurt/comfort and angst is written to that, because I’ve somehow managed to make an association in my head with songs like Tír na nÓg and Téir Abhaile Riú with Swallow Island.  In fact, Tír na nÓg is why I’ve made their mother tongue a mix of Irish and Sindarin!

And alone!  Or at least, with people who aren’t gonna keep going “what you doing”, “can I read” or the dreaded “[Tsari] I told you to do [insert other normally boring thing like a chore], get off your laptop!”  (Best thing about living in uni accommodation?  No-one else dictating what I do with my free time.  If I want to do that chore at midnight because I was writing fic all evening, it’ll be done... the next day, probably.  Or a few days later.  But it’ll be done when it’s convenient for me!)

11) What aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

Can I say all of it?  Because my old stuff is all pretty atrocious compared to my current standard (I’ve kept it up because I don’t believe in taking down complete works, but... I wouldn’t recommend people try and read them).

But if I had to pick something, I’d maybe say... characterisation and emotion?  When I started out, I don’t think I had a very good handle on the personalities of the characters.  A lot of it was basically just “this is my voice but I’m gonna shove in all the fandom quirks - not even canon ones! - onto the characters to make them seem like the character” and honestly it falls terribly flat.  Those characters I wrote aren’t the canon characters at all, and it’s kinda painful.

From that, of course, it’s a lot harder to emote properly.  If it doesn’t read like the character the reader knows, they’re not going to get invested in them, and any attempts at throwing in emotion just fall flat.  But I’ve got a lot better at picking apart characters to see what makes them them and keeping true to that, which in turn means it’s easier to get the emotions across because these are the characters the readers are there for.  They recognise them, they know them, that little otherwise insignificant detail really just hits the spot.

And not to toot my own horn too much, but from the feedback I’ve had especially over the last couple of years, I know I’m not just wishful-thinking I’ve hit characterisation and emotion.  I’ve had so many people tell me they love my characterisation (and so many people screaming at me when I emotionally hurt a character they love) that if nothing else, I can hold onto that and know it’s one thing I’m doing right :D

[whumping-out-of-timee]

Fear death by water

April is the cruelest month day 7

Cw: immortal whumpee, environmental whump, drowning, death, dying repeatedly, wishing for permanent death, angst, implied self harm/ trying to amputate pinned limb

Vi has really bad luck with drowning, he's afraid of being underwater because of it. This takes place when Vi is an archdemon, but before he met Kados.

There was a better situation for this, but i already have it written in drafts for the series about Vi. Let me know if I missed any warnings!

*****

That calmness returns again, chest drowning in stillness. Unfocused eyes turned up, into the refracted light.

The fish wait patiently, silver scales streaming in the current as they circle above, out of reach from Vi’s drifting fingertips.

Lost in his half- conscious thoughts. The muffled water filled his head, fighting to be heard above the abstract color gleaming above. The lethargic pain in lungs was louder than both of them combined, icy water couldn't put out the molten feeling.

Vi's distant thoughts sped up into a familiar panic. The burning was melting him inside, reforming him into something alive.

There is time again, a countdown.

Vi's plan had been unsuccessful so far. It was refined down to the second, but never went exactly how he wanted. This time he took the opportunity to think, it was hard while dead.

All he had to do was free himself, even if he drowned in the process, he would be free the next time he came back to life. It was so easy in theory, but his own healing made it difficult.

These seconds were never enough to get free. His leg was pinned under a heavy rock at a strange angle. Any progress he made to escape was reset with himself.

Vi didn't want to die again, even after it had happened so many times.

It’s only fear.. I’m weak for caring about such things

He thought, as he closed his eyes, hiding from the murky sunlight above.

What’s the point if I’ve tried this many times? There’s not enough time. Does she even miss me?

I wonder if she thinks I’ve abandoned her.. I wouldn’t be gone for this long

He gave into the urge to breathe again. It stung terribly, but wouldn’t kill him any faster, he’d already been drowned.

I miss her, she doesn’t have much time to spare. Time I wish i didn’t have.. But she’s alive, while everyday becoming nothing... I just want to be nothing too.

Vi could feel himself started to die again, he tried to focus on something pleasant, so the time he was gone would be as stressful.

Ignoring the involuntary movements of his drowning body, he remembered his friend. The warmth of the sun on his cheek as he sat with her. She was smiling, the silver scar across her cheek shined through the glare. Her English words were lost on Vi’s ears, but he didn’t care. Dark brown eyes stared at him, a living person inside them.

That dark color swallowed him into nothing. Even then, it won’t stop stinging.

*****