#i need to relearn how tumblr works and figure out how to do that....

[leesalchemybook]

going to start putting my old arts into my queue and work my way up to newer ones

[oceanera12]

Hi!!! I finally found your tumblr! I am absolutely obsessed with your built family fic. I think tangos is my favorite so far. Could I request a directors cut for that chapter? Thank you for all the work you've done!

First of all, hello! Welcome to my page of randomness. May you be able to navigate it to the best of your abilities (whoops).

Second, to anyone who wants to read the chapter before the author's commentary--

There you go.

Finally, I will be talking about fictional characters in slavery so there is your trigger warning.

On with the commentary!!!

As stated in the author's notes, Tango's chapter took a drastic turn from the original concept. Originally, I was going to have Tango come up to the surface, meet Impulse, the two have fun adventures together, and then both of them stumble across a Nether portal, fo through it, and somehow break the portal on the other side. Neither of them know how to get back so they team up to survive.

Obviously, that changed. That change mainly came from my sudden realization that this story had... phases, for lack of a better word. What started as a collection of semi-connected one-shots started becoming much more connected. As such, I had to start thinking about some character origins as a point on a graph.

This commentary will now feature visuals and my terrible handwriting and Minor spoilers for Impulse. And I mean really minor.

Jev was the introduction to EVERYTHING. The idea of Hunters, what Hunters did, how the hybrids reacted, the cultures that developed from all this (Scott's Place), the fall of Hunters over time, and even recovering from Hunters. Everyone else gets to dive more into specifics.

Tango, I knew was going to be challenging because Slavery is very much still an issue today. I did not want to shy away from the horribleness, but I also did not want to be very graphic. I left many things up to the imagination of the reader (for instance, I described the bar workers as bar workers. The reality of their job is probably a combination of servers of drinks and more... sensual things. And that's all I'm going to say about that).

Umbara was initially supposed to be only a friend that Tango bonded with. But then I realized that without Impulse, Tango... didn't really have a reason to escape. And he would need a reason. What better reason than wanting a better life for your wife? So Umbara became Mrs. Tango and Tango decided to take a chance.

You do not know how tempted I was to switch POV's and show the entire story of Tango's chapter. Seriously, how they found Tango's message is both hilarious and heartbreaking. Basically, Joe accidentally knocked the pick off the wall and it broke into pieces, and they found the note while picking it up. Jevin was confused and went to TFC who then took the three to the server.

As soon as they arrived, one of the enslaved hybrids made eye contact with Jev and warned him. Jevin, being the smart person he is, immediately turned to TFC and Joe and told them he was now their property and to treat him as such while they figured out what was going on.

I'm not going to explain every little thing, but a few highlights of what I wanted to add to the chapter through switching POV but then it wouldn't have been a Tango chapter:

False convincing everyone to let her be a double agent

Mumbo and Sam teaming up to figure out how to undo the particular restraints on the server in less than six hours

Doc and Etho's session with the admin that involved getting names, locations, and numbers

Hypno getting hybrids to trust him through actions, not words or passed messages

Xisuma relearning a lot of code manipulation through his people's books that Joe gave him because he's rusty/didn't learn everything.

TFC feeling guilty for not realizing what had happened to the old server and being comforted by Jev and Joe

Joe going on a literal rampage with Cleo and Jevin as back-up

Umbara getting exactly one note from a blonde stranger (False) that simply read, "I need your help. Blink twice for yes, leave for no." And Umbara, looking into this blonde stranger's eyes and deciding after only a second of eye contact that "yes, I will help you. What do you need?" And thus began the long con

Phil and Techno going to the Nether and tearing the slavers apart while Wil helped the slaves avoid the fight, calm them down, and go looking for anyone locked up in solitary (which may be where he finds a certain blonde-teenager whose first reaction to Wilbur was to try and bite him? Mhhh???) Hint hint, this will probably be written at some point just in a different story.

Honestly, Tango's entire chapter could have been an entire fic broken into several chapters.

The hardest part with Tango's chapter was the ending because I didn't want it to feel forced.

I feel like I failed on that because it feels really forced. At least to me. But I couldn't think of anything else that would be a solid reason to join the server. So... what we have is what we get.

That's all I can think of for Tango's chapter. We'll get to see more of Tango in the next chapter (Impulses) so I hope you enjoy that one too.

Thanks for the comment!

[iidigestive-readerii]

I think I figured it out, why I'm struggling with my hobbies and also why I haven't been around Tumblr much the past few months.

Welp... when I broke my wrist beginning of the year, that's all I could do while I was out of work. Hang out on discord, Tumblr, and write fanfiction. I burnt myself out of my hobbies.

When I got back to work two months later, I had moved apartments, gotten a puppy, and had to relearn how to use my arm. That's a lot for one person.

Now that my puppy is six months old, she can be mostly trusted around the apartment and I don't feel like I need to spend every second at work making up hours (and money)

I can't say how much I'll be back on Tumblr, or posting fanfiction. I want to do more, but I'm still dealing with a lot mentally (and financially, and having a puppy and three cats...)

I know there are so many stories on hiatus, and so many more planned, I'm just exhausted and need to get back into life more slowly than anticipated.

Best,

Diggy

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Asking all the writeblrs I love to grow a vast garden, apologies if I ask the same thing twice *

Hello! I'm attempting to grow a Tumblr garden, with input from people around here to make a series of short stories about' houseplant fairies. The hope would be to have a 'community tumblr garden' full of all the wholesomeness the internet can offer.

Here's the request/seed - do you have a prior worry' or 'stumbling block'. perhaps an event or a piece of advice others told you that didn't help much or simply an' obstacle that you overcame. To be honest, I'm unsure of how to accurately describe 'the seed' but something in the realm of 'society expectations versus what actually helped- or whatever you wish? Also also, favorite plant/houseplant/ flower to write the story about.

Here's the houseplants we have so far in case this was confusing.

The Venus Flytrap from @poetsandstuff

"I've had advice about 'getting out there' and just socialising lile im not dieing on the inside every time"

The Venus Flytrap episode one - Relationships

The Rose from @briarborealisart

"i could still be true to myself while valuing what others thought."

Episode one - Thorns

The Prayer Plant from @awleeofficial

"I worry about how I am percieved by the people in my life as well as the creative works that I choose to share, and I can be rather hard on myself when it doesn't come out perfect."

Episode one - Inspiration

Thanks for participating :)

Hi!! I feel so grateful to be involved in this!

So, I hope this one isn't too much but the first thing that came to mind was anxiety and "pushing through". About ten years ago my world just about broke and I started suffering panic attacks, anxiety attacks, so badly that when they hit I literally couldn't move and often hyperventilated. I took years of trying to simply "push through" (to distill the unhelpful social response) the panic attacks - continue going to college, continue working, continue continue continue. Eventually it all fell apart and at the bottom of the barrel is when I figured out that, for me, that what I actually needed to do was to be still. To learn and accept this new version of myself and figure out what actually helped her. Taking it slow, having boundaries, different coping mechanisms for different triggers, learning and relearning that I'm not broken I'm literally just different than I used to be...and so on. It's been an uphill battle that I still fight and will probably continue to fight, but in the very least I haven't had a full-blown panic shut-down in...maybe three years? So progress! Whoo!

Anyway. I hope that's what you were looking for and I didn't overshare 😅 lol and for the plant...I know it's not a houseplant per say, but I've always loved the resilience and insane tenacity of my garden peppermint. I mean...I think it's a peppermint plant. I know it's in the mint family, lol (It kind just grew there one day and I didn't pull it out and now it's a fourth or fifth generation monstrosity right outside the door)

Best shot I have of both the flower and the leaves of the tenacious minty beastie

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

8, 25 and 32 :)

Hey there! Thanks for asking! <3

8. How often do you reblog/comment on fics that you like?

If it's posted to tumblr and I've read it and liked it, I reblog it. This tends to be focused on oneshots and drabbles though since I'm really bad about reading wips. I can only handle so many storylines in my head at once, so reading a wip, for me, means that if the writer pauses posting for one reason or another, I lose the plot and then have to reread from the beginning whenever they start posting again. Wish my brain worked differently, but it doesn't. Last semester, when I took three literature classes, I was reading three books at any given time, plus the readings for my writing class. It became impossible for me to read fic OR to even write it because my brain couldn't really handle the thought processes.

Result of that is that by the time I do get around to reading multichapter fanfiction stories, they're usually finished a long time ago and I wind up not reblogging anything about it here. Bad habit, I know. *cringe emoji here*

25. Do you listen to music as you write? If possible, link your writing playlist.

All. The. Time. I cannot write without music, to the point that I wind up curating playlists for each of my stories. For one story in particular, Outside Chance, I have multiple playlists since it turned into a three story universe that spans over twenty years. I am working on consolidating those multiple playlists into one master playlist to share, but it's not at a point yet where I'm willing to share it. I've actually recently moved to Spotify as a platform for my fanfic playlists specifically to share them with readers since the platform I usually use puts my full freaking name on playlists when I share them, and sorry y'all. I'm not changing my username on it and I'm not handing out my full name. *shrug emoji here* Anyways, I'll share the OC playlist when I've got it a little more finalized.

32. Copy and paste your top three favorite lines/jokes/sentences you’ve ever written. What fics do they come from?

Oh good lord. I've written so much at this point that this it's impossible to narrow it down to a top three. I'll give you three that I love, how's that?

From Wrapped in Red: Every time I try to get Peeta alone to talk about it, she’s there, making sure we’re not disrespecting traditions. The girl has turned into a kiss demanding despot ninja.

From Outside Chance: I become familiar with his body again. How he moves, the cadence of his breaths. We relearn each other’s limits and how to push past them or cover for each other until we can go on.

From The Baker & The Hunter:

“I’m not settling. I don’t want anyone but you,” she vows and my heart stutters for a second then begins to thunder. “I don’t need to leave here to know that. Really if you think about it, this is just a formality.”

“How do you figure?” I ask, unable to stop the smile twitching at my lips at her conviction.

“Because we’re already more married than any piece of paper could make us.”

“You did not just--”

“I did,” she says triumphantly and I groan. She’s a little too good at using my own words against me. “Besides, we’ve already had a toasting.”

“I think I’d remember that,” I say.

“You do remember it. We didn’t even have to fix that memory. We were eleven. I was soaking wet, freezing and starving, digging through garbage--”

“That wasn’t a toasting,” I argue and she flattens her palm on my chest, her lashes lowering.

“Maybe not technically. But you made bread, put it in the fire--”

“Burned it in the fire.” She ignores me and keeps going.

“Then you gave it to me and I shared it with my family.”

“Well by that logic... I gave the first bite to the pig, and I didn’t eat any so...Katniss Everdeen, you’re married to a pig.”

“What? No!” She shouts in protest, but she’s laughing. I tease her and tickle her, rolling her over so that I’m hovering over her.

“Lucky for me, that pig is dead. So really you’re a widow. Do you think an appropriate mourning time has passed for you to remarry or am I just your crazy grief driven affair?”

A Fic Writer Ask Game

[messengerhermes]

Thinking a lot about that one post about "make your OCs a hotter cooler version of yourself" and I want to show y'all something:

I'm writing a novel right now that started as fanfic, but got so distant from the original source material I admitted to myself this story is now it's own beast. On the surface, it's erotica about polyamorous witches harnessing magic via BDSM. But it's also about taking your agency back from oppressive governments, family legacies, and your own traumatic past in order to become a more whole, alive version of yourself. These drawings are of one of the three main characters. On the left is how he starts the series, and on the right is how he ends it. He begins the first novel In a Bad Place. He's been exploited and institutionalized for several years and essentially turned into an instrument by having his own desires used against him. This has eroded his sense of self worth quite a bit and a lot of his arc in the first book is about relearning the basics of "you are allowed to say 'fuck that' about shit you don't want." By the third book, his arc becomes, "Living for yourself, even when it makes other people uncomfortable, does not make you selfish, or unworthy of the things you want." Now, none of my characters are complete self inserts, and none of them have the exact same problems I do. But one of the most effective ways I have found to write characters that feel real is to channel shit I've felt, gone through and experienced through another lens. So, Story Time: --CW: domestic abuse, emotional and verbal-- About two years ago, I got my shit together and left an abusive relationship that really devastated my self image and my ability to trust other people. My partner, who has a lot of trauma themselves and I think coped with that by being manipulative as hell, was very good at using my shame against me, and playing a game of ping pong with my emotions---I could rapidly go from their dream come true to the destroyer of their heart, often in the span of a few days, or even hours. In a single night, they could make fun of me for my gawkishness, my clothes, my inflamed skin, and also berate me for a stranger flirting with me without me catching it. --end the abuse bits-- It was rough.

Since leaving that relationship, I've been doing a lot of what I'd call, "catching up" in terms of owning my own dreams for myself and reshifting my life to put me at the center. It's been really difficult, especially as shitshows unexpected have made me a primary caregiver for an aging loved one. But it's also been incredibly freeing to let go of trying to be someone who is lovable and just loving myself. As I go through this novel, a lot of T's character growth stems from him needing to figure out what "being himself" looks like outside of being useful to someone else. Part of being himself includes taking care of his body. Traditionally, especially in romance genre work, I feel like the "glow up" a character whose struggled goes through is often about them getting more conventionally beautiful. For men, that often means getting leaner, more ripped, and more manly. But (as I've seen many folks on tumblr point out) often times healing means getting softer and yes, fatter. And that is beautiful too. This is a T4T4T love story, and the trans woman in this series starts the series fat and stays fat, and she is loved and desired the entire time. In T's case, he starts the series with a lot of chronic pain and fatigue, and while he is thin and muscular, he doesn't have stamina to really enjoy the things he used to love. Regaining weight over the course of the series is about him regaining connection with his body and strength. It also is him literally learning to take up space again in his life, regardless of what other people think of him taking up that space. (and yes, admittedly I do love men who are built like refrigerators, and writing what you love, especially in romance, I think is a key to making work that's enjoyable to read) And the funny thing is, writing T this way is helping me as I go through my own healing. My body has changed *a lot* thanks to choices I've made, and even as I feel the fear of "will anyone else want me" I am compelled by how much more comfortable I am in my body and how much I find myself desirable in ways I never did before. And writing a character going through similar changes, letting him get bigger and louder and bolder as the story goes on, and writing a life for him where that makes him more and more desirable to people around him, yes is a wish fulfillment fantasy. But also, it makes that fantasy feel much more possible. T is a weird little guy who loves bugs and carrion birds and scavengers and likes growing plants and singing offkey as he gyrates in his kitchen. He's kinda clammy all the time and his skin gets green around the edges and he's got a pudgy belly to match the thighs that wear through his jeans. He also knows who he is by the end of the series, in a way that makes him the sort of confident that gets beautiful people to sidle up to him from across a crowded room. He's also funny and caring and fun to be around in a way that makes his lovers travel across the country to get him back when he's snatched up from their bed. He's messy, and he's loved. Just as I wish to be. Just as I am capable of being. Just as you are capable of being. So I dunno, maybe have fun with your OC, let them be a hotter, cooler version of you. But don't let predetermined ideas of what hotness is control that. Dig around a little, push against the ways you've been shamed into feeling ugly. Feeling too much. Let your character be all those things you were made to feel embarassed about. Let them be that even more than you allow yourself to be. Then imagine a world where they're even cooler and sexier because of those things.

[gamebunny-advance]

The More I Use It, The More I Learn

So, Twitter won’t tell me if an individual likes/retweets an individual post, but it will tell me if a person does it in bulk.

[darlingbudsofrae]

Neil Josten Appreciation Post

Foxes Appreciation Series : 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 ||

Alright, let’s just start this by addressing the big elephant in the room: everyone loves Neil Josten. EVERYONE.

If you don’t, you’re lying. 

Okay, first up- I’m glad this is getting addressed more on AFTG tumblr but Neil is literally so much smarter than the fandom gives him credit for.

Like yes, he’s a little dumdum on the social aspect of things (you could argue he kind of has a low EQ but also not really, I would argue that later)

but that doesn’t dismiss that he is smart af and that he can kill you and make it look natural if he wants.

For example, he literally outrun and hid from the mafia for years. Like, that in itself is an obvious point but we often forget that he did this at a very young age.

Like, he was presumably what? 16?? (when Mary kicked the bucket?) And kid was already playing hide and seek pretty well with a freaking mafia.

He does not get enough credit for this.

The survival skills it takes- the mental strength to survive as a runaway and technically he’s also homeless- at freaking 16, that’s just insane.

Also, let’s not mention the fact that it takes skills to forge official papers and all that.

We also do not talk enough about Neil and how he freaking have to relearn an entirely new position just to play exy.

I don’t think most remember that he’s actually a backliner, but have to play as a striker because it was the only available position in that local high school he attended in Millport, and that was how Kevin saw him so he was recruited as a striker.

We also additionally do not talk enough about how Kevin “literal and figurative Son of Exy” Day found potential for court in Neil “I’m a backliner but I’m playing striker because it’s the only thing available and I’m an exy junkie” Josten who only played it for like a year or less. 

Like yeah, Kevin said he needs more training but it’s not even Neil’s official position. 

The talent on this man- I cannot, he is such an icon. 

Aside from his great survival skills and being literally great at picking things up- he’s also like freaking academically smart.

Like that also doesn’t get enough credit- I mean, he does math for fun.

Frankly, I think if you did Kumon or if you had an awesome teacher you could also do math for fun (I know I did) but this should be noted with the fact that he didn’t have proper schooling.

He went on a run at a really young age so there is no way he received formal education.

Which means he is naturally like really smart.

He’s also a polyglot. And the languages he has under his belt are all freaking difficult to learn- like, no kidding: French, German, and he can assumingly speak intermediate Spanish, and we don’t even have an idea if this is all the languages he can speak.

Also, he and Andrew learns how to speak Russian, right? Like, that’s crazy.

The brain on this man and the power that he has- my son, I am so proud.

I mean, for all we know- there’s more than that and the fact that he’s like 18 at TFC screams supremacy.

This is where I argue about his EQ but Neil is crazy perceptive.

It took him like freaking 3 seconds to figure out the team dynamics the foxes have, and how to work against it.

He later figured out how to make it all mesh together.

Like the way he do things isn’t conventional but reading him analyze his team despite his lack of empathy really makes me shudder.

Like, this kid is so freaking smart. I remember reading his thought process for the very first time and being like, okay- I definitely did not think about that.

The main problem with his EQ though is that he doesn’t know how to process positive stuff when he’s involved, but when he’s the outsider- his perspective is so amazing.

Like again, he kind of lacks empathy but the way he understands things and is just so sharp is just noteworthy.

I’d argue he doesn’t understand social cues and “modern teen things” but he isn’t so completely clueless on the social aspect in general as to not manipulate an entire team of misfits with issues to work together.

He’s literally the key to unity in AFTG. Even Dan says so.

Also, the way he puts things into play- like he’s a master manipulator, and I love that for him.

We do not talk enough about manipulative Neil, like I just really love manipulative characters in general so much- especially if they’re just owning it. 

I mean, he freaking manipulated Andrew and Aaron into therapy. Kind of evil but also wow. (just a sidenote, please don’t force people into therapy lol)

Going completely dark for a second, Neil also has a freaking high pain tolerance.

The amount of horrible things he went through in the books were just so sad and the fact that he just kind of moves on from it? That’s just completely oh my gods.

My poor summer child, even if you can kill me at any given time, let me just hug you for a second with consent.

Everyone also gives shit about Neil’s fashion choices and granted it is said he kind of bags the homeless looks but the fact that he values utility above all else-

Yes, we stan a resourceful king. 

Lowkey though, am I the only one who appreciate Neil’s average style?

Speaking of style- I love the way Neil narrates. Like, the way he doesn’t give much attention to how the character looks- it’s just so realistic?

Because if I’m talking to a person in real life, there is no way I am noting how his blue polo makes him kind of casual but clean-cut and how his brown eyes is as warm as my morning coffee. Like, who even does that?

The thing with Neil’s narration is that it’s just so authentic- like it easily engages the readers and the way he gives importance to every thing the same way, it really makes it easier for the reader to discern things objectively, y’know what I mean?

He just has that quality in a main character and narrator- he’s laidback and sarcastic but not trying too hard, and he’s just really easy to love.

Like, I normally don’t like narrators/main characters in books because I favor a side character more or just because they’re annoying, but Neil Josten is legit lovable. 

At the same time, he’s also a really well-written character. Like, for all the technicalities I point out in AFTG, Neil is an asshole. He’s not perfect and I don’t 100% love everything that he does and I love that.

He’s a flawed character but he gives you something to root for- and I just really want to appreciate his characterization for a second. Most books make their characters’ flaws not even their fault to put a check to the flawed character but at the same time still have that perfect character. Eeww, no- give me real flaws to work with.

He’s one of the realest protagonists I ever read.

Like people give him shit for wanting to hide but also choosing to play a nationwide-discerned sport on an infamous collegiate team but for me it’s kind of realistic.

Because I think we, as human beings, also do things we love too much regardless of logic. I don’t know, like it’s kind of funny the way Neil is written but I honestly didn’t see him joining Palmetto as a loophole.

Like, just think of all those successful people who hid their identities via pseudonym or other necessary means to do things they weren’t expected to do or weren’t allowed to do.

For me, his character was really just looking for excuses to play his favorite sport a second longer and if anything, that’s just kind of sad.

But also, his dedication and love to exy is really admirable- like I never understood it but the way he literally does everything to stay on the court for a second longer just makes me want to root for him.

On a random note, Neil may not have an eidetic memory like Andrew’s but the way he memorize most phone numbers by heart? 

Bruh, I don’t even have my phone number memorized and I freaking have it for two years now. 

He also memorizes every twists and turns at every trip, every exits at a room he enters, and most people’s tics upon the first meeting, and other things and that’s just crazy perceptive but also really crazy on another level.

Also, we don’t get much ace/demi representation and out of the few I’ve consumed, demi Neil Josten validates me. He’s legit my favorite character that belongs in the ace spec in books.

I just really love Neil’s character so much- he’s just so amazing.

One thing I always appreciate about Neil Josten is that while he’s not a total angel (sadly), the way he loves the foxes- like he legit tried to mend the team and make sure everyone is going to be okay before walking straight to his death- like I’m with Andrew on this one, what a fucking martyr. Why are you like this and why am I crying?

Neil Josten is by all means not soft, that much is established, but the way he’s just still as precious and must be protected at all costs-

"You know, I get it," Neil said. "Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time."

I love him, your honor- where can I file this adoption papers and do I have anything else to sign?

[cloudselkie]

I wish I had more to share about my practice, but if there's anything I've learned over the past year on tumblr, it's that I am still very much a beginner and I should not be sharing with the community, but instead, listening intently to those more experienced than me. I've been doing this for almost three years, but am just now starting to get the hang of it.

It was a mistake to share my early spells because, honestly, none of them work. And if they did, it was a fluke. I was just so proud of them that I wanted to share them.

The Conch for nightmares? Completely theoretical. I never actually got around to doing that spell. The creative writing spell bottle that everyone seems to love to reblog? It's trash, and also everything in the bottle turned black. It doesn't work. The summer self love drink spell? I'd probably be shooting self love out my ass if it actually worked and the amount of times I did it over that summer.

The only one that did work was the general love spell bottle. And it wasn't even the bottle itself that worked, but the knot spell I tied on top. It took me a long time to figure that out.

I didn't understand back then. I didn't understand that spells needed power sources beyond myself. I didn't understand how to choose ingredients that would work for me and not just select from a list I found online.

Hell, I didn't really understand my own energy until recently. I FINALLY had success with calling the wind yesterday after months of trying because it's different from manifestation work and it finally clicked.

It takes fucking WORK. And while I'm seeing more success with my spells now, I had to step back and start at the very beginning back in March and basically relearn everything with a new understanding of how magic WORKS.

So, if I had any advice for anyone new to witchcraft around here - it's to listen first. The whole year and a day thing may not be a part of my path, but it does have a certain wisdom to it. Take time to learn and experiment on your own. And when you start seeing success regularly, documentable success, then start posting.

[widows-writings]

Happy Ending

Chapter 2

Chpt 1.

Summary: Summary: An old friend of Bruce's comes back after being gone for over 20 years. She was kidnapped, created into a weapon. When Talia loses her home and almost her life, she moves in with Alfred and Bruce. Talia decides to take sides with Batman to figure out more about who was trying to kill her, which blurs the lines between the secret life that both Bruce and Talia share. After finding out his secret of who he was and what he knew, Talia finds herself, living the life that she wanted, away from all these secrets. A life with Bruce Wayne. A life where they are happy and Gotham is what it should have been. The thing is, it's not a fantasy and it's not real life, it's somewhere in between. Bruce has to try and get to her as both himself and as Batman before the people that are trying to kill Talia complete their goal.

a/n: No, this wasn't by popular demand, I just fucked up enough and I wanted to be nice, I might just post another chapter tomorrow, but I haven't really been working on this since I worked yesterday. This chapter is kind of angsty, kind of not, idk how to describe it,. It either way, it exists. So here you go. Again I'm also very sorry for the confusion that I caused with my last post because I don't know how to work Tumblr.

Warnings: Cursing, alluding to torture, trauma, kidnapping, if there is anything else, please let me know.

Words: 2,634

The next morning, she woke up. She was in her room, in her old bed. Nothing had changed, it was all the same it was, the way she left it. Even her parents didn’t change anything. They never had another kid after her. She was the only one. Talia had to rack her brain, trying to figure out what all Christopher had told her last night. The only thing she could remember was that he was happy that she was back, anything past that, she didn’t know. Talia rubbed her forehead and sat up in bed. Christopher had taken her coat, but she was still in her uniform from earlier. She made fun of Batman for how stupid he looked, she was never going to let him see this.

A uniform given to her by the people who kidnapped her, that raised her to be a fighting machine. That’s what it was. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. What was she going to do? Who was she going to see? What was she going to ask? Talia was new to Gotham again, she needed to rediscover what had been lost to her, she needed to figure out where she stood. It was time for a history lesson. It was time to relearn everything about her home. If there was some guy dressed as a bat running around, what else changed?

She got out of bed and her legs dangled over the edge, her toes barely touching the ground. Talia pushed herself up and onto the floor and let her body readjust. She stretched, then let her arms fall at her sides. Talia opened the door to her bedroom and found a note on the floor, next to some clothing. They were her mother’s clothing, she would have recognized the shirt at any given moment. These were your mother’s, hopefully they fit well. Talia grabbed the clothing and closed the door and got changed.

It was nice to not be in the uniform, but part of her missed it. The uniform had been a part of her life, it had been her for years. Talia knew she had to let it go, but as she looked at herself in the mirror, she knew that she needed to be something, someone else. She draped the uniform over the back of the chair and headed downstairs, following the sweet smell of chai tea. In the kitchen was Christopher, there was another man next to him, he was using a cane to prop himself up. He had a large smile on his face. Talia figured that she should know him, but nothing came to mind.

Talia looked below on her right side and saw the sitting room. There was another man sitting there. She would have sworn he was just picked up off the street. He wore clothing way too big for his frame and sunglasses. He looked hungover, but to an extreme level. Talia shook her head and walked down the stairs, sliding her way into the kitchen. She was greeted with a hug from Christopher, who kissed the side of her head and handed her a cup of chai tea. She nodded in thanks and took a sip. If she could stay there and soak in the sweet taste of what was dancing on her tongue, she would. She would stay there forever. It was the other man in the kitchen that startled her.

“Oh my dear girl, it’s good to see you.” Alfred. He sounded older. Of course he was older. “I’m happy your back, there was just something missing the entire time you were gone.”

She gave him a smile and a nod. “I’m happy to be back as well. My absence hopefully didn’t cause too many problems.”

“No matter how long you are gone, there is always going to be something missing.”

Talia gave a weak smile and took another sip of her tea. Alfred turned towards the sitting room, at the man that she swore was asleep and shook his head. He walked over and shook the man awake. He snorted awake and looked around, terrified of where he was. Alfred bent down and whispered something in his ear and Talia felt his eyes on her, even through the sunglasses. They were burning into her skin, picking her apart, trying to figure out who she was. His lips pursed and he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Unspoken familiarity between the two of them.

“It’s Mr. Bruce Wayne, Mistress.” Christopher whispered to her.

“I care why?”

“An old friend can make adjusting easier.”

It made her sick to think that she needed to readjust to the place that she called home. What was she after all these years? A stranger? Someone that Bruce barely knew? She could be…nothing at this point. She took another sip of her tea and nodded her head. She walked over to the sitting room and sat down across the way from Bruce, trying to understand him. Figure out who he was now. He was so different from the boy that she used to know. He is hurt, unconsolable. Someone that she barely knew. She set the cup on a coaster and leaned back into the seat she was in. Alfred left almost like it was written in a script.

“You’d think they’d written it.” She muttered.

“Planned it more likely.” His voice had dropped an octave and a half since the last time she had heard him speak.

“Are you serious?”

“If I was joking I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“And where do you want to be Mr. Wayne?”

“Asleep.”

“Me too, to be completely honest. I feel like I’ve had at least 3 bottles of vodka right down the hatch.” She whispered, laughing to herself, she saw his lips twitch up.

She couldn't describe what she was feeling, it was an old, familiar feeling. She ran her fingers through her hair, smiling while looking at the ground. Bruce looked like he was on the verge of falling asleep again and Talia shook her head. She knew that Bruce needed the sleep and she would be able to catch up later, so she walked over to Alfred and Christopher and gave them both a small smile. She knew that they were going to be defeated when she told them that the conversation was being cut short, but she would make it a note to visit Bruce and Alfred in Wayne Tower.

"Alright, well you best come and visit us. It gets quite lonely in the tower." Alfred said. "Having someone to share tea with is more than a pleasure."

Talia smiled and nodded her head, looking at Christopher, who was wearing a smile, but he wasn't actually happy. She knew that he wanted her to catch up with them, hoping that it would make the news that was awaiting her easier to swallow, but he should have known that it wasn't going to go that way, she was going to fight every step of the way, she was going to do this her way or it wasn't going to get done. She was going to catch up on her own, and that was that. She didn’t need help from Bruce or Alfred, what she needed to know, she was going to learn on her own. That’s how it had to be.

Alfred gave Talia a hug goodbye and whispered that she was always welcome at their place if she needed a place to relax. Somewhere that she might be able to call a second home. She only smiled and thanked him in response. Bruce only shook her hand, but Talia could tell that there was something very different about him. Whether or not he was the playboy that everyone made him out to be, there was something there that Talia could only describe as…unmitigated pain. He was hurting and it was beyond whatever personal traumas he had faced, it was bigger. Almost as if he was shouldering the whole weight of the world on his shoulders, like he had to fix everything that was being tossed his way. She told him to get rest and to feel better, to which he only nodded.

She watched as Bruce and Alfred left, Bruce barely being able to stand from how tired he was. He really was using the money to do whatever he wanted. Whatever hangover she had, he must have had it so much worse. Talia went back into the sitting room and sat back down, grabbing her tea and taking small sips. Christopher followed her and sat down next to her, newspapers in hand. He looked nervous and Talia didn't like that, it meant that there was news that was going to be hard for her to process in that pile of papers. She had been trained to work through this, to not have grief, to not really have emotions, but there was no stopping it, she was human. She had been the worst at suppressing her emotions, but everything that had been prepped, it's almost like Christopher knew that she was going to be coming back.

The world that she knew, it really had changed to the point where it was almost unrecognizable. It was nothing like what she remembered. She knew that, she should have known that the second that she saw what happened to the Wayne Estate. How could she think, this was her home, these people had been like her family. She just wanted it all to be the same, to be the way that she left it, just like her bedroom. She knew that it wasn’t going to happen, it was an empty wish, a dream. Something she will never have, so when it came time to know what had been happening in Gotham for the last 20 years, Talia knew that she was in for some really big surprises. What she wasn’t expecting were the two that she was hit with right out of the gate.

"I'm sorry. There are things in here I wish you didn't have to know about, but I promised your mom and dad that I would tell you about everything important, starting with their death." He grabbed Talia's hand while telling her this. She squeezed it, hearing about her parents death. "The other important thing you need to know is that Bruce's parents died." That was another punch to the gut.

When her parents weren't around, Bruce's parents were there. They were here non-biological aunt and uncle. Hearing about their death was one of the harder pills to swallow, she already knew about the Batman due to their meeting the night before, but everything else, crime and all of that. It was a hard pill to swallow. She thought that things would get better, that Gotham would have been okay, but she should have known that the second she saw a man dressed as a bat, that shit had hit the fan when it came to crime. She shook her head when Christopher finished and gave him a look, her eyes filled with tears.

There was so much that she didn’t know about, so much that she missed out on. She hadn’t grown up here, she wasn’t from Gotham anymore, she was from somewhere else. The city had grown and changed so much over the years, that it was hard to call it home anymore. Talia shook her head, processing everything that had just been tossed her way. Her mind wandered, taking her back to her kidnapping, back to why she was taken. She didn’t know why. She wanted to know why, so it was the first that she asked Christopher to explain to her.

"Why did my parents give me up? Was it so I could miss all of this? Was it so I couldn't help?" She whispered.

"Your parents believed that if they sent you away, you would come back and could defend Gotham, much to what Batman is doing." Christopher told her.

"You're wrong. My parents turned me into a monster and you knew that. They didn’t send me away to protect Gotham, they sent me away to become a killing machine. Do you know what they did to me there?”

“I don’t need to be reminded.”

That was possibly the part that hurt the most. He knew what they were doing to her and he didn’t do anything. He didn’t stop them, he didn’t protect her. That was his job, he was supposed to help her, to keep her safe and he just let them take her and torture her, beat her, give her powers that she didn’t want. He let them turn her into the killing machine that she is now. She knew that he couldn’t do anything, if he even spoke out against her parents, who knows what would have happened, but still. All she could feel was pain in her heart and she wanted to get rid of it. She didn’t want to feel the emotions that she was feeling, she knew that if she let herself feel them, something bad was going to happen. She took a couple of deep breaths, letting them out as slowly as she could, hoping that it would keep her emotions at bay.

“I can’t believe you knew,” She whispered, her voice breaking. Her second time crying in the last 24 hours and it was about two very different things.

“I swore to do nothing, I swore to not interfere.”

“Yeah. Well that turned me into a monster. I’m not who I used to be.”

Talia stuck out her hand and blue mist surrounded her hand and the cup that was beside

her. She closed her fist and the glass shattered, the tea suspended in the air. This was one of the few times that she was using her powers outside of when they asked her to. When they asked her to throw the people that she was with, when she was trained in combat with the powers. To keep her at bay, they put her in a sock collar, a straight jacket and a muzzle. They treated her like an animal and he knew. He knew all along what they were doing to her and didn’t dare do a thing.

The look in Christopher’s eyes was terror. Not even he knew the extent of what they had done to her. He knew about the combat training and all of the other things, but her possessing magic abilities like this was kept from him. The woman that was sitting next to him was hurting and now he could see why. She was a lost child, she just wanted a normal life and she didn’t get one, she was tossed into training and she wasn’t given the chance to grow up, to become the adult that she was meant to be.

Christopher hung his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hide the fact that he was crying. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of this.” He struggled to say through sobs.

Talia watched as he cried in front of her. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She didn’t know who he was anymore. He was a stranger. There was hopefully one person in the world that she could talk to about this and it was Alfred, but knowing how her family and the Wayne’s talked, he more than likely knew, which meant that Bruce knew too. She was going to assume that everyone that was in her inner circle knew about what had happened to her, and it made her sick to her core.

“I don’t know you anymore.” She whispered and headed up to her room.

******

Taglist: @hollandorks

[ais-n]

hello!! i just spent the past month or so reading all the icos books, scrolling through your account, and reading the notes you posted about the sequel on patreon. i’m absolutely amazed by this series and these characters, i don’t have words for how good of a time i had delving into this story. i started off loving hsin immediately and although it took me some time to warm up to boyd, he ended up being one of my absolute favorite characters that i’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. i really think boyd and hsin and their story, along with the stories of all the other amazing characters associated with them, will stick with me for a long time. anyway sorry for the long message, but i just wanted to express my gratitude for these books—they helped me out a lot mentally after everything post-2020 haha. i did have a sort of question though!! how did boyd deal with the loss of one of his eyes? did he train with hsin to help adapt? how did he deal with the insecurities and frustrations that came with that loss?

Just in case - **ICOS SPOILERS / FADE SPOILERS** :)

Hi! Aww that's awesome! I'm so happy you enjoyed the series :) And that you were able to find all the content on it right away too. It's also really cool how things shifted for you over the course of the series - because that means it did its job with showing character progression :) I mean, not that it matters if people end up liking all the characters or not - but if you start feeling one way and end another, that's awesome because it means there was character development that resonated with you in anyone and that's one of my favorite things when I'M reading a book, so it's one of my favorite things for if anyone ever reads anything I'm involved in writing. So that made me really happy to hear, thank you <3

I'm gonna put my answer behind a cut just in case for spoilers :) Hopefully this thing doesn't disallow you from clicking the Read More link which once in awhile tumblr does.

Spoilers behind cut :D

Regarding his eye, it was obviously in many ways pretty life-changing for him. Even though Boyd and Hsin by that point were much better about communicating, and Boyd would want to lean on Hsin whenever needed, although I haven't written out anything from those time periods (so it may change when/if I actually do, as sometimes the characters do things I'm not expecting) -- I have a feeling Boyd tried to kind of hide as much of the downside as he could from Hsin. Not because he didn't trust Hsin - he did, unequivocally - but rather because Hsin had seemed so regretful and seemed to have guilt/worry when Boyd first woke up and learned he lost his eye. He didn't want Hsin blaming himself for it, and if Hsin saw it upsetting him too much he would have probably worried about how Hsin felt.

It did take him time to figure out some things - his depth perception was fucked, and he couldn't fight quite the way he initially had learned because of that, along with other things. He would have let Hsin see him relearning things when necessary because that's inevitable, but he would have tried to play off anything much deeper if possible. He would have wanted to see if he could handle things on his own first (in typical Boyd style) just so he could spare Hsin extra stress. He felt like Hsin had already lost so much; it didn't feel fair to pile anything further on him.

So Hsin would have helped with some stuff when needed, and obviously I'm sure they talked about things as needed too. It's not like the topic was taboo or Boyd was super sensitive to it. As much as it sucked, it was also just a thing he had to accept. So in some ways, he kind of just rolled with it the way he'd had to learn to roll with so much else in his life.

Where it really was most frustrating and upsetting for him was the way it affected his ability to work. Even though he felt and was fully capable of many things, certain jobs just would not hire someone with one eye, period. Their rules didn't allow it, or they just chose not to, or so on. Because they had to stay on the downlow, he already had limited options in the first place, and that made it worse. Then on top of that, having an eyepatch made him more memorable. Once he eventually got his glass eye, it helped a bit with that, but he'd always had an unusual eye color so without contacts and different hair color and all that, if someone were looking for him they could still potentially track him down. Hsin was also incredibly memorable so it was a worry for him as well. Especially when you put those two together.

I don't think we ever talked about it but in my personal opinion, I would guess that they probably talked about their plans for the different cities/countries they were in, whether one or both of them would stand out more, what sorts of income they could get, what sorts of things they could do, what sort of places they could live incognito, and so on.

I have always had in my mind that there was a period of time especially early on when Boyd was still healing and getting used to things, where he (as usual) tried to push himself a little too far a little too fast but Hsin stopped him because he knew how Boyd is and he knew if he was firm, Boyd would actually listen.

So for a time, Hsin was the main person going out to do things, get money, etc. There were hours Boyd would be alone wherever they were staying, and during that time all those doubts and frustrations and anger and insecurity and fear would come in. For awhile, I think he probably even drank when he was alone. Never to an addictive level or anything; just the actions of a man who felt depressed.

I'm sure some of his demons leapt on that--telling him shit like he wasn't ever going to have more worth than he did when he was used by Cyclone, or the Agency - shit like, maybe you're never going to be anything more than a valentine/whore for money in the future anyway. If people won't see you as anything other than the parts of you, and now the parts of you that are missing more than the parts that are there, maybe it's useless to think there's anything more of value in your life. That sort of negative thought process that you know isn't true but still buries its tendrils deep inside and twists.

The thing is, Boyd never really had much to call his own his whole life that people didn't attribute to others around him - one of the only things he had was his art. And losing an eye didn't make it impossible to do art, but in that beginning stage, it just felt extra awful to have lost something so integral to the one thing he had that was his alone, that hadn't been used and abused and destroyed by other powers in his life - it felt like maybe that just went to show he didn't have value other than what others assigned to him. Which is how the valentine stuff probably came to mind - through a bit of depression and also practicality, because he knew he could make money doing that if they needed it, even though it was the absolute last thing in his life he would ever want to do. But then the guilt would come in about not being able to do enough on his own, not pulling his weight, etc etc, and then the fear associated with all of these topics, and that's how the depression would have slid in and spiraled him down.

I always imagined that Hsin recognized how depressed Boyd was, even though Boyd tried to hide it, and eventually they would have had some sort of conversation about it all.

In my mind, somehow through that and any following conversations or actions or etc, Hsin was able to remind Boyd of all the things he could do still, rather than focusing on the things he couldn't. He would have reminded him that it was bullshit to think he had no value, and as for getting denied different jobs, it didn't matter - they were in this together, they'd figure it out together. He would have been able to remind Boyd to stop taking all the shit on himself and share the burden. And that Hsin didn't give a shit about any of that stuff - Hsin saw Boyd for who he was, and he loved him for that, and nothing would ever change that. Boyd would have probably told Hsin at that point he was afraid of Hsin blaming himself when it never had been his blame to begin with, and he never wanted to hurt Hsin, and etc. I imagine he told him that, but am not sure.

Either way, it would have reignited Boyd's stubborn streak and determination, and he would have been reminded of how much they could do together as a team. And how much they loved each other. And fuck the world, who cared what other people thought? He could do whatever the hell he wanted. He'd figure it out. He always had.

From then, he would have started working on things again - figuring out ways to fight that relied more on touch so his blind spot and depth perception were less of an issue (Hsin would have helped a lot with this), and he would have started painting and drawing again. It went from his offtime from Hsin being something dark and depressing to something largely productive. Obviously everyone still has bad days, but at least he was generally on the up. And they did eventually figure out jobs he could work too, or things he could do, so he wasn't just spending all his time alone when Hsin wasn't around. And so Hsin didn't have to have any pressure on him to do things alone.

I don't remember if I ever answered this question before and if I did, it's possible my answer was a little different. I often think about parts we didn't write down and I feel like I have an idea of how it would go, but until I actually write something down I never know for sure. We never planned for Afterimage, for example - but when we went to write past Evenfall, it became clear that was a thing that was going to happen, and so it did, and then things from that affected other things into Interludes, Fade, 1/27, etc.

So it's possible if ever any of these time periods are written down that maybe my view of what I think would happen ends up being completely incorrect or off. But right now, generally speaking, I imagine it went something like this.

Sorry for the long rambly reply!

[hephaestiions]

Addictive Tendencies

@hprarepairnet​ & @slytherdornet​ - quidditch player ships challenge Pairing: Marcus Flint x Oliver Wood (Flintwood) Summary: “I hate him,” he whispers fiercely against the fist he stuffs into his mouth to keep himself from screaming long and loud at the heavens, at the Founders, at the bloody sun. “I hate him so damn much.”

“Makes me wonder why I bothered to show up, then,” comes the all too familiar heavy drawl, and if Oliver’s heart had dropped before, now it drowns. One thing leads to another. 

Warnings: Light angst, break-ups, everyone swears a great deal, mentions of nsfw/18+ activities. Rating: Teen. 

Word Count: 4k (yes, I know, it is very long for a Tumblr fic) 

For all that he feels almost dead going through the motions of life, Oliver comes alive on the pitch. There’s something about the clean, crisp scent of fresh air– the kind reminding him of the open fields close to home– and the adrenaline rush of mounting a broom that leeches into every cell of his being. It fires his synapses, jolts his entire body out of the sleepwalking trance he slips into during classes and meals and all the other mundanities that compose everyday life. Oliver can’t wait to go pro.

To leave fucking Transfiguration and Potions and Professor Sprout’s herb gardens behind. To make the familiarity of the broom clenched under his thighs and the roaring blood in his ears his livelihood, his reason to wake up every morning and  go back to bed each night without drinking himself into a stupor thinking of everything that could have– Fuck no. He’s not going down that road right now.

Right now, his focus needs to be narrowed down to that slim space between the hoops and the perfect, concentrated manoeuvre that will allow him to slip through. His focus needs to be on his game, his practice, not on… other things.

Vision tunnelling, Oliver tenses his calves around the reliable solidity of his broom, and corkscrews his entire body almost violently through the gap, veering dangerously close to the metal bars of the left hoop, emerging unscathed and out of breath on the other side. He wants to be happy.

Wants to be proud, because this is the first time he has executed this move flawlessly without either crashing his elbow or his knee or his side into some part of the hoops. He desperately wants to feel the joy he would be whooping with by now if this had been even six months ago. But all he feels is the desperate desire to hear Marcus shout, “That’s what I fucking call a Hummingbird, Wood, you fucking genius!” either from the stands or from his place on another broom by Oliver’s side. He’s met with silence. The wind moans, twisting its way through the branches of the trees lining the entrance to the Forbidden Forest. Oliver wants to drive himself into a metal bar just to work off some of the pent up frustration and rage gathering in his shoulders, his back muscles, his stomach. The almost physical ache gripping and tearing at his heart. He kicks out, and the broom bucks underneath him, buoyed in the wrong direction by an errant current of air. There’s a brief moment of sheer terror as his body misbalances midair, but he isn’t the fucking captain of Gryffindor for nothing. He lets himself fall for a second, letting his weight gather momentum, before pulling out at the very last second. Sometimes he wants to smash his entire body into a wall, but he knows better than to work out his aggressive tendencies on the unforgiving pitch.

His legacy deserves better than to be remembered as a gruesome splatter on the grounds of Hogwarts. Marcus though. Marcus can bloody well plummet to death for all Oliver cares. Except.

Except the very thought sends shudders down Oliver’s spine, and his hands inadvertently reach out into thin air even contemplating the prospect of letting Marcus hurt himself. Except that Oliver would take the fall before letting Marcus take it. He’s fucked, truly. “You’re a bloody fool, Oliver,” he mutters to himself with only the wind listening in. “And for once you’ve got something other than terrible grades to prove how truly fucked you are.” Marcus’ words echo in his head, a never ending loop of heartbreak and agony and gut-wrenching misery that no rationally thinking future pro Quidditch player has the time for. You– you know how the world is beyond Hogwarts, man. You know it’s not good to– to people like us, especially when we want to play and go pro, you know. It’s bollocks mate, is what it is, but it’s life and I guess I want a career more than a fuck. Because that’s all they’d been of course. A fuck. Fuck Marcus. Well and truly fuck him into next Sunday, next month, next bloody year. That line of thinking conjures up a whole new set of images that are doubly uncomfortable when one’s private parts are squashed onto a pole of unforgiving wood. His whole body itches and aches and buzzes with energy he doesn’t know how to work off, so he perfects his form on the broom and swoops in and out of the spaces between the hoops, tracing fast paced figure of eights that even the best of the best would have a tough time keeping up with. It’s mindless and the cold wind sniping at his cheekbones jars him into the present, into the steadiness of swerving past the bars of the hoops and spinning around like his life depends on it. Fuck Marcus Flint and his stupid, scared arse and his willingness to give up on everything Oliver thought was sacred to them. Fuck him. After half an hour, he wants to keep going, but his whole body resists, aching and burning along the lines of tension in his muscles. He feels heavy and tired, like a stone about to drop, and he turns on his broom to swoop down when– When he sees him. In the stands. The crossed arms, the wind billowing through strands of hair that are surprisingly soft to the touch (Oliver knows that because he’s touched those stands reverentially in the showers, in hidden alcoves, during warm, hot moments of kisses and mouths trailing over flushed skin–). The green robes are flying out behind the solitary figure in the stands like a cape from one of Katie’s superhero comics, and there’s no mistaking the identity of the man. Not for Oliver at least.   Marcus is watching him. Has been for Merlin knows how long. All Oliver wants to do is touch down and drag himself over to the stands and crash into Marcus’ arms, but he resists the urge. Instead, he laps a lazy loop in the air, before his tired body forces him to retire, and instead of picking the pitch like a sane person, Oliver perches on the edge of the middle hoop, crawling off the broomstick onto the thick metal. It’s surprisingly comfortable. It’s also a ploy to wait Marcus out, but well. It doesn’t seem to be working quite yet. Some part of him wants to swing his legs around his broom, swoop down beside Marcus and kiss him senseless. Some part of him wants to pull Marcus in and just relearn the feeling of their bodies touching again. He reins this part in with every ounce of control and every shred of self respect he has. He holds it back, letting it kick and rage and fester at the back of his heart, where he keeps his pain and his misery and his urges to do things he will regret within five seconds. That part of his heart– It’s ugly. He turns away from the imposing figure Marcus cuts in the stands with his biceps bulging and his hair, longer than it was since Oliver last ran his hands through it curling around his strong neck. Oliver can feel the pressure of it, of Marcus’ head pillowed against his lap when they could sneak an afternoon away to the Astronomy Tower. Marcus’ dark hair curled into Oliver’s fist as they talked, as they kissed, as they pushed each other’s clothes off with all the pent up energy of two prowling hyenas going in for the kill. He feels the tears rise, but he doesn’t want to cry. Not here anyway, with Marcus watching for whatever Merlin-forsaken reason. Doesn’t want to raise his hand in the tell tale sign of wiping away his tears. Doesn’t want to be weak.

Instead he stares at the setting sun even though the riot of colours across the sky only make him angrier. Why should the world get to move on and revel in its beauty when his life feels like radio static? Why should sunlight have the right to twirl pretty patterns into Marcus’ eyes when Oliver isn’t there to see it? Why does even nature get to laugh at his sad, pathetic arse and why doesn’t he ever get to move the fuck on? “I hate him,” he whispers fiercely against the fist he stuffs into his mouth to keep himself from screaming long and loud at the heavens, at the Founders, at the bloody sun. “I hate him so damn much.” “Makes me wonder why I bothered to show up, then,” comes the all too familiar heavy drawl, and if Oliver’s heart had dropped before, now it drowns. “What,” he says without turning around for fear of what he’ll see, “are you doing here?” “Saw you practicing from the Tower. Thought I might join you.” Oliver lets loose a laugh. “Get lost,” he says, and grimaces when it comes out slightly choked. “Or I’m telling Hooch you’re spying on the Captain for his plays.” “I have plenty of plays of my own,” Marcus says, and Oliver cringes at the suggestive undercurrent of the words. “Or did you forget?” When the weight of his anger and his hurt and his exhaustion crash into him, Oliver almost falls off his precarious perch. He staggers slightly and has to reach out with one hand to grip the edge of the hoop. His other hand slackens around his broom, and it teeters dangerously in his loose grip. Somehow, he doesn’t have the energy to hold it tighter. The tiredness creeps into his muscles, his bones, the raging fires of his heart, shrouding his entire being in a blanket of heaviness that he can’t shrug off. Here he is, trying to hold himself together, and Marcus has the balls to be making innuendos. “Last I checked, Flint, your plays were off limits. And you didn’t want any of mine, either. Which begs the question that I already asked you, why the fuck are you here?” Marcus is silent, because of course he is. Damn bastard, he can’t even give Oliver a good reason, a good excuse for his real purposes. “Come to gloat?” He asks, and his voice comes out a broken whisper. “Come to check in on poor Ollie and how he’s doing now that you’ve binned him?” “Oliver–“ “Shut up,” he says, he begs, and turns to face Marcus, and promptly has the breath knocked out of him. Because Marcus, oh, he’s bathed in the light of the golden sun, bathed in every shade of desire, coloured in Oliver’s dreams. There’s that uncertain turn to his lips, as though he expects Oliver to shove him away, tell him to leave, as though he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t look like he’s gloating (and Oliver knows how Marcus looks when he gloats, because goddamn, he’s lost Quidditch matches against this man). If anything, he looks a little wrecked, but in the most beautiful way imaginable, and Oliver– Oliver has never wanted to kiss someone more. Marcus sighs. His lashes flutter against his cheek and his shoulders droop slightly, and he looks a little lost when he gazes at some spot in the distance and says in a slow lilt, as though he’s searching for the words as he goes, “I– I missed you, Oliver.” And those words, the words he’s been craving to hear for a whole fucking month now wash over him, curl into the spaces that are yawning open and empty in the absence of the warmth Marcus had been when they’d spent those five glorious months in each other’s sunshine.

“We were just fucking,” he says anyway, because he’s too damn proud to be soothed of a month’s hurt by some half hearted confession of being missed. “Right, Flint? Just a fuck.” “You know that’s not true.” “Do I?” Oliver asks. He wants to be angry, wants his eyes to flash, wants to clench his fists and look ready to batter Marcus into a bloody pulp for daring to hurt him the way he did, but the words come out thick and heavy, laced with the burdens Oliver has been carrying alone. He never cared, he never looked at me as anything except a fuck, he just wanted some fun. Human beings, fragile creatures. Togetherness is more of an addiction than drugs and whisky could ever be. “Oliver, I– I was scared, and–“ “And you thought I wasn’t? You thought it was a breeze for me, that I hadn’t ever considered what the damn repercussions could look like–“ “That’s what you made it sound like!” Marcus throws both his hands up, and there’s a wild light in his dark eyes. “You made it look so easy with all your casual, hey Flint, care for a Butterbeer this weekend and Marcus, look at me and your damn smiles– and I– I was scared out of my mind Oliver, and you just looked like it was something you were born with.” “Born with what?” “Confidence! Fearlessness! Like you couldn’t give a fuck what people in locker rooms would think if you went pro, if I went pro, like you didn’t care that coaches would pay less attention to you, or make you the punching bag of the team, like teams would only sign you on if they had to pay you less if they found out about this.” Oliver sighs. It’s so obvious now that all through those months when Oliver had been caught up in a haze of a perfect love story of two Quidditch captains from historically rival houses, Marcus had been overthinking his choices, his career, everything. “This isn’t a hand job in a dark bed in the dorms, Oliver, and you know it.” He feels weary. Wrung out. “I wasn’t born with it,” he says, and looks away again at the darkening horizon. The sun is now a ball of red against a blue sky turning black. “What?” “Confidence, or fearlessness, or whatever you thought came easy to me. But you were scared about fucking up your career and I was scared of fucking us up. You were thinking about whatever pro team deals you dream of and I was thinking that something I would say or do would push you away because I’m too much of a stupid fuck for anyone to be with. Wood, have you got leaves for brains? Wood, if I knocked on that head would it ring hollow?” “Oliver,” Marcus says, and he sounds so shocked, so hurt that it’s like a string tied to the back of Oliver’s head has been pulled. He turns to face Marcus again, and he looks devastated.

He looks like he’s seeing Oliver for the first time.

“You really thought that I thought you were–“ “Bollocks for brains, yeah.” And because he can’t bear to see Marcus look so upset, he adds, “But that’s alright now. I’ll get over it, and you, and you can sign all the pro deals, and have a couple babies and no one will think you and I–“ Marcus slaps a hand over his mouth. “Shut up,” Marcus says, and oh, he’s so beautiful when he’s angry. “You’re a bit thick sometimes, I’ll give you that,” Marcus says in a voice so low that it sounds like he’s admitting state secrets instead of the most obvious thing that anyone who speaks to Oliver for five minutes can pick up on. “But don’t ever think that you’re stupid, or that you’ve got leaves for brains– Oliver what the fuck? The way you– the way you remember all the damn plays starting from the fucking 1790s and how you can recite precedents for every move anyone makes on the field and how you know exactly which player to pair with which one, which one needs to be benched– Oliver, you’re made for this. You don’t need some Transfiguration O to prove that.” He doesn’t know whether to believe this is happening. And worse– he doesn’t know what it means. If he’s imagining it, he’s further gone for Marcus than he can ever admit to anyone who is not a Mind Healer. If he’s not imagining it, Marcus is here, after a bloody month of ignoring him, breaking his heart, stomping on it with the butt end of a broom, to tell him– Rage curls in his stomach. He jerks away from the hand Marcus has now slid onto his jawline, regretting the motion immediately when the thumb tracing circles into the space behind his ear is dislodged. “And you’re telling me this now? After telling me you care more about your career than a fuck? Why bother? If that’s how you feel– it’s not going to change!” Marcus looks down. Oliver wants to curl a hand under that drooping chin, pull it up, kiss it better, but he holds himself back. “I was scared,” he whispers. Oliver wishes he weren’t so fucking easy, because the ice walls he’d thrown up to keep Marcus and his mind games out is already thawing. “I was so scared.” “You had a reason,” Oliver mumbles. He looks down. The drop to the pitch is sheer, sharp. If he falls, there’s no way he can be saved unless Marcus decides to be a hero. The thought brings a small smile to his lips. “I was being a coward,” Marcus says sharply. “Thorne– Thorne’s y’know, bisexual and all that, and he’s playing great game with the Magpies–“ “We can’t all be Thorne. And Thorne was stoned in Diagon.” “By one man who was arrested by Kingsley Shacklebolt. We might not be Thorne, but we can try.” The sound that rips itself from Oliver’s throat is rife with the pain and frustration of a month of second guessing and heartbreak. “Why does it matter?” Oliver asks, his voice carrying in the emptiness of the pitch. “Why the bloody fuck does any of it matter Marcus, you don’t want this, it was just a fuck–“ It happens so fast that Oliver doesn’t process it till its done. Marcus surges forward on the broomstick, invading the meagre personal space Oliver had tried to maintain between them so he wouldn’t reach out, be overly-familiar, push Marcus away the first time he’d dared to venture close in so long. Their eyes meet, and the pitch, the hoops, the past month and their discussion fades to nothing but white noise in the back of Oliver’s brain. Marcus, bless his balance on a broom, reaches out with one hand to cup the back of Oliver’s neck and the other comes to frame his face, resting on his ear. He waits for a second, for permission, to be pushed away, hell, Oliver doesn’t know, and then they’re kissing, Marcus’ hot, perfect, slightly chapped lips fitting against his. Something clicks into place finally. Something disjointed and broken snaps back inside his chest and the heavy weight he’d gotten all too used to carrying lifts like the healed wing of an injured bird. His heart soars with all the delight of a creature learning to fly once more, and something in this urgent, heartfelt kiss feels like a reassurance. I missed you, it says. I’ve been waiting for you. I’m sorry for hurting you. A million apologies in a single press, a single touch, in the soft breath that gusts over Oliver’s nose. It could be seconds, could be decades when Marcus finally pulls away. Oliver has to shut his eyes, clench them tightly to keep the traitorous tears from falling, from ruining this perfect moment that he’s certain will be shattered anyway when Marcus realises what he’s done. But Marcus doesn’t release a horrified gasp, doesn’t push him away, doesn’t retreat with the air currents back to the stands. Marcus stays there, floating gently on his broom, holding Oliver’s face between his hands, waiting for something. Oliver’s too scared to open his eyes and figure out what. He’s never felt so small, never felt himself be flayed open by circumstances rendering him raw and broken and ready to be picked apart. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and Marcus is here to watch. He doesn’t know if this feeling of trust is warranted, especially after everything Marcus said and did, but he knows he can’t make himself be suspicious or cruel in this moment. He will hate himself forever if he pushes Marcus away right now, and of all the punishments Oliver has suffered, self inflicted misery isn’t one he particularly enjoys. But he can ask, so he does. “What now?” Marcus shrugs. Oliver feels it, the slight tremble, the tell tale stiffness and when he opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see tears in Marcus’. “Are you–“ “Shut up, Wood.” Oliver watches Marcus close his eyes, bite his lip, whisper something inaudible and pull himself together. Watches him try to be steady. To know that they are here, suspended midair in a moment in time, being unsteady together rouses the buried beast of hope in Oliver’s heart. The sun has set. The horizon is a bruised blue now, and Marcus still looks like a shining beacon of future possibilities set against a dark sky of prejudice and inevitable darkness. “So. Thorne.” Marcus smiles despite himself. Nods. “Thorne.” “You’re kidding yourself if you think you play as well as Thorne does.” This time, Marcus laughs. It’s slightly choked, and only barely there, but it’s a laugh. “That’s not the fucking point and you know it.” “Oh I don’t know,” Oliver teases. “I’m a bit thick, aren’t I?” Marcus sobers up almost immediately. Oliver’s heart goes into overdrive, panicking. What if he said something wrong? Reminded Marcus of why he left? But Marcus merely looks serious when he says, “It’s still true.” “What?” “About the teams and coaches and the players. The world– The damn Quidditch world isn’t kind to people like us.”

Oliver looks at Marcus, at the depth of his eyes that people ignore when they critique him for being a bastard (he is a bastard, Oliver knows, just a bastard with depth and capability for kindness that Oliver feels privileged to know exists), at the worried cleft between his eyebrows, at the self conscious way in which he pulls his lips over his teeth. “The pitch makes up for it,” he says. “If I get to keep you and the pitch and my broom, I don’t give a fuck about what coaches and players and galleons have to say.” Marcus lets out a sound like a strangled sob and rests his forehead against Oliver’s. If Oliver hadn’t been holding onto his broom with one hand and the Quidditch hoop with the other, he’d have held Marcus a little closer, but he settles for kissing Marcus’ nose.

“I like galleons,” Marcus whispers after a while. For the first time in a month, Oliver feels a genuine laugh erupt from his chest, into his throat, out of his mouth. He feels light. “You’ll make plenty, don’t you worry,” he says instead. “Promising Chaser, conniving little Slytherin, bit of a looker too– why wouldn’t you?” “Are you calling me handsome, Oliver?” Oliver snorts. “Stop fishing. If the whole Quidditch thing goes balls-up, you can always model for Gladrags.” “Which section of Gladrags?” “Let’s see. Much as I’d love to see you in women’s lingerie, I don’t know if the civil public is willing to, so I’d say the part where handsome young wizards pose in their underwear with their hands suggestively placed behind their heads.” “The civil public doesn’t read Gladrags, Oliver.” “Are you calling me uncivil?” They burst into laughter, something dark and heavy lifting from their beings, and the tensed, tightened bolts of coiled emotion and anger loosening with every quip, every little kiss, every stolen moment of this. Above them, the sky darkens as the universe’s speckled cloak unravels with the fading light of day. Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, a Centaur looks up. Somewhere, a first year student catches a glimpse of two figures on one of the hoops of the pitch and looks away with wide eyes and a racing heart.

On the pitch, two boys share a secret smile in the darkness, and somewhere above them, the stars align perfectly.

[worstloki]

Fic idea: Loki mermaid AU with literally any plot except merfolk are canonically genderfluid (inspired by this one post about genderfluid merfolk in trending tumblr wont let me link it)

I can’t find the post but I’m jumping on the gender-fluid merfolk bandwagon so thank you for that :D

- plot? what plot? 

- okay so instead of falling off the bifrost or whatever odin dumps both his male princes manly sons #patriarchy on earth to learn some lessons in humility/obedience but to avoid the two of them working together he’s left thor as a human on earth and dumped loki into the water as a half-fish (thanks, odin)

- thor bumps into jane and darcy and erik except when he can’t lift the hammer he’s decided to go reunite with loki (because loki always knows what to do - he’ll know what to do about the hammer and how to get father to accept them back!) and they help him set up an ID and stuff for himself after jane realizes the guy has very limited knowledge about the wormhole he fell through.

- thor struggles with getting a job and working hard to be able to work on-board a cruising agency. he learns to work hard for what he wants, he waits tables and makes beds and no one lets him near the cooking but he washes dishes and everything else on-board the R.D. Stark, while always keeping an eye on his map and which parts of the ocean they’ve gone over and not found loki on, because he totally believes loki would be trying to get to him and staying near the surface just like he is. 

- loki though? nope. not even trying to get back. he knows thor is out there and he believes odin will accept his heir back eventually, but himself? yeah he figured out what happened, its obvious he was either abandoned/stolen and actually a jotun, so as far as he’s concerned being stuck as a mermaid is an upgrade. not to mention mermaids don’t have gender roles so he can go around following his interests and doing whatever he wants (he’s considered a juvenile mermaid and gets adopted by the collective mermaid community) and he can switch genders freely and no one judges loki for it. he’s happy down here exploring and learning and the ocean is a huge place to explore and he’s got a knack for learning ocean magic (odin didnt remove his magic he removed his knowledge of magic so he cant use it without relearning everything) and he’s even got friends now (more on this later)

- The Avengers left as humans are Tony Thor and Clint, where Tony is still Tony, and Clint and him work for SHIELD and the real reason they hired Thor was because SHIELD has been keeping an eye on the guy claiming to be an alien deity since trying to lift the hammer... they get close to Thor and with the amount of tales this guy has to tell and the way his eyes water when he talks about his brother they’re starting to believe him... and now Stark is helping cover the areas on the maps they haven’t covered and he’s built sonars to pick up on ‘mermaid’ if they really are underwater somewhere...

- The Avengers left as mermaids are Steve (found frozen the mermaids found him and converted him with ocean magic), Natasha (Budapest mission with Clint gone wrong she drowned in the Denube...) and Bruce (a bullet didn’t work but surely the hulk couldn’t breathe underwater?... anyways now he’s a mermaid and into water calming meditation and stuff and the hulk is just him but green and doubled in size but he keeps the tail) and they’ve been a part of the mermaid community for a while but they’re barely passing as adults even steve at 100 because mermaids are long-lived oKay so they’re a group that goes exploring and fights capitalist sea monsters and stuff

- thor learns to show when he cares and to value lives of even lesser races like humans and fish creatures when his friends are in danger (tony and clint probably started drowning in the on-cruise pool or something smh) while loki learns self worth and that identity isnt based on material things like gender or what services you can offer another (probably after he profusely apologizes for not being perfect and preventing something in a fight?)

- the sound waves tony’s sonar has? yeah its messing with the beings that live deep underwater including the mermaids (ouchie ears hurtie) and some ancient sea monster they’ve waken up with tony’s powerful tech (cthulhu is that u??)

- anyways loki and co. turn up to fight the monster while its attacking thor and co. and then the day is saved through teamwork and mermaids singing (okay, steve and loki singing, because they’ve got good voices and nat can only sing in russian...) the monster to sleep by projecting their voices into tony’s sonar machine.

- then you’ve got the reunion and thor learns loki never intended to go back to asgard because he thinks he has nothing there... the mermaids are staying on the cruise pool because Clint and Nat need to have a talk too because Clint was blaming himself for her death and maybe there’s some emotions there (they’re friends but also clint doesnt have a family in this AU) ? nat has learnt to be more expressive and clint is so so happy for her... thor does NOT want to leave his brother he doesnt care if he’s jotun he just wants to be with his brother... tony meets steve and is like ‘woah ur the guy my dad had the hots for’ and they get along and tony’s kinda curious about underwater tech? tony mentions the winter soldier and suddenly steve loved living underwater but he doesnt care if the world has moved on he has to go see bucky--  but, oh? what’s this? Tony is offering to bring his parent’s killer to steve? he understands the brainwashing doesnt leave the man responsible? Tony has learnt to be down to earth? by spending time making genuine friends for the sake of making friends? he’s gotten emotionally attached? he’s learnt empathy through watching thor;s love for his brother and watching clint melt at seeing nat alive? 

- anyways thor and clint decide to stick with their respective merfolk (thor doesnt care if it means giving up asgard’s throne he just wants his brother to be happy and if that means changing genders and living underwater and being appreciated for magic thor would happily trade the throne for that) (all clint had was shield anyways and nat? she was a friend he’d trade the world for even years later) steve wants to turn human and go to bucky but tony brings bucky to him with a hit on the noggin and after some time in wakanada™. OH I didn’t mention that Tony absolutely freaks out when he finds out BRUCE BANNER the legend himself is underwater too... Tony totally gets VIP membership and can switch between human and merman now... because he helped ‘unite many broken souls’ or something... hmm... Stark Industries Underwater Division sounds nice....hmm........

- everyone lives happily ever after and odin chokes on his mead when he tries to check on thor’s progress and finds him and loki happily together adventuring actually getting along 

[pirateskinned]

I'm just relearning how to code and figured tumblr would be a great start but I'm finding it really annoying to use the tumblr editor for live previewing as I code. Do you have any suggestions on how to make this process easier? Also, love live live your work so much. You have such a distinct style!

hello and thank you! i make all my themes in the tumblr editor because if i code elsewhere, the tumblr blocks don't work. though if you're making pages you could code outside of tumblr. i've used brackets and atom in the past. but honestly, sometimes i edit code in a plain text editor too so i might not be the best person to ask this to. if you need help i recommend checking out @codingcabin, it's a server full of coders and we'd love to help you out! :)

[oboevallis]

Hii. ! I’m new on tumblr and I’ve been reading all your fics. Can you please please write one about Amelia having a phone call with her mother. In which Carolyn calls to ask how she’s doing and how’s motherhood and the baby and she tells her like all her experiences about the birth, breastfeeding sleepless nights and all of that? Thank u! I hope u have an amazing day❤️

advice

thank you so much for the prompt, and welcome to tumblr! not sure if this was quite what you wanted, but i can always redo it. have a good day and stay safe!

Amelia situated herself in bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she had the opportunity to sleep without worrying about her baby. Her boyfriend had taken their baby for a walk, letting her sleep for a bit. As she closed her eyes she heard her phone ring. She was tempted to ignore it until she thought it could be Link and something was wrong. So she abruptly turned around to grab the phone on the nightstand.

“Hello? What’s wrong?” Amelia asked in a panic as she answered the phone.

“Just me kiddo.” Her mother’s voice chuckled through the phone. “Wanted to see how the baby and you two were doing. I haven’t heard from you since the night he was born.”

“Oh,sorry” Amelia relaxed back into the bed. “I thought you were Link. He took the baby on a walk.”

“Oh you must of been sleeping, I’m sorry about that. I’ll call you later.”

“No, stay, please.” She hesitated for a moment, she had been thinking a lot about her own mother since the birth of her son. “This is going to sound terrible, but I hope I wasn’t as terrible to you as my baby is to me. It just feels like he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you Amelia. I’ll tell you what by the time you came along I thought I had a general idea of what I was doing, but you. You were my kryptonite, the methods I found worked with my other kids just didn’t soothe you. I felt like I had to relearn babies when you came along, and then you proved to be even more difficult as a teenager.” Carolyn chuckled. “What’s challenging you the most?”

“I mean other than sleeping. I just feel like he’s upset all the time, and nothing I do makes him happy.” Amelia felt her composure breaking, but she didn’t want her mother to know motherhood was starting to push her limits.

“Upset how?”

“I dunno. He just cries all the time, and I know your going to say that’s normal. But I try everything and he just keeps crying.”

“Well, you said Link was on a walk with him. Does movement calm him down?” Carolyn asked trying to help her daughter find a solution. She knew from firsthand experience how stressful a inconsolable baby could be.

“Not really he can usually can go a whole walk crying for the duration, so Link has to go onto empty trails now. I think Link just wanted to get out of the house, and give me a break.” She smiled to herself, she was eternally grateful for the man she decided to have a child with.

“He may have colic.”

“What even is colic anyway? Like everyone talks about it but what is it. I mean I’m a doctor and don’t even know what that is.���

“You know I’ve never really figured that out it’s just basically where they cry a lot and are inconsolable, but Kathleen had it. I remember I was scared out of my mind because first off she was my first baby and secondly your father had dropped her, she already had colic before that, but I was furious because I thought it had made the situation worse, and that was the only time I ever made your father sleep on the couch.”

“So you just let her cry?”

“There’s nothing else you can do Amy.”

“I’m just supposed to watch as he screams his head off?”

“Well do you think something else is wrong?”

“No, I don’t think so at least.” Amelia bit nervously at her nail. “He has a doctors appointment in a week though. You don’t think there’s something wrong do you?”

“Amy, you and your boyfriend are both doctors. I think you’d know. No one said this was going to be easy.”

“Mom, obviously I know that. I-I just can’t help him, I just wanted him to be healthy and happy. And he’s been healthy, but he’s just so upset and I can’t do anything to help him. I just want him to be happy, and I just what if he hates me. He deserves so much better than me.”

“Now Amelia, I’m not going to sit here and let you talk about yourself like that. You are a very very talented neurosurgeon, who helps prevent a number of patients from forming an addiction.”

“A job title has nothing to do with good parenting.” Amelia cut her mother off.

“I wasn’t done yet Amy. Gosh, I feel sorry for Link he must get cut off every other sentence.” Amelia rolled her eyes, but allowed her mother to continue. “You’ve come along way. You’ve been through a lot. You’ve learned a lot. How I perceive motherhood, is you passing on the wisdom you’ve gained in your life to help your child navigate through their life. And you have a lot of wisdom to give your son. You love so freely and so deeply that, this boy is incredibly lucky. All you need to worry about is keeping up with your sobriety, that’s the only thing you could do that would have your son hate you. Not that you won’t make mistakes, because you’ll make hundreds that you’ll forever feel guilty for. But trust me this little boy deserves you.”

“Thank you.” Amelia managed to say as tears fell down her face. She didn’t realize how much it helps to hear validation from her mother to help her through this.

“You just need to be patient with your baby and yourself, it’s going to take time to identify the techniques that calm him and comfort him. And make sure you and Link are communicating. Now I have to get going, I have to get to the library for book club. But how about we make a plan for me to come stay with you guys for a week, so the two of you can have an extra pair of hands.”

“I’d really appreciate that.”

“Okay then. I’ll call you when I get home. I love you kiddo, you’ve got this.”

“Love you too.” Amelia smiled whilst the tears as she hung up. She wasn’t a crier, so she was blaming the hormones still coursing her body. She knew her and her mother had a lifetime of forgiving to do, but she was so grateful she lwas now able to go to her mother for advice.

part 2

[unexpected-possibilities]

Because I need something to cheer me up, here’s part of today’s celebratory “I reached 150 pages” or whatever I’m calling it. These are some of my saved notes from my chapters throughout my writing process in Saudade (I unfortunately didn’t start keeping them until recently so there’s not as many as I’d like). It’s also important that you know I write absolutely everything as I go, I only ever have like 30% of anything figured out.

The entirety of my notes for Chapter 8: Did You Know ~

*insert that vine of the guy recording his friend, who sits up, then someone else sits up in bed beside him and he’s like “Ohhh OHOHO” and runs away but Archie is recording*

(This video)

Some possible ways that Chapter 10: Ready or Not could have played out ~

-Douxie and his fam go to see Charlie

-Douxie discusses what he and Archie discovered on rescue duty(what did they find??? I do not know)

    -prophecy??

    -underground wizard hideout place that took a hit in the hurricane???, douxie and co find themselves in the midst of like a magic gangwar type of thing???

-douxie finding out what his special power is that master wizards get ???

    -what even is it???

I clearly knew what was happening in Chapter 11: Deep Water ~

*banging fists on table* ANGST ANGST ANGST 

My highly detailed info for Chapter 12: Secrets ~

-Zoe has to go to the hospital??? 

-Douxie in the hospital chair asleep nearby 

-what even happened to her, f*** if i know

    -injured in the fight??

    -too much magical exertion 

-Zoe waking up from being drugged acting all weird (how weird is weird)

And a look at some things that were tossed around, some that were used some weren’t, in upcoming Chapter 13: Fire and Ice ~

-Zoe and Douxie return from the hospital to find Archie working with the formerly hostile hedgewizards 

- said mages agree to a hesitant pact to protect the city, mortals, and themselves in partnership with Chaos Family and whoever else they can get 

- Zoe decides it’s time to travel to see Tara in Boston, Claire teleports Zoe’s car to NYC for her bc the ship is very much out of commission. Chaos family road trip?? i talk about Zoe’s car too much but it is Vital Info

Under the cut: Bonus material from other fics and from conversation I’ve had recently with @nikibogwater​ regarding my writing processes!

Understatement of the year regarding Unless Spoken To ~

Douxie sees his father for the first time since he ran away and it doesn’t go over well.

Notes from We Will Rock You ~

remember that one time you jammed out to Queen in your car at like 11pm at night? yeah, that. and how fun getting your leather jacket was. that’s all folks

The vibes I got from Have it All ~

(sometime in my Saudade timeline idk you make it work)

Douxie really said no <3 to Zoe in the beginning there.

And lastly, wings!Zoe notes that are still in progress...

She gets a spear “made of a storm” the spear tells her it belonged to the Valkyrie Rota, ‘a goddess who sends sleet and storm’

Rota is one of the youngest of the valkyrie (use some of the poetry??)

Zoe has a pair of wings, sort of combining the swan-maiden story with valkyries 

Hawk wings with lichtenberg figures

The wings area very big, she has trouble with their weight/size at first

Buys taller heels so she can walk with her wings better

Doesn’t realize how to Not Have Wings for like a few days so she thinks she’s stuck with them

Zoe spends a while altering preexisting clothing or figuring out how it’ll work with her wings, relearning how to sew

Sparring pt 2 but now with wings (it’s a disaster)

And this little gem:

Anyways, thank you all for this crazy journey I set out on a couple months ago, I’ve loved the vast majority of it. I hope to give you guys all I’ve got in the works to come. Also, all the links to my works can be found in my pinned post to redirect you to Ao3. I didn’t link here because tumblr likes to eat posts with links in them. Hope you enjoyed this chaos for the day lol.