#i ought to come up with something better for the second tag tbh

[ballbustervideo]

[south-park-meta]

Bunny w/ Mamihlapinatapei if you like that, otherwise Style?

I don't like Bunny tbh but it's fine, there aren't many pairings I hate too much to try writing! (I included Style too though because I'm a simple person).

Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

"I know now that you won't remember, the next time you see it. I just need you to believe me, before we...start anything."

"I believe you," Butters says immediately. He considers, then says, "Y'know, I think we all die a little. It's the comin' back that matters."

Kenny's always been good at reading people. Stan's good at it, too. It's one of the defense mechanisms that they've picked up together but separately. Kenny learned it as part of conflict resolution; it's important to read the mood at home, to decide if he and his siblings should leave the room or if it'd be better to just flick on the TV. If he had to guess, he'd say that Stan got good at reading people at home, too. Neither Stan nor Shelly have ever been hit by their parents-- Kenny doesn't think they were spanked as kids, never mind gotten in a fist fight the way Kevin did sometimes with his dad. But violence isn't the only thing that does it. Stan knows if someone's safe to drive with or if they're going to weave between lanes. He knows the exact way to play babysitter to draw someone back from a nutty scheme. He knows how to mold himself to seem like less trouble to make things easier, when it matters.

Their experiences are different but the same, when it comes to picking up those little hints of a person. The cues that most people don't have reason to learn.

Kenny notices the shift, when Stan and Kyle fall in love with each other. He's always figured they'd end up together, once they figured their own shit out. Over junior year the way they look at each other changes-- not overnight, but not slowly, either, like it's shifting with the seasons. He actually thinks they're together when Stan starts talking about prom.

Except then Stan asks if he wants to skip it to play video games.

Kenny furrows his brows. "Is this a 'Poor Kenny' thing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Kenny says. Then he stops for a moment to consider which way to take it. His guess is that Stan's feeling sorry for him, because prom's kind of expensive if you do it right. Even doing it a little wrong is more expensive than what Kenny has. It's a hard thing to traverse, though, because if he's honest he likes it when his friends recognize the difference in what they all have to spend. The pop he's drinking is one Stan bought him. But there's a difference in wanting to tag along to McDonald's and maybe, every now and then, letting his friends order a happy meal for him, and wanting his friends to skip out on milestone moments just to play video games. "How come you and Kyle aren't going together?"

"We could," Stan agrees, holding his bottle of Fanta by the neck and spinning it in a lazy circle. Kenny knows he gets the glass ones instead of plastic because it makes him think of beer bottles. It's hard to tell if that scratches an itch or tickles at it. "But we'd just be hanging around, anyway. Same shit, different place."

"Or you could, you know, dance?"

Stan stops spinning his bottle. "With Kyle?" he asks.

He sounds so baffled that Kenny's actually almost surprised they don't need an extra step of 'With who?'

Which makes Kenny baffled, too. "Why not with Kyle?"

"Because we're not dating?"

"Is that a question?" Kenny asks. And before Stan can answer he says, "I thought you were. Finally." It seems like something they'd forget to tell him just because they've been half-dating for so long.He still can't stop himself from making snide comments when they box him out now and again, but when it comes to this--he hadn't even been offended, thinking they'd forgotten.

"Well. We're not."

"So ask him."

"Why would I do that?"

"Why the fuck wouldn't you do that?" Kenny demands. "I love you, Stan, but you're really stupid sometimes."

"Hey," Stan says, but he doesn't sound very offended.

"I know you love him."

"Okay," Stan says, "I love him."

Kenny waits a beat, but Stan doesn't keep going, which is a little maddening. "And he loves you."

"Not like that."

"Yes like that."

Kenny can tell he's not telling Stan anything he doesn't already know, the way he frowns and looks away.

"Why don't you ask Butters, then?" Stan snaps, peevish, looking at his feet. "If you're so smart. He'd go with you."

"Because," Kenny says.

Stan huffs through his nose and opens his eyes a little wider in a way that says, See? And man, maybe Kenny's a hypocrite, but Stan is a smug hypocrite, which is definitely more annoying.

"Fuck you," Kenny says.

"Fuck you, too," Stan says. They sit in silence for a moment and Stan takes another drink of Fanta. Another moment of silence and he says, "You should ask him, though, for real."

Maybe Kenny should, for real. Stan still doesn't like Butters much after all these years--Butters doesn't like Stan much, either-- so Kenny knows it's nothing Stan would suggest if he didn't think it was something that would make Kenny happier. "If I do, you have to talk to Kyle."

"Sure thing, Ken," Stan says. He's still got smug in his tone, like he's agreeing because he knows this is a bet he won't lose.

And it's still kind of annoying, mostly for the 'Ken' that Stan rarely uses except to be condescending, but only for about half a second. Stan can get up his own ass sometimes around Kenny for the same reason Kenny knows he can be petty, bitchy, around Stan. Kenny knows he can't claim a spot at the Super Best Friends table, but they've been regular best friends since they were three. They know each other's entire humanities, even the ugly bits. It's good sometimes, to have a place for the ugly.

They shoot the shit a while longer and then part ways. Stan takes both their empty bottles to recycle them.

Kenny goes over to Butters' house afterwards. He tells himself it's for Stan and Kyle's sake, or at least to force Stan to admit he doesn't have the guts, but he knows well enough he's using them as an excuse. He knocks on the door and waits.

"Kenny!" Butters greets him, bright-eyed. It's really hard to take someone looking at him like that. Like he's the only good thing in all of South Park.

"Hi," Kenny says. "Can I come in?"

"I'll come out," Butters says. "Your shoes are kinda muddy. Y'know my parents would throw a fit."

Kenny doesn't look down at his shoes. It's true, and he doesn't really mind Butters saying so. Even if he does think he could wipe his shoes clean enough.

They take a walk down to Stark's pond. Butters takes his hand halfway there. Kenny slows his pace to make sure it lasts a little longer just in case Butters wants to skip rocks. He doesn't let go, though, once they get there. They sit there holding hands and looking at the water.

"I need to tell you something. Then I need to ask you something," Kenny tells the water.

"Mm, all right," Butters says. His tone stays pitched up, chipper, but Kenny can hear the anxiety stretched underneath, like a safety net waiting to catch someone's fall. "Shoot."

"Well," Kenny says, deciding to back track a bit, because he doesn't like that anxiety. There are too many kids in South Park that have it sitting dormant under their voices, and he likes it least of all on Butters. "I want to ask you to prom. But I need to tell you something first."

The tension slides out at that and Butters smiles wide. "You're doing it all backwards, then, ain't'cha?"

"I do a lot of things backwards," Kenny says, "But you'll go with me? If I ask."

"Sure, I will!"

That doesn't surprise him, for the same reason he knows Stan won't be surprised if he asks Kyle-- or Kyle, if he asks Stan. "I need to tell you," Kenny starts again, "That I die a lot."

Butters tips his head. He looks at Kenny, eyes asking him to continue.

"I know it sounds crazy," Kenny says, "But you've seen me die. You've all seen me die. I used to die every day. And then I came back, and you'd all forget." He pauses as he stares at the lake. There are concessions he's learned he has to make, since the frustrated years of his childhood spent killing himself over and over again, intentionally and not. "I know now that you won't remember, the next time you see it. I just need you to believe me, before we...start anything."

"I believe you," Butters says immediately. He considers, then says, "Y'know, I think we all die a little. It's the comin' back that matters."

"Yeah?" Kenny knows Butters doesn't mean the physical, the way he does, but he also knows that Butters knows he does mean the physical.

"Yeah. I feel it, when part of me dies. Why, there's been times-- there's been times I figure enough of it's gone and died, that I ought to just end it all!" He's not just talking about Reality, and Kenny knows that, too. He's talking about the bits and pieces that have been killed by his parents, by the other students, by South Park as a whole. "But you come back to life. And if you work real hard at it, you come back stronger than before. It gets better...You said it doesn't happen every day anymore, didn't'cha?"

Kenny nods his head. He's a little surprised, that Butters had caught that with his saying it 'used to' be every day.

"Well, maybe someday it won't be happening at all, anymore. Maybe you're coming back stronger and stronger and it won't keep getting you. Not until it's supposed to."

"I'd like that," Kenny says, smiling.

"I'd like to go to prom with you," Butters says.

Kenny nods very fast. He wants, at that moment, more than just prom. He wants every life and every death with Butters. He wants them to go, hand-in-hand the way they are now, and face as many deaths and revivals as they have left in them, together.

[vivimarius]

Frostbite

Eirwen does not have a baby. Until she does.

Pairings: none

Word count: 899

Warnings: Child abuse (mostly in the form of neglect), pregnancy, referring to a child as “it” and “thing,” kidnapping (changeling switch), harm to minors, brief thoughts of child murder

Notes: The fic absolutely no one asked for and no one wanted. LOAFT verse by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors. This is exploring Eirwen’s thought process behind having a child and switching him out for a different baby. There’s no father because Magic and Fae Are Different, and tbh I don’t see Eirwen particularly tolerating anyone else’s input in regards to a kid. We don’t know what Logan looked like as a newborn since he was glamoured to look like Thomas and then grew into those looks, so I took a slight liberty. I think the warnings make it sound worse than it is, personally, but I wanted to tag for anything that might adversely affect a reader. Please be safe!

Anyone will say that there is effort in bearing a child.

For Eirwen, it involved a ritual that took two years to complete. And then it happened overnight.

She woke with an impressive baby bump that she had seen on human women. It was hard, cold, and smooth as she ran a hand over it, a thrill of pride and possession running through her.

The trouble with fae birth is that it’s as different and as individual as fae are. Eirwen could carry this child for two days. She could carry the child for ten years.

Of course, what she wanted was for it to be born on the solstice. She was wild and powerful; her child should be as well. Having it born on a magic day would be even better. But as winter faded and the Court prepared to turn--honestly, the worst time of the year, by far--Eirwen was not terribly expectant of the birth. She quietly whispered to it, “You better hold on until Autumn,” and felt like it heard her.

She should have known better.

It was the equinox, the very day that signaled spring was here, when Eirwen had the child. She was alone when it happened, thankfully. And when she saw it, she hissed.

A Spring.

Two years. Two years of work, just to bring another Seelie to the court?

The child was pale, though not as white as her. Its green hair stood every which way like unmowed grass. It was small and unmoving, though still breathing. Eirwen ought to kill it right here.

It was not impossible for a fae child to die so close to their birth. It could easily disappear. She could get away with it.

But she still wanted a child.

Eirwen looked around her home for a place to put it while she decided what to do. Eventually she settled for putting it on the ground at the foot of her bed. Then she went out.

It took her a few days, mostly because the Serpent King didn’t want fae around the humans anymore, but finally Eirwen found what she was looking for: the human with the newborn. Wickhills was small enough that only a few people were pregnant at the same time, and she had just come upon her one stroke of luck. Eirwen interrogated some of the fae familiar with this human, who said that the baby was just seven days old.

Perfect.

Eirwen returned home, where the child lay exactly where she had left it. It had not moved, had not opened its eyes at all. She picked it up, wrinkling her nose as she touched the child. She supposed it would need a name, something she could call it once it had been raised by the humans to reclaim it. Eirwen looked down and saw everything she wanted and nothing she had.

“Leith,” she said, and the name settled on it like a mantle. It was this small, pathetic little thing--a raindrop where she deserved to raise a glacier.

Well, the new baby would actually be a credit to her. He would be a proper Winter.

It was only two nights later where Eirwen slipped into the yard. An early morning feeding had just been completed, and the human mother had gone to sleep after the baby. The window to the nursery was open, and it was barely a thought to get inside. In the cradle, the baby was sleeping. He looked soft, almost ethereal, his heavy breaths the only sound in the room. Eirwen took a long, deep look at the baby was about to be hers. A quick gesture of her hand and a glamour is cast on the thing in her arms to look like this baby in the cradle.

She switches the children, heaving a deep sigh of relief to have her son in her arms. Without a second glance, Eirwen turns her back on it and slips back into the forest.

~

Dot slept later than she had in--goodness, months. It was so strange that she was disoriented for a minute when she woke and saw dazzling sunlight. She looked at the baby monitor, but it was silent. Almost too silent.

She knew she was being ridiculous, but she still shot up and hurried to Thomas’s room. Dot sighed with relief to see the baby in the crib. She quickly walked up and picked up her son, then paused. “Well, that’s no good,” she muttered.

The baby in her arms fussed and waved his angry little fists. He looked so much like her Thomas, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t, but he was.

Dot rocked him gently, and he calmed quickly. His eyes, closed for so long, opened, revealing beautiful silver. Very much not Thomas.

“Larry,” she called down the hall, “We have a bit of a situation, dear.”

~

Eirwen stalked away from the house, absolutely furious. How dare that woman! Keep both the children! What was she supposed to do, show up to the court childless? Everyone would laugh at her! She was bested by a human!

No, no. This would never, ever go. No. Never.

She would tell everyone that the child was stolen from her. It was deep treachery, and they bound her power, somehow--refused to give her what she deserved. Yes, Eirwen could twist this. And in the end, she would still reclaim what was hers.

[hermannsthumb]

ok trying this again lol hopefully tumblr doesn't eat my message but i saw where you reblogged that halloween prompts last night and wanted to request "strangers who hooked up at a party while in costume but tbh i might be in love with you so i’m gonna walk this earth looking for the right woodland nymph" for newmann. the thought of hermann dressed as a woodland nymph is CUTE!! thank you, maria

from list of halloween prompts here

HEHE this one took me a while bc i’ve been slammed with a cold the past few days thats made me want to do nothing but like. lie in bed. HERE YOU GO ENJOY

———————————————

“Sexy fairy, huh?” Newt says.

The dude leaning against the wall lowers his drink and frowns. “Pardon?”

“Shit,” Newt says. “Hang on. Sorry.” He pulls out his plastic fangs and works his jaw a few times, then settles right back into his most charming smile. “I said sexy fairy, huh?”

“Oh,” the dude says. He looks down at himself–the illfitting white tunic, the tacky fake vines glued to it, his sandals (socks with sandals, actually, wow)–and gives a self-conscious tug at the equally tacky flower crown atop his head. He’s a real hottie. Big brown eyes, dark eyelashes, cheekbones–definitely Newt’s type. He’s surprised that no one else dove in to chat him up first. “I think it’s meant to be a nymph, actually. I bought it at the costume shop on the way here.”

He’s all posh and English. Newt wasn’t expecting that, but he thinks he can dig it. He leers. “So the sexy is all you, then?”

The nymph’s frown only deepens. “What do you mean?”

“I mean–” Newt sighs. “I was calling you sexy.”

“Oh,” the nymph says again. “Er. Thank you.”

They slip into uncomfortable silence. (Way to go, Newt. Struck out already.) “Are you here alone?” Newt tries again.

It’s the wrong thing to ask: the nymph makes a face and takes a long sip of his drink. (Purple, with weird foam on top, probably whatever’s sitting in the punchbowl marked Witch’s Brew.) “Yes,” he says. “I came with my date, but he–ah–”

His eyes drift to a guy in a semi-matching costume on the dance floor, who’s currently bumping up against some hunk dressed as a sexy pirate.“Ditched you?” Newt says.

The nymph makes a non-committed sound. His hand tightens around the head of his cane (which he’s also wound fake vines around–Newt appreciates the creativity). “I didn’t want to dance,” he says, and then it’s his turn to sigh. “We only met a week ago, on some moronic–dating app my sister insisted I try. I should’ve known he’d…”

That won’t do; Newt was trying to get the guy’s number, not send him spiraling into moodiness. “Hey, I’m here alone, too,” Newt says. “All alone.” He doesn’t even know the host–it’s one of Tendo’s exes, he thinks, who he may or may not have gotten sushi with one time years ago but never bothered unfriending on Facebook.

“Mm,” the nymph says. He gives Newt a long once-over. Newt wishes that he’d planned better, and worn something a little sexier than just standard vampire. (Like sexy pirate; the guy the nymph’s date latched onto instead had the right idea.) As is, he’s probably only passably sexy: his pants are tight enough, and his shirt is open enough, and he has enough glitter in his hair (because it’s fun) to light up like a fucking disco ball in the light. “I suppose you’re going to ask me for my mobile number now. Or offer to get me a drink, despite the fact that I clearly already have one.”

Newt grins goofily. “That was the plan.”

He get another long, considering stare. Then the nymph sets his drink down and clasps his free hand around Newt’s wrist. “Follow me,” he says.

“Cool,” Newt says. “Uh, are we going to the kitchen? I think it’s–”

They’re not going to the kitchen: they’re going to an empty broom closet. Newt can appreciate a forward-thinking man who knows what he wants.

“You ought to know,” the nymph gasps, tangling his fingers in Newt’s hair, “I don’t really do these sorts of things.”

“Really?” Newt says. He grins up at him, face inches from the guy’s stupid tighty-whiteys. “’Cause I do. You want me to put my fangs back in?”

“No. Ah–!”

***************************

Newt wakes up with a hangover (predictable), his phone buzzing off the side table with his alarm (annoying), and the strangest sensation that he met the love of his life last night (unexpected). The sensation is only amplified when he picks up his phone and sees that he’s, apparently, sent no less than five texts to his dad about it (his fucking dad, of all people, Newt needs some friends), but it quickly turns to dread when he sees the mess that is his poor forearm.

(“I’ve got a spot right here,” Newt slurred. After mutually-reciprocated hijinks in the closet, he and the nymph–who had told him his name at one point, Newt was sure, he just totally forgot–proceeded to get totally smashed off whatever the fuck Witch’s Brew was and then make out in the corner until Newt finally reminded him that he still wanted his phone number. The nymph was game. He was less game when Newt showed him where to write it in bold black Magic Marker one he rucked up his sleeve: his right forearm, between his jellyfish tattoo and his Godzilla tattoo, on a small patch of empty, freckled skin.

“Cute,” the nymph said, wryly.

He said it in a way that made it clear he didn’t think Newt’s tats were actually very cute. “I like them,” Newt said.

“Can’t I just–” the nymph was struggling with the marker, “–put it right in your, ah, phone?”

“This is more fun,” Newt said.”)

The number is nothing more than a smeary mess now–probably casualty to the massive rainstorm raging outside that, if Newt’s soaked pile of clothing on the floor means anything, has been raging since he stumbled home last night. 

He can’t even remember the guy’s name.

SOS, he ends up texting Tendo after a healthy amount of coffee and Tylenol. hooked up with super hot guy at a party last night and have no fucking clue how to see him again and i think i might be in love. help

you’re almost forty, Tendo replies, which is no help and isn’t at all the sick burn Tendo probably thought it was.

Newt resorts to stalking Tendo’s ex’s Facebook page instead. For anything, really. There are only a few photos up from the party last night (so far, anyway), and most of them are focused on the dance floor and the guy’s friends. Newt clicks through obsessively anyway. The ornate Jack-O-Lanterns that’d been on the front porch, Tendo’s ex and some chick in zombie makeup, the punchbowl of foaming purple Witch’s Brew, and–finally, in the very back corner of a shot–Newt standing with his mystery man. Tacky crown and all. He exists, at least, not some extremely specific hallucination on Newt’s part, even though a reverse image search turns up with absolutely nothing but links to buy his costume. 

He has better luck with a blurry photo of his mystery guy’s (deadbeat) date laughing in the kitchen under the bright orange string lights: Tendo’s ex actually tagged him. Probably because he wasn’t totally crashing the party after seeing a post about it like Newt was. Newt’s luck pretty much stops there; not only does the guy make no mention of the nymph Newt spent the night with when Newt stalks his page, but he hasn’t updated his status in literally six months, and none of his friends (because Newt combs through his friends list, too) look remotely like Newt’s mystery man.

So. Newt sends him a friend request.

He accepts it in the amount of time it takes Newt to take to feed his fish, heat up a tiny bowl of spaghetti-o’s, and regret sending it in the first place; he almost spills the bowl over his laptop in his hurry to send a message. Hey, weird question, but who’d you bring to that party last night?

lol why?

“I’m in love with him” is definitely a little forward, so Newt makes up a fast, and hopefully at least mildly believable, lie. He has my umbrella.

Typing for a while. tbh idrk him, we met online. his name was hermann

Then: i think hes a teacher or something

who are you anyway? comes a second later.

Hermann. Newt likes it. It also rings a very, very vague bell. cool thanks! Newt sends back, and then quickly unfriends the guy. Anyone who could possibly ditch a guy as hot and funny and, overall, perfect as Hermann (as Newt remembers him, anyway) is not worth Newt’s time.

exciting update, he texts Tendo. his name is Hermann!

Newt has a lecture to teach at six, three hours from now, so in lieu of actually preparing for it, he decides to be a creepy stalker instead. Hermann’s date said he was a teacher: none of the local public schools have a Hermann (or a Herman, for that matter) on any of their staff pages, K all the way up to Twelve, nor do the private schools. He has better luck when he pokes through staff directories for nearby universities instead: this gives him two Hermans and one Hermann, but neither of their provided pictures look remotely like Newt’s Hermann. Not even when Newt squints.

He spares another miserable glance at the smeary ink on his arm before shutting his laptop. Maybe it’s just not meant to be.

He’s walking to campus from his bus stop the following week–the day before Halloween–when the most fucking unbelievable thing in the world happens.

He sees Hermann.

Just sitting outside the campus coffee shop at a little table, sipping a paper travel mug dotted with little orange pumpkins. Reading over some notes. Newt’s sure it’s Hermann: it’s Hermann’s big brown eyes, Hermann’s long eyelashes, Hermann’s sharp cheekbones, Hermann’s cane propped against the brick wall next to him. Newt’d recognize him even with the stupid nymph costume swapped for more sensible sweatervest and tweed. “Hermann!” he shouts excitedly, waving both arms. “Dude!”

Hermann looks up. He drops his coffee.

He’s completely speechless when Newt finally manages to book it across the street (dodging traffic, including the bus he came in on) and collapse, panting, into the empty seat across from him. “I can’t believe it’s you!” Newt says. “Holy shit, dude! I’ve been trying like crazy to track you down. I lost your number, so I had to message your shitty boyfriend–”

“Not my boyfriend,” Hermann says, faintly.

“Right, your shitty date,” Newt corrects. “You look so good. I almost didn’t recognize you without all the leaves. I’m so glad I found you. What are you doing here, anyway?”

Hermann blinks a few times. Registering it all. “I work–” He says, and gestures to the stairs that lead up to the main part of campus. “Er, here. Physics. I teach physics.”

That explains why Newt couldn’t find him on any faculty pages–he just assumed that Hermann couldn’t possibly be working at the same university as him and didn’t bother checking. He though he would’ve remembered seeing a face like that around. Physics, though, makes sense–it’s not like they’d be in the same building. “I do too!” Newt says. He leans in, beaming away. “Well, not physics, biology. I can’t remember if I told you my name or not. It’s Newt. Dr. Geiszler, if you wanna be serious, but I’m pretty sure we’re way beyond that at this point.”

“Ah,” Hermann says. “No, you didn’t say your name.” He blinks a few more times before finally seeming to get over his shock, and it’s replaced with mild amusement instead. A small smile. “You’re a doctor?”

“Are you that shocked?”

“You’re not very–” Hermann does a very bad job of disguising his laugh as a cough. “Professional. You know–at the, ah, party, you really should’ve just let me–”

“I know,” Newt says, and Hermann’s smile grows.

“Writing it on your arm was a terrible idea,” Hermann says. “I was horribly offended, you know, when you didn’t call the next day.”

Newt fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it, and offers it out to Hermann with a grin. “Looks like I won’t be making the same mistake twice, then.”

[theragamuffininitiative]

Tagged!

@dearponty tagged me in this one, thanks friend! ^_^

@notatypicaldimension, @thisbibliomaniac, @crazytwist09, @party-with-books, @enchantedblackforest, @mariposamonarch (if you wonderful peoples want to. And even if I didn’t tag you, feel free! That’s a constant rule on this blog. :) )

— what was your last…

1. drink: orange juice

2. phone call: My mom or my grandmother.

3. text message: My sister-in-law.

4. song you listened to: "He’s Not Here!” from !Hero

5. time you cried: It’s been a little while. I’ve gotten teary over a lot of beautiful things especially over Easter, and I got pretty upset over something dumb that made me want to cry in anger, but I haven’t actually cried in a bit.

— have you ever…

6. dated someone twice: Nope

7. kissed someone and regretted it: Nada

8. been cheated on: Negatory

9. lost someone special: Yes.

10. been depressed: Yup.

11. gotten drunk and thrown up: Nope-aroo.

— fave colours

12. Purple

13. Navy + assorted blues

14. Peach/Coral <<same as Ponty

— in the last year have you…

15. made new friends: Yesss. Love them. ^_^

16. fallen out of love: You have to first be in love for this one, right? XD

17. laughed until you cried: Yeahhh lol

18. found out someone was talking about you: Yes but so far not in a bad way?

19. met someone who changed you: I think everyone you meet changes you, but yeah I can think of a good few.

20. found out who your friends are: I love how this assumes we all constantly get ourselves embroiled in toxic relationships we have to discover aren’t true. Like, I am way too cautious in initiating relationships for that. It may happen, but not yet. I’ve got good friends and I love them.

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list: Ew. No.

— general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl: Most all of them, but most of them not very well.

23. do you have any pets: I MISS MY PUPPER AND MY KITTEHS. Technically I have a godchild cat...or niece cat...something like that. She’s a percentage mine. XD

24. do you want to change your name: Nah.

25. what did you do for your last birthday: I spent time with family, spread out over a couple days and tbh I kinda don’t remember a whole lot. I think I watched a movie, my fam made me dinner and there were sweet cards and gifts. ^_^

26. what time did you wake up today: 9 am. I stayed up late last night. XD

27. what were you doing at midnight last night: Watching !Hero: the Rock Opera, and also getting distracted not watching !Hero.

28. what is something you can’t wait for: This askjdlgs episode of Supergirl - alternatively, “Jeremy Jordan returning to Broadway.” Also, getting to see The Lion King in about a month. !!!

30. what are you listening to right now: Traffic outside my apartment. Birds in the courtyard. Occasionally my neighbor moving around upstairs.

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom: Yup. A couple Thomases, and I worked with a Tom previously, and work with a much nicer Tom now.

32. something that’s getting on your nerves: Supergirl’s deeply flawed existence is a constant mood, and I’m having frustrations with a relationship that I don’t know how to solve. :/

33. most visited website: Youtube and Tumblr are probably about equal.

34. hair colour: Hehe wouldn’t you like to know. <<I second Ponty. ;) ;)

35. long or short hair: Longish. Thinking about getting it cut, but idk how short.

36. do you have a crush on someone: I get friend crushes a lot. Like I fall hopelessly in love with somebody, but not in a romantic way, just in a “I want to hang out with you and do dumb fun stuff together because you seem so cool” sort of way.

37. what do you like about yourself: I always seem to answer these the same way, but whatever? I like my (semi dormant?? ha) creativity, and that I’m usually a pretty patient, forgiving person. That might sound weird, or bragging, but it’s not something that comes without practice, so I think it’s okay for me to like/be proud of that.

38. want any piercings: I’ve been saying I should get my ears pierced for like ten years now.

39. blood type: I honestly have no idea, why don’t they give you this information when you get a copy of your birth certificate, or have a check-up? Seems kinda important. XD

40. nicknames: Here? “Rags” and many variations thereof. I also have a lot of nicknames irl but a lot of them have kind of petered out of usage.

41. relationship status: Single pringleeeeee.

42. sign: Aquarius I think but it has no relevance so.

43. pronouns: she/her

44. fave tv show: Fringe or White Collar or Psych maybe.

45. tattoos: I don’t have any, but if I ever got one, it’d be Needtobreathe lyrics.

46. right or left handed: Right. Which is funny because in the artistic circles I run in, I’ve often been the odd one out. XD

47. ever had surgery: I split my head open once. That explains a lot. ;)

48. piercings: Noooone

49. sport: BASEBALL

50. vacation: NYC (literally just to see shows) or the mountains somewhere or Europe, particularly Edinburgh and London. And anywhere honestly on the East coast of this country, because it’s so rich in history.

51. trainers: Shoes, right? Or people who have trained me?? I’m confused. I buy from Payless. I like Converse but who can afford them. XD I’d rather wear something sensible but stylish anyway, and the one shoe I actually care about is Oxfords. I want me a pair of Oxfords.

— more general

52. eating: I am so hungry. I’m going to swing by a cafe and eat because I have a freebie there. But generally, I love pasta and pizza and eggs and toast for breakfast. And fruit.

53. drinking: Water, tea, orange juice, Pepsi.

54. I’m about to watch: I have a bunch of things in my Youtube “watch later” list, including some talks by Jason Robert Brown. Oh! I’m going to rewatch Doctor Strange with some of my favorite peeps tonight. ^_^

55. waiting for: “Schott Through the Heart” and Lion King again. Also, the lunch rush to pass before I go to the cafe.

56. want: Actual furniture in my bedroom. It’s beginning to bother me. I just want a little desk, a little shelf, and a little nightstand like thing. I can wait longer for a proper bed.

57. get married: Maybe someday. I’m not seeking it out right now. :)

58. career: I’ve just started my first job in a theater, and though it’s not with the production process itself, I am loving it, and hoping to move backstage sometime soon. I want to have a career in theater, probably as a writer or at least writing scripts/novels on the side.

— which is better

59. hugs or kisses: hugs

60. lips or eyes: eyes

61. shorter or taller: shorter?

62. older or younger: older?

63. nice arms or stomach: ?? what kind of a. Smile. Nice smile is 100% the most attractive thing.

64. hookup or relationships: relationships. 100%. <<amen

65. troublemaker or hesitant: In a relationship?? Hesitant, I guess, if it means they/you are being careful and serious.

— have you ever

66. kissed a stranger: Nope

67. drank hard liquor: No why would i put myself through that miserable experience lol <<<saaaaame

68. turned someone down: A couple of times.

69. sex on first date: no

70: broken someone’s heart: Doubtful.

71. had your heart broken: Nope.

72. been arrested: Ha. No.

73. cried when someone died: Yes.

74. fallen for a friend: Again, no. Although idealistically that’s a cool way to go. :)

— do you believe in

75. yourself: To a healthy extent, I think. I believe in other things more, but I definitely believe in what I ought to be doing and how I have to work to do. I’ve gained a lot of self-confidence in the past four years, kind of a totally different person now - thank heaven.

76. miracles: I see them all the time.

77. love at first sight: Ish? Appreciation/attraction/clicking immediately can happen, and that can grow into love.

78. santa claus: He exists in every way that counts.

79. angels: Yes.

— misc

80. eye colour: Wouldn’t you like to knoooooow. ;) Idk, it’s probably in another tag/ask post I’ve done on here somewhere lol.

81. best friend’s name: I don’t know that I have one exact best friend rn. There are a handful of individuals I am super close to, and people I know I can tell anything to, and people I just love to hang out with, and I always want to make them happy. <3

82. favourite movie: Newsies Live. It counts, and I know for a fact I have watched it more than any other movie so there.

83. favourite actor: Jeremy Jordan. (woooooowwwww shooockkkerrrrrr)

84. favourite cartoon: Tangled: the Series, and Trollhunters. (Those count, right?) I didn’t watch a lot of traditional cartoons growing up. Just Disney movies.

85. favourite teacher’s name: If I say anyone other than my amazing mother who homeschooled me and my siblings, I’d have to say: Clint. He taught me how to play guitar, and he was pretty fantastic as a role model too. I loved being his student, even if I was too withdrawn at the time to properly take advantage of it or show my appreciation for him.

[hanalwayssolo]

Sad Songs for Lonely Lovers

A/N: Saved this last because............ this one really struck right at home. Also, song reference is Ghost by Lianne La Havas.

Anyway. May I interest anyone in some Iggy angst?

(ETA: Tagging some precious humans because tbh one of the many reasons I reclaimed my fuel to write again is at some point I’ve read their writing, so. Hi! *waves* @hypaalicious @louisvuittontrashbags @eternallydaydreaming2015 @nifwrites @cupnoodle-queen)

You and Me and The Bottle Makes Three: Noctis | Prompto | Gladio | Ignis 

Ignis has never been a fan of surprises.

Most of his closest friends can attest to this, including you. He makes a business out of anticipating the worst-case scenarios; he detests feeling helpless and having no idea whatsoever on what to do next. Planning is his forte, and he greatly prefers having different plans and strategies available at his disposal, from Plan A until all the letters of the alphabet have been consumed.

So when he sees you on his doorstep at precisely two-fifteen a.m. rain-drenched and rather buzzed, all his wits fail him.

“Sorry for coming over unannounced,” you bite your lip, hair sopping and pasting on the side of your face, shivering from the cold.

“You’re soaking wet,” Ignis bewilderedly points out the obvious before he snaps back to attention, “Come in, please.”

He hastily ushers you inside his apartment, and you kick off your boots caked in mud in the entryway. You pad along in your socks, trailing behind Ignis. You notice that he’s wearing his usual choice of sleepwear—a white cotton shirt and a pair of gray sweats. You suddenly feel a pang of guilt for waking him up and unnecessarily causing him trouble.

“Let me get a towel and a change of clothes for you real quick,” he paces hurriedly before he disappears into the first room in the corridor, and you follow suit.

It’s a room which was once also yours, but now, it’s just his. You watch him shuffle along the drawers, the very same you both ceremoniously bought together as the first piece of furniture to replace his ragged old one. The smell of wood, pine, and coffee that blends and wafts the air continues to unearth a lot of memories you’ve worked so hard to bury over the past month.

If you’re being honest, you didn't want to be here. This is admittedly the last place in Eos where you want yourself to be. But this has been a long night and you were so desperate and helpless and you had to swallow your pride so you can survive in one piece — passing out in the pavement, especially in the middle of this storm, isn’t particularly a genius idea.

After all, who in their right mind would want to pay their ex-boyfriend a surprise visit at an ungodly hour, right?

“Found it,” he announces. “Here’s your clothes and a towel. You can change here—”

“I’m surprised you didn’t throw this out,” you cut him off, recognizing the band shirt he hands over to you. It’s yours, and it’s one of your personal things that you have yet to retrieve under his care.

“I ought to return that to you at some point, along with your other clothes,” he looks away, adjusting his glasses. “I just—”

“Never found the time,” you both say in razor-sharp unison. The words left a lingering leaden echo. For a fleeting moment, his eyes latches on to yours, and you break away.

“Well then… I’ll leave you here to change,” he heavily exhales and offers a gentle smile. “Join me outside once you're done, I’ll make your favorite latté.”

“Iggy, you don’t have to—”

“Please. I insist,” he looks at you and he smiles again, and something in your chest stings. Ignis steps out and closes the door behind him, and you're left to your own devices.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to suppress the good days that once was. But your head is a dick and amplified by liquor, and it mocks you with an unbearably vivid montage reel of all the ghosts of your memories with Ignis.

You remember the first time he kissed you, softly and sweetly, and told you that you tasted like strawberries.

You remember the first time you made passionate love that you swore he might break the bed.

You remember the first time he asked you to move in and your heart throbbed in excitement.

And you remember the first time he told you that he needed some space.

You shake your head and aggressively blink back the tears. You move to the bathroom and discard your denim jacket, pull over the dress that clung heavily in your skin, and toss them in the basket… shit. I don’t live here anymore, you uncomfortably thought, and you quickly make a mental note to let Ignis know that you’ll personally take care of your bearings.

You wring the water out of your hair, dry yourself with the towel, and take your fresh change of clothes. You return to the bedroom, and you study the room that you already had memorized. Nothing seems to have changed; the books in his shelves are still arranged the way you remember it. There’s also that photo of him with Gladio, Prompto, and Noctis perched over at his reading table… and a photo of you and Ignis, his arms wrapped around your waist, both of you looking exquisitely happy.

The stinging pain in your chest now radiates ten-fold.

All things considered, the breakup was mutual. Painful, but mutual. When Ignis asked for his space, you knew he meant I need to detach from you indefinitely so I can focus on my job, which eventually felt like an indirect translation of I need some time to review this relationship. Of course, this is Ignis you’re talking about — he had a clear-cut vision of his priorities and his duties that you thought it best to step down  from his growing list of things to worry about and make his life easier. You were rational; no hard feelings.

And rational as you are, the both of you remained good friends. He still sends you his usual food recommendations from time to time, while you reply with curated playlists you thought he should listen to at work. You both are in good terms, and all should feel better.

But then, you can also be utterly irrational, just like now. You're an emotional mess, a whirlwind of bottled up insecurities and fury and all things ugly.

Because deep down the darkest corners of your heart, you didn’t want to let him go. The day you left, Ignis never said a word. He didn't do anything wrong—he just didn't do anything. He just watched you pack your bags and leave.

Everything in his life remained unchanged; except you’re no longer in it. He goes on in his daily life, while you suffer in silence.

He let you go, when deep down you were waiting for him to do something, anything, to make you stay.

You take a deep breath and heave whatever’s left from the fragments of your courage (and not to mention your pride and dignity) as you push the door open and make your way to the living room. Against the backdrop of the pelting rain, a soft, soulful music drifts away, one which you instantly recognize.

Don’t tell me you need me, I’m estranged And I’m overaged, the trouble it may be  There’s still a part of me that has to know What you have to say

It’s the song in one of the playlists you made for him, and you wince again at the memory of it.

“Hey,” you approach Ignis over his tiny makeshift bar, trying your best to look fine as you gingerly sit on the stool. He peeks at you over his shoulder, and he briefly returns to busy himself pouring your cup of coffee. “By the way, I wasn’t sure where to put my wet clothes, so I placed them in your laundry basket for the meantime—”

“It’s fine, I’ll take care of it,” he slides the cup to you over the counter. “Here you go.”

“Iggy, thanks—but wait, I can’t let you take care of my laundry,” you timidly protest.

“You’re in my flat, and you’re my guest, so allow me to be of service—”

“But, I—”

“No buts.” He warmly smiles, and Ignis takes the seat next to you. There’s no point in pressing further; you knew that once Ignis seals a sentence with a smile, it’s as good as a done deal.

You take the cup of coffee Ignis made for you and savor the warmth in your hands. You take a sip, and gods, how you’ve missed his coffee.

How you’ve missed him.

Always with the ghosts of us in tow Stuck somewhere between a friend and foe Round and round we go

“So,” Ignis clears his throat as he begins, “I trust that you appearing here at this gods-forsaken hour has an interesting story behind it?”

“Well,” you tuck your damp hair behind your ear and set the cup back down, fingers circling around the rim, “I was supposed to go home but it started raining and I lost my umbrella and my train card at the concert. And then I remembered we—I mean, you live nearby so I thought maybe, um… I’m really sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he reassures you, his attempt to dispel your worries. “You’ve had a rough night—”

I should have told you, yes, I’m to blame Oh, I took the blame, turned it into a serenade Oh, the mess I’ve made

“No, I mean—I’m sorry,” your hands begin to tremble, and you chew your lip to control yourself from crying. “For everything.”

Wide-eyed, Ignis immediately understood the gravity of your words. “No, none of what happened to us is your fault—”

“Iggy,” you breathe his name; he’s now standing in front of you, so close and only inches away, his eyes tinged with pain. “Then why didn't we try harder?”

You look at him with eyes searching and you let the question dangle heavily between the two of you, the silence deeply saturated with regrets.

Looking for a life beyond the end Stuck somewhere between a foe and friend Round and round again

And just like the day you left, he doesn't say a word. All you can hear is the hollow sound of your own heart breaking for the second time.

“Okay, shit—I shouldn't be here—” you scramble clumsily to your feet as you wipe your eyes as the tears stain your face. “I’m really sorry for taking your time—”

And in one sweeping moment, Ignis interrupts you with his body, his arms pulling you against his chest. You thought you’ve forgotten, but your body remembers his so well that try as you might to stay afloat and fight against the feeling, you sink and you melt in his warmth.

“Don’t go,” he weakly begs, his usual cool voice betrayed and fractured with remorse. “I… I’m sorry. I was a fool for letting you walk away that day. I can’t have that again—not this time. Not ever.”

He whispers, longing and pleading, something he should have said the first time you decided to leave.

“Stay.”

[eloarei]

Tagged by @chocochipbiscuit to post my current WIPs. Thanks, Choco! (lol this is going to be self-indulgent and painful XD;)  (As with Choco, I also have more bits and blobs and ideas than I know what to do with, but I’ll focus on the ones that have a remote chance of ever getting finished.)  Active WIPS (I have at least opened the document in the past month and I honestly intend to finish them this year.)  In order of recently modified: OP CM BB -- "One Piece, Cobymeppo, Beauty&Beast" I mean, it's kind of what it says on the tin: it's vaguely a Beauty and the Beast AU. (Factoid: this is at least the 3rd or 4th fanfic I've written based on friggin' B&B. It's my favorite fairytale and I'm weak.) Currently at 12.5k (when did that happen?!) out of, I dunno, 18k? I honestly never intended to write this. It just sort of happened-- and kept happening, which is the weird part. I'm liking it though. Factoid #2: there are a lot of dogs in this fic. JD LLW -- "Jak and Daxter, Love Like Winter" 100% inspired by the AFI song, I won't lie. I've been meaning to write this for at least 7 years. I have a lot of thoughts and headcanons about the Jak and Daxter series, and this incorporates my hardcore favorite: Daxter is a Precursor. It also uses a couple tropes I love: reincarnation cycles, and fated lovers. As with any song, I can't say what it's actually supposed to be about, but I always heard it as the story of, well, reincarnation and fated lovers. "I met my love before I was born", and then switching between he, she, and then back to he. The story became very vibrant in my head! And this format especially allows me the opportunity to explore Jak/Keira as well as Jak/Daxter, because while I'm not a huge fan of Jak/Keira, I don't like just ignoring canon if I can avoid it. Currently at 7k out of... maybe 20k? It was supposed to be a lot shorter, but I'm only on chapter 1 out of 3, so less than 15k is probably not happening. Factoid: I think a lot of people only know this series second-hand, so I feel the need to mention that Daxter does, in fact, have a human form. XD FO4NV -- "Fallout 4, Nick Valentine" A very creative document name! XD; The story will probably eventually be titled "Same Heart" unless I come up with something better. It's a Fallout4 AU(ish) centering around Nick having been recaptured by the Institute, getting a memory wipe, and then living there during the years when Shaun is being raised there. Eventually, he and kid-Shaun break out to explore the Commonwealth and try to find Shaun's parents. I swear it'll be a Nick/Nora story if I ever friggin' get to that part, but right now it's mostly a Nick&Shaun story. Currently at 30k out of, I dunno, 70k to 100k? It's on chapter 7 out of 17, I think. I have this one planned out pretty well chapter-by-chapter, so of all my fics it has the best chance of actually happening. (Aside from the length, which sort of counts against it. It was supposed to be shorter, but I apparently couldn't shut up.) I'm thinking about focusing on this one for my NaNoWriMo, since it has about 50k left to it. Factoid: I get more emotional about parental relationships than I do about romantic ones, despite the fact that I LOVE romance. Stories I write about parent-child relationships always end up being my favorite. BttF On Track -- "Back to the Future, On Track" The only one I've actually started posting. I feel bad because I meant to continue writing this through December and January, but I got lazy and distracted, so it didn't happen. The season is just about right to jump back into it though (Fall is a more BttF season for me), so I HOPE to finish it this year. Currently at 18k (holy shit, seriously?) out of probably 30k. Chapter 3 (out of 6 well-planned chapters) is aaalmost done, but I might have to go reread some of IrisBleuFics stuff to get back into the mood of it. (Or maybe Rae's or Edgebug's.) Factoid (actually a question) : does anyone else have seasonal fandoms? Inactive WIPs (there are lots of these, so I'll put them under a cut for you. Still, these are only the ones I’ve worked on in the past year. Again, from most- to least-recent.) 

HP GOtG -- A silly Harry Potter/Guardians of the Galaxy fic I have like a page of. I was mentally explaining the concept of fanfic to someone and this... happened.

HPCM Ways to Live -- Another One Piece Cobymeppo fic, and AU (or UA) about if Luffy had never met Coby in ep.1 and skipped right over to kick Morgan's ass in Shells Town. tldr Coby and Helmeppo become pirates.

FFXV parents AU -- I was REALLY into this one for a while, got a couple thousand words and a good plot outline on it. It's Final Fantasy 15 AU (or, as usual, a UA) in which Noctis is only a baby when the empire attacks, and teenage Ignis and Gladio have to run away with him, and end up raising him on their own. I 100% intend to finish this one, but it's not top priority at the moment.

A modern prometheus -- A magical-world retelling of Frankenstein. Probably gay.

FO4 WFM-- "Fallout 4, Waiting for magic" On the day the bombs drop, Nora's husband is still at war, while she's several months pregnant and working on her legal cases from home. Her friend Nick Valentine has come to give her some documents and check on her when they're suddenly ushered into the vault and frozen. AKA the romantic adventures of Nick and a heavily pregnant Nora out in the Commonwealth. (Inspired by an Ace of Bass song)

Fo4 Sky-- "Fallout 4, Skyrim" Basically a riff off the previous story, but not the same at all, somehow. Set in Skyrim, Nora is essentially sleeping beauty. Wait. Snow white? Er, yeah. Magically frozen in a coffin, yeah. 

MEA Avi -- "Mass Effect Andromeda, Avi: a sci-fi ghost story" REALLY thought I was gonna finish this one, but I got distracted from MEA altogether. The story of Avitus Rix and his SAM unit, which has begun to think it is the late Macen Barro, its previous owner/partner, and Avitus' longtime boyfriend. Still can't decide how sad I want it, but it'll be pretty gloomy even if I go with a happy ending.

DCo side story AU -- A modern mini-fic about my DamselCo characters going on a double date, except Addisson and Hunter are both late so it's just Ellery and Isabelle being kind of awkward.

FFXV Dear Fellow Traveler -- AU, Prompto was raised in Niflheim and meets Noctis and the others on their (very long, winding) trip to Noct's engagement. Promptis, no war.

FFXV mermaid AU -- More Promptis. Noctis fishes up mer-person Prompto. They have adventures. Ignis has to go looking for Noctis later and meets mer-person Gladio.

OW Sagittarius  -- Eheh, posted the first chapter of this in January and then just gave up. XD;;;; I feel so bad. An Overwatch teenage McHanzo AU, where Jesse is a centaur sold into slavery to the yakuza. Trained by the Shimada clan, he falls in love with the heir, Hanzo, who then helps him escape. Many years later, they meet again in Overwatch. I have a GOOD plot outline for this, so I really have no excuse for not finishing it. It's on the to-do list after the first few.

FFXV Firstborn son -- Question: is a person still consider a trans-person if they're born female, but both raised as and identify as male (because patriarchal bullshit)? If so: trans-Noctis, Promptis fic.

FFXV Mirror Sword Shield -- Yet another FFXV AU, obviously inspired by that one Coldplay song that I love. Hundreds of years ago, Noctis defeated the darkness, but was sealed away inside the crystal, only to return when he needed to do it again. Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio have trained as his guardians all their lives, for the slim chance that he does return. (I really like this idea, but if I write this one, it'll only be after I finish the other FFXV fics.)

OW BB -- Guess what? Another "Beauty and the Beast" fic, Overwatch flavored. Except it's really more like, "the beast and also another beast". McHanzo, of course, featuring a snarky dragon spirit that constantly taunts Hanzo about his guilt.

BttF Ashes -- Hot damn I gotta write this fic some day. I have a GREAT plot outline for it, following a chiptune song called Ashes. I love it, it makes me cry. It's a Back to the Future AU, about Doc dying when his house burns down. Years later, ghost-Doc teams up with Marty to finish the time machine, and then (spoiler alert) Marty goes back in time and saves Doc, pulling his corporeal self into the future ala The Mediator and they live happily ever after the end. XD

PacRim Redefined -- Another one I feel bad about, because I have posted most of what I have written, but I don't know if I'll ever finish it. It's a far-future semi-AU about Newt and Hermann. TBH it's one of my favorite fics I've ever written, but I'm a loser and can never finish anything. Hopefully next year??? I've got much of a plot outline, so.

Bttf Dino prompt -- Braincoins prompted me last year to write a fic about Marty and a dinosaur, and I started to! But then I had no idea where I was going with it, so I stopped a few pages in. ^^; I'd like to figure out an ending to it that isn't both boring and bleak.

Bttf Solving for X -- A series of short AUs about if either Doc or Marty (or both) were women. I'd like to maybe work on this one again sometime.

HxH AU Laughter Lines -- A Hunter x Hunter fic that makes me cry when I think about it XDXDXD Based on the Bastille song of the same name, it's an AU in which Gon is like... a tree nymph. A little hard to explain, it's a sad little Killugon fic, and it should be pretty short, so I ought to just sit down and write it one day.

BttF Thirst for Romance -- I love this idea! Why haven't I written it?! In his 30's or 40's, Marty is a nurse at a convalescent home/ hospice, where he meets Doc, who loves to tell wild stories. He tells Marty stories about adventures that the two of them had in the 80's and with time travel. Everyone assumes Doc is just very creative and lonely, and they love his stories. He and Marty become close, and when Doc passes away, he leaves his meager possessions to Marty, including a mysterious set of keys which unlock his old garage, and a strange old car inside... (Really want to write this one eventually!) (Based on the song of the same name.)

BttF Hell Valley -- A sad AU, taking place in the Hell Valley timeline from movie 2. Marty has run away from his abusive step-dad and finds himself living in Doc's garage. They're just two broken people trying to get by. Marty wants Doc to run away with him, someplace far away, but Doc has a better idea, if he can get it to work. (Inspired by the song Fast Car, the sad-sounding Jonas Blue version. "You got a fast car. Is it fast enough so we could fly away?")

BttF SG fusion -- and last and possibly least, yet another BttF AU, but a fusion with Steins;Gate, because time travel is not complicated ENOUGH, I have to make it WORSE. In this story, Marty is raised in the dystopian future with the goal of going back to the past to kill Doc Brown before he can create time travel. I liked the idea a lot, but to be honest I think I even confused myself with it. I'd sort of like to keep writing it, but it'll take a lot more effort than I can foresee me wanting to put in any time soon. Tagging: (if I can remember which of my friends write) um... @braincoins, @nomadsky, and, uh... I know that more of you are writers, so just... take it and pretend I tagged you!