#if anyone else wants to do this you can consider yourselves tagged

[disorganizedkitten]

Tagged by @diony-svs! Hi! <3

Last Movie: Scooby-Doo and the Music of the Vampire. One of the few movies I watch on loop.

Last Show: uhhh I think The Scrappy & Scooby-Doo show. Mostly it's been youtube crime fanatic podcasts, if those count?

Last Song: Currently listening to DIE from the RWBY soundtrack (Volume 2, I think?)

Song Stuck In My Head: Oompa Loompa or Am I Wrong. And Bubblegum {w}itch.

Favorite Color: Purple! and Teal!

Currently Reading: Venom and Vanilla by Shannon Mayer and The Coldest Girl In Coldtown by Holly Black

Currently Watching: All the Scooby-Doos and Sleepy Hollow (2013)

Next On Your Watchlist: Technically? How-to youtube videos.

Currently Consuming: My own organs /hj I'll get real food soon.

Currently Craving: Very cold water. And lasange.

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sweet and Savory! Spicy isn't my thing unless I'm trying to impress my brother.

3 Favorite Foods: Lasagne, Pierogi, and Quiche!

Last Thing You Googled: Headless Horseman TV Show bc I couldn't remember what Sleepy Hollow was called. Before that was word translations for hw.

Dream Trip: World tour, baby! Well, actually I'd love to get a giant B&B and invite all my friends and spend a week or more living together. But a world tour's an okay second.

Anything I want right now: A nap and a hug from my mom. And then to publish cgic fics >:D

No Pressure Tags: @overenthusiasticcartoonlover @sallertiacallidus @izanae @weak-fragile-mortal

[novaursa]

The Silver and The Gold

- Summary: This was the first time you and Aegon acknowledged the bond between you, and the first time you are truly one.

- Paring: twin!reader/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N and is bonded with dragon called Starfyre. If you want to read this series in chronological order, you can find the list of my works on my blog. The list is pinned to the top. This is currently considered part one. But it can be a part just for itself.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 191

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the Red Keep. You and your twin, Aegon, have managed to slip away from your septa’s watchful eye once again, finding solace in one of the many hidden alcoves of the castle. These moments away from the prying eyes of the court are your favorites, the only times when you can be truly yourselves—just Y/N and Aegon, two halves of a whole, inseparable from the moment you entered this world together.

Your laughter echoes softly through the stone corridor as you both rush through a narrow passageway, your hand firmly clasped in his. Aegon’s pale blonde hair glows in the dim light, and when he glances back at you, there’s a mischievous sparkle in his violet eyes. You’ve both been caught sneaking away before, but the thrill of breaking the rules only adds to the excitement.

“Y/N,” he whispers with a grin, pulling you into a small chamber tucked away behind a tapestry. “They’ll never find us here.”

Your heart races, not from fear of getting caught, but from the proximity to him, the closeness you’ve always shared yet lately feels different, more charged. The chamber is small, barely furnished, but it feels like a world of your own. The tapestry falls back into place, cloaking you both in semi-darkness, the only light filtering in from a high, narrow window.

“We’ll be in such trouble if they find us,” you say, though there’s no true worry in your voice. The thrill of being alone with him like this, away from everyone’s expectations, makes it all worth it.

Aegon shrugs, a playful smirk on his lips. “When are we not in trouble?”

The truth of his words makes you both laugh again, and for a moment, it’s just like when you were children, chasing each other through the gardens, getting scolded for dirtying your clothes. But as your laughter fades, a tension fills the small space, thickening the air between you.

You’ve always been close to Aegon, closer than anyone else in your life. He’s been your constant companion, your protector, and your best friend. But lately, there’s been something more—a longing in his gaze, a flutter in your stomach when he brushes your hand, a sense that you both are standing on the edge of something new and terrifying.

“Aegon…” you begin, unsure of how to voice the feelings that have been swirling inside you.

He steps closer, his expression softening. “Y/N, I… there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

You look up at him, your breath catching as you see the earnestness in his eyes. He’s nervous, you realize, the ever-confident Aegon, unsure of himself for once. The realization emboldens you, and you reach out, your hand trembling slightly as you place it on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I think I know,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He covers your hand with his, his touch warm and steady. “Do you?” he asks, his tone soft, almost reverent. His free hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly across your skin. The gentleness of the gesture sends a shiver down your spine, and you lean into his touch, your eyes drifting closed.

When his lips meet yours, it’s as though the world stops. The kiss is tentative at first, exploring, as if you’re both afraid of crossing an invisible line. But the moment your lips part and you taste him—sweet and warm and utterly intoxicating—everything changes. The kiss deepens, fueled by the years of unspoken feelings, of wanting and needing but never daring to take.

Aegon’s hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. Your own hands find their way to his shoulders, then into his hair, threading through the silken strands as you press yourself against him. The kiss becomes more urgent, more desperate, as if you’re both trying to make up for all the time you’ve wasted.

You’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, you find yourself lying back on the small bed in the corner of the chamber, Aegon above you. His kisses trail from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breathing is ragged, your heart pounding as his hands explore the curves of your body, as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

“Y/N,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “I need you… I’ve always needed you.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, and you arch into him, your body responding to his touch in a way that feels both entirely new and utterly familiar. You’ve always belonged to him, just as he has always belonged to you. It’s as if this moment was inevitable, written in the stars long before you were born.

“I’m yours, Aegon,” you whisper, the confession slipping from your lips before you can second-guess it. “I’ve always been yours.”

His gaze darkens, and you see the shift in him, the realization that you’re his just as much as he is yours. The passion between you ignites, and the world outside the small chamber fades away. There’s only Aegon—his touch, his breath, the way he makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt before.

Your clothes are discarded in a tangle of limbs and heated kisses, and when he finally joins with you, it’s like the world is remade. The sensation is overwhelming, a mixture of pain and pleasure that leaves you gasping, but the way he looks at you, the way he whispers your name, makes it all worth it. He moves within you, and the rhythm you find together is as natural as breathing, as if you were made for this, for each other.

Time loses meaning as you both give in to the storm of emotions that has been building for so long. And when it’s over, when you’re both spent and breathless, you lie tangled together on the bed, the air between you charged with something new, something that can never be undone.

“I love you,” Aegon whispers, his voice hoarse but filled with a sincerity that makes your heart swell. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender, almost reverent.

“I love you too,” you reply, the words feeling right, like they’ve always been there, just waiting to be spoken.

You’re about to kiss him again when the door to the chamber creaks open. You both freeze, your eyes wide with shock as you turn toward the sound. A servant stands in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes wide with disbelief at the sight before her.

For a moment, no one moves. The servant seems to realize what she’s walked in on, her hand flying to her mouth as she stammers an apology. She backs out of the room quickly, her footsteps echoing down the corridor as she flees, leaving you and Aegon alone once more.

Your heart races, panic and embarrassment flooding you. But when you look at Aegon, you see that he’s not afraid. He’s smiling, a slow, confident grin that makes your heart flutter.

“Let them talk,” he says, his voice steady. “I don’t care what they say, Y/N. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nothing will change that.”

His words calm the storm inside you, and you smile back at him, knowing he’s right. Whatever happens next, you’ll face it together, just as you always have.

The grand hall of the Red Keep is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun as King Viserys Targaryen lounges on his throne, a sense of contentment softening the lines of his aging face. His golden crown rests heavily on his brow, but the weight of it seems lighter today as he speaks with Otto Hightower, his trusted Hand. Queen Alicent, ever dutiful, stands nearby, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

The rhythmic sound of booted feet echoes through the hall, growing louder as the doors swing open to admit a pair of Dragonkeepers. They stride forward, their faces marked with the quiet reverence that always accompanies news from the Dragonpit.

“Your Grace,” one of them begins, bowing low. “We bring news of the dragons, Sunfyre and Starfyre.”

Viserys leans forward, his interest piqued. His voice carries the weight of authority but also a grandfatherly warmth. “Speak then, what of the golden and the silver?”

The Dragonkeeper straightens, his voice steady but tinged with awe. “Sunfyre has successfully mounted Starfyre. They have mated, Your Grace.”

A collective breath seems to fill the hall, a hum of interest and excitement threading through the air. Viserys’s eyes light up with pleasure, his mind already considering the implications. “This is indeed prosperous news for our House. If their union brings forth viable eggs, it will be a blessing of great fortune.”

Beside him, Alicent nods in agreement, though her attention wavers as a servant, face pale and anxious, approaches her with hurried steps. The servant leans close, whispering into the Queen’s ear. Alicent’s expression shifts, her eyes widening before narrowing into a tight, painful grimace.

Viserys notices, his brows knitting together in concern. “Alicent, what troubles you? Speak plainly.”

The Queen hesitates, her gaze flitting to Otto before settling on Viserys. Her voice is low, strained. “It is… the twins, Your Grace. They… they were found together, in an intimate situation. They had eluded their septa.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, there is silence. Viserys’s face hardens, but there is something else in his eyes—a flicker of understanding, perhaps, or resignation.

“Aegon and Y/N…” he murmurs, his voice trailing off. He closes his eyes briefly, then sighs deeply. “The blood of the dragon runs hot, it seems.”

Otto shifts uncomfortably, but it is Alicent who speaks next, her voice taut with disapproval. “They are young, but such behavior is… unbecoming, Your Grace. They must be reminded of their duty, of what is expected of them.”

Viserys opens his eyes, looking at Alicent with a mixture of weariness and something almost like amusement. “They are twins, born together, bound by blood and by fire. Is it so surprising that they would find comfort in each other, as their dragons do?”

Alicent’s lips press into a thin line, but she does not respond, sensing the futility of arguing with the king on this matter.

Viserys continues, his gaze distant as he muses aloud. “Sunfyre and Starfyre—brother and sister, golden and silver, a union as beautiful as it is powerful. They were born in the same moment, just as Aegon and Y/N were. Their bond is not one of simple affection; it is something deeper, something… ancient. The dragons choose their riders, and perhaps, in some way, they guide them too.”

The comparison is not lost on anyone in the room. Sunfyre and Starfyre, two magnificent creatures, both radiant with their own unique beauty, have chosen to mate, their union a symbol of strength and unity for House Targaryen. And like their dragons, Aegon and Y/N share a bond that goes beyond mere sibling affection, a bond forged in fire, blood, and the shared legacy of their house.

Alicent’s discomfort is palpable, but Viserys waves a hand, dismissing her concerns with a sigh. “They are of age soon enough, and they will wed as is our custom. This will strengthen the bloodline, as it has always done. There is no shame in what has happened, only the inevitability of it.”

The room falls silent once more, the tension easing slightly as Viserys’s words settle over them. The Dragonkeepers, still standing at attention, exchange glances before the king waves them away.

“Go,” Viserys says, “and let us hope that Sunfyre and Starfyre’s union blesses us with eggs, and that the fire of our blood burns ever brighter.”

As the Dragonkeepers leave, Alicent glances at Otto, her discomfort still visible. Otto, ever the strategist, simply inclines his head slightly, acknowledging the situation but offering no further comment.

Viserys, his mind already drifting to other matters, leans back in his throne. “Aegon and Y/N…” he murmurs again, almost to himself. “They are as their dragons, destined to be together. Let them be. They will learn their duties soon enough.”

The conversation moves on, but the parallel between the dragons and their riders lingers, unspoken but understood. You and Aegon, like Sunfyre and Starfyre, are bound by something elemental, something that neither courtly expectations nor the disapproval of others can sever. The fire of your shared blood burns bright, and as Viserys himself has said, it is inevitable.

And as you stand by Aegon’s side, you cannot help but feel the truth of it in your very bones.

The dawn breaks over the Red Keep, casting its golden light through the high windows of the royal chambers. The warmth of the sun does little to thaw the icy tension that fills the room as Queen Alicent stands before you and Aegon, her expression a mixture of stern disapproval and maternal concern.

You and Aegon sit side by side on a cushioned bench, close enough that your thighs touch, your fingers occasionally brushing as though neither of you can bear to be apart for even a moment. Aegon’s hand rests casually on your knee, a gesture of comfort and possession that seems to rile Alicent further. She stands before you both, her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line as she gathers herself to speak.

"Do you understand the gravity of what you have done?" Alicent’s voice is sharp, each word carefully enunciated as though she needs to be sure you both understand.

Aegon lifts a shoulder in a careless shrug, his expression almost bored. "What we’ve done, mother, is what was expected of us. Or will be, soon enough." His voice is tinged with the arrogance of someone who knows his place and feels no need to apologize for it.

Alicent’s eyes narrow at his nonchalance, her voice rising slightly as she responds, "Expected of you? To dishonor yourselves in such a way, before your wedding even takes place? This is not just a matter of propriety, Aegon. You were found in an… improper situation, one that brings shame upon you both."

Aegon scoffs, leaning back against the bench, his arm slipping around your waist, drawing you closer to him. "Shame? There is no shame between us. We are to be wed, and what we do now is no different than what we will do once it’s official. The dragons have already shown us the way—why should we deny what is natural?"

His words are blunt, almost crude in their simplicity, and they make Alicent flinch. She shakes her head, clearly frustrated by her son’s cavalier attitude. "You are too flippant, Aegon. You speak as though this is a game, but there are consequences to your actions, even if you do not see them now."

Aegon tightens his hold on you, his gaze unwavering as he meets his mother’s eyes. "There are no consequences that matter, not when the King himself sees no issue. Father understands what we are, what we will be. Why can’t you?"

Alicent’s cheeks flush with anger, and she turns to you, as though seeking an ally in her reprimand. "And you, Y/N? How is it that you two continue to escape your septa’s watchful eyes? This is not the first time, and yet you act as though your actions have no meaning. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Your heart beats steadily in your chest as you look up at your mother, your expression calm. "We did what we had to, mother. The septa cannot keep us apart, and I would not let her even if she tried. Aegon and I…" You pause, searching for the right words. "We are meant to be together, as our dragons are. We are stronger together, and we find peace in each other’s company. Why should we be made to feel guilty for that?"

Alicent’s frustration gives way to something like despair as she realizes that neither of you feel any remorse for your actions. She looks between you and Aegon, her voice softer but no less stern. "You must understand that your behavior reflects on the entire House. You carry the weight of our name, and with that comes the responsibility to act with honor. Your bond is strong, yes, but it must be guided by duty as much as by affection."

Aegon’s grip on you tightens, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple in a gesture that is both tender and defiant. "We know our duty, mother. But our bond is our own. No one, not even you, can dictate how we choose to honor it."

The intimacy between you and Aegon, your heads leaning toward one another, your bodies close, is a silent but powerful statement. It speaks of a love that is as much a part of you as the blood in your veins, a love that refuses to be shamed or hidden away.

Alicent looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the display of affection before her. She takes a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly as she tries one last time to reach you. "I only want what is best for you both. But you must be careful. The court is full of eyes, and tongues wag far too easily. You must be above reproach, especially as the future of this House."

Aegon’s expression softens slightly, though his resolve does not waver. "We understand, mother. But know this—we will not deny what we are. Not for the court, not for anyone. We are dragons, and dragons are not meant to be tamed."

Alicent studies you both for a long moment, and then, with a weary sigh, she nods. "Very well. But know that I will not be so lenient if this happens again. The next time, I will not hesitate to involve your father directly, and you will not like the consequences of that."

With those final words, Alicent turns and leaves the room, her posture rigid with the effort of maintaining her composure. The door closes behind her with a quiet click, and the tension in the room seems to dissipate the moment she is gone.

You and Aegon remain seated, your bodies still close, but now, the air between you feels lighter, freer. Aegon looks at you, a slow smile spreading across his face. "That wasn’t so bad, was it?" he says, his tone playful.

You smile back, leaning into him as you feel his warmth against your side. "No, it wasn’t. But I wish she could understand. We’re not like everyone else."

Aegon nods, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. "She’ll never understand, not fully. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that we do, and nothing will change that."

You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "Nothing will change that," you echo softly, knowing the truth of those words deep within your soul.

The heavy oak doors to your chambers close behind you with a quiet thud, sealing the world outside as you and Aegon stumble into the room. The thrill of the night’s stolen moments pulses in your veins, a heady mixture of wine and newfound desire that has you both breathless with anticipation. Your heart races as Aegon pulls you to him, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, urgent kiss.

The taste of wine lingers on his tongue, sweet and intoxicating, as he presses against you, his hands already working at the laces of your gown. You reach for his tunic in turn, your fingers trembling with impatience as you tug at the fabric, desperate to feel his skin against yours.

“We have too many clothes,” Aegon murmurs against your lips, his voice low and rough with need. There’s a teasing edge to his words, but the fire in his eyes is anything but playful.

“Then we should get rid of them,” you reply breathlessly, your hands finally finding purchase on his tunic and pulling it over his head. His skin is warm under your touch, his muscles taut with the tension of restraint quickly unraveling.

Aegon chuckles, a sound that vibrates through you, sending a shiver down your spine. “I couldn’t agree more.”

In your haste, the two of you stumble over each other, half-laughing, half-moan as you attempt to discard your clothing. Your gown pools at your feet as Aegon steps out of his trousers, the two of you moving in a frantic dance across the chamber, neither of you willing to break the contact of your bodies for even a moment.

Aegon’s hands find your waist, lifting you with an ease born of familiarity as he backs you toward a nearby table. Your back meets the cool wood, and you gasp as he pushes your legs apart, his fingers digging into your thighs as he leans over you, his breath hot against your neck.

“You drive me mad,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire as his lips brush your ear, trailing kisses down the column of your throat.

You arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you breathe, your words lost in a gasp as he enters you, a moan of pleasure escaping your lips at the feeling of him filling you.

Aegon’s hands grip your hips as he moves, his movements frantic, driven by the urgency of a fire that neither of you can quench. The table creaks under your combined weight, but the noise only spurs him on, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss.

“I need more of you,” he groans against your mouth, his voice hoarse as he pulls you off the table, your legs wrapping around his waist as he attempts to carry you to the bed.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, but in your haste, his foot catches on the edge of a rug, sending you both tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. The fall jolts a laugh from you, the sound bubbling up between moans as you feel the press of him inside you, undeterred by the sudden change in position.

“Aegon,” you gasp, your voice a mix of laughter and desire as you move together, the hard floor beneath you forgotten in the heat of the moment.

He chuckles, a breathless sound that vibrates against your skin. “I think the bed is overrated anyway,” he says, his hands roaming over your body as he thrusts into you with renewed fervor.

You can only moan in response, your body arching into his as the two of you continue your desperate union, every movement fueled by the need to be closer, to feel more of each other.

Eventually, the bed does beckon, and somehow, in the midst of your fevered passion, you find yourselves on it, the soft sheets a welcome change from the hard floor. Aegon’s pace slows slightly as he pulls you against him, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that is no less passionate but now tempered with a kind of tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips, his voice filled with a possessive intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“And you’re mine,” you reply, your voice soft but no less fierce, your hands caressing his face as you look into his eyes, the connection between you deepening with every word, every touch.

The night stretches on, the two of you losing yourselves in each other again and again, until finally, you collapse into each other’s arms, exhausted but satisfied, the fire between you finally quenched, at least for the moment.

As you lay there, your bodies tangled together under the covers, Aegon presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his hand stroking your hair as you drift toward sleep.

“Nothing will ever keep us apart,” he murmurs, his voice a soft promise in the quiet of the night.

You smile, your heart swelling with love as you snuggle closer to him, knowing that no matter what the world throws at you, nothing could ever break the bond you share. And as you drift into sleep, the last thing you feel is the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart a comforting reminder that you are exactly where you belong.

The first light of dawn barely touches the sky, casting a pale glow over the Red Keep. The room is dim and warm, filled with the remnants of last night's indulgence—half-empty goblets of wine, discarded garments strewn across the floor, and the heady scent of passion lingering in the air.

You lay tangled in the silk sheets with Aegon, your bare bodies pressed together under the covers. His arm is draped lazily over your waist, and your head rests comfortably on his chest, rising and falling with the rhythm of his breath. The night had been a blur of laughter, whispered confessions, and the kind of love that leaves you both breathless and content.

But the peace of the morning is abruptly shattered as the door to your chamber bursts open. Before either of you can react, the heavy curtains are yanked aside, flooding the room with blinding sunlight. You groan, burying your face in Aegon’s chest to escape the sudden brightness, while he lets out a disgruntled noise of protest.

“For the love of—” Aegon begins, but his complaint is cut short as the covers are ripped away, leaving you both exposed to the cool morning air and the stern gaze of your septa.

“Good morning, my prince, my princess,” she says briskly, her tone making it clear that there’s nothing good about this morning at all. The septa, a stern woman named Septa Maris, has the kind of face that rarely cracks a smile, and this morning is no exception. Her greying hair is pulled back tightly, and her eyes are sharp as they take in the scene before her.

Aegon squints up at her, clearly annoyed. “Septa Maris, what in the seven hells are you doing here at this hour?”

Septa Maris doesn’t so much as flinch at his language. “I am here under the Queen’s orders, Your Grace. Her Majesty has instructed me to ensure that you both maintain a presentable state until your wedding. And further to that matter—” she pauses, her gaze hardening as she looks between you and Aegon, “—you will no longer be sharing a bed until you are properly wed.”

You feel Aegon tense beside you, his annoyance quickly shifting to anger. “That’s absurd,” he snaps. “We’re to be wed soon enough. What difference does it make if we share a bed now or later?”

Septa Maris raises an eyebrow, her tone unyielding. “The difference, Your Grace, is in the propriety of it. You may do as you wish after your vows are spoken, but until then, you will adhere to the customs of our house. Now, both of you, up.”

Aegon groans again, dropping his head back onto the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “This is ridiculous.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his exasperation, and you reach over to brush a lock of his silver hair from his forehead. “Come now, Aegon, you know she won’t leave until we do as she says.”

He turns his head to look at you, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. “Perhaps we should just ignore her and see if she gives up.”

Septa Maris, unimpressed by the suggestion, clears her throat loudly. “You will rise, both of you, and make yourselves presentable. I will not leave until it is done.”

Aegon lets out another exaggerated sigh but begins to sit up, clearly not thrilled about being dragged out of bed so early. You follow suit, wrapping a sheet around yourself as you move to the edge of the bed.

“There,” Aegon says with a smirk as he tosses his legs over the side of the bed, “we’re up. Are you satisfied now, Septa Maris?”

Septa Maris’s gaze sharpens as she catches sight of the wine-stained goblets on the nightstand and the scattered clothes. “Hardly. You both look like you’ve been dragged through the Dornish desert. You will wash, dress, and present yourselves properly before the Queen hears of this.”

Aegon rolls his eyes but stands, stretching his arms above his head, entirely unconcerned with his state of undress. You can’t help but admire the way the early light plays across his skin, the easy confidence in the way he moves.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles as he reaches for a discarded tunic. “But don’t think for a moment that we’ll abide by this ridiculous rule of yours. You might keep us apart during the day, but the nights belong to us.”

Septa Maris’s expression is as stern as ever, but there’s a flicker of frustration in her eyes as she turns her attention to you. “And you, my lady, you should know better than to indulge your brother in such folly. You are a princess, and princesses must uphold the highest standards of conduct.”

You offer her a small, apologetic smile as you gather your own clothes, though you’re not feeling particularly sorry. “Of course, Septa. I’ll do my best to remember that.”

Aegon snorts at your diplomatic response, pulling his tunic over his head. “Oh, we’ll remember it, all right. And then we’ll forget it again as soon as she’s out of earshot.”

Septa Maris steps forward, her patience clearly wearing thin. “Enough of this insolence. Lady Y/N, come with me now. You will bathe and dress properly before the morning meal.”

You and Aegon exchange a look as she says this, a silent communication passing between you. His eyes are filled with defiance and a promise—one that says no septa, no matter how stern, could ever keep you apart.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” Aegon says, his voice light and teasing as he steps closer, his hand brushing yours. “We’ll find a way, as we always do.”

You squeeze his hand briefly before stepping away, following Septa Maris toward the door. “I know,” you say softly, a smile playing at your lips. “No septa or gods could ever keep us apart.”

As you walk away, you feel Aegon’s gaze on you, warm and reassuring. The two of you might be separated for now, but it’s only a matter of time before you find each other again, as you always do. And the thought of that next secret rendezvous, hidden away from prying eyes, fills you with a thrill that no amount of propriety could ever diminish.

And as you leave the room, you’re already thinking of the many ways you can outmaneuver your septa, the promise of another night together fueling your every step.

[aro-culture-is]

hey all. been quite a while. we recently moved cities, quit our job that was beyond our physical ability, and are about to try to finish our degree in materials science and engineering...

and we're thinking we're gonna try again with this blog. the 700 asks are a little too intimidating of backlog though, so we've decided that we're gonna mass delete prior asks (excluding the one submitted today? fun fact you were the first since uh. january i think) and see how it goes. no promises.

a few things we want to reiterate if you want to submit stuff:

aro in the title is short for the aromantic community as a whole, including anyone aro spectrum, questioning folks, or anyone asking good faith questions about these things. a great resource for questions about words is AUREA.

be nice. to others, obviously, but also to yourselves please! I don't mean that you can't vent ever, but tbh... the huge amount of "aro culture is [hating yourself/others/being aro/etc]" was why we burnt out on this blog. there were so many self-hating things that were being sent in, and there's a limit to how much of that someone can handle. especially a multiply disabled, queer, trans, college-dropout service worker.

as we've said before, the point of this blog was never serious. it was a gimmick blog for funny things. serious stuff is okay, but like... please be silly! have fun. aro culture is green :)

if you truly feel a trigger tag is necessary, and it cannot be filtered on your end, please for the love of everything tell me a damn tag to use. ie, 'spiders cw'

we are radically inclusive for all good faith identities. there is strength in solidarity, and infighting about shit like 'validity' or 'making sense [to you/outsiders]' reeks of respectability politics. be annoying somewhere else, or better yet, consider what is the most materially useful thing you can do to make your IRL community better today. some ideas: call your senators or representatives about an issue, create a group chat for your apartment building so folks can get to know their neighbors, volunteer for an event in your area. Learn about deradicalization, deescalation, and community building. Build a strong community.

[nonbinary-niki-bog]

a bottle clank against a hard surface.

picking up the bottle, there was a piece of parchment attached. the edges slightly shinges as if it was placed on top of a fire before the person blows it out.

depsite the unorderly of the outwardly appearance of the parchment, the letter written inside was filled with words decorated in curls and loops linked together by a single line.

and it reads as follows:

to the readers of this letter, i hope that this finds you well. this is, but a mere reminder to drink some water. it is in fact a very healthy and good for the body — mind and soul. so would you consider it? drinking even a bit can help. it will also be the first steps of taking care of yourselves. and please do take care of yourselves. after all, we wouldn't want your body to be in pristine condition, would we? -----

[printed version because why are they so small?]

to the readers of this letter, i hope that this finds you well. this is, but a mere reminder to drink some water. it is in fact a very healthy and good for the body — mind and soul. so would you consider it? drinking even a bit can help. it will also be the first steps of taking care of yourselves. and please do take care of yourselves. after all, we wouldn't want your body to be in pristine condition, would we?

-----

just as the final letter and stroke was finished, the letter lays there flat on the ground waiting for the next person to come and read it.

tag list: @creatorbiaze , @star-seeking-stray , @caffeiiine , @casinoownersigma , @theproblemcallednight , @glitchtricks94 , @sunnikos , @utterlybrainwrecked , @a1readygone , @twst-om-lover , @haruu-luv , @rivermist606 , @sugarthebee , @teddymochi , @aroacesigma , @im-a-chunky-potato , @hopelessbluebird , @rainythealias , @circuslemon , @rogues-stuff-bc-yes , @till-we-become-monsters , @osa-hates-ricetbh , @memories-of-starz , @starwolfafton , @fednya-doestoevsky , @fedya-the-rat-god , @fyodordostoyevskevy , @bee-writes-n-spins , @imafrealinrainbow478484 , @breadstingray , @sky-the-weirdo-ace , @iri-desky , @windyskiez , @squidsandthings , @rosiecottonsstuff , @r3oontumb , @myluckymoon , @therestingplaceof , @kiw-ee , @syunkiss , @gin-blacklizard , @sillybillylance , @volkovvorona , @allister333 , @the-caged-jester , @thesister , @miku-hime , @candieduranium , @gh0sts-of-utopia , @le-dormeur-du-val , @paintedgrilledcheese , @theonlyrealdazaiosamusblog , @tomkittycat , and anyone else who sees this <3.

[sleepingdeath-light]

wally + neighbours with benefits hcs ; 18+

requested by ; macncheeseass-blog (18/06/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; sfw | nsfw

character(s) ; wally darling

outline ; “may i suggest a neighbors with benefits with wally..?

(yes im above 18 im 22!)”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, casual sexual intimacy, risky/semi-public sex acts, perpetually dtf!wally

note ; playfellowxxx was the tag created by clown and the team specifically for nsfw content — if you don’t want to see that sort of thing then that is the tag to block

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

this sort of arrangement with wally would be quite unusual and unlikely to happen unless you were extremely forward about it and close enough beforehand — there is still quite the stigma around casual sex so he’d need to be able to trust you in order to even consider it in the first place

it would start off slowly, with some light touching and kissing in the privacy of home or your house — away from prying eyes and just slightly more intense than what friends would do

he’d definitely have a bit of a learning curve with romantic/sexual intimacy, but once he’s in the thick of it he’s a quick learner and very eager to do so

as time goes on you start to get more intense with your shows of affection in private without altering your public behaviours around each other — not letting anything slip around your friends whilst getting hot and heavy in private

messy/sloppy make-outs, cautious hands that grope and explore each other’s bodies, grinding against each other whilst fully clothed

slowly making your way up to being comfortable enough to have sex — which would probably happen after a couple of months of this arrangement being in place

and once it happens it’s awkward in that way that all first times are — filled with laughter and apologies and experimentation and neither of you last very long

but that’s all it needed to be; the chance to start learning about each other and exploring your bodies without any barriers in the way

and your arrangement benefitted immensely from it because it helped both of you become much more confident

you become bolder and start being affectionate outside of your homes: his hand on your waist/thigh when you’re sat together, resting your head atop his, giving each other looks and so on

you’re intimate in areas that aren’t strictly private but are unlikely to get you caught: your home an hour before guests are due to arrive, the nearby woodland after everyone else has gone off butterfly catching, in an empty area at a group gathering when everyone else is distracted

oral, penetrative, hand jobs, grinding — you can barely keep your hands to yourselves when you’re together

but, of course, you’re still careful enough to not drag anyone else into something they’d rather not see — in fact only barnaby is vaguely aware of your arrangement (which wasn’t intentional) and even he’s not sure of the extent of it

they’re all just so glad that the two of you get along so well — because who doesn’t like to see their friends making friends?

friends where one paints the other nude for anatomy practise — it was so kind of you to offer to do that for him

friends where you’re always sneaking off together when there’s a neighbourhood event on — but you’re never gone for too long so nobody ever minds, it’s hard to notice when everyone’s having such a good time

friends where you’ve always got your hands on each other — it’s so nice of wally to help soothe you when you’re anxious with a grounding squeeze, what a lovely fellow

friends that spend so much time at each other’s houses that they half expect you to pick up the phone at wally’s home and vice versa — but everyone loves a sleepover and your houses are the closest so it only makes sense

they don’t question the marks on your throat or the way wally’s hair always looks messier when you’ve been left alone

they don’t question the dampness of his lips or the creasing of your clothes

they don’t question any of it because they were never given a reason to

and you don’t intend to ever give them a reason — not when you’re enjoying your little arrangements so much

the late night calls, the risky outdoor sex, the messy kisses, the pet names, the feel of his hands on your body

you wouldn’t risk it for the world, and neither would he

after all, you didn’t need to make things official to have a good time

[djarins-cyare]

Get to Know Me tag game

Rules: Answer + tag 9 people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with!

Thanks for the tag, @mosssbawls. I'm sorry it took me so long to do this (I literally save everything I'm tagged in until I've got time to do it, lol). Maybe it's been so long that this will restart the tag game??

Favourite colour: Teal when I'm feeling bold, duck egg blue when I want something softer (she says, putting up a pink-themed post).

Last song: It would've been on the radio in the car last night, but I don't remember the last one. I know I was singing along to Fast Car by Tracy Chapman at one point in the journey, so I'll say that.

Currently reading: I'm hopping between some great fanfics right now. Let's see... Lovers' Crest by gingerlurk, Second Chances by DjarinMuse, and Back to You by Kyberblade. All are fabulous!

Currently watching: Well, The Acolyte is premiering… like, now, so despite it being the early hours of the morning here, I’m gonna check it out. Otherwise, I'm rewatching Bones from start to finish (one ep per evening while making dinner), and my current commuting entertainment is The Bad Batch (rewatching season 1 so I can binge seasons 2 and 3). I don't watch nearly as much stuff as I used to; these days I spend most of my time writing.

Currently craving: Sleep! Always tired, never sleeping!

Coffee or tea: I had to give up caffeine last year when dental surgery forced me to drink nothing but water, so neither these days. But I hate the taste of coffee, and I'm British, so I have to pick tea. It’s, like, the law.

I'm going to tag the folks whose fics I'm reading, bc ily guys: @gingerlurk @djarinmuse @kyberblade (no pressure 🫶🏻).

I know the rules say 9 tags, but I'm too tired to choose any more, so anyone else who sees this, consider yourselves tagged!

[thequeenofthewinter]

Work-in-Progress Wednesday

Hi, hi! I am back from my short social media hiatus and ready to feed the ducks and hit a bunch of piñatas and pop some champagne...

Tagging: @oblivions-dawn @mareenavee @dirty-bosmer @blossom-adventures @ladytanithia @saltymaplesyrup @rainpebble3 @changelingsandothernonsense @umbracirrus @throughtrialbyfire @gilgamish @kookaburra1701 @archangelsunited and anyone else who wants to play along. <3 Please consider yourselves tagged.

Minutes which feel like hours and drag on for days pass as Ulfric’s boots clack against the hard stone outside the door. Each step comes quicker than the next,  and with each beat a swelling terror rises within him. What time is it? Shouldn’t she be out by now? Is she okay? What if something went wrong? If only Lyssa hadn’t insisted that he stay outside. The irony isn’t lost on him—kicked out of his room in his own Palace. A humorless chuckle passes from his lips as he fists a hand in his hair, tugging on one of the braids.

Another scream and he pulls harder. He can’t take it anymore. The not knowing, not being able to be beside her especially while knowing his child will soon come into the world at any minute. What if the baby turns out like him and— 

“If you don’t soon stop, you’ll wear a hole straight through the floors, Ulfric.”

The voice doesn’t register to him at first, and when a hand touches his shoulder, he startles only to look up and see Galmar with a frown. Ulfric is not in the mood for the sagely advice his friend thinks he has so cleverly disguised as a lighthearted joke. There is no time for that, no time for anything especially when he knows that he is quite possibly moments away from the most important event of his entire life. How is he supposed to remain calm when he has no idea what happens next? 

In all his years, he has dealt with many situations which have required strategy, diplomacy, and no small measure of pretended grace to navigate the pressures of what has been thrown into his path, but suddenly, now, there are no answers. There is no book to read, no councilors to consult, and no previous experience to draw upon. He is, for once in his life, truly without a map nor any faint inclination of what he is to do.

Galmar leans forward, pressing his hands onto his shoulders to stop his pacing. “In all the years that I have known you, when have you ever failed at anything?”

Flashes of memories of times past filter and flow, but Ulfric cannot catch more than glimpses of them: High Hrothgar with Arngeir, the Great War and those he thought he had betrayed, the whole mess of Skyrim’s Civil War and the people who died—the people of Windhelm whom he has failed. There are plenty of times when he has not held up to the full measure of the man he should be. What if this is just another one of those times?

A creak accompanies the sound of a handle turning, and his heart stops.

“What if I cannot do this?” Ulfric doesn’t know how or why the question leaves his lips, only that he does as a whisper. It is the weakest question he has ever deigned to himself, and he cannot believe he dares to ask it aloud and to Galmar no less.

“You can and you must, soldier.” Galmar claps him on the back, drawing him closer. “A healthy amount of self-doubt is necessary. If you were always so sure of yourself all the time, I would worry about you. You’re just fine, Ulfric. Go.”

An infant’s cry hits his ears, shrill and strong—and perhaps the sweetest yet most irritating sound he has ever heard. It is the battlecry he marches to when he turns to walk into the room to see his wife disheveled, tired, and holding a small baby with wisps of dark hair to her chest. 

[promptisgiftexchange]

We have reached the conclusion of the 2024 Promptis Gift Exchange and I want to thank each and every one of you. Whether you were a participant, or simply along for the ride to read the wonderful stories and view the exceptional artwork, thank you for helping to make this gift exchange the joyful event that it was. 

To all of our talented participants, you have gone above and beyond and have contributed so much incredible Promptis content for your gift recipients, and for this exchange. Thank you for all of your hard work and for being a part of this event. You are what made it so special and I’m so happy for you to finally be able to share your work with the community as yourselves.

At this time, all of our wonderful creators are now free to post your stories/artwork under your own name anywhere else that you desire. You may also choose to update the posting date of your Ao3 post at this point so that your contribution appears as a new work under your own name.

If anyone is aware of any stories that were written in response to art from our exchange or more artwork that was created in response to any other stories in the exchange, please let me know by sending me a link or by pinging me at @promptis-gift.bsky.social on Bluesky, @promptis_gift on Twitter, or @promptisgiftexchange on Tumblr so I can give it a boost. Likewise, if any of you have plans to write or draw anything as a response to the gift you received, I would love to be made aware of them once they are completed so I can promote it as well.

I would also like to give a special shout out and thank you to @ffxv_zine_news on Twitter. Your retweeting and support of the Promptis Gift Exchange (especially considering the fact that I wasn’t tagging your account while I was promoting individual works over the course of the last two months) did not go unnoticed. Thank you for your support and promotion of the individual stories and pieces of artwork that our participants worked so hard on, and for all of the wonderful things that you do everyday for our FFXV community as a whole.

Another huge and heartfelt thank you goes out to our wonderful Pinch-hitters: Firechocobro, InNovaFertAnimus, and QueenHomeSlice, as well as yet another enormous thanks to Charmms and SalamanderSocks for their willingness and ability to switch posting dates with participants who ran into unexpected problems. You guys are the best and I appreciate everything you’ve done! 

Once again, thank you to everyone who has been a part of the 2024 Promptis Gift Exchange. This year has been our largest exchange to date and I can't tell you how thrilled I am to have had such an amazingly successful fourth round. It has been a fantastic two months, filled with tons of excitement, and amazing Promptis fanworks! All of that is thanks to all of you! 

I hope to see you all again next year for our fifth round. Please continue to follow us for more information that will come out later this year on the 2025 Promptis Gift Exchange. In the meantime, if you are not already a member of the Promptis Discord Server I would like to take this opportunity to invite you to join us for year round Promptis fun. Anyone who loves Promptis is welcome to join us. It's a great place to chat with nice people about Promptis, share fanworks that you love, and we also have fun in-server events like a Monthly Challenge. I have included the invitation link to the server below.

Promptis Server- https://discord.gg/Xfw4jQWQ28

Masterlist and Creator Reveals

Without further ado, here are the reveals for the Promptis Gift Exchange 2024. You can find the reveals detailed in the following places: 

Google Docs- (organized by the type of fanwork) https://docs.google.com/document/d/1fb2FN4HVNODkTkybFpyV1fwXQ6GpYsCvf_EcfFgJEig/edit?usp=sharing

You can also, as always, locate the entire collection on Ao3- https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Promptis_Gift_Exchange_2024/profile

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Was tagged by @uninspired-platypuss and @little-mouse-gardens to do some picrews so I'm doing them all here

And you two can do the picrews you haven't done it you want. Consider yourselves softly tagged

1 - 2 - 3

The second one is so silly I can't stop laughing I look so annoying but I love her I couldn't change it

Third one is absolutely adorable

Softly tagging @gracehosborn @theelfauthor @catwantssushi @buffythevampirelover @playingplayer2 @randomlettrrsqqssfxwcvhxnqbwriro or anyone else who wants to play!

[eclecticopposition]

six sunday

tagged by @astral-circuitry-writes!!

tagging @jupitermoths, @andromedasea, @aurochsent....... anybody else want in?? consider yourselves invited to say we tagged you, we'll endorse it retroactively

anyways. wire guy delays may continue but the phrygfic banner waves on.....!!!

keeping it shorter this time. nonetheless, enjoy :}

.

They'd grown up under the shadow of war as much as everyone else they know. There was no way around it.

They'd been taught how to hide, how to take a safe shape and protect themself. Principality attacks very rarely made it that far into Branched space, but now and then there was a scare. They never heard any of its horrors until they were older; this did not stop them from knowing what it was. It was a looming thing that threatened the horizon, a dreadful anguish that revealed none of its details. It was the thing that came to kill them. It was the thing that everyone talked about, whispered when they thought the children weren't listening. It was why people came back hurt and angry and why some never came back at all. It seeped its sickening way into everything. It was too close, too horribly close, and yet also still too far away.

War was always there. Phrygian had been safe, but it had always been there. Violence was suggested and only ever suggested. It would reach in and take things away, sometimes.

Their third and fourth guardians had gone to fight, eventually. So had Frisson's second. So had Epicene's cousins, Outclass' caregiver, Incipience and Maculate's nurturer, Diastema's old friend; so had their classmates and acquaintances, so had Frisson themself. Phrygian had always felt like they'd lost part of their friend, back then. Even before they lost them for good.

Explaining it was never easy. There was no denying it was happening. Phrygian doesn't envy their parents – doesn't envy anyone's parents, really. How do you explain something so vast, so hideously awful? How do you explain something so unfair? How do you explain it when the messages home suddenly stop coming? How do you answer when an inquisitive child looks at it all and asks why?

Loving someone is the most important thing, when you have to fight, their fourth parent had said, brushing against the back of Phrygian's stormcloud. They'd long since outgrown that body, but it was hard to care as they cried and raged. I will always love you, little hauntsong. It will keep me together as long as I live.

They remember that often, around here. It always hurt to think about. Sometimes it hurts less, now, because they've learned to make sense of it. They understand the choice; they can nearly imagine making it themself. It isn't the incomprehensible loss and upset that it once had been. It just makes them feel resigned.

That scares them, sometimes.

[latenightsimping]

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff

Chapter warnings: angst, hurt (no comfort), bittersweet feelings, it's a difficult one ngl but I'll make it better I swear lmao, reader is described as having scars but no specifics, story tags still apply

AN: Ayy another chapter done. I'll try and find time to keep updating, but bear with me as I switch between this, other oneshots, and my own personal work. To those who follow along, thank you. This is such a passion project, and I'm loving the story so far.

October, 1984

It all still feels like one horrific nightmare. You’ve still got blood in your hair, staining your skin, with no idea who it belonged to. For a while, the pain had vanished, as you clawed your way to a nearby road. Perhaps a leftover survival mechanism passed down the generations. But now, now you couldn’t ignore the agony that your wounds created. The gashes that would forever disfigure you, a reminder that would become apparent every time you looked in the mirror. For now, covered with clean white bandages. You had no idea what it looked like beneath them, and you weren’t ready to look anyway.

 Everyone had looked at you with such vitriol that made you want to wither into nothing. The doctors and nurses were doing the absolute bare minimum for your care, giving you minimal pain meds and spending as least time with you as humanly possible. The steel handcuffs that clasped your wrist and secured you to the hospital bed were starting to chafe, but you knew better than to say anything. Not like anybody would care, or even do anything about it. You knew the police officer that sat outside your door from high school, someone that had graduated when you were a sophomore. Harmon, you think his last name was. Either way, he hadn’t said anything to you yet. Not even made an appearance, just sitting himself down and reading the newspaper. You couldn’t see it, but you wondered if your name was in the news yet. Unlikely, considering everything had only happened a couple of hours ago. You prayed for it never to happen, but it was unlikely anyone up there was listening anyway. 

Someone came through the door and stopped by the end of your bed, a small notebook in one hand and pen in the other. Horned rimmed glasses framed eyes that bore into you, a squint that conveyed the disgust he had for you. He was dressed in a police uniform, the Hawkins P.D badge on his chest slightly glinting under the fluorescent lights. Callahan, the name badge opposite it said. You’d seen him around town, but had never crossed paths with him until tonight.

He said your name with a tone that told you he’d rather be anywhere else than here. You nodded in affirmation, as he looked down at the notepad, pen tapping against the pages. 

“Wild night you’ve had,” he drawled, a slight sneer as he shook his head. “Wanna tell me what happened?” 

For a moment, you said nothing. How could you possibly begin to explain it all? It was all such a blur, time doubling in rate with no hope of slowing. Your gaze lowered to the thin blanket that covered you, free hand picking at the off white fibres. “I don’t know.” Your voice was quiet, far away. You didn’t sound like yourself. 

A scoff. “You expect me to believe that?”

Another pause. No, you didn’t. You expected absolutely nobody to believe you. 

“We’ve found two bodies so far,” he continued. “Are we going to find any more?” 

You shook your head. They’d found Cynthia and Scott. Cynthia was your friend since Kindergarten, your neighbour that you grew up with. Your best friend, who never judged you. Scott had started dating her when you were all sixteen, and you actually liked him. Thought he was good for her. Thought they’d end up the childhood sweethearts that actually stuck together through life; would get married, have 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. Get a dog, and live a boring but fulfilling life. 

Where had it all gone so wrong?

“Done any drugs tonight?” Callahan asked, though he sounded like he already knew the answer, and way just testing you to see if you were going to lie about it. 

“I uh, smoked some weed,” you admitted, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eye. You still felt fuzzy around the edges, but it was wearing off all too quickly. “Drank some beers.” 

“Nothing else?” he asked you. “Hallucinogens, PCP, anything like that?” 

“No.”

You swore you saw an eye roll, though his glance away was helping to conceal it. “We’re going to be testing your blood, you know. Easier to just admit everything now, rather than it coming up in court later. I’m tryna’ help you here.” 

No, you aren’t, you wanted to say. You’ve decided I’m guilty. And you want to lock me up to rot. 

You could barely remember the rest of the interview. A lot of “I don’t know,” and “I can’t remember.” You can remember being sent to the place that terrified you as a child, though. Family horror stories of a great Aunt who went in and never came back out. You remember crying every night for the first six months, only for nobody to comfort you. You remember having to clamp down on your emotions, to bury them deep and hope they never resurface. 

You can’t remember your parents ever visiting you. 

August, 1986

The sweltering heat of Indiana summers were finally starting to break, cooler air filtering through the iron bars of the gaps of the slightly opened windows of the dayrooms and cutting the thick scent of sweat and cleaning products. You and Eddie had engaged in small talk during the countless games of cards, and you’d learned quite a fair bit about him. You learned he liked pickles on his burgers. His favourite album was still up in the air, citing that “you just couldn’t do that, it’d be like admitting you have a favourite child.” His favourite colour was red and black, leading to a couple of hours of heated conversation about black being technically a shade, not a colour. He missed being able to play electric guitar, but there was something about the ward’s battered acoustic that he appreciated. 

And in return, you’d shared the tiniest amounts that you hoped sated him. Safe little facts that couldn’t be used against you. And to his credit, he never pried. Instead, he did what he was best at. Talking enough for the both of you, when your social battery wasn’t at its fullest. 

“I swear man, Miller’s got something going on at home,” he mumbled under his breath as his eyes bounced between the project in his hand and the Doctor that seemed to be in the middle of an under-the-breath argument with an orderly on the other side of the dayroom door. Time had been allotted for arts and crafts, or rather, whatever shit they could throw in a box that could vaguely be suited for the occasion. Dried up glue and mangled pipe cleaners, a box of googly eyes that Eddie had pocketed for ‘later use’, and egg cartons that were probably older than you. But you’d found some lengths of different coloured string and a pair of the bluntest craft scissors known to mankind, and had decided on weaving them together to make bracelets. Eddie had decided to join in, and after a crash course in the most basic braids you knew, you were both winging it in trying to make something that wouldn’t just fall apart. 

You looked up from the strands of black, red and white that you held in your hands to follow his eyeline, shaking your head as you spared a glance at the man opposite you. “She still givin’ you shit?”

You knew full well about the meetings he had with her, from the venting he always did afterwards. Apparently, medium security was a privilege, not a right. As if Eddie was capable of doing any harm with what little means he had in here. Fuck, you saw him shed a tear when you watched Bambi together not last week. It had only been a month, but you were absolutely positive of one thing, given you’d had enough time to make your own conclusions. Eddie wasn’t capable of his charges. Not for a second. 

You expected him to frown at your question, but instead, a lopsided smirk played upon his lips. “Same as always, but nah. I’m talkin’ about what I overheard one of the nurses mention about her.”

You couldn’t help but snicker as you continued braiding. “Really, Munson? What’re you, a housewife at a damn Tupperware party?” 

“Hey, I’d look fuckin’ fantastic in a pair of heels and a flouncy dress, thank you very much sweetheart,” he playfully chided, pointing at you with faux accusation and making you chuckle. “But seriously. Apparently, someone found a bottle of vodka stashed in the filing cabinets in the records room. And apparently, there’s only a handful of people that have access. She’s one of them.”

Finishing the last knot of the makeshift bracelet, you looked up to give Eddie your full attention. You had to admit, he was pretty. The long hair, full lips and rounded eyes were a given, yes. But it was the way that he looked at you, how much kindness he gave you, that sealed the deal. The way he would duck his head to make eye contact with you when your eyes felt glued to the floor. When you felt like all hope was lost, stuck in your own misery with no way out, a large hand would be felt on your shoulder, a slight touch that didn’t push your comfort levels. His shit jokes that cheered you up, and the fact that he seemed to know just what to say to make you feel better. In another life, you might have asked him on a date at one point. Maybe to get milkshakes, or to see a movie. But those ideas were bitterly shoved back down, when you remembered where you were. That’d never be an option. Not again. 

You rolled your eyes as you leaned back in your chair, fiddling with the length of woven bracelet as you raised an eyebrow. “So you think she’s drinking on the job?” you asked, pulling the conversation back to something nonchalant. Before you had a chance to think of him in any way other than a friend. 

“I think she’s doing a lot of things on the job, and caring for people ain’t one of them,” he muttered with a slight sneer. His demeanour seemed to change with the final touches of his own craft project, a triumphant look crossing his face as he held it between his fingers. “Here, gimme your arm.”

You shot him a look of confusion as you crossed your arms instead. “Why?”

“So I can yank it out of its socket and use it as an improvised weapon,” he drawled, sarcasm heavy on the words. “Just trust me, alright?”

You did trust him. Or at least, trusted him better than anyone in the whole building. “You’re a sick puppy, y’know that?” you chuckled, holding out your arm on the table. 

“So I’ve been told,” he answered, tone ever so slightly taking on an edge of bitterness that you noted. Calloused fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of your inner wrist, and it took everything within you not to shiver at the sensation. The softness averting your eyes to the window past his shoulder, your inner critic beating down whatever sticky feelings got caught in your ribs at a deep inhale. Get it the fuck together for Christ sake, he’s just-

“Aaaand done.” You looked back to see that lopsided grin of his, though his eyes betrayed him with a slight sense of panic at what you guessed to be the impending sense of rejection. “You like it?” 

You finally allowed your eyes to dip down to your arm, twisting it to get a better look. Purple, blue and lilac threads had been twisted haphazardly into what could technically be considered a braid, though on every fourth or so knot, it twisted at the seams and knocked all uniformity right out of it. But a part of you hoped it was made with intention. The same intention that middle school girls gave them, when they swore up and down to be best friends forever to the other girls they’d bonded with at summer camp, only to forget their names in the next couple of years. The same that still rattled around your old jewellery box back at home, buried under tacky hoops and cheap pendants that teenage you liked wearing. You still remembered the pale pink half of a heart that you kept there, on a chain that’d seen better days. The other half at Cynthia’s house, hanging on her notice board underneath a picture of you two together, smiling at the lake five summers ago. 

Friendship. A word that up until now, had lost all meaning to you. Something that was beginning to spark, though the rockiness and unease of having it for a long time was throwing you off balance. Something that was being offered, and you were so starved for it, you let yourself believe it. Even if it was fake, you’d take it.

You let the smile that graced your lips grow wide, as you nodded your approval. “Bit of a bold colour choice, but I dig it,” you shrugged, your tone taking any malice out of the words. 

“Yeah well, I’m not exactly in a position to waltz on down to Hobby Lobby to get the perfect shades or anything,” he snorted, now idle fingers seeking stimulation by opening a new pack of cigarettes. “Cut it off if you don’t want it.”

And there it was. That slight drop to his smile, as his eyeline averted. No doubt already trying to soothe the sting of assumption, to protect his dignity. Laugh the pain away, don’t let anyone see into it. This was about more than a seemingly simple act of kindness, and you knew the feeling well. God, you wanted to soothe it. Make it go away for him. Because it would be a damn sight easier cheering him up than the sheer amount of effort it’d take to try and do the same to yourself. 

But it needed to be carefully done. Replied to with the same jest, play the same game right back, otherwise the raw vulnerability would cause him to clam right back up again. “Nah, I’m keeping this sucker. Really makes my eyes pop, don’t ya think?” 

You both shared a look of amusement, before your hand darted out before thinking. You noticed the way he flinched, and again, the inner critic was back with the whip to flagellate yourself with at the ready. You willed it away by turning your hand around, an open palm rather than a grasping claw. “My turn?” you offered, hoping the look on your face didn’t give off the desperation you felt. 

You noticed the way his expression morphed, brows furrowed and lip darting out to moisten his lips, as he usually did when he was thinking in rapid motion about something. It relieved you to see his arm come into view, elbow to the deep gouges of the wooden table, an offering of his scarred wrist. You noticed the way his muscles tensed if the pads of your fingers brushed one of them, and you were careful not to make too much contact in securing the bracelet, pulling away when you were done to a respectable distance. Letting him bring his limb back to assess the new adornment, wrinkles around his eyes fading slightly and crinkling into a smirk as he picked at the fibres. A hum of acknowledgement, of endearment, rattled around his chest as he looked back up to you. “Same colours as Hellfire.”

Hellfire. You remembered that name, and you rattled your brain for the memory. “That’s the club you had, right? The one you had with your friends?” 

“Yeah.” He fiddled with the smooth braids, rubbing the tip of his thumb back and forth across the length. You noticed how his voice had taken an edge to it as he shrugged, seemingly to shake off an intense emotion. 

You wondered if the memories of the group was sinking him back into the realisation that he’d most likely never have a meetup with them again. Never have that sense of normalcy, of feeling a part of something. You knew full well that remembering could be a dangerous thing. Something that should be avoided, lest you fall trap to the longing of your freedom, sending yourself mad with the knowledge that things would never indeed be normal again. 

You were still thinking of something to say, a distraction, when Eddie’s name was called from the hallway. His neck nearly snapping with the force of him looking over with a shocked expression, as the orderly grimaced at him as he beckoned him over with two fingers. With a glance at the clock, you noted the time, and something uncomfortable settled in your stomach as you waved the orderly in the room for a lighter. You’d seen a couple of people over the years be summoned around this time, to a part of the building you knew you’d probably never see. You didn’t want to give Eddie the heads up, just in case you were wrong, and this was all just mere coincidence. You bolted that heavy mask to your face as you swung your chair on it’s back two legs, a balancing act as you waited for your turn with the sacred lighter. 

“Better hope Miller hasn’t picked up on your suspicion about the records room,” you smirked as you waggled your eyebrows, a sarcastic laugh volleyed back your way as he got up to cross the room. You spared him one last glance as his shoulders slumped, head down and eyes glued to the floor as he trailed behind the staff member. For all his bravado that he was slowly getting back, you knew that was the true Eddie. A man caged against his will, and the strength long since stripped away from him. A husk of a person, just like everyone else in here. Just like you. 

You just prayed that for his sake, your assumption was correct. 

~

In Pennhearst, knowing where you were going wasn’t exactly something that got shared often. An orderly would begrudgingly call out a last name, and with a jerk of the head, you were just expected to follow behind. At first, it had scared Eddie something fierce. Long were the days of coming and going where he pleased; in school, it was common for him to just wander out of the building for a smoke, and classes were optional in his mind. Part of the reason he could never graduate. Why bother going into a room where you’d be belittled? Where a label was instantly placed on you, and where it stuck no matter how hard you tried to shift it. He’d practically had ‘troublemaker’ stamped on his head since his Junior year. So why even bother? 

A trick he learned was to look at the signs, commit them to memory. Try and figure out a map in your mind, and follow it. The orderly in front of him had passed left at the laundry room, and past the West wing bathrooms. He’d lost track of where he was since the right hand turn by the low security ward doors, and he was going down the corridor blind. Asking wouldn’t help. He wasn’t expecting an answer anyway. 

The sight of a battered sign that seemed to be straining free of the plaster caught his eye, craning his head back to see it. The two words seemed foreign to him. A feeling that he knew them, knew the meaning, but hadn’t seen them put together before. The two words that both made his heart skip a beat and his stomach to churn in anticipation and excitement. 

VISITOR ROOMS 1-5

It ached how much he was wanting them to stop at one of the doors. How much he needed them to. He started praying to anything and everything, things he didn’t believe in, right up until the man in front of him stopped at the door with a number three painted on the front. His hand stayed on the handle, and over his shoulder, Eddie could just make out a window that most likely let staff keep an eye on the patients without having to enter. He could just make out the fabric of a deep blue denim jacket in the bottom left corner, before it shifted and moved out of sight. 

“You’ve got five minutes,” the orderly growled through gritted teeth, finally making eye contact with a venomous glare. “Any funny shit, and your ass is getting thrown into solitary so fast it’ll make your head spin. Am I clear?” 

Eddie’s tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten cracked lips, nodding fervently as his hands clawed at his issued shirt to ground him. It took the raised brow of the man in front of him, a sign that he was quickly losing patience, to make him respond verbally. “Y-yessir. I understand.” 

With one last glance into the room, the door opened, and Eddie was ushered inside. His breath getting stuck between his ribs as he took in the sight of two faces he thought he’d never see again. 

Dark blue eyes, and a gruff face marred with wrinkles and tanned from the sun. A face with the expression that reminded him of being ten years-old, when he was just a kid with a bruise on his cheek and tears that wouldn’t stop falling. The hand of the social worker on his back doing nothing to comfort him, but the look of ‘I get it kiddo, I understand. You’re safe now’ that was worn by a man that looked so similar to his Dad but didn’t have any resemblance at the same time. And like the kid he once was, a sob bullied its way out of his throat as he rushed into the open arms of the one parental figure that never beat him, bellitled him, or expected anything more of him than trying as hard as he could.

The hug was crushing from both parties, with how Eddie clung to his Uncle Wayne, and how those solid arms around his chest added the pressure he so sorely needed. Gave him a reminder of just how much human contact he’d been starved of for five months, and how much he needed it more than oxygen. If Wayne was bothered by the way he buried his face into the older man’s neck and wracked out stifled cries, he never said anything. The large palm that cradled the back of his head seemed to encourage it, as if he knew this was what his nephew needed.

It seemed like an eternity, time suspended in the air, until firm hands carefully grasped his shoulders and tenderly pushed. Eddie relented, a hand flying up to wipe away as much snot and tears as he could. He recognised the next look that he was given, too. A look of pure worry, as Wayne’s eyes flitted from feature to feature. Eddie wasn’t stupid, he had access to some sorry excuses of polished metal as mirrors in this place. Dark circles practically tattooed onto heavy eye bags from the lack of sleep, features getting gaunt as stubble tried to force itself through the skin. Eyes no longer shining like they used to, now replaced with a soulless stare. Once, when he stomached a flash of eye contact in the mirror, he was reminded of his Mom. The way she looked after a blowout fight with his old man, when she lay in bed and cried for what seemed like hours. 

“Eddie… You uh- you look good man,” another voice said quietly from his right, causing his head to snap violently towards the noise. 

Dustin’s mop of curls were hard to mistake for anyone else's, the fondness in his facial features still the same as they were before. That certain look about him that occasionally glimmered underneath it all, the one that gave away that he’d grown far too fast for a kid his age. Had seen too much, and had to deal with far too much burden for a grown man to carry, let alone a fifteen year-old. The comment made Eddie gargle a sort of chuckle, hesitantly pulling away from his Uncle to wrap the kid up in an iron grip. He was happy to feel it returned with fervour, rocking his friend as he swayed with each bounce on the ball of his foot. 

“I look like shit,” he weakly responded, making Dustin laugh as he squeezed even tighter. How long had he waited for this moment? To see someone from the outside, and to know that they were as happy to see him as he was to see them. That they wanted to hug him, and show him tenderness, even when he felt he didn’t deserve it. 

Eddie jolted away as soon as he heard the latch of the door forced open, as if his friend was made of blistering coals. Eyes habitually returning to the faded and torn excuse for carpet, as the harsh words of the orderly that had brought him here made him flinch. “Hey, no contact in here,” the voice barked. “It’s against the rules-”

“Now you listen here,” another voice hissed, though through the venom, it sounded so much louder than it actually was. A southern drawl that Eddie was familiar with, but only when Wayne was riled up to the point of fury. Sparing a glance upwards, he could see Wayne’s finger pointing towards the door with an accusing jab. “It’s the first time I’ve seen my boy in God knows how long. If I wanna give him a damn hug, if his friend wants’ta give him one too, then we’ll do as we damn well please. Y’hear me?” 

He could hear the orderly start to splutter, as if it was the first time he’d ever been refuted. Knowing that the staff around here liked to elevate themselves above all, as if they were some kind of capricious deities, it was likely to be true. “I’ll be letting my supervisor know about this,” was his answer, a thinly veiled threat. Wayne’s short burst of laughter was devoid of all humour. 

“Go ahead,” Wayne replied. “I got my numbers t’ call too, if I think Eddie’s not gettin’ the help he needs. Wanna see who wins the little pissin’ contest ya got goin’ on here?” 

For a second, no reply. Then two. Another look showed both men in some sort of stand off, before the orderly finally sneered his final taunt. Door slamming shut behind him, making Eddie jump out of his skin. Dustin’s gentle guidance got him to sit on one of the uncomfortable plastic armchairs, his fingertips finding the bracelet on his arm to fiddle with. Back and forth, stroking the braid and focusing on his breathing to try and even it out. He heard the two other inhabitants take a seat, Wayne’s clasped hands just in view as his elbows rested on his thighs. His voice now gentler, as if coaxing a frightened animal to come closer. “How’re you holdin’ up, son? They treatin’ ya decent in here?” 

Eddie didn’t mean the bitter laugh to escape his lips, as he swiped the back of his hand across his face to try and clear his face. Finding the bracelet again, studying it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Normally, he’d make a joke about it all. Call this place a five star hotel, but make a comment about how they could use better pillows. But he couldn’t find the words, no matter how hard he tried. Resigning himself to the truth, as he shrugged. “S’fine.” 

“Did uh… Did you get moved to medium security?” Dustin asked, and the puzzled look Eddie gave him in return as he looked up to see the boy must have prompted a further explanation. “Hopper put in a call. Well, several. Explained to the right people about what happened. He uh- he sends his best, by the way. Everyone does.”

Hopper? He thought the old chief of police had snuffed it in that Starcourt fire. More questions than answers given, and Dustin sighed wearily before explaining it all as best he could. As best as anyone could, given they had such a short time period to meet. 

Hopper was alive, something about being in Russia for a while. El was back from California, and shit was still going south with the upside-down. Hawkins was still in trouble, but they were on the case. Some sort of higher ups were working on Eddie’s case, but it needed to go through proper channels to keep an illusion of normality. Evidence to be hidden, to be planted, to clear his name. They were waiting on Max to wake up, so she could give her statement and have all charges officially dropped. All of it barely sticking in Eddie’s brain, no doubt the meds he was on still keeping his neurons dulled. 

But one thing stuck out. They were working on clearing his name. It was a shot at freedom. Not much, but it was there. In the darkness, came a small glimmer of hope. Like seeing a seam of gold in a coal mine. Something to cling onto for dear life, to keep putting one foot in front of the other for. 

It was hope. 

“You’re gonna get me out?” Eddie questioned, timbre cracking on every other syllable. Daring to look up to see the two people who probably cared about him more than anyone else on this Earth, and being met with a soft smile in return. 

“Yeah, we’re getting you out,” Dustin echoed, voice soft as he rubbed his palms on his jeans. He reached over to retrieve a plastic bag, leaning over and placing it by Eddie’s feet. “But for now, we’re allowed to come and see you every two weeks. And we’re allowed to bring stuff, too. I mean, it’s something, right?” 

Eddie felt too full of emotion, an experience he usually wasn’t fond of. A big reason he liked to get stoned, or listen to heavy metal music, or play his guitar. An outlet always helped, and right now he had nothing. Nothing but three pieces of string circling his wrist, and his leg bouncing a fast tempo. Peeking from the bag, he could see a book and a carton of Camels so far. Something he’d previously took for granted, but not any longer. He’d sworn to himself an oath during his two month mark in this place; if he ever got out of here, he’d never take the little things for granted ever again. 

He nodded along to the words, unlatching the harsh grip his teeth had on his lower lip before answering. “Yeah, it’s… It’s something. Thank you.” 

“Don’t sweat it man,” Dustin replied. “If you need anything, just… Just tell us, alright? We’ll see what we can do.” 

It took all the self restraint he had not to openly laugh, instead scrubbing his palm down the length of his face. He needed a lot of things. He needed a good night’s sleep, and a shower with water more than lukewarm and to never again smell carbolic soap. He needed to be able to take a long drive, maybe to the woods, avoiding lover’s lake to not have to remember those frightening and isolating days of hiding. He needed a good ounce of bud and his record player. Lots of things were needed. None were likely to actually be received.

“So, uh… Where’d you get that from?” Wayne asked after seconds of silence that went far too long for his liking. He knew better than anyone what a downward spiral looked like in his boy. 

It took Eddie a moment to realise what he was talking about, before clicking all the pieces together when his uncle stared at his arm for too long. He said your name, softly at first. Like a secret that wasn’t meant to be shared. An eyebrow raise prompted him to clear his throat and explain. “She uh… She’s helping me out around here. Someone to talk to.” 

Wayne didn’t seem impressed in the slightest, arms folding as he leaned in his chair. “You sure you can trust ‘er?” he asked, head slightly tilting. 

Eddie’s head nodded erratically, sending split ends and frizz flying. “She’s like me, Wayne. Innocent.” 

“And you believe her?” 

“...Yeah.” 

He did believe you. He couldn’t explain it, but there was a sort of gut feeling to be had around people that meant others harm. He’d felt it a couple of times in his life. Hairs on the back of his neck standing up, a nausea that couldn’t be replicated by an illness, a sense of unease paired with an urge to run. He first remembered it when his father would come home drunk, the front door slamming open and shut with heavy footfalls. He’d felt it when Jason and his lackeys were chasing after him that night on the boat. Hell, he felt it when that patient with the missing piece of his ear came a little too close for comfort, before you’d come to his rescue. 

He could trust you. He had to. The only other option was doing all of this alone.

He watched the wrinkles in Wayne’s face to deepen for only a few seconds, before they relaxed to his natural frown. The Munson men had a habit of speaking without words, knowing each other well enough to be able to see slight gestures and eye contact to mean something that nobody else could pick up on. This particular eyebrow raise meant ‘I believe you’. Eddie’s slight nod was a thank you. 

It was all over before it felt like it truly began. The sense of normality, of a conversation between three people who knew each other well, was cut short by an orderly opening the door and barking Eddie’s last name. With the faded grocery bag in hand - after yet another check of the contents, as if a shiv would magically appear after opening it for the fifth time - he was led back to the common room to engage in the mind-numbing routine that never changed. 

But at least you were sitting there, waiting for him. Lounged in one of the threadbare sofas, flipping through a magazine that he’d seen you read at least a half dozen times. You looked up, the ghost of a smile playing on your lips as you nodded towards the other side of the couch. No judgement, no questions barraged at him as he crossed the room. Just patience and a slight eyebrow raise. Thank God that won’t change, was his first thought. The smallest bloom, like the first of springtime, got caught in his ribcage. Swallowed back down, bitter as whisky, before it could cling to his heart and not let go. 

“Visitors?” you asked as he leaned over the armrest, your eyes not leaving the freshly turned page. He could sense something in your voice; something that caught his attention. It wasn’t anger. It was deeper than that, hitting at a lower emotional register. He noticed an ever so slight furrow of your brow, eyes ever so glossy. Then it hit him. Visitors. 

Something that not once, he had ever seen you leave for. 

He recognised that feeling. The feeling of always being left out at the playground, never allowed to join the other kids. Of being dumped at a doorstep you didn’t know by your piece of shit father, the memory of the back of his jacket exiting view through a haze of tears. It was being called names, or worse, being flat out ignored. He knew it all too well. And he’d always hated seeing it in others. 

But there was no point lying about it, either. “Yeah,” he nodded, plucking the carton of cigarettes from the bag and beginning to unwrap them. “My uncle and a friend. Hadn’t seen ‘em since…” He trailed off, shaking his head as he grasped a few packets from the sleeve. If you noticed his choice of words, you weren’t showing it.

 He placed them by your feet where they were half tucked underneath you with a wry smile. “For all the ones I stole when I first got here.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you frowned, finally tossing the magazine to the floor. He noticed the way you seemed touched by the gesture, though. “This place gives ‘em out like fucking candy.” 

“Yeah, but you hate the brand they give out,” he chuckled, remembering how often you complained about it first thing in the morning, still half asleep and grumpy from the medications used to sedate you. “Just take ‘em. Save them for special occasions.” 

For a moment, he expected more of a fight. But to your credit, you took them with grace. Opening a pack and handing him one, you motioned for the lighter as you nodded your head towards the bag. “What else you get?” 

“Uhh… Good question,” he shrugged, finally taking everything out to inspect. The Colour of Magic by Terry Pratchett, and from the looks of it, it was secondhand. A quick inspection of the first page gave him the name of the previous owner.

D. Henderson. 

“Love that little shit,” he mumbled under his breath, a fond smirk as he plucked the last item. Well, items. There were various envelopes, already torn open and no doubt already read, bundled together by a rubber band. He recognised the one on top from the character sheets he’d had handed in over countless times. Lucas’ neat handwriting spelling out his name. Already, a lump formed in his throat as he hastily shoved them back. Not here, he reminded himself. 

“Good haul,” you said quietly, no doubt well aware of his sudden shift in mood. It was strange, how two people adrift could find equilibrium. He could sense your fluctuations, the small changes in behaviour, that let him know to tread carefully. And now, it was happening in reverse. 

All he could do was nod. Allow the static of the silence to wash over you two, and to your credit, you never pushed.

He was thankful for that. 

~

Small stacks of paper surrounded his silhouette on the bed, the one he was trying to read gripped tight in his fist whilst the other hand muffled his sobs. Eddie hadn’t had many good words heard about him over his short life. Words were usually spat with venom, and he flicked barbs back. But now, it was there, all in black and white, and in various calligraphy. 

“Be strong man, you got this,” wrote Steve. 

“We’re fighting for you as hard as we can out here, just hang tight,” Robin scrawled. 

“I’ve always known you didn’t do it, son. I need you to know that.” In a font he remembered the most. 

His ribcage broke with the force of how much his heart hurt. The grief, the sadness, the shame. It was washing over him like waves, threatening to drag him under for good. He grieved for Chrissy, and he grieved for himself. It just kept pouring, like molasses sticky in his throat, and he couldn’t breathe. It didn’t stop until dawn broke, when he finally managed to put a lid back on everything and shut it away. Close the door and refuse to look, for fear a monster is in the closet. 

Hide it away, so it doesn’t hurt. Hide it until it’s safe to come out, if it ever does. Hide it, conceal it, consume it until it’s as dense as a neutron star. And if you did hear him crying from across the hall, you didn’t say anything. God, he was so thankful you didn’t say anything.

[blackaquokat]

RULES: post 5 songs associated with your oc, followed by 3 outfits they would wear

@again-please posted this game and I REALLY love it, so I will be doing it for a few OCs down the line, but for now, I'm doing it for my FINALLY NAMED tiefling monk and astarionmancer from Baldur's Gate 3:

Meet Maris Atwater!

Lizzie No – Hard Won

I came up like a paper daughter / Fallen with the afterthought / And the tender mercy that I was after came hard won

2. Florence + the Machine – Drumming Song

I run to the river and dive straight in / I pray that the water will drown out the din / But as the water fills my mouth / It couldn't wash the echoes out

3. Of Monsters and Men – Organs

I am tired of punching in the wind / I am tired of letting it all in / And I should eat you up and spit you right out / I should not care but I don't know how

4. The Crane Wives – Margaret

She won't lie down / Won't hesitate / She's breaking her knuckles on truths that keep her awake / And she's tired / But her jaw is set / She won't lose anymore of the heart she still has left

5. AURORA – Your Blood

When all inside you burns like a star / It's after you burn out that you are / Reborn again, reborn again / And maybe if you called out for help / Then I could help you outrun yourself

BONUS SONG: Another Florence + the Machine tune! This is what I imagine Maris’s theme song to be.

6. Florence + the Machine – Various Storms & Saints

Don't make the mountain your enemy / Get out, get up there instead / You saw the stars out in front of you / Too tempting not to touch / But even though it shocked you / Something's electric in your blood

As for the outfits, I imagine Maris to very much be a beach girl, specifically surfer kind of fashion. Grunge-ish surfer. Not posting too many outfits because they run kind of similarly (pants she can move in and crop tops also for movement and because she runs warm), and because I honestly don't know what her formal style would be.

If anyone would like to hear more about her, let me know!

If anyone else wants to play, consider yourselves tagged!

[kardia-library-official]

20 Questions for Fic Writers:

(Tagged by @aashiyancha! :D Posting here instead of on the main blog tho, because I want it in with all my other fic-adjacent thoughts.)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

10! Which doesn't feel like many to me, buuuut...

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

...317,249! 8D

3. What fandoms do you write for?

For the longest time, it was just RF, but I have some stories for something else waiting in the wings because the brainrot just got to be too much. >_>; I also used to write a lot of original fiction (that's how I started writing actually), and hope to do so again whenever I feel like it. ^_^

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Behold:

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! Mostly just because I get excited and have no chill. But also because you can't leave kudos on comments, and I want people to know I read and appreciate them. <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This was kind of a hard question, because the way I generally roll is that the bulk of the fic is angsty and the ending is kind of bittersweet or hopefully ambiguous. But I think it's actually Afternoon Lullaby. Which had an outwardly mostly breezy ending, but at the end of the day it's like... "Your love is doomed, and you will grieve him for many times longer than he'll even live." But the love is there and it is real! Which might only make it worse! Gah!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Honestly, probably Four Seasons Casebook. Mostly just because it ends with hints at things being... Too happy... >_>; (I don't consider this a spoiler because fellow Lucasheads already know what's up. :P)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Everyone has been really chill and nice! The real hotheads in this fandom are all busy on reddit trying to wish Cecil into the cornfield or whatever, I think.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

...Define smut, ha. >_>; I do write sex scenes, but I don't really do PWP, and I'm pretty vague/non-graphic about intercourse proper. But I love getting all horny and lingering about making out and foreplay, people's kinks, etc. I guess it can be best described as a "whole meal of appetizers" approach. Weird sexual tapas bar! Woo!

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Does combining different games from the same series count? I feel like it doesn't.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, and I would be genuinely surprised if this happened.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I hereby give permission to anyone who would like to take a crack at it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, and I'm honestly not sure how that works! (Or maybe I'm just a control freak?)

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Of the ones I've written, I'm ride or die for Lucas/Terry, and have accepted that it's kind of my Thing.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I don't tend to have a lot of things going at once, because I have a one-track mind and don't multitask well. I'm currently only working on one thing, and am halfway through the initial writing phase! But I have two longfics in the queue after that, and I gotta admit, I'm kinda "how will these EVER be DONE!?" about them, because there are two, and they are long. But I've written two longfics before, and they got wrote, so I'm sure these will too!

16. What are your writing strengths?

I have an eye for detail, and a lot of visual imagination.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My fics are long and tedious and bogged down by details and tangents. But I see that as inextricable from my strengths, so there isn't really any fixing it. I'm just a certain kind of writer!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Knock yourselves out! I unfortunately only know one language, at the moment so I can't play right now. :(

19. First fandom you wrote for?

RF! I actually dabbled a little waaaaaay back in the day, and it's still floating around out there probably, but I haven't interacted with it in years and can't vouch for it.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Probably Four Seasons Casebook. Something about that one really came together! I also have a lot of affection for All the Night Gardens, mostly because it was just so fun to be cringe and free and in my feelings while I basically chewed on the walls pecking away at it for over a year.

I tag @twilightscribbles, @wordspastsaturn, @tinylantern, and @nullnomore! But no pressure! And feel free to do it even if I didn't tag you!

[girlwonder-writes]

10 Questions For Fic Writers

Thanks to @typicalopposite for the tag! :)

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 10 (All of my other stuff has been on fanfiction.net and we don't talk about fanfiction.net)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 35,858 and counting! [I've got so much more where that came from, just gotta get to writing more!]

3. What fandoms do you write for? Currently just 9-1-1, I might pick up on some Power Rangers stuff again. Back in my fanfiction.net days, I used to write for Glee, and Degrassi (The Next Generation, not the original 80s-90s series) and a show called Radio Free Roscoe.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I don't always have the energy to respond to every comment but if I have something to tease or answer, I will answer it.

5. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of! 🫣

6. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, I have a cowritten Radio Free Roscoe fic out there on fanfiction.net, not sure if me and my friend and I ever fulled finished it but I have done it before. Would love to do it again for 9-1-1.

7. What’s your all-time favourite ship? I have too many favourite ships in my fandoms.

8. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue. Love to write those quippy back and forth exchanges.

9. What are your writing weaknesses? Smut. I have never done the smut. I want to try though, so we'll see how that works out.

10. First fandom you wrote for? Power Rangers. Specifically Power Rangers Ninja Storm.

No pressure tags for @bloombow @v88sy @kitweewoos @nine-one-wanton @herrmannhalsteadproduction

@babyspacegay

Anyone else who wants to participate, consider yourselves tagged. Just tag me so I can see your answers.

[my-fall-from-grace]

Get to know me

i was tagged by @goalsyoudontake !! tysm and sorry it took me so long to get around to it lol, i swear i appreciate the tag <33

Do you make your bed?

not properly? i just kinda fling the covers back into place but i def don't make it neat

Favourite number?

6! no real reason, i just vibe with it

What's your job?

software engineer! sit at a computer all day and then come home and sit at another :)

If you could go back to school, would you?

i plan to! i want to complete a masters degree, just need to decide what to study lol. currently taking a gap "year" to work and see what interests me

Can you parallel park?

technically yes, realistically barely

Do you think aliens are real?

there's 100% some more life somewhere out there but i don't believe we've encountered it yet

Can you drive a manual car?

yes! i've not had too much experience w it, but i can. honestly i think i prefer manual

Guilty pleasure?

fanfic :') like i read SO much it's truly my favourite thing. i say guilty bc im still amazed by all the newer/younger crowd who are saying it so publically while i'm still lowering the brightness and would kill myself if my irls were aware of this

Tattoos?

i don't have any but i really want some! not super big ones, but little ones, mainly for my family. i really vibe w the hearts / flowers / galaxy drawn in your loved ones styles

Favourite colour?

purple, i am one of those annoying purple is my favourite colour people to the point that everyone in my life associates me with it. i mean, look at my blog lol

Favourite type of music?

indie sorta? i love noah kahan, chappell roan, clairo (sofia my beloved), grace powers, mitski, etc

Do you like puzzles?

i do but i never do them lol

Any phobias?

mmmm idk if id say phobia really but i hate bugs / insects. i need to hype myself UP for 10 mins to even approach a cockroach

Favourite childhood sport?

i was a tennis girly!! played it for close to 13 years? i also did swimming, football (soccer), & gymnastics (for SUCH a short period of time lol)

Do you talk to yourself?

i am forever yapping to myself, in my head and sometimes out loud as well. but in my head? a constant monologue. someone needs to tell me to shut up

Tea or coffee?

i mainly drink tea!! black tea is my preferred one, with persian rock sugar thanks to my irl best friend <33 but i LOVE thai tea and masala chai so badly but i still haven't learned how to make it properly - PLS hit me up if you know how 🥺

First thing you wanted to be when growing up?

hmm i feel in my earliest times i wanted to be a tennis player bc that's just kinda what you do when you play the sport your whole childhood lmao

What movies do you adore?

i love tenet, the dnd movie, little women 2019, top gun 2 specifically, etc. i do watch the hobbit yearly in december w my dad tho so i fear i have to give an honourary shout out to that

tagging @britney-rosberg06 @canadiankakashi @anepiphany @rohruh @agnst-crrnt and anyone else who'd like to do this, consider yourselves tagged as well <33

[ectochoir]

“Get to know me” meme!

Tagged by @feydrautha! Haven’t done one of these in ages. c:

Do you make your bed?

Literally never. 😂 I sleep under like one thin blanket and half the time, I kick it off throughout the night. The only time I make my bed is when I’m staying at my parents’ house because it’s rude to leave an unmade bed in a house that’s not yours.

What's your favourite number?

8! I pull numbers with an 8 in them more often than anything else when I’m picking them at random.

What is your job?

Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy? (I’m not sharing that, I’ve had my ass doxxed for less lmao!)

If you could go back to school would you?

You know, if it didn’t require paying another huge tuition, I’d consider it! I’ve always kind of wanted to study ornithology.

Can you parallel park?

Girl, I can’t even drive. 😂

A job you had that would surprise people?

I worked at a comic shop at one point. That’s usually the one people tend to go “Oh, cool!” about, but I don’t know if that counts as surprise.

Do you think aliens are real?

In a way. I definitely think living organisms exist in the universe, and we are not unique. I don’t think there are little grey, bug-eyed men riding around in flying saucers, though.

Can you drive a manual car?

I can not. Put me in the driver’s seat of a car and I’m pretty sure I’ll just lock up and go catatonic.

What's your guilty pleasure?

I don’t feel guilt in any of my pleasure. I’m a hedonist through and through, baby. ;)

Tattoos?

None, but hopefully my first, soon!

Favourite colour?

Green and yellow. Don’t make me choose between them.

Favourite type of music?

I literally don’t have a type of music I dislike, but favorite is probably leaning toward rock and pop punk. I like stuff I can jump around to.

Do you like puzzles?

Sure! Haven’t done a traditional puzzle in years but I do have a few puzzle games on my phone that I play regularly.

Any phobias?

Spiders. I’m working on getting over it, and have made big progress, but they still give me that initial fear adrenaline spike.

Favourite childhood sport?

As a kid I played a ton of rugby. I miss being able to just throw myself at people and mow them down.

Do you talk to yourself?

All the time. I have to remind myself not to do it in public, lest I get weird looks from strangers.

What movie(s) do you adore?

Opens up my PowerPoint on Nelvana’s 1983 critical flop and cult classic film Rock and Rule.

Coffee or tea?

Both! Either! I like both!

First thing you wanted to be growing up?

Probably a cartoonist. I got into art young and was very passionate about it.

—

I could tag folks, but I have yet to ingest caffeine today and that seems like a lot of work so I’m tagging anyone who sees this bad boy and wants to overshare a little. Knock yourselves out!