#it’s just a pattern I’ve noticed in my ot3s

[korra-is-love]

9 People You Would Like To Get To Know Better

Thank you for the tag @dontbelasagnax! 🩵💕

Three ships: I’ll keep it simple for myself and just stick with my Star Wars ships since it’s the current hyper fixation Codywan, QuinObi, JangObi notice the pattern? Obi-Wan is very shippable lol. Plus an honourable mention of my beloved ot3 QuinCodywan since it’s just a combination of the first two.

First ever ship: I think Pirates of the Caribbean was the first fandom that I’d ever read fanfic of, but I can’t remember if the first ship was Sparrabeth or Sparrington.

Last song: Wasteland, Baby! by Hozier. That song specifically but basically the entire album.

Last movie: Elvira: Mistress of the Dark! Super campy and fun, and I’m now in love with Cassandra Peterson 😍

Currently reading: Aside from fanfic? I got halfway through Master & Apprentice by Claudia Gray last year but never finished it someday I’ll get around to finishing an actual physical book

Currently watching: Doctor Sleep! I’ve been on a bit of a horror movie kick recently, and felt like rewatching this for the nth time tonight 😅 I only just now realized that Mike Flanagan is the director (I just finished binging Fall of the House of Usher and Midnight Mass)

Currently consuming: Hot chocolate! With a giant homemade marshmallow from one of my favourite regulars at work 🩵

Currently craving: Some kind of junk food snack, like buttery popcorn or Kinder chocolate bars. Oooh and DQ ice cream cake 🤤 maybe I’ll get myself one for my birthday this year 👀

I’m tagging @deathdovesong @journen @coline7373 @kotekenobii & @theedwardianone (no pressure though!)

[eirenical]

Last Lines Meme

Was tagged by both @foxofninetales​ and @hils79​, so I guess that means I should do this.  ^_^  (Also I love these kinds of things, so.  ;D)

Rules: List the LAST lines of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.    

Due to fic warnings, all links will be to tumblr posts with tags and detailed warnings unless otherwise stated.

Last lines behind the cut, analysis up front.  ^_^

Well, @hils79​, looks like you’re not the only one with a lot of stories ending with people falling asleep.  XD  (Current theory: writing is EXHAUSTING and when I get to the end, I assume the characters are as tired as I am IF NOT MORE SO and deserve naps?  ^_^  JUST A THOUGHT.  XD)

Also WOW, I’ve written a lot of Dead Dove and dub/noncon fic in the last year or two, huh?  Guess that’s just been the general pandemic mood for me.  *sheepish grin*

But yeah, I have a Definite Pattern in my last lines that I rarely break from and it goes like this: “Clause A... Clause B.”  Even endings without the ellipses seem to have that kind of general flow/rhythm to them.  I’ve tried to break out of that pattern before, but at this point it’s practically a signature move, so... *sigh*  Oh well?  ^_^

Tagging: As usual, anyone who wants to do this, please consider yourself tagged because my brian is currently mush and I WILL forget someone, @elenothar, @elin2002, @dreamer-wisher-liar, @fixaidea, @enechelon, @laireshi, @buriedbybooks, @kholran, @highpriestessofjogan

1. Jaded (This is a WiP, but this is the last line of the most currently posted chapter.), DMBJ + TLTR, Pingxie, Iron Triangle friendship, rated E, dubcon, past noncon

Zhang Qiling drew in a breath that shuddered in his lungs, but he forced himself to nod, to close his eyes, safe in the recesses of his hood, and let Wu Xie hold him.  He didn't deserve it, not by a long shot… but even he wasn't strong enough to turn it down.  He slept. 

2. Cherished (DMBJ, Pingxie, Rated E, noncon, dark!Wu Xie, dead dove: do not eat; don’t have a tumblr post to this one yet (oops), so the link it straight to the fic, click at your own risk.)

Zhang Qiling smiled… and closed his eyes.

3. To Drive the Dark Away (Les Mis, canon era, MC2, ECC friendship, Courferre, rated: t, mostly holiday fluff, nonsexual subspace, don’t have a tumblr post to this one yet (oops), so the link it straight to the fic, but it’s... pretty tame, so you should be fine. ;D)

A gentle kiss upon his brow and the caress of slender fingers on his hip settled him as nothing else could have.  Courfeyrac murmured gentle reassurances into Marius' ear as his eyes grew ever heavier.  Safe and secure in the arms of the two he loved best, Marius allowed himself to be cradled, to be comforted, and to take those intimate words as a promise to be fulfilled when he awoke.  He could ask for no greater gift than that. 

4. sometimes the cure is worse than the disease (DMBJ, Pingxie, Iron Triangle friendship, mentions of past torture, noncon)

Here… he could rest.

So, he did.

5. The Way to a Man’s Heart (TLTR, Iron Triangle OT3, rated: g, don’t have a tumblr post to this one yet (oops), so the link it straight to the fic, but it’s all fluff, so.  ^_^)

They insisted that Pangzi eat some of the hotpot, too, and some of the dishes from the restaurant, but he came back over and over again to the ones he knew Tianzhen, Xiaoge, and Xiao Mei had cooked for him.  They might be a little rough around the edges, sometimes a little too heavy on the seasoning or a little too light, but they'd been made with love and with care, just for him, and that made them easily the most heartwarming and delicious meal Pangzi had ever eaten. 

6. Reclamation (GYADL, LFS x XXC, mentions of LFS x Xu Ruian, rated: e, rape/noncon, torture, aaaaaaaaaand we’re back in dead dove: do not eat territory.  OTZ  ...it’s the Whumptober series? ^_^); Link is to the chapter 1 tumblr post, last line is from the last chapter.

Letting go of Xingcheng's hand and watching as he turned to walk back into the house was at once the most thrilling and the most terrifying thing that Fusheng had ever done.  And if that wasn't a sad commentary on what his life had become, then Fusheng didn't know what was.  But it was a step.  The most important step.

The first one.

Now all Fusheng had to do was to make sure that the ones that followed kept him moving forwards.

7. When is a Curse Not a Curse? When It Becomes a Gift. (DMBJ + TLTR, Pingxie, Irong Triangle Friendship, rated: t, accidental telepathy acquisition)

Surrounded by the warmth of his friends, and with the world finally, blessedly silent around him… Wu Xie slept.

8. the stories say more than that (TLT2, DMBJ, Pingxie, rated: e)

And Wu Xie would keep his silence and let Pangzi tell the tale however he saw fit, because it would make Xiaoge smile, and if it would make Xiaoge smile… then Wu Xie would relish every minute of it.

9. beyond the end of the story (Guardian TV, Weilan, Shen Wei & Da Qing friendship, pretty hefty whump, but everything works out OK?, rated: t, mostly for graphic depictions of injury, also has a podfic. ^_^)

Zhao Yunlan smiled the goofiest smile in his repertoire at Shen Wei. "I say we write a whole fucking chapter about kisses.  No.  Two chapters about kisses.  Hell, let's write ten!  Is ten enough?  Maybe twenty?"

Shen Wei just laughed… and kissed him again.

10. Awakening (GYADL, LFS x XXC, mentions of LFS x Xu Ruian, rated: e, rape/noncon, dead dove: do not eat, ...it’s the Whumptober series? ^_^); Link is to the chapter 1 tumblr post, last line is from the last chapter.

Xingcheng reached out a hand to check Fusheng's pulse once more, then pulled back and settled into the chair.  Fusheng continued watching him, eyes drooping, saying nothing.  Finally, Xingcheng said, "Sleep, Fusheng.  I'll keep you safe.  Just sleep."

And in a moment of mercy that Xingcheng certainly didn't deserve… Fusheng believed him, and he slept.

[icannotreadcursive]

Sometimes, people have different--very different--sets of headcanons and sets of ships etc for a given piece of media and cast of characters because they have basically different understandings of who those characters are.

A lot of times, that’s just because every fan as their own unique life experience to apply when engaging with and interpreting a work, so they see different things reflected back.

But when it comes to what I call Legacy Characters--characters that have had their story told and retold, adapted and readapted, reinvested and reset time and again; such as comic book characters--a huge part of who a fan understands a character to be is determined by what versions of that character they’re familiar with, what aspects of different versions have coalesced in their brain to form their sense of that character in general.  Usually, the biggest influence there is which version of a character that fan encountered first.

I see both knock-down drag-out fights and casual disrespectful disparaging comments within some fandoms--especially big comics fandoms like Marvel--that on the surface of them are more of the typical dumb “my interpretation is the only right one and anyone who disagrees is wrong and Doesn’t Understand The Media” stuff, but that I am SO SURE mostly boils down to this issue of having very different but all equally legitimate senses of the characters from having familiarity with different appearances of the character, or in a different order.

For instance--using what I find to be the most glaring case as an example--the Marvel shipping wars amongst Steve/Bucky, Steve/Tony, Sam/Steve, Bucky/Natasha, and (increasingly) Sam/Bucky shippers.  Sometimes the Pepper/Tony, Pepper/Natasha, and Bruce/Tony shippers join the fray.

These conflicts get so nasty.  Even a lot of the more chill shippers, when prompted, have very ugly things to say about ships other than their own and the people who support them.  Allegations of racism, misogyny, fetishization, and general toxicity run rampant and are often talked about as though they are the only possible reasons someone could ever have for shipping or not shipping a given pair.

I want to make it clear that I personally do ship or have shipped several of the above, including ones that mutually exclude each other.  There’s a few I’m neutral on up there, and one that kinda squicks me--we’ll get to that later.

Every single one of them is a perfectly good ship.  None of them are inherently fucked up in any way and I will not hear any argument to the contrary.  

Do some supporters of these ships get overzealous and obnoxious?  Yes, that’s kinda why we’re talking about it, but that’s not a problem with any of the ships themselves.

I’ve noticed some patterns around people being into particular ones of these ships and their personal histories with various Marvel media.

Steve/Tony: mostly comics fans at this point, either were into the comics before the MCU became a thing or the early days of the MCU got them into the comics and they’re now more into the comics than the films.  Because there’s a LOT of material in the comics to support the ship!  There’s so much!  Including the fact that in one comics reality where Tony is a woman, she and Steve get married!  

Now, there was a ton of this’ere Stony fic that got churned out in the early days of the MCU, a lot of it from fans getting into this world for the first time through the phase 1 movies, at which point other potential partners for these guys either hadn’t been introduced as characters yet, or hadn’t been fleshed out.  A lot of film-main (as opposed to comics-main) Stony shippers moved away from the pairing as the MCU continued, Bucky became the counterpoint of Steve’s Character arc, Sam got brought in, Pepper and Bruce each got more screen time, and the dynamic between Steve and Tony in the films got increasingly adversarial in a way that’s less sexy more fucked up.

The battle cry against Stony from other factions, especially from the Steve/Bucky camp is usually “but they’re so toxic!” and, I mean, yeah--if your sense of these characters is primarily based on how they are in the MCU, they are.  But in my experience, even if they’re working MCU events and settings, the Steve and Tony being imagined by Stony shippers aren’t really that Steve and Tony.

Steve/Bucky: look, Stucky is an MCU thing.  Articles have been written and published about the fact that the dynamic between Steve and Bucky in the MCU follows the beats of an epic romance to a T.  The basis for this ship is all there on screen--throw in a little bit of history nerd mojo and you’re in deep.

By my observation and estimation, most new or formerly-very-casual Marvel fans who came in via the films and remained film-mains, and who are inclined to not-strictly-heteronormative shipping at all went the Stucky route.  Folks who initially shipped Stony then switched to Stucky are pretty common.  People starting with Stucky and then switching to any other ship with Steve to the exclusion of Stucky? Very rare.  And while for a lot of people Stucky is their OTP in the strictest sense, I do see a lot of Stucky shippers who are here for other ships as well, either in an alternate realities kinda way or an amicable exes/polyamory kinda way.

The only people I’ve seen who have a problem with Stucky as a ship (other than “my ship is a different ship, therefore this one is bad and wrong”) are comics-mains whose sense of Steve and Bucky is heavily informed by runs of the comics in which Bucky is significantly younger than Steve and kid sidekick type figure.  For them, the dynamic between the general forms of these characters leans mentor/student or protector/charge, so the inclination is to read the MCU relationship as fraternal, because it being romantic is squicky based on their sense of the characters.

Sam/Steve: comics-mains, film-mains with significant comics familiarity, film-mains who just aren’t into Stucky for one reason or another, or film-mains who are just really into Anthony Mackey which is a perfectly valid reason to get behind a ship.  People who know Falcon from the comics seem much more likely to be into this ship and also more invested in this ship.  I’m not qualified to say much about support for this ship from the comics themselves because my personal familiarity with Marvel comics doesn’t include much of Sam Wilson at all, but I am absolutely qualified to say there’s support from the films, especially CA:WS.

The worst vitriol against this ship tends to come from overzealous Stucky OTP shippers who really need to remember that fandom is supposed to be fun, and flat out racists.  That must be acknowledged and needs to be addressed.  Fandom racism in general, and against Sam in particular is a thing and it can absolutely be a factor in shipping.  

However it’s not inherently racist to just not ship Sam/Steve because you see them as bros, or because Stucky is your OTP, or because you ship Sam with someone else, or whatever.  Worthwhile to take a minute to examine why you don’t ship it, if you don’t, and check that for racial bias in how you view and treat Sam as a character, especially if you’re white.

Sam/Steve and Stucky are the two ships I see coexist the most!  A lot of people ship both of them separately and exclusive from one another, but a lot of people also go ether the OT3 or the “Steve and Sam were definitely a thing for while there but now they’re not” route.

Bucky/Natasha: comics-mains or film-mains with significant comics familiarity, particularly for the comics worlds in which Bucky and Natasha are a couple, which seems self explanatory as to why that correlates.  Not a lot for it in the films, Nat and Buck don’t interact much in the films that we see, and they’re kinda trying to kill each other in much of what we do see.  But, like I said, they’re a thing in some of the comics so there we have that.

This is the one that squicks me.  Clearly it’s a super valid ship; depending on the canon it’s a canon ship.  Frankly, they make sense together, canon or not--their individual backgrounds as spysassins and with brainwashing etc means they’d be able to understand one another in ways no one else around them really can.  But my personal amalgamation of these characters from the films and what comics I’m familiar with has Bucky having been Natasha’s teacher when she was a kid in Red Room.  So I cannot ship it, I can’t do it.  

The fact that I personally am squeaked by it has absolutely no impact on the fact that it’s a good ship, and the fact that it’s a good ship cannot and does not negate the fact that it squicks me.

Bucky/Sam: okay, there’s not a lot of this out there yet, but what there is seems to mostly be coming from film-mains who either don’t ship or co-ship Stucky and/or Sam/Steve, and who really liked the dynamic between these two in Civil War, and I guarantee you we’re about to get so much more of this ship with Falcon and Winter Soldier premiering.  I’ve already seen some hate directed at this ship from the same places Sam/Steve gets hate.  I predict, though, that this one will also get co-shipped alongside Stucky by the less strictly OTP of those shippers and I’m curious to see what the dynamic ends up being between Bucky/Sam shippers and Sam/Steve shippers as this camp grows.

In conclusion, I guess, note that not shipping a ship doesn’t have to mean attacking that ship (and it shouldn’tI) and not liking a ship, even being deeply uncomfortable with a ship for your own reasons doesn’t mean that ship is bad.  We’ve all got our own individual sets of experiences both in life and with the characters in our fandoms that can dramatically change how we see those characters and their relationships to one another.  This gets especially complicated and diverse with Legacy Characters like those from sprawling long-running comics multiverses.  Someone’s understanding and interpretation being different from yours does not make either of you wrong!

As long as no one is an asshole about it it, it’s actually really interesting and cool to compare interpretations and see how your understandings overlap and differ, to think about what bits of canon have been formative for you and what personal experience may have made you inclined to interpret certain things certain ways.

Fandom is supposed to be fun.  Shipping is supposed to be fun.  You can and should hype up and express love for your own ships without tearing down others.

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The 12 Step Job

leverage 1.10

Hardison (brings up map on monitors): That look like a pattern to you?

Parker: It's like Billy from "The Family Circus," If Billy was a drunken sex fiend.

eliot straight up looked at her like ?????

- - - - -

Nate: Actually, it does. He's an addict, under stress. So he's not gonna be doing a lot of exploring. He's gonna stay well within his comfort zone. He's still in LA. Oh, yeah. All right, we're gonna do this old-school. Ah, Parker, you break into his condo, see what you can find. Sophie and I will hit the retail spots. You guys go to his favorite haunts. But don't spook him, just follow him. Let him lead us to the money.

Hardison: All right?

Eliot (to Hardison): Strip Joint.

Hardison: Mmm. (to Nate) You know, I'm - I'm gonna need change for $100... in singles.

Nate: I'm sorry. What? Y-you think I have 100 singles on me?

(Eliot and Hardison walk out)

they looked at each other giddily that the con was going to take them to a strip joint and immediately asked their dad nate for money

they’re children, your honor

- - - - -

Hardison: This dude, you see him trying to force his keys onto that girl?

Eliot: Yeah. It should be the other way around, huh?

(Hurley gets into the car and starts it)

Eliot: Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot. You don't know nothing about that.

Hardison: Really? I almost had it in me to wash this car. Almost.

Eliot: Ten bucks says you're washing the car.

Hardison: I know it ain’t

Eliot: I guaran- (he is cut off when a car pulls up behind Hurley as he’s backing up, and he hits it. Men get out of the car and run around to where Hurley is getting out of his car)

CHILDREN

also as soon as hardison spilled that slushie he was Dead™

(also when did they stop to get slushies ??? like did hardison beg eliot to stop at some place to get one ??? did eliot begrudgingly to it, complaining all the way but secretly not actually minding it that much ???)

- - - - -

eliot and hardison fighting goons in the parking lot ? two words: 🥰 crime boyfriends 🥰

- - - - -

Hardison: I got a gun. I got a gun.

Man: All right, man, hey, hey.

(the men back away. Hardison points the gun and shoots. The bullet goes into the engine of the men’s car, disabling it. Eliot pulls Hardison toward their car)

Eliot: Nice job blowing out the engine block.

Hardison: I was aiming for his leg.

(Eliot grabs the gun)

Eliot: Yeah give me the gun, Hardison

hardison can’t shoot for shit and it’s hilarious

- - - - -

Parker: Hi. My name is Rose. I'm a kleptomaniac. My parents are rich, but I shoplift anyway... (looks at notes on her wrist) because I hate myself.

HER NOTES ON HER WRIST LMFAO

- - - - -

making parker take the drugs without explaining the process or making her sign anything etc is unethical

- - - - -

Hardison: It-It's, uh, a computer bomb. I-I-I know computers. Computer bomb, um. We-we-we got to reboot the system. Yeah.

Eliot (stands up): You want me to kick it?

Hardison: God, I’m gonna die. No, just, look. (reaches under dash)

Eliot: Wh-wh-wh-whoa.

Hardison: J-just, no. Duck up under the hood and just tell me how it's attached to the electrical system. (pops hood)

I’ve seen meta for this scene where eliot actually obviously knows not to kick it, he’s just saying that to jumpstart hardison’s brain since he’s freaking the fuck out. and I believe that wholeheartedly.

- - - - -

Eliot: What's our margin for error here?

Hardison: About half a second.

Eliot: Run the bag of bricks by me again.

Hardison: You ready?

Eliot: No.

Hardison: Are you ready?

(Eliot reaches under the hood with a shaking hand and grabs the wires)

Eliot: Yeah

ELIOT! COULD! HAVE! JUST! LEFT!

they were a newly formed team and if worst came to worst, he could have just gotten himself to safety and have that be it. except he would NEVER do that. he’d never leave any of his team behind (especially hardison). in this scene and the one before it his hands were SHAKING because he was so scared for hardison and that hardison wouldn’t make it. eliot is the retrieval specialist and he’s the one that is supposed to get everyone home safe. he needed hardison to be safe.

- - - - -

Receptionists: Can I help you?

Eliot: You sure can. Here to see a patient of yours, Mr. Tom Baker.

Receptionists: What's your relationship?

Eliot: Why?

Receptionists: Second Act has a strict policy. Only family members can see patients. We want to make sure outside influences don't hamper our clients' recoveries.

Eliot: I think that's an excellent policy. I'm Tom's brother. Hi. Mark.

(Eliot kisses the receptionists hand. She looks at Hardison)

Hardison: I'm-I'm with him.

Receptionists: So, you're a friend of…

Hardison: No, no, I am—

(Hardison puts his arm through Eliot’s. Eliot stiffens)

Hardison: I am with him. See, he thinks the flirting makes me jealous, but it doesn't. You know, but if you was, like, Brad Pitt or Denzel or somebody, oh, girl, it would be on, seriously. (rings the bell) Bring your ass. Bring your ass. (pulls Eliot away from the desk)

ot3 foreshadowing in season one- we love to see it

(also what a fucking nerd, hardison, tom baker? you live to base aliases off of doctor who)

- - - - -

Parker: I thought my foster parents just wanted me so they could get money from the state, but now I realize they didn't love each other. They just wanted someone to love them.

Hurley: Like they need you to fill in the gaps for their relationship.

Parker: Exactly. But when that didn't happen, they just withdrew

Hurley: Yeah.

Parker: Which led me to steal.

Hurley: Yeah.

Parker: It's all so clear to me now

I’m not sure how much of this was true from her origin story but I’m keeping it as meta just in case

- - - - -

Hardison: He's not all bad. He did give some of the money to people in need.

Eliot: You ever notice how all bad guys know at least one stripper?

Sophie (answering phone): Hello?

Hardison: And you know at least a hundred, so what does that say about you?

Eliot: Hey, I’m a bad guy

stfu eliot you know you’re not a bad guy anymore

- - - - -

parker walking around all happy

- - - - -

Parker: Okay, Parker, get into the air vent, out to the front gate.

Parker: No.

Nate: No?

Parker: No, I feel like I’m making real progress here.

Nate (puts his hands on her shoulders): Listen, I need you to focus, okay?

(Parker smiles and looks down at Nate’s arms)

Nate: What?

Parker: You don't usually touch me, or any of us, really. It's the hole in your heart, Tom. It doesn't allow you to get close to people.

Hurley: She's right

parker got so insightful in this episode. like it was because of the drugs but it gave an interesting look into her mind and into her past

- - - - -

Hurley: Dr. Tanner?

Sophie: Hurley, jump on. Let's go. Now!

(Sophie is pulled away, but another creeper comes out from beneath the car. Hurley gets out of the car. Eliot is pulling on the rope from behind another car. Hurley is pulled away to safety. Eliot covers Sophie)

Eliot: Keep your head down. Keep your head down.

eliot covered sophie with his body and we love to see eliot protecting his family with whatever he’s got

- - - - -

Eliot: Ooh.

Hurley: Steel-Belted radials.

(Eliot pulls a knife and cuts open the tire, revealing the inside full of money)

Eliot: Ohhh.

Hurley: What do you think?

(Eliot hands Hardison a handful of money)

Sophie: I think you might have a knack for this.

that was actually really smart ??? tagging this as something useful for a fic maybe ???

- - - - -

Nate: Just-just take the win. Take the win. (grabs an envelope from Hardison and hands it to Hurley) Here you go.

Hurley: What's this?

Nate: That's your new identity. It's a driver's license, a passport, birth certificate.

Hardison: Your library card, Netflix membership, Sam’s club. Oh, I got you three months free at 24-Hour fitness. Maybe work off some of those tacos.

Hurley: You guys didn't have to do all this.

Nate: Yeah, well, actually, uh, we did. Uh, Jack Hurley is dead. We killed him. So this is your chance to kind of start over.

Hurley: Wow. Hey, d-do you think Michelle will forgive me when she gets the payout from my life-insurance policy?

Nate: Yeah, why don't we just, uh, go with the win? (escorts him toward the door) We're giving you a second chance, so don't screw it up. If you do, I promise we'll know. (hands Hurley tickets) Train ticket.

Hurley: Don't worry about me.

Nate: Yeah.

Hurley: I'm playing it straight from now on. In fact, as soon as I get to, uh... (looks at ticket) Rosarito, I’m gonna find the nearest support group. I promise. Thanks for everything, Tom. (shakes hand)

when the team has someone “die”, they take CARE of them

- - - - -

Dr. Frank: You're sure this is for the best?

Sophie: Absolutely. Second Act isn't the right place for her.

(Parker smells marker. Sam comes and takes it away from her)

Sophie: No, she needs to be around people who better understand the issues she's struggling with. People more like her.

parker sniffing a marker and smiling snjdnssjsj

also SHE NEEDS HER FAMILY. HER FAMILY UNDERSTANDS HER.

- - - - -

(Parker walks out of the building, laughing)

Parker: Hi. (runs up to the group, who are waiting for her) Hey! I missed you guys!

(Parker throws her bag at Nate and jumps into Eliot’s arms)

Eliot: Oh! (to Sophie) When do the happy pills wear off?

Nate: Usually about 24 hours.

Parker (hugging Hardison): I missed you.

Hardison: That's too bad. I kind of like this Parker.

(Parker puts an arm around both Eliot and Hardison and they start walking away)

Nate: Uh, Eliot?

(Nate throws Parker’s bag, Eliot catches it)

OT3 OT3 OT3

also PLEASE give me a fic of them watching over her while she comes down from the meds just in case she needs anything. fuck, I might have to write this if no one else does.

- - - - -

eliot and hardison having a mini argument in the background getting parker in the car

[0bianidalas]

First Lines

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

from recent to older

i was tagged by my lovely friend and beta for my latest fic @cuthian 💖💖

ok, so wow, 20 is a lot. lets go

1.  Some Things Are Meant To Be || JATP fandom (Alex/Luke/Reggie) [On-going, 40k+ so far]

“Alex hits his head with the roof of the car trying to untangle himself from Luke's Kung-fu grip legs around him.”

2.  We come together (state of the art) (co-written with multindproud) ||  JATP fandom (Alex/Luke/Reggie) [On-going, 14k+ so far]

“They were okay, they were totally okay.”

3. Fade to Black, Show The Names, Play the Sad Song || JATP fandom (One-sided Reggie/Alex and then one-sided Reggie/Luke) [Complete, 3k]

“Reggie likes to think of himself as a testament to human endurance.”

(yeah this one is my fave out of all this selection)

4. can we stay in this dream like we are 17?  || JATP fandom (Alex/Luke) [Complete, 774]

“Alex closes the door of the van and washes in the smell of seawater, sun, and sand.”

5. Together I think that we can make it  || JATP fandom (Alex/Luke/Reggie) [Complete, 3k+]

“Alex hears Caleb’s distant voice, thanking the crowd, and his eyes are glued to the back of Luke’s head.”

6.  It's what you do with the things you love  || JATP fandom (Alex/Reggie) [Complete, 4k+]

“Reggie comes to notice it when he's five.”

7. Time Will Stand Still (if we stay young in love)  || JATP fandom (Alex/Luke/Reggie) [Complete, 2k+]

“Alex was seven when they met.”

8.  In Your Starlight  || JATP fandom (Alex/Luke/Reggie) [Complete, 3k+]

“The first time Alex notices it’s after their third official gig, roughly four months since they started doing this whole ‘band’ thing for real.”

9.  My brightest, burning star  || JATP fandom (Julie/Luke) [Complete, 1k+]

“Luke’s fingers move across the strings of his acoustic guitar and he smiles at the soft, cheerful melody he’s creating for Julie’s new song.”

10. Distant Stars  || MCU fandom (Steve/Tony and Bucky/Rhodey) [On-going, 120k+ so far]

“Jimmy runs up the stairs before his parents can see him cry.”

11. I've never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss  || MCU fandom (Bucky/Rhodey) [Complete, 31k+]

“Life’s about the little steps.”

(if I could put the entire paragraph, this would probably be my favorite one)

12. If you get caught between the moon and New York City  || MCU fandom (Multiple ships) [On-going, 2k+ so far] -- this one has an email format so the first line for context:

“Bucky [7:53 am]: Sam and I are running late”

13. Hesitate  || Elite fandom (Valerio/Polo/Cayetana) [Complete, 4k+]

“Valerio finds her by the pool; the white fabric of her swimsuit shines in a different kind of light with the light coming from inside the pool.”

14.  If Our Demons Cannot Dance, Neither Can We || MCU fandom (Bucky/Rhodey) [Complete, 1k+]

“Bucky spends the rest of the weekend avoiding Rhodey in the compound like the weak, coward that he is.”

15. I Love You (ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?) || MCU fandom (Bucky/Rhodey) [Complete, 1k+] -- first line is a poem not written by me so I won’t put that:

“When it happens he's caught off guard.”

16.  It's Nice to Have A Friend  || MCU fandom (Bucky/Rhodey) [Complete, 4k+]

“Tony realized it on the third Thursday movie night that Peter forced him to go weeks ago because it was ‘team exercise’.”

17. To All The Boys Rhodey's Loved Before  || MCU fandom (Bucky/Rhodey) [Complete, 23k+]

“Rhodey is soaring, up high in the blue sky, and then he's falling like a leaf, gliding through the thin, fresh air.”

18. (I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night) And now I see daylight  || MCU fandom (Bucky/Rhodey) [Complete, 3k+]

“Winifred decided her son's name was gonna be James on the fourth month of her pregnancy.”

19. Until We Meet Again  || MCU fandom (Bucky/Rhodey) [Complete, 3k+]

““Rhodey!” Wanda shouts when Rhodes falls hard with a thud on the ground.”

20.  Let It Hurt  || Elite fandom (Carla/Polo/Christian) [Complete, 1k+]

 “It takes Polo two weeks to hit rock bottom.”

I don’t see a pattern per-se but that’s a few OT3 stuff and then I wanna apologize for me almost single-handedly clouding the BuckyRhodey tag in Ao3 with my two mediocre bare hands but I’m also not sorry

i wanna tag @honestlyfrance, @myheroesrbands and anyone else who wants to do this! 🤗🤗

[rainhalydia]

5, 8, 20, 26 and 27 :D

Thanks, darling!

5. Do you have any poly ships?

Not currently, but I used to be really into Himawari x Watanuki x Doumeki and Kohane x Watanuki x Doumeki when I was into xxxholic, from CLAMP. I usually don’t write/read poly because in most fandom spaces the dynamics don’t do it for me. They’re too equal, if that makes sense. What I want from my fictional poly ships is for one of the people to be the main romantic factor for the other two, even if these two are also involved. But the other two also have to like each other or at least be friendly. Those two OT3 is really the only one who delivers in this aspect, and thus why I can get behind it. We’ll see if Qarl x Asha x Tris works in the future as well, @omgellendean.

8. Have you ever shipped yourself with a character?

Not that I recall? I won’t say no because I’ve started fandom pretty young, but I’ve never really been into reader x character stories or self-inserts. I enjoy it much more with a little distance.

20. Talk about a ship you feel alone in shipping.

Well, I wish more people would get into the Robb x Olyvar train with me, but I don’t blame people for not seeing it. What do we even know about Olyvar, really? Even Robb is not a main character.

One ship I can’t understand people not considering, though, is Dany x Tyrion. Sure they haven’t met yet, but the show gave us some content and Tyrion was in love! I just think they’d be great together.

26. Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic you’re more drawn to?

Okay, thinking about general patterns, not only OTPs... I love pining, the kind that doesn’t go away even after the pairing gets together, I want them to ache for each other even after all the love declarations in the world. Love gotta hurt. I generally like friends to lovers over all other configurations. Most of all, I want the ship to be made of true soulmates, like, they get each other like no one else in the world does, they’re each other’s safe place, they know each other on a deep, intimate level that leaves them more naked and vulnerable in front of each other than in front of anyone else. It can be a bit unhealthy too, like they can’t stop loving each other even if they wanted to :)

27. Is there a ship you’ve shipped for most of your life?

I guess... most of my fandoms are more dormant than dead, so I always feel a twingle when I come across old ships, but I’m not as into it as before. Still, considering my age and the time I got into the respective fandoms, I can say I’ve shipped  Aiolos x Shura from Knights of the Zodiac for most of my life. Sirius Black x Remus Lupin and Severus Snape x Remus Lupin as well.

[belphegor1982]

If I take everything I've written in One-Step, Two-Step, Waltz (my OT3 story), out of the 6 chapters I've completed so far, 4 end on my two ding dongs falling asleep in the same bed (including one time when it's 90% platonic - early days). A 5th ends on a "morning after" in which they wake up all tangled around each other. I literally just noticed the pattern.

And you know what? I'm fine with that ♡

[elcorhamletlive]

For the Meme for Shippers: 1, 2, 5, 12, 18, 20, 21, 26, 32 and 39 (thats a lot os questions im sorry haha)

omg HAHAHA thank you!!

01 - Talk about the first ship you ever had

That’s a bit hard to pick because I was honestly shipping stuff before I even understood what shipping was - like I remember being a literal child and watching Digimon 4 and being extremely upset when Izumi ended up with Takuya instead of Koji lol. So it’s hard figuring out what the first shop was.

I can say, though, that the first ship I was, like, consciously into, that I started reading/writing fic for and that got me into fandom was Ron/Hermione. It’s still a ship that means a lot to me today, and still, imo, one of the best straight canon pairings of any series, ever. It was super formative to me, it helped me make friends and develop my writing, and to this day I can see traces of R/Hr in the dynamics I enjoy. It’s the Ultimate Good Ship, to me.

2 - Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life.

Well, first one was Ron/Hermione, easy. Then… As I grew up I got into anime fandons and I fell in love with One Piece and specifically with the idea of Zoro/Robin - they were my favorite characters (especially Zoro, who remains on my Hall of All-Time Faves to this day) and they had this interesting tension that immediately sparked my interest. It was a small ship, but in the brazilian fandom I wrote A LOT for them, often along with a girl who was one of my closest fandom friends at the time. It was AWESOME, we used to talk about them for hours, and my writing also developed a lot. One Piece as a whole meant a lot to me at the time, and shipping Zorobin allowed me to channel all that love into creative energy. It was great.

Then time passed and I got into Glee (lol rio past me) and I was obsessed with Kurt Hummel as a character, so for a while I basically read every Kurt/Original Male Character fic I could get my hands on - the hiatus between s1 and S2, when all we knew about season 2 was that Kurt Would Get a Boyfriend, was probably my greatest time in the Glee fandom. Of course, everything went downhill when Kurt’s Actual Boyfriend was introduced and he turned out to be The Most Annoying Character In The History of Everything (to this day, Blaine remains on my Hall of Hated Characters). Then I was stuck in Glee fandom hell, and I read a lot of Kurtofsky, Kurt/Sam, even Puckurt sometimes. It was my way of surviving lol I also discovered Brittana at the time, and while I wouldn’t count as one of my biggest ships because I never Suffered for them, they were pretty formative in that they were my first ever canon gay ship. Plus, in the context of the terrible writing Glee always had, their chemistry really created something magical, especially in the beggining. Landslide still gives me chills, and Santana’s confession is still maybe one the most beautiful love confessions I’ve ever seen in television.

05 - Do you have any poly ships?

Nope. I’m a monogamist in every way lol Never got the hang of ot3s.

12 - Have you ever been disappointed when your ship finally got together?

I mean, everything about the development of Brittana sucked on the season following Santana’s confession but I can’t really say I was DISAPPOINTED because at this point I was stuck in the toxic position of hating everything that happened in the show, so I didn’t care anymore. Besides Brittana… I mean, most of my ships never got together lol The few who did, like R/Hr, lived to my expectations nicely. So I guess no.

18 - Talk about a moment which made you question an entire ship.

Ok so… During my Homestuck phase (yeah I had GOOD TASTE for fandons cnejjseiwiiewj fml) I was super into Gamzee/Tavros and… I mean, if you’ve read Homestuck you know Hussie pretty much discarded Gamzee as a tridimensional character post-Murderstuck, and Tavros’ role in the story was limited to his relationship with Vriska (who I hated with A PASSION). So I did have a lot of moments where I was like “why the hell do I still ship this”, because it was as if canon was constantly mocking me for even trying to take these characters seriously anymore (again, if you’ve read Homestuck, you know that’s not an exaggeration). Ultimately fanon contend was enough to keep me shipping it, though, until I just dropped the comic altogether.

20 - Talk about a ship you feel alone in shipping.

I don’t think there’s one. There are ships I wished there was more contend for (like Kallo/Gil from mea) but I don’t think I ever felt alone shipping something. I don’t ship many rarepairs.

21 - Is there a ship you just don’t get, but have nothing against?

Hmm Idk… Usually when I don’t have anything against a ship I can at least grasp why people ship it (St*cky, for example). If I really really DON’T GET IT, I’m probably gonna have some negative feelings about it (like St*rkqu*ll or W*nterIr*n). So, the answer is no, I guess.

26 - Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic you’re more drawn to?

Like I said, I can see traces of R/Hr in a lot of my other ships lol I enjoy Tension and Bickering and conflict that arrises from bad communication/poor handling of emotional issues. I like visual contrast a lot (it’s ridiculous, but the quickest way to turn me off a stony fic/art is Tony having blue eyes. It’s one of the reasons I’m not very drawn to 616 stony lol I just like smol Tony with brown eyes more. Like I said, it’s ridiculous). I also like when characters are opposites on the surface but actually share important/crucial similarities in essence.

Finally, I pretty much only ship stuff when I’m able to give a shit about both characters involved. I need to be able to care about both characters in some level, outside of their ship dynamic, so I tend to ship characters that have similar levels of development. Usually I have a preference (Steve over Tony, Tavros’ over Gamzee, Ron over Hermione, etc), but I need to like both characters to see them in equal footing. Otherwise it’s just not that appealing to me.

(I’m gonna make the fic recs in a separate post, ok? Bc this is already too long and also, bc I need to ask of which fandom you’d like. I mostly only read mcu stuff lately lol is that ok?)

39 - Is there a fictional relationship you'd want for yourself?

I guess in some level, I'd want a relationship like Ron and Hermione's, preferably without seven years of pining and misunderstandings lol But as a rule I don't necessarily look for relationships I'd want to ship - I just look for dynamics that touch me.

[eirstohter]

AtlA Ficlet: Three

This is really not what I wanted to be working on, but when the brain suddenly turns the OTP into an OT3, what are you gonna do?

It doesn't happen right away.

Izumi is nine, Lu Ten seven, and Kya finally sleeping through the night when Katara returns from one of her visits to Republic City. The Fire Lady coming home always brings a flurry of activity for both of them, but at the end of a long day Zuko and Katara at last find some time to talk alone as they go to bed.

“How’s Aang?” Zuko asks and Katara can’t hide a bit of a grin.

“Honestly? Kind of hot.”

Zuko nods gravely. “This summer really is the hottest we’ve had in years. I’ve been thinking—”

“No.” Katara waits until he meets her eyes and she has his full attention. “I mean he’s,” she wiggles her eyebrows and licks her lips, “hot.”

For a long moment Zuko simply stares at her as though he can’t make sense of what she’s saying. Then he shakes his head sharply.

“No. Katara, he’s a child.”

“He’s twenty-six.”

“He is tiny.”

“Taller than you. Remember the Equinox festival? You had to look up to talk to him.”

“I can hold him up with one arm!”

Katara is giggling now, both at Zuko’s incredulous expression and at the thought of what would happen if he tried that move today.

“That was thirteen years ago.”

“That can't be—”

He breaks off and Katara uses the opportunity to snuggle against his chest while he is lost in mental calculations. Suddenly he perks up. “That means we’ll be married ten years next spring!”

“I know. I already have a planning committee stressing out about it.”

She can almost hear the face he makes.

“I guess that means no chance for a quiet family celebration on the South Pole?”

“None at all.”

“Hmph.”

She starts tracing familiar patterns around the scar on his chest with her fingertips and feels his breathing shift in response. After three weeks without her husband it doesn't matter how tired she is. Right now she needs—

“How hot exactly?”

She blinks up at him.

“What?”

“Aang. Just how hot would you say he is? Just a little bit, or really really hot?”

Katara frowns as she considers the question.

“You know, I never thought I’d say this, but if he didn't have a girlfriend, and if I wasn't married to the sweetest, sexiest, most amazing man in the world? I would absolutely tap that.”

“Hm.” He pulls her up for a kiss, then rolls them over and starts nuzzling her neck. “Tell me more about this man you married. I think I like him.”

Katara giggles again, which turns into an almost-whine when his tongue finds that spot below her ear.

“Or maybe,” he continues in that playful purr that makes her shiver in anticipation, “tell me about the things you’d like to do to Aang.”

“Are you—mmh, yes—are you sure?”

He gives her earlobe a gentle bite.

“Don't pretend you haven't thought about it.”

He knows her so well and she loves him for it.

“I may have.”

“Naughty woman. Tell me everything.”

And she does. Or tries to, at least, until all thoughts of Aang flee from her mind and she is full of Zuko in every way.

Three months later Aang arrives just in time for his godson Lu Ten’s birthday celebration. Busy as always with the festivities, Katara barely gets a moment to rest her feet. She loves it, of course, loves the excitement of the children--her own as well as her many nieces and nephews by blood and by choice--loves the joy of seeing old and new friends and all the little tasks of making everyone comfortable.

Still, when at last she sits down to let Zuko braid her hair for the night, she closes her eyes and breathes a deep sigh of contentment. They keep quiet at first, as they do, giving each other some space to breathe and come back to themselves and be present in this time they have together. Today Zuko is the first to break the silence.

"You were right."

Katara smiles, eyes still closed.

"I know. About what?"

"Aang. He is hot."

It takes her a moment to recall their conversation of a few months ago, then she laughs out loud in surprise.

“Finally noticed that, didn't you?”

She meets his eyes in the mirror as he shakes his head with a bemused smile.

“When did that happen? He used to be this tiny, scrawny kid and suddenly he’s all made of muscles.”

“Very nice muscles. And also nice hands. Did you notice his hands?”

“Not as much as his voice. His voice, Katara.”

“I know. Can't you just imagine him telling you to get on your knees?”

“I can now. Did you hear the way he talked to those Gaoling delegates? He's really growing into a leader.”

Katara smiles at the mixture of incredulity, pride and admiration in his voice.

“Our little Avatar, all grown up.”

“Hm. I can't believe I didn't notice him becoming a man.”

It is not that hard to believe for her. With all their responsibilities to the world, to their nation, their children and their marriage, every day is full from sunrise to nightfall with barely a minute to breathe in between. And even though Katara loves the live she leads and would not change it for anything, sometimes she does find herself surprised when another year has slipped past already.

“We’ve been busy.”

“True…”

Before he can lose himself in his thoughts Katara tilts her head backwards until she faces him upside down. When he meets her eyes, she gives him a cheeky smile.

“Sooo…?”

“All right, fine.” He bends down to kiss the tip of her nose. “If he didn't have a boyfriend and if I wasn't married to the smartest, most beautiful and most fearsome woman in the world, I would absolutely tap that.”

“Hah. I knew it.”

“What? That my taste in men is as questionable as yours?”

“It can't be that bad. Just look at who I married.”

He doesn't reply but turns back to his work with a smile and a barely visible blush. Katara allows herself a moment of smug self-satisfaction—getting Zuko to accept her compliments and praise without deflecting or searching for hidden meanings took far longer than she expected, but it is one of her most cherished accomplishments.

“What did you think about his boyfriend?”

The question surprises her and she tries to recall the man Aang brought with him. An air nomad, of course, maybe a year or two younger than Aang. Handsome, friendly, and she realizes with a pang of guilt that she didn't even bother to remember his name.

“He seems nice. Very… smitten.”

“Full of hero worship, you mean.”

He is right, and there is no accusation in Zuko’s voice, but she still feels compelled to defend her friend.

“Aang seems really fond of him.”

“He always does.”

Which is also true, but still. They can both guess where this is going.

“Another four weeks, maybe?”

Zuko purses his lips as he considers her estimate.

“That would make it his longest relationship so far.”

“That's not true. There was that healer, remember? From the North Pole?They were together for almost four months.”

“You’re right, I remember. Didn't he spend most of that time in Omashu?”

There is nothing she can say to that, because it is true. Katara combs through her memory of Aang’s relationships, trying to find one that might qualify as more than a fling. Eventually she gives up with a sigh.

“Do you think he’ll ever settle down?”

“Aang?” Zuko meets her eyes in the mirror and frowns. “I don't know. I’m not sure he could, even if he wanted to.”

“I just want him to be happy.”

“I know.” He pauses his work to stroke her cheek with his thumb and Katara leans into the touch. “But maybe he has to find his own way to be happy. And someone who can be happy with him in his way.”

There is no admonition in his voice, just the gentle reminder that they've had this discussion before, more than once. With a quiet sigh Katara mentally repeats the words she has told herself so many times: You do not owe it to Aang to sacrifice your happiness for his. The best you can give him is to love him in your own way, even if that's not the way he used to want.

Behind her Zuko ties off her braid and steps back.

“Time for an early night?”

It’s what he always asks when he suspects she might not be in the mood for a more passionate conclusion to the evening, but today it only serves to shake Katara out of her wistful thoughts. She rises from her stool and raises her arms above her head, stretching out her whole body. In the mirror Zuko’s eyes follow the movement of her nightgown as it falls open and she smiles. Turns around and approaches him with swaying hips until she can place her hands on his chest.

“Actually,” she murmurs with a tilt of her head, “I was hoping this time you would tell me what you’d like to do with Aang.”

The hitch in his breathing and the faint flush creeping up on his cheeks tell her that Zuko enjoys this game as much as she does, but he shakes his head with a small self-conscious smile.

“I’d love to, if I knew what to tell you. You know the only time I ever—well.”

She knows that he avoids the topic for her sake, but after all these years the memory of Jet brings only a vague fondness. And a quiet amusement that she and Zuko made out with the same boy within a few months of each other.

“That's a pity.”

Katara sticks out her lower lip in a mock pout that earns her a soft chuckle. Strong hands reach for her hips and pull her flush against Zuko’s body, then he bends down to give her lip a gentle tug with his teeth.

“Believe me, my Lady, I am devastated over causing you such grave disappointment.” He is purring into her ear now and Katara feels her body melting against him. “But I will do my best to make it up to you.”

And he does, with the thorough and single-minded devotion that makes her forget everything else in the world. 

Or almost everything, because a little later, when their two bodies are moving like one to a rhythm of ‘yes’ and ‘there’ and ‘more’, when she is at the point so close to the brink where sometimes Katara herself is surprised at the words that come from her mouth, she pulls him close and whispers, “Do you want to watch me fuck Aang?”

The noise he makes drives her right over the edge, and Zuko follows less than two heartbeats later.

TBC, possibly, if anyone would like more?

(And yes, I know this isn't technically a ficlet, but it was really supposed to be a tiny little headcanon dump and I’m going to pretend that's what it is so I don't get suckered back into the Black Hole Of Long Fic And Despair)

[nightblink]

Blink Reads Oathbringer - Chapters 77-82

Some rather short chapters in this one, which leads me to believe that events are accelerating towards Shit Hitting The Fan very quickly, because things have been going far too well for the mission as a whole to continue that way for much longer.

Also, Shallan finally faces a truth.

Chapter Seventy-Seven – Stormshelter

….considering we're back to Kholinar chapters, the positioning of this new graphic, and what's happening in Kholinar, I'd say it's safe to assume that this Sja-Anat, Creator, Corrupter, The Taker of Secrets is the Unmade suffusing the core of the city. Well then. 'With one touch she corrupts.' uh. Not good, not good-

Oh, hey, we finally get a Truthwatcher's recording! They're…. shit, they're calling to attention the still-fighting 'parsh' and saying that something 'must be done about' them. That's- but how did you come up with the concept of enslaving them, of all things?!

Another everstorm. How many does this make now? I've lost count. Ooops.

Ayyyy, and he's meeting up with the rest of Team OT3! And for once remembers noticing how Shallan – or perhaps Veil – snuck glances at him. With OT3 glasses on, this is excellent material. Without…? Eeeeuuuugh. You can definitely see the psuedo-framework of a love triangle, but while Veil's eyeing Kaladin for his attractiveness (“brooding good looks”), Kaladin still has an idealized vision of Shallan in his head and hasn't gotten to the point of knowing her as a person where I'd be comfortable with them in a relationship.

Elhokar's gotten so much better. Even though I have a bad feeling that this will all turn south soon, I'm glad he's been doing so well recently.

I feel like between Kaladin's reports and the evidence shown with the loyalty of her men and the proof in the Wall Guard's defense, order, and discipline, Adolin's definitely considering offering to solidify Azure's position as highmarshal, even if he has to forcefully shut up those who'd complain about a woman not only fighting, but in command.

“You boys done comparing your swords?” Oh, Shallan's definitely thinking OT3 thoughts…

Hmmm. Kaladin describes some of the lighthearted banter between Shallan and Adolin as 'nauseating', and 'Kaladin liked them both… just not together.' Could be taken as romance-repulsion, but considering his own interactions with the both of them, it feels more like jealousy – though of their closeness/friendship or their romance is debatable (as well as for which one, which… more pairing fodder).

[squints] Huh. So, going with the visions, definitely nine Unmade… but do they predate Odium, and were changed by his influence, or are they, in essence, Splinters of his?

Oh, shit, two Unmade in Kholinar? UM. Ashertmarn being the other one, basically encouraging hedonism/The Revel, as opposed to the Corruptor, Secret-Taker.

See, the way Kaladin describes it, I feel like he and Shallan are growing into friends, if rather rockily since neither of them are actually any good at it? And Veil-Shallan is confusing her “goddamn he's hot, I'd tap that” feeling(s) with actual I-want-to-be-with-you attraction. It's not quite a love triangle, but I worry that it's going to cause serious complications nonetheless.

Shallan's adopted family isn't the same as yours is, Kal, let her be with her differences. Besides, in giving them purpose, and a different avenue to explore their lives, even those you knew like Gaz aren't the same as they were before.

Ooo, that's… I'm with Adolin on this one, you do not want to let the city fall. Not only would you lose the tactical advantage of the Oathgate, but all those people! The refugees, the Kholinari! For once, Kaladin is thinking of the practicalities; Adolin is considering his home and people.

….that cremling is an important tidbit, isn't it. I'm wondering if the 'bug' means they were bugged.

Ahhh, and here's Shallan thinking about her personalities basically as people separate from herself, once again (which. They're not, they're part of you, even if you can't bring yourself to realize that – the part that wants to be a hero, the part the thinks Adolin too predictable, the part that wants to live unconstrained by the responsibility and structure that you carry with you. It's still a facet of you, even if you've given it a face so you don't have to 'deal' with things yourself.)

tbh, I want to see the Impossible Falls. Sanderson, please tell me there's a sketch of that later in this book.

(Your father's son, in more ways than build and blood – and part of that is the Blackthorn, even with how terrible he was. The sun scorches even as it provides.)

...honestly, if he saw the picture of Kaladin on the page after, with Veil's touch of lust in its strokes, he'd probably just agree.

[hums very happily at Adolin confirming Shallan's skill as learned effort and worthy of praise, noting her hard work] She needs compliments like that – things that confirm that her skill is beyond just the innate, but attributable to practice and the dedication that she's put into it. It'll help her self-confidence and feelings of worth in herself, Shallan, as well as reinforcing a good viewpoint, especially so when he speaks of Radiants – her – creating art once the war is over.

I'm so glad that Evi taught her sons that it was all right to touch, to hug and to have physical contact – Adolin himself seems a very tactile type, even beyond just my headcanon, and can you imagine if he was deprived of touch? He's probably not granted it much beyond his immediate family anyway, which makes me doubly glad that Shallan is accepting of this particular idiosyncrasy of his.

Oh, Shallan. Those abysmal feelings of self-worth are only making your personality problems worse, and infecting your relationships besides…

Ooooo, he's noticed, even though she doesn't realize it. “Who do you become?” indeed.

“Thank you for being you, Adolin.” '“Everyone else was taken already,” he mumbled.' E x c u s e  me while I go scream about this man and his own tendency to change himself to fit the situation and how his own feelings of self-worth likely suffered though all the rejections of him.

….I was going to be good about this and then she described him as being like a sunrise which is literally part of my character tag for him on l-c and-

And we're back to the slipping of personality. Hello again, Veil-Shallan. Gotta agree with you on that one, sometimes the storm and rain are preferable – both literally and metaphorically.

Huh. This openness and vulnerability…….. huh.

“Maybe.”

Maybe.

Well, I have to say that I agree with Vathah here. Better cremation than being soulcast into a statue. That's just creepy. I wonder how that particular tradition started, though, and if it's only practiced in Vorin lands, or all across Roshar?

!!!! VATHAH'S A SQUIRE. VATHAH'S A LIGHTWEAVER SQUIRE. AWESOME.

Chapter Seventy-Eight – The Revel

Another Truthwatcher recording, and the Radiants can somehow deprive the Fused/Parshmen of that 'Voidlight' energy? How? Where does it come from? Does it act in the same way as stormlight, or does it differ from stormlight in about the same measure as, say, hemalurgy does from allomancy? I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS, BRANDOSANDO-

'Shallan would be easier [to abandon].' a) Veil is ruthless, but we already knew this. b) This is a reflection of Shallan's thinking, and I worry that she's subconsciously – or even consciously – wanting to subsume her own personality with the ones she's given life to, since she thinks they're more 'worthy' than her true, broken core self.

The windspren are corrupted here too. Syl might not be able to even masquerade as a normal windspren if she'd be setting herself apart by sheer virtue of non-corruption. Again with the smell of mold, though, this time in the wake of the Everstorm as opposed to association with Parshendi or chasmfiend blood! Hmmm, not there's another question – is it just greatshells that have a mold-smell to their blood, or is it all of the standard Rosharan fauna, because that could be an indication of whether they're bonded to spren or not.

Kaladin notes that Azure looks 'very Alethi', but I still have that niggling suspicion of Nalthian in the back of my head, and we know that not only are Returned able to use Stormlight as sustenance in place of Breaths, but they'd be nearly the only non-Rosharan Cosmerans generally taller than even the Alethi...

The people under the influence of the- Ashertmarn, the Reveler, the incarnation of hedonism and gluttony – are definitely under the influence from what we can tell, there's definitely the feeling that these people wouldn't be acting this way if they were 'themselves'. They're drunk on it; most likely, this Unmade's touch is what was affecting Aesudan.

'They moved like fish in a school' – for all that Veil disdains her true, core personality, Shallan's way of viewing the world and her method of description still slips through, informing one as to who the base is that the mask is built upon.

“We were only doing what she asked.” WHO. The queen, the Unmade?

….so. Azure refers to her sword as a her, and doesn't deny anything when Kaladin calls the sword a Shardblade. Points granted towards her being a Radiant.

“I flew.” [SNORTS] It's not as if the truth sounds like anything other than a joke to these people who don't know of Randiants, so why not?

“They're Alethi” - With the way she said that, I'm counting it as points against her being Alethi, even if it turns out she is and just spent time amongst Westerners like Kaladin is thinking, but I'm especially suspicious when she asks her question.

...well, shit. And here we were maybe just about to get some answers. These POVs are bouncing back and forth really quickly, and that's not striking any confidence that this is going to turn out well…

...well. That inner ring is just delightfully creepifying. Thank the Heralds for Pattern, as the Unmade's influence was threatening to break through even Shallan's cracked-yet-fortified mentality (though now we have more confirmation that Veil is there in an attempt to avoid truly facing what she's done).

!!! Voices! Voices that aren't the Unmade speaking to her, and her shadow pointing the wrong way – some sort of influence from Shadesmar! She's lucky that whatever-it-was warned her too. The Mindnight Mother was one thing, trapped beneath Urithiru and just really starting to spread its tendrils, but this… that has been accumulating power, and if she'd sprung the trap they'd all be doomed.

Chapter 79 – Echoes of Thunder

Okay, so the Truthwatcher proposes that the Unmade can be captured, given a 'special prison' and 'Melishi'. But. wtf is Melishi?

Ooop, there's another colour saying, and Azure used it instinctively, like we've seen Zahel/Vasher doing and confusing the hell out of all the Alethi around him. Yeaaaah, I'm pretty convinced that you're a Nalthian of some kind or another.

“Who are you?” That's a long story and perhaps not appropriate when the Voidbringers are attacking, you two!

'his own men' Because of course he's already adopted them and been thinking of them as 'his men', even when he's not their commanding officer – though he yells out orders as if he's the Highmarshal or Prince himself.

EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH. It's going to blow his cover like nothing else, but come on – try to Lash a Windrunner, will you?

….or, amazingly, managing to use only his senses – that have adjusted to flight – and not any Lashings that would alert the Voidspren.

Oh but I am living for these midair clashes

Oooooo, so, for the Fused/Voidbringers, it's not the spine that an opponent should aim for, but whatever that 'brittle' thing is around the area of it's heart – a gemheart, most likely. Mmm, but while Kal managed to avoid the attention of the Voidspren, there's not way that his stunt (much less surviving said stunt) managed to go unnoticed.

….ooop. Looks like you're standing out as the first to kill a Voidbringer on the Wall, Kal, even before Azure. HEHEHEHEHEHEH. And of course he slips back into command-mode like he's back with the Kholin army, rather than amongst a ragtag group defending Kholinar.

[squints at Azure] ….that cloak… did you try to Awaken it.

AND ANOTHER COLOUR SAYING. YOU'RE A NALTHIAN, I SWEAR. You're just really good at outwardly looking like an Alethi, enough to convince all the Wall Guard.

HEH. At least with that proclamation of authority, she's now decided to listen to him – maybe even trust him.

We shall see.

Chapter Eighty – Oblivious

...that title isn't referring to Kaladin's very-Demi perception, is it? [ba-dum, tiss]

[blinks furiously while attempting to figure this out] So. This Ba-Ado-Mishram must be one of the Unmade, given the last input from the Truthwatchers and the obvious intent now to capture her, since she'd the one prolonging the conflict and providing the source of power to the Parsh(men?(endi?). But that 'she provides Voidlight' - !!!!! that doesn't come from Odium himself, but one of the Unmade?

“After fleeing the Oathgate platform, she'd met up with Vathah” - you mean, after he dragged your broken body away from the base of the platform. Jfc, but Radiants can tank some serious damage. And '[g]oing back home would have left her too much time to think' – too much time to be Shallan, thinking of the Unmade and whatever-it-was that addressed you from Shadesmar and even perhaps needing to face who you really are underneath all the masks, mmm?

...methinks your informant/contact is compromised, Veil-Shallan.

[winces] Yeah. Not in the way I'd thought, with the cult, but a more “normal”, yet no less deadly influence. Of course there would be gangs that prey on the weak and manipulate the desperate.

Oh ho ho. So Veil has a limit – she wanted to be the Hero, but when that dream/mirage collapsed, so did she, leaving Shallan – the core, the Real One – without mask to divert away the pain of a death she's going to mark herself responsible for. Veil's the 'streetwise one', the 'darkeyes', the one who tries to be the folk hero, but at her core she's still Shallan – and Shallan only has her mind and imagination with which Veil draws herself; there's not real experience or reality behind the fiction of 'Veil'. Shallan keeps her Veil-mask's speech patterns when she talks to Muri, too, reinforcing the image of Veil as a mask, no matter how strong the created-personality is.

Oh, Shallan. The trauma never stops for you, does it? You tried to paint yourself as a hero, but it backfired in our face spectacularly.

Chapter Eighty-One – Ithi and Her Sister

...have we heard about an Ithi before. Who is this, what is it referencing-

Truthwatcher recording again – I think this makes mare recordings from them than from any other order thus far. As to the 'unintended side effects'… that'd be dullform, I'd bet a handful of spheres on it.

[hums and smiles] A regal name indeed.

Oh Beard. [cackles] Gotta keep up with the story, even if the details shift a little...

!!! The walls are covered in a metal that Kaladin doesn't recognise? Is it aluminum? I bet it's aluminum, isn't it. On top of that, they were brought by Wit? Yeaaaaaah, I see what you're doing here, Sanderson.

But as an aside, Azure has had dealings with Hoid before, and didn't mention what she called him.

She also doesn't pause in jaw-dropped wonder like everyone else when he mentions the abilities of the Oathgate. Mmm, you know and definitely are more than you're letting on, Azure.

Chapter Eighty-Two – The Girl Who Stood Up

Sorry to burst your bubble, last Truthwatcher recording, but… that's not gonna happen. This war will last a while yet.

Shallan's fragile shield is cracking, breaking, leaving her with nowhere to hide – and finally admitting to herself that the masks are a lie to pretend even to herself. It almost seems a harder truth for her to admit than the fact that she killed her mother.

Wit. Thank god you're here, Shallan needs someone with her right now, some point of contact, no matter how small, or she's just going to curl up and wither away.

“I haven't lived her life.” “No. You've lived a harsher one, haven't you?” Another truth that she'd prefer to run from, as that life was suffering, that life broke her – she'd much rather be an assured, streetwise con, but that's not who she is. No matter how much she tries to Be The Mask, Veil isn't truly real – a part of her, yes, but not the separate, competent person she'd rather be, if only so she wouldn't hurt so much.

Oh no, no, don't you start suppressing this again-!

Oooo, more details about the story. Wit knows an older version, less changed by time, doesn't he; or perhaps even the events that became the story in the first place?

'“Skip?” Wit said, aghast. “Skip part of a story?”' Thank the heavens for Hoid injecting some small measure of levity into this moment. Shallan needs as much light as she can get, even while facing the darkness she tries to repress.

Oh. Oh, Hoid. From freezing in shock at her hug in the warcamps, and now to this.

[hums] Not quite Prometheus or Pandora's box, but there's a little bit of those feelings – the bringer of light, of terrible storms but of a brightness that changed the world forever.

“I see only one woman here, and it's the one who is standing up. Shallan, that has always been you. You just have to admit it. Allow it. … It's all right to hurt.” [breathes out low] W i t. Oh, Shallan, he's right, and finally you're hearing it aloud. You can live, you are worth protecting, even if you can't see it right now yourself. Perhaps not soon, but now that you've heard it… perhaps you can work on accepting it.

Adolin. You stayed up all night with worry for her, didn't you? And even that hug – reassuring yourself and her, you're making yourself The Stable One once more, but you can tell there's something wrong, can't you? So once again, you go for the levity rather than pushing her to explain.

Hah – and then the real levity approaches, because honestly, Kaladin at the head of yet another group of people that he's managed to adopt? Priceless.

[stargazerdaisy]

Detective ot3. Three year old Emily cuts her own hair. How does rest of the family react?

This spiraled out of control, which seems to be the story of my headcanon life. Enjoy the 2500 words of barely veiled Daisy reactions.   

A shriek echoed through the house, startling Lincoln and Ward who were in the garage, working on assembling a new dresser for the kids.  Lincoln threw a confused look at Ward, whose own uncertainty was reflected back.  The screech had clearly come from Skye, but it wasn’t a sound they had heard before, let alone one that they could understand.  It wasn’t quite painful, not excited, but had a note of terror in it.  Just as they were about to get up and go investigate, the door to the kitchen opened and Skye walked inside, shutting it firmly behind her.  There was a pair of scissors in her hands, which were shaking, and she leaned against the wall with her eyes resolutely closed.

“Will one of you please go deal with the children?” she asked, in a tightly controlled voice.  “There is a mess in the bathroom and if I deal with it, it’s going to be bad for everyone.  Please,” she pleaded.

Utter confusion weighed even heavier now.  Skye never called the twins “the children” and she was never afraid of messes either.  Clearly the kids weren’t injured or sick, she’d have been attending to them.  If it had been a typical toddler mess, she’d either be cleaning it up already or have yelled for help.  Something was really not right, because everything about her posture and expression was communicating that she was incredibly angry, yet that was not something they ever saw in relation to the kids.  

Ward’s eyebrows raised with concern over Skye’s mood.  “What is going on?” he asked slowly, as if trying not to spook her.

“Just- go,” she breathed out.  

“I’ve got it,” Lincoln replied.  He looked at Ward once more, with the unspoken question in his eyes.  Ward nodded in response, and Lincoln brushed a comforting hand on Skye’s arm as he exited the garage.

Coming into the house, he heard the typical giggles from the three year olds.  Nothing was quite lining up with Skye’s reaction.  “Hey guys,” he said, walking into the yellow and blue bathroom that was the twins’.  “What have you been up to?”

“Look!” Emily said proudly.  “I made us beautiful!”

Suddenly, things clicked into place.  On the floor, there were piles of soft, downy blonde hair and bigger piles of dark brown, fluffy curls.  Strands of both colors, of varying lengths, also decorated the counter, the bathtub, the toilet, and the clothes of both Emily and Ryan.  The hairs all over the room matched up with the missing chunks from the twins’ locks.

Emily had not only cut her own hair, quite drastically it appeared, but also her brother’s.  

“Well, look at that,” Lincoln commented, trying to smother a smile.

“Do you like it?” Emily asked.  “I don’t think Mama did.”

I’ll bet she didn’t, thought Lincoln.  “What gave you the idea for this?”

“I wanted to make us pretty,” Emily answered.  

“I see,” Lincoln said.  Seeing the disaster that was now his daughter’s hair, Lincoln understood why Skye was currently hiding in the garage.  Emily’s long, thick, dark hair was a source of pride for Skye.  It was partly something that was sheer vanity for her - Skye hadn’t been allowed to have long hair as a child, it was too much for the nuns to deal with, so it was always short.  She’d dreamed of having long hair for years and once she finally got old enough to care for it herself, she’d had it long ever since.  But it was also a special thing between mother and daughter.  Skye and Emily would spend time together every day, if possible, picking out the perfect hairstyle and accessories to match the outfit and activities.  They would look at pictures online and find tutorials for elaborate braids and ponytails.  It was something that was only theirs, and in a house with so many people, that was rare.  Skye loved Emily’s long hair and all that went into it, so it was no wonder Skye was so upset.

But it was hilarious to Lincoln.  It was just hair, it would grow back easily, and it was a funny story to tell.  It’s such a three year old thing to do; trying to be a grown up without having any clue about how to do it or even that they were out of their depth.  The kids were so proud of their work and there wasn’t any lasting damage.  No one was hurt and hair would grow back- it wasn’t even that much of a mess to clean up.  They would take pictures of this and laugh about it when they told their friends.  So while he knew it was important to Skye, he couldn’t actually bring himself to feel upset about it.

“What do you say we get this cleaned up before Mommy comes back in?  We don’t want hair all over the floor, do we?” he suggested.

“I’ll get the broom!” Ryan yelled, running out the door.  Sweeping was one of his favorite things to do.  

Emily fixed her eyes on her dad and gave him a look that he was very familiar with, but it always surprised him a little coming from the little girl, when he was used to seeing it on Ward.  “Is Mama mad?” she whispered.  

“Why do you ask?”

“She didn’t say she liked it.”

It struck him once again just how observant Emily was.  It was easy to forget how much she noticed, because Ryan was often the one who acted more.  He was the one to respond to other people’s moods and try to help them feel better.  But just because Emily didn’t act on it as much, didn’t mean she didn’t notice patterns and behavior, what was normal and what wasn’t.  And her mom not responding to a work of art Emily or Ryan had created definitely wasn’t normal.  “I think Mama needs a couple minutes to get used to it,” he told her.  “Plus,” he added as Ryan came back in, toting the broom behind him, “are you two allowed to use scissors without asking?”

Two sets of eyes immediately locked onto the floor.  “No….” they said in unison.  

“Was that a good choice or a bad choice?” he asked, putting on the dad voice.

“A bad choice,” they answered.

“That’s the problem here,” he explained.  “We have those rules so we can keep you safe and help you learn.”

“But we’re fine!” Ryan said.

“Sure, you didn’t get hurt.  But cutting hair isn’t something kids are supposed to be doing either.  Did you know people go to school to learn how to cut hair?”

“They do?”  The twins were both shocked by this.

“Yep,” he confirmed.  “There’s a lot that goes into cutting hair to make it look as good as it does.  Have you guys learned how to cut hair at preschool?”

They both shook their heads no.

“Then maybe next time we leave the haircutting up to the people who know how to do it, okay?  Just like Mama knows how to take care of sick people and me and Papa are the ones who find the bad guys.”

“I want to cut hair when I’m big!” Ryan shouted.  

“That’s a great plan,” Lincoln said smiling.  “But no more cutting hair until you’ve been taught, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” Ryan agreed.

“Now, let’s clean this all up and then we’ll talk to Mama and Papa about your hair a little more.”

Meanwhile, back in the garage, Skye still hadn’t spoken.

“Skye?” Ward asked cautiously, taking a step towards her.  

She held up her hand to stop him, still refusing to open her eyes and look at him.  After a moment, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes, looking straight across the garage.  Before he knew what was happening, she flung the scissors, hard, at the trash can, resulting in crash that made him jump.  

He looked back at her with askance and watched as she sank to floor, her back still against the wall and her forehead leaning against her knees.  Her frame relaxed as most of the tension flowed out of her, so he took the opportunity to sit down next to her and put an arm over her shoulder.  Tucked against his chest, she just sat and breathed for a couple minutes before speaking.

“I know they’re kids.  I know this is normal preschooler behavior.  I know it will grow back,” she said quietly, almost to herself.  “But it looks just awful!” she wailed.  

“What looks awful?” he asked gently.

“Their hair!” she cried.  

“Their hair?” He was trying to catch up and had almost pieced it together when she replied.

“They cut their hair!  Well, I think Emily cut both, maybe.  Maybe Ryan helped.  I’m not sure.  But either way, their hair is ruined and it’s all over the bathroom and how am I ever going to take them into public again?!”

“Ahhhhh,” he said.

“Ahhh?  That’s all you have to say?” she asked incredulously.

“What would you like me to say?” he replied.

“That it’s horrible?  That you can’t believe they did it?  That you get why I’m so mad?”

“Skye,” he said calmly.  “It’s not horrible.  You and I both know what ‘horrible’ is.  But I won’t say it’s a good thing.  What if they had cut themselves?  They’re not supposed to be playing with scissors.  It could have been bad.”

“So now it’s my fault for letting them play with scissors?!  I didn’t exactly hand them to the kids and said, ‘Go to town!’” she shrieked, pulling away from him in her anger.  “They must have grabbed them when I was putting away laundry in our room.  I didn’t leave them alone for long!”

“I’m not blaming you at all!” he defended himself.  “Trust me, me of all people knows how quickly they can slip away and get a hold of something they shouldn’t.  Remember the paint?”

The corner of Skye’s mouth quirked slightly remembering the time she and Lincoln came home to find Ward frantic over the two year old twins covered in blue paint.  They had taken advantage of his focus on making dinner and found the finger paint, applying it liberally to more than just their fingers.  

“But that wasn’t permanent,” she sighed.  “I can’t just wash their hair and have it magically fixed.”

“No, but hair does grow, remember?”  He nudged her slightly, smiling encouragingly.

“Not very fast,” she grumbled.

“It will be okay,” he said.  “But in the meantime, do you want to hide out here for a little bit longer and just be upset?”

“Yeah,” she agreed.  “I can’t go in right now or I’ll probably yell and get scary.  And I don’t want them to see that.”

“Okay then,” he said, pulling her back against him.  “We’ll stay out here.  You know, I think we might have some extra ice cream in the freezer in here.”

This time a true giggle escaped her.  

“Do I take that as a sign I should go find it?” he asked.

“Maybe in a minute.  Right now, just stay here.”  She burrowed against him a little more and in response he tightened his arm around her.

Twenty minutes (and one fudgesicle - shhhh, don’t tell the kids) later, Skye was feeling calm enough to go in and assess the damage.  Ryan’s hair actually wasn’t too bad.  There was one spot on the top of his head that was snipped close to the scalp, but he was needing a cut anyway, and it would mostly be covered up by the rest of his hair.  The jagged spots around his hairline would be easy to clean up.  It may end up a little shorter than he usually had it, but at least it would be fairly uniform.

Emily’s hair was a different story.  There were so many different lengths, in wildly different places, that there was no real way to blend it into a style and still retain the bulk of the length.  It was going to have to go short.  Skye cried over it that night, while Ward patted her back.  Lincoln tried to lighten the mood and tell both Emily and Skye all the great parts of having shorter hair, but after the fourth glare from Skye, he knocked it off.  Skye texted pictures to Kara, lamenting the damage done.  Kara sympathized nicely and assured Skye that kids’ hair grows fast and it would be long again before they knew it.  She also suggested a stylist to take Emily to, someone who had worked miracles for Kara before after a botched cut.  That was actually a weight off Skye’s mind, because she didn’t want to make it worse.  But she still couldn’t bring herself to take Emily herself.  

The dads promised to take the kids to get fixed up.  Lincoln took Ryan to the barber shop with him, since he needed a trim too.  Ryan loved getting to sit in the big chair that went up and down and the clippers tickled his neck, making him giggle.  Ward brought Emily to the salon and explained what Skye wanted.  The little girl preened when she got the fancy cape and a special throne (booster) to sit on.  There were a couple moments when her eyes got really big, seeing just how much hair was falling down.  She had been excited to get a haircut (having only had trims previously), but suddenly she realized that this was going to be a big change.  A few snips later, her excitement was restored and the stylist had to remind her to sit still.  When Ward and Emily walked in the door, Skye held her breath for a moment.  She inspected the cut, straight on, from each side, from the back, in a full circle, then exhaled and scooped Emily right up.

“You look adorable!” Skye crooned.  “Cutest little girl I’ve ever seen!”

Emily giggled as Skye planted kisses all over her cheeks.  

“What about meeeeeeee?!” cried Ryan, clambering at her knees.  

Skye picked him up as well.  “You too!  Cutest little boy to ever exist!”

The twins both glowed at Skye’s praise.  This was the Mama they were accustomed to, the ever-affectionate, happy, smiling mom.  

“But promise me something, you two,” Skye said to them.  “Next time you want your hair cut, come ask us first?”

The twins nodded solemnly (they had heard this particular lecture/plea several times over the previous few days).  

“I promise, Mama,” Ryan said.

“Me too,” Emily agreed.

“Good,” Skye responded.  “Now who wants to go find Daddy and tell him it’s time to make dinner?”

“Me! Me! Me!!!” they screeched.  

Laughing, Skye put them down and watched them tear out of the room to go find Lincoln.  

“So I’m not fired?” Ward asked from behind her.

She turned and gave him a soft smile.  “No, not yet,” she confirmed, wrapping her arms around his waist.  “You were right, it turned out cute.  And it will grow, I know that.  I just want to happen faster.”

He chuckled and hugged her back.  “I guess we just need to make sure to hide the scissors for the next few years?”

“For the next 20, at least.”

[merigreenleaf]

Short Story: “Change of Choice”

(When I saw the prompts "4 people are shown where the made the biggest decision of their lives and what would happen if they had chosen differently" and "Your OC has the chance to go back in time and change something in their past. Do they take it?" a story immediately started brewing in the back of my head. It’s a nice mix of silly and sweet and was a lot of fun to write! I love my OT3. You can find the masterpost with links to read all of the short stories in this series here.)

————————————— 

“What exactly do you mean by ‘can you see a different me?’ Did you do some of your weird illusion weaving again?” Blythe squinted as she looked Adair over. “You don’t look any different. Maybe a few extra paint stains since this morning. Or is that pie filling?”

Adair scooped up some of the questionable splotch with his finger and put it in his mouth. Belatedly he realized this could be a bad move, but to his relief it wasn’t paint. “Jelly.”

Blythe covered her face with her hand. “Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer. So what was your question about?”

Adair wiped his hand on his shirt, adding more stain to a piece of clothing already overdue for the trash bin, and found he couldn’t meet her gaze. He knew his request was going to sound foolish because Blythe rarely cared what other people thought. He usually didn’t either. Just about this and only because… he looked over at Etri who was too engrossed by the book in his hands to pay any attention to the conversation going on not five feet away. Etri was the one the horrible words were usually directed towards. Adair didn’t really care when someone said he was a failure as an Artisan; he’d heard it for most of his life. He was nontraditional and he’d ended up with nontraditional muses. The other Artisans didn’t approve of this. Blythe and Etri were carnival performers and to top it off, both were Adair’s sentinel. There was no rule saying an artist couldn’t have two bodyguards as their spouses, but it was all about tradition. Two artists were bound to one bodyguard. That was how it was done. That was how it had always been done.

So the other Artisans- and more than a few sentinels who were insulted by carnies having the same status they did- didn’t hide their disapproval. Etri, who was unusually tall, pale, and foreign, got the brunt of this. Blythe, as a local who trained as an ordinary guard before becoming a performer and healer, at least looked the part. She was also likely to out-snide anyone who tried to sass her. Etri, on the other hand, never said much. He didn’t have to. Adair could sense Etri’s anger and frustration through their link. So could Blythe, which is likely why she had so little patience for rude comments. Now that Adair thought about it, her knee-jerk response to Etri feeling hurt probably didn’t help matters. 

All this was the reason for the request Adair wanted to make of Blythe. He was pretty sure he’d made the right choice. His pair of sentinels felt right, inside his head or his heart or wherever it was his weaving linked to them. Still, a part of him couldn’t help fearing that maybe the naysayers were right. If he’d chosen tradition instead of his own path, would he have ended up with “normal” muses? If his choice had been different, would the chosen be changed?

Adair’s mind made up, he looked into Blythe’s dark, worried eyes. “You learned how to read memories and predict actions, right? Can you tell me what would have happened if I did something different? If I was something different?”

Blythe held out her hand and brushed Adair’s forehead with her thumb.“I can try. If I do this, will you promise to not taste-test paint in the future?”

Adair fully trusted Blythe inside his head and so let his eyes close. “I only did that because I thought it was-”

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

Adair’s ears picked up the grating sound of Feren’s voice. Even the overpowering music and laughter of yet another party couldn’t mask a sound he had heard almost every day for the past ten years. Feren reached him before Adair could decide between ducking under the nearest table or making a beeline for the kitchen. He did inch closer to the table just in case. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. There’s someone I want you to meet.” 

Adair didn’t budge when Feren held out his hand. “It’s another of your Protectorate friends, right? Can’t we do this later? I’m really not feeling up to it.” 

Adair coughed to try to make this sound truthful, but knew before Feren let out a too-dramatic sigh that it wasn’t going to work. He found ways to avoid this often enough that now Feren didn’t believe any of his excuses. Ever since Feren gave up his original role as Adair’s sentinel-intended from fear of being inadequate as a bodyguard, it had become a nearly daily goal to set Adair up with another one. While Adair appreciated his concern because an artist did need a sentinel, Feren had far different taste than Adair. Every single one was bossy or crude or lacking in the brains department. Sometimes all three at once. Usually all three. Could Adair help it if he wanted a sentinel who could hold an actual conversation? 

Feren was not to be deterred. He tucked a loose strand of Adair’s hair back into the hated style- Adair pondered briefly what Feren would do if he hacked it all off like he wanted to- and brushed a few crumbs off the front of Adair’s silken dress robe. He made a disapproving clicking sound with his tongue. “You’re never going to make a good first impression. I swear you do this on purpose.” 

Adair bit back a retort about not wanting to impress anyone Feren introduced to him. If he argued, Feren would make a scene about how he should act like a proper Artisan. The last thing Adair wanted was all those disproving stares directed his way again. Directed at Feren’s outburst would have made sense. Instead it was at the fact that Adair was so flawed he needed a scolding in the middle of a crowded room. 

With his reluctance remaining unvoiced this time, he allowed Feren to take his hand. 

His silent prayers of escape were answered when an artist he didn’t know stopped Feren to ask him a question Adair didn’t bother to hear. He took this distraction as the lucky break it was and headed for the staircase at the back of the house. Adair plopped down at the top of the stairs- not caring about the wrinkles it would make in the draping fabric he wore or the anxiety caused by being up high- and propped his head on his knees. Hidden behind the railing he would be able to see if Feren approached again while hopefully remaining unseen, which made this the best location even if it did make Adair’s insides twist from the elevation. He wished he had brought his sketchbook despite Feren’s assumption that it would be rude to be so distracted. Adair’s protest that this was an Artisan party and others likely had brought their tools with them had been disregarded. Adair’s protests were usually disregarded. 

As he traced his fingertip over the intricate floral pattern carved into the banister, he could feel the sour taste of regret begin to ferment into resentment. He never should have chosen to stay with Feren. He could have been somewhere, anywhere else right now. 

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

Blythe leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. Unaware of her boredom, her roommate talked on and on with a cluster of other Protectorates. Occasionally her friend tried to draw Blythe into the conversation, but Blythe had nothing to add. She had been away from soldier gossip for too long. She had no idea who they were talking about or what “whip-flopping” even meant. Blythe got the feeling she’d only been invited along because her roommate felt sorry for her. 

When Blythe overheard the word “carny” and saw a few heads turn to look curiously in her direction, she pushed herself away from the wall. She didn’t want to talk about this. There were always two reactions when people learned she had worked as a carnival performer for two years: curiosity and disdain. Curiosity led to far too many questions about her past that she didn’t want to answer and disdain meant she wasn’t seen as a “real” Protectorate because she’d been forced away for a few years. Sometimes she wondered if it would have been better if she’d stayed with the carnival troupe instead of returning to her original career path. 

Deep in these thoughts, she headed in the direction she hoped the nearest set of stairs were located. Artisan houses were built with plenty of floors, display cabinets, and windows. What they weren’t built with was any common sense. A staircase in a house like this couldn’t be directly next to the one leading to the next floor down. No, that would be too logical, too mundane. Instead the one down to the next floor would be across the house in the library or the back of the kitchen. It would probably be simpler to knot together a couple of tablecloths and use the makeshift ladder to climb out a window. 

She smiled for the first time this evening when she spotted a staircase that did in fact go down. Another few of these and she could be out of here- assuming she hadn’t entered one of the artists’ paintings and was heading sideways. She stepped around the person sitting hunched over on the top stair, then stopped when she noticed the glare he aimed at nothing in particular. He was the first person besides herself who looked like he didn’t want to be here. “Hey, you okay?” 

It took a moment for the boy to realize she was talking to him. When he saw her he shrugged. This made his collar start to slide down his shoulder and he yanked at his sleeve to put the fabric back in place. Artisans dressed the way they built their homes: too many layers, too many colors, and a style that made you wonder how the whole thing didn’t come apart. As it was, a section of his hair had fallen out of its twist and hung down to the floor. She avoided this as she sat down. 

He didn’t seem to mind and leaned his back against a baluster to give her more room so she didn’t have to sit in the way of staircase-traffic. “Yeah. Let’s just say this is the last place I want to be right now.” 

Blythe chuckled. “Tell me about it. You got dragged here, too?” 

He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah. Third party this week. I’m so sick of parties.” 

“I was looking for the exit a second ago. Why don’t you come with me and we can both leave, assuming we can find the dang thing.” 

Blythe meant this as a joke, but he frowned and gestured in a downward direction. “My muse-intended would never let me hear the end of it if I left. Creators forbid there’s something I want to do...” 

It sounded as though he wanted to say more. Instead he trailed off and lowered his chin down on his knees. 

“Then how about we poke around the place instead? It has to be better than sitting here all night and your intended can’t complain if you’re still in the house, right?” 

“I guess not...” 

“Good. Then it’s settled.” Blythe climbed to her feet and held out her hand. “I’m Blythe and I’ll be your tour guide tonight.” 

He let her pull him upright then released her hand when his outer coat began to slide off his shoulder. After a mumbled curse and some adjusting, he said, “I’m Adair. So wait, you’ve been here before?” 

Blythe grinned at him. “Nope. Have you?” 

For the first time Adair smiled. She thought he had a nice smile and had a feeling he didn’t make that expression often. She decided that she’d make it her goal tonight to make him smile as often as possible. 

“Nope,” he replied. “This will be an interesting tour if neither of us know where we’re going.” 

“Interesting is what I strive for,” she replied with a wink. “Now let’s see what’s that direction. I predict a bathroom, another art studio, and a room with nothing but a collection of decorative wooden spoons.” 

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

Spoons. Etri had broken into more than a few homes and this was the first time seeing a room full of eating utensils. His employer had specified a spoon from a particular set and while that instruction sounded easy enough when assuming no sane individual owned more than maybe a dozen spoons, Etri was now at a loss as to which spoon. The one he was tasked to steal was imbued with weaving which would have been helpful if he had been given any way to test this. 

He reached out to take the nearest one from the where it hung on a rack with eight other nearly identical ones. It felt like a wooden spoon. In the hope it would play a song or light up, he turned it around in his hand. It remained spoon-like. Perfect for eating soup, not so perfect for determining its status as mundane or magic. Finding a needle in a haystack would be easier than this; at least he would have known the needle when he found it. 

He stared around the room in growing trepidation. He had but one more hour before he needed to report back to his employer with her requested theft. If he failed... 

Etri heard laughter from the hallway and hastily replaced the spoon with its siblings. It slipped off the hook and fell silently onto the carpet. He had just enough time to blend himself into the shadow of a curio cabinet- filled with forks as a nice change of pace- when the door opened. 

“It is a room of spoons! How in Petra’s name did you know that?” 

“Would you believe me if I told you I was psychic?” 

The first speaker broke into a chortle. His laughter was the contagious kind and it made Etri want to smile- if Etri was currently in possession of a mouth. “Nope! How’d you really know?” 

It was never easy for Etri to see when he took this form. The world became fogged and grey, as though he looked through a piece of fine gauze. The one was certainly an Artisan and the other, judging from her height and build, was likely his sentinel. 

The sentinel’s footsteps took her closer to Etri who tried to meld further against the wall. If only his shadow-weaving allowed him pass through it! She stopped a few feet away and picked up the spoon he so recently dropped. “Earlier tonight I poked my head into a studio and saw a bunch of spoons spread out on the work table. I figured whoever lives here made them and would probably be vain enough to display them. I was right, although I have to say I didn’t expect an actual room.” 

“Then you don’t know how vain most artists can be.” The artist came up next to her and took the spoon from her hand. “I see where this one’s supposed to go. I wonder how it fell?” 

This was all the warning Etri was given before his hand reached for the hook- and passed through Etri. It was the most uncomfortable and intrusive thing Etri had ever experienced. After the artist stared at his hand and the spoon in confusion, he turned his attention towards the narrow space between cabinet and wall. 

He hooked the spoon onto the rack and took a step back, never once taking his gaze away from where Etri hovered in the shadow of the cabinet. He couldn’t have seen him. Etri was all but invisible when he blended into shadow. Yet the artist didn’t look away until the woman asked, “What are you staring at the wall for?” 

Etri’s hope that he’d been wrong, that the artist couldn’t see him, was dashed when he reached back into the shadow. “There’s weaving here. Not the spoon weaving. That’s deep olive green. This one’s a sparkly pewter. And it’s cold. Feel it.” 

Now the sentinel held out her hand. This was disturbing and Etri really wished they’d stop prodding him. “I can’t see your weird artist colors, but you’re right about the cold. Are we near a window?” 

When they both looked around to see if this was the cause, Etri slid away and over to the far wall. 

“Now it’s warm again,” she said. 

The artist turned around to look at the room and his eyes fell on Etri almost immediately. “Because it’s over there now.” 

Etri didn’t have time for a hide and seek game. Whatever they could do to him wouldn’t be any worse than what would happen if he didn’t return back with the spoon in hand. He supposed the sentinel could try to arrest him for art theft, but it wouldn’t be successful when he could simply go intangible again. His only option was to take human form again and try to get out of here with the correct spoon. Whichever one was the correct spoon. 

He visualized his human self and when his vision returned to normal he found to no surprise that the pair had noticed. There was no way they could have failed to notice a person appearing out of thin air directly in front of them. 

The woman took a step forward and pulled the artist behind her, placing her body between him and possible danger. This solidified Etri’s theory that she was the sentinel. “What are you doing here? What are you?” 

“Why do you have weaving?” the artist piped up as he stood on tiptoe to see over her shoulder. 

Would truth or a lie be better? Etri decided on truth without all the details. “I am seeking a spoon.” 

The sentinel snorted a laugh. It was strangely endearing even if it wasn’t as infectious as the artist’s. “You do know you could buy a spoon anywhere, right? Not that the artist would notice one missing out of four billion.” 

“He is not the artist?” Etri nodded his head towards the boy who grinned at him. 

“Cartographer and part time painter. The only thing I use spoons for is eating.” 

The sentinel nudged him in the ribs. “Hush for a minute.” 

Then to Etri she asked, “What kind of thief steals a single spoon?” 

Etri couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “One who has been ordered to steal a particular spoon. One who would much rather be anywhere else right now. One who would prefer any other career.” 

The artist's voice was soft when he asked, “Then why do you do it?” 

Etri looked over at him in surprise. He expected anger from an artist after catching a thief, not… sympathy? While the sentinel didn’t seem quite as calm about this, she also hadn’t made any move to stop him. This was not his previous experience with sentinels. Perhaps his assumption about her status was incorrect. 

“If I do not return with this spoon, my employer will turn me over to the guards and claim she caught me stealing from her. If I could escape the guards, she would find me. Find us. I could not leave my brother behind. We are too foreign to remain hidden for long.” His mouth twitched into a wry smile. “There is not a day where I do not regret a decision I made.” 

The artist’s breath caught sharply and he turned to the woman. “We have to help him. I know what it’s like to have a choice like that.” 

She frowned, then looked from one to the other. Slowly she spoke, “I could change the choice I made. If I did, if I went back to the people I left, I could protect you. You would be out of the city where anyone would be hard pressed to find you.” 

“Why would you help me?” Etri’s voice was barely audible, but she heard him. 

“Because my heart tells me that walking away and leaving either of you where I found you tonight would be disastrous for you both.” 

The artist looked towards the door, then stood tall. “I don’t care where this place is, it’s gotta be better than what I have now. I’m in.” 

“I will only agree to anything if I can bring my brother.” At the probably-not-sentinel's nod, Etri added, “I would like to know where you plan to take us.” 

“My former carnival troupe. I was told if being a Protectorate didn’t work out, I could always come back. Frankly it’s a choice I don’t think worked out, so I’m willing to use my mistake to fix both of yours.” 

Troupes constantly traveled and in costume Etri and his brother would be hidden in plain sight. For the first time in years, he had hope. “I also accept.” 

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

"-pie.” 

Adair opened his eyes and found that he was back in the room the three of them shared at the Artisans’ guildhall. He pulled Blythe into a tight hug with a squeal of joy. Then he threw himself at Etri, causing the book to go sailing through the air as Etri fumbled it and scrambled to catch him. 

“What is the cause for such excitement?” Etri asked. 

Adair grinned up at him, too elated to make words work. He had his answer: any change in choice would have brought them together. Even if he had suffered through tradition, he still would have met his beloved carnies. 

It was a long time before he stopped smiling any time he saw a spoon. Although as Blythe could attest, Adair usually smiled whenever he saw a spoon because it might mean dessert. 

[theclaravoyant]

Just saw you reblogged the post about "Imagine one of your OT3 being asexual and the other two accepting that fact without leaving them out of the relationship romantically." and omg, please will you write this????

AN ~ Sure! I was tempted to write the “some of us are trying to sleep, you animals!” scene but it never turned into anything of substance (or improved upon the line itself #gold), so I went a different way and wrote this instead! Hope you like it.

FitzSkimmons. Fluff (mostly, bc #drama). Rated T for some sexual references. 

Read on AO3 (~1800wd).

Equilibrium

A cab rolled slowly down New York’s busy streets, stopping and starting with the traffic. Inside it, voices slightly drunk with love and glee and freedom talked and laughed about dinner and the movie they had just seen, and debated their plans for the rest of the evening.

“There’s a comedy show uptown,” Fitz suggested. “Theatre sports, or something. Whose Line is it Anyway type stuff. It looks like fun. Some of those guys are really clever.”

“Or, there’s apparently an orchestra playing in this park…” Jemma mused, rapidly reading through an article on her phone to find more details.

“Or,” Daisy suggested, “we could blow both of those things off, call three museums and a movie enough cultural engagement for one day, and go back to the hotel for dessert.”

“You put up a good argument,” Fitz mused, raising an eyebrow and thinking about the fudge sundae he had spied earlier on the room service menu. Jemma, however, seemed to be thinking of a very different kind of dessert. She smiled saucily at Daisy.

“What kind of dessert?” she asked, her tone leaning on one particular answer.

“Both is good,” Daisy suggested, leaning the same way. “Do you think the hotel sells chocolate sauce by the bottle? A jug, maybe?”

Jemma snorted.

“I’m not pouring chocolate sauce on you from a jug.”

“Who said you were doing the pouring?”

Daisy looked at Fitz. Jemma did too. Suddenly, the fudge sundae didn’t feel so appealing. He raised his arms in a plea for amnesty.

“Hey, don’t look at me, I’m not pouring sauce on anyone. You guys go back to the hotel. I’ll meet you later. I think I’m going to check out that show, or something.”

Daisy and Jemma glanced at each other, concerned.

“I was joking about the sauce,” Daisy amended. “I’m not going to make some poor sucker clean up my sex chocolate. Come on, that’s gross.”

“We could just have a quiet night in,” Jemma continued, in a quiet tone Fitz knew was meant to appease him. He waved her off.

“Honestly, I don’t mind,” he insisted. “I just don’t feel like it, that’s all. Have a few hours to yourselves, have fun. We had a great day. Don’t bring it down just for me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Absolutely. Go on, have fun.”

The cab driver, after waiting an appropriate number of seconds, checked:

“Change of plans?”

“Let me out on this corner, please,” Fitz requested. “I’ll take the subway. Their ride’s on me.”

The driver pulled over, and Fitz passed him some cash as he extricated himself from the car, pecking both Daisy and Jemma on the cheek before he left and disappeared down the subway tunnel. The cab rolled on toward the hotel.

-

Jemma and Daisy passed the rest of the trip in near-silence, all of a sudden acutely aware of the personal nature of the conversation they needed to have, and of the distance between here and a personal space. The cab driver, fortunately, kept his nose out of their business, but by the time they got to the hotel, it was clear that any activities in the general vicinity of chocolate sauce were well off the table. They dashed to the elevator, not to start on each other’s coats but rather, to finally get a moment to discuss in private.

“Is it just me, or –“

“Has Fitz been weird lately? No, not just you,” Jemma agreed, stuffing her hands into her pockets in an effort to resist the urge to twist her hair and pace. “I should have noticed it earlier. He’s never been much of a sexual person – I think that’s what it is.”

“You don’t think it’s me?” Daisy wondered, frowning with concern as she followed Jemma down the hall to their room. “I know he’s always been more comfortable with that sort of stuff around you. Maybe I should back off.”

“No, it’s not just you. Even when we’re alone…”

“Us too,” Daisy mentioned. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the physical side of things is fine, but… I didn’t want to say it, I thought maybe he was just off his game, but he hasn’t been the most emotionally engaged participant. And you know Fitz. He’s usually King of Emotional Engagement.”

Jemma sighed, and sunk onto the bed, gazing up at the roof in despair.

“Do you think he maybe just… doesn’t like sex? Like, as a concept. As an activity. Maybe he just, objectively, doesn’t find it fun.”

“I don’t understand how that’s possible,” Daisy remarked, snorting a little at the suggestion. “I mean. It’s chemistry, right? Pleasure hormones everywhere. I hate to be all ‘he’s a guy, of course he wants it,’ but like… sure, he’s a gentleman, but a hot one, with fully functioning anatomy, in a relationship with two hot women that he loves and finds attractive and who find him attractive. He can’t lose.”

“He definitely finds us sexy,” Jemma remarked. “And he’s a great kisser. I mean. God. But as for the sex, I mean, what if we’re conceptualizing it all wrong? What if it’s like… I don’t know, skydiving. These days it’s pretty safe, you get amazing views, we would be down for it – all the reasons are there, but there’s still no way you could get Fitz to go without a fight. And like you said, he’s a gentleman, and he loves us. Maybe he just does it for us.”

“Hm.” Daisy sat, pensive. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“But what if we’re wrong?” she wondered. “What if he’s just having an off time? I don’t want to leave him out on the presumption that he’s not enjoying himself.”

“Mm,” Jemma agreed, and sat up. “You know, I think it’s time for a team meeting.”

-

Sometimes, a “team meeting” was the three of them, a round of beers, and the run-down lounges back on base. Tonight, however – given the opportunities they could seize on this rare weekend of R&R – it was a table with a red cloth and a candle, and three chairs around it, and giant cookies instead of real dessert so that they could wait however long was necessary for Fitz to return. Once they’d set up, Daisy and Jemma dressed down, and spent the rest of the evening chatting and, eventually, snoozing, in a snuggle on the bed, until they heard Fitz’s key in the lock. They pulled themselves to attention, and Fitz stumbled to a halt.

“Sorry,” he said, confused. “Should I have texted you? I promise, I wasn’t mad or anything.”

“We know,” Jemma assured him, directing him to the table and the cookies to make things a little less confrontational. “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about. We’ve been noticing some patterns in your behaviour and we just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Especially,” Daisy added, “when it comes to sex. You’ve been blowing us off for a while now and we just wanted to check – is something going on? Can we help?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Fitz shrugged, but the girls did not let the matter drop. His shrug turned into a reluctant hum and he qualified: “It’s nothing in particular.”

“See, I was right,” Jemma said, prodding Daisy. “It’s not you.”

“You?” Fitz gasped. “Oh, no, Daisy, it’s not you at all! I’ve just never really liked sex.”

“This whole time?” Daisy wondered, incredulous. “And you just went with it?”

Fitz shrugged. “You guys were having fun!”

“Fitz!” Daisy cried. “That’s creepy! Ugh, I feel gross now. I’m sorry.” She stood up, pacing and fretting with her hands.

“Sit down, Daisy, please? It’s not like that, I promise,” Fitz explained. “It’s more like… if you guys dragged me to a chick flick every weekend. I do enjoy myself, but I enjoy it because you’re enjoying it. The actual act just doesn’t do much for me. Like, at all. You guys seemed to be able to entertain yourselves tonight so I stepped out and did something I found more fun. That’s all.”

“Good,” Daisy said, and Jemma nodded alongside her. “But why didn’t you just tell us that’s what it was? Nobody expects you to come to a rom-com every week. What have we been doing to make you think we expected you to get in the mood every time we felt like it?”

Fitz shrugged.

“I guess that’s on me a bit. I felt… ashamed, sort of. You’re both so brilliant and attractive and I love you so much. Why wouldn’t I want to do it, you know?”

“Fitz,” Jemma scolded, and left her chair to sit on Fitz’s lap side-saddle and wrap her arms around his neck. She kissed him firmly. “How often you want to have sex with Daisy or I is not correlated to how much you love us. We know that. We’re never going to hold it over you, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Daisy agreed. “I mean, if you’re ever up for it, you say the word and we’ll be there, but don’t feel like you’re depriving us of anything. It’s not like it’s your responsibility to have sex with us. And besides, if nothing else, we can take care of ourselves, right Jem?”

“You know it.” Jemma grinned, and Daisy grinned, and after a few seconds of coaxing, Fitz was smiling too. A sense of relief began to unclench an anxiety that he’d been holding onto for far longer than he’d realised, and his smile became easier, and he kissed Jemma softly and beckoned Daisy closer.

“Look, I’m sorry if I worried you guys. Thanks for the team meeting. I feel much better now that it’s all out in the open.”

“Us too,” Daisy agreed. “But I bet I’ll feel even better once I get this monstrosity into me. You know, apparently, these are the chunkiest choc chip cookies in Manhattan.”

“Is that so?” Fitz mused. “We’ll have to see about that.”

He broke a piece off the cookie from his own plate, and fed it to Jemma. She chewed thoughtfully.“Well?” Daisy asked,

“Well, we’ll have to taste every choc chip cookie in Manhattan to test this fairly, won’t we?” Jemma pointed out, and reached across the table to snap a piece off Daisy’s cookie. Daisy swiped at her thieving fingers, and missed.

“That’s cheating!” she yelped. “It’s the same kind!”

Jemma grinned, her mouth still full and surrounded with crumbs.

“Sample size, Daisy,” Fitz explained with a surprisingly straight face – that is, until Daisy snatched the rest of his cookie from under his nose, and then he lunged after it, and Jemma shrieked as she was upseated. For a while after that, chaos reigned, as the three of them scrabbled all around the room; battling for each other’s cookies, making and abandoning alliances, playing keep-away. They laughed and tickled and tackled each other until the cookies had disappeared and the candle on their table had burnt out and the three of them had collapsed in a messy, exhausted, joyful heap on the bed, and had fallen asleep that way.

[mrsashketchum]

26 + 37!

thank u ness ♡♡♡

26. Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic you’re more drawn to?

hmmmm i guess it would be almost-canon ships (if not already canon)? i’ve taken a look at some of them and they seem to have more romantic hints in canon than others? and sometimes i go for the polar opposites kind, but i guess it’s more in the chemistry as well. somakid (or to a lesser extent, makid/kima) aint canon but i wanna believe that they have the (ot3) Chemistry

i guess the easiest way to see the pattern in my ships is to see my blog and the sidebar gif i have there (the only non-canon ship, well not canon in the end spoiler i’ve had so far was from kokoro connect, like iori and taichi)

37. Do you have a favorite trope and/or AU for your OTP?

dang uh i love anything to do with time travel, or anything to do with time, so an au about it would be nice. just a lot of feels will do the trick

for some reason the trope about soulmates not finding one another at first (missing each other) until they finally meet and then connect the dots?? that’s precious to me. also ships being adorable and domestic. very good stuff right there

shippers ask meme

[zephfair]

Writing meme

Rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories, see if there are any patterns, then tag your favorite authors.

I asked the wonderful and lovely @dreamywritingdragon if I could follow her meme. Thank you, my dear!

So how about reverse chronology from things I’m working on now?

1. “WOOOOHOOOO ARE YOU READY TO PARTY?!!!” Zack shouted when the door of the house opened, bracing himself to be knocked over by the swell of music, laughing voices and the smell of booze.

(from an upcoming OT3 meme ficlet featuring Zack/Sephiroth/Cloud [FFVII] in a modern college AU.)

2. Derek was sure the kid was there to kill him.

(from the upcoming sequel to Creature Comforts [Teen Wolf, pre-Derek/Stiles] that I really want to finish this weekend)

3. It was Derek's shitty luck that his cousin’s shitty car conked out just far enough from his house that he didn’t think he could manage to walk back without suffering heat stroke. He was already sweating because the air conditioning hadn't even pretended to blow anything that was cooler than the heat outside.

(from the upcoming looooong PWP of Derek/Stiles that's been on my hard drive for 4+ years)

4. They had lied to each other from the very beginning, when Leo led him astray into the quarry then attempted to blow him into kingdom come. Perhaps Riario had been telling only truth when he offered Leo forty days worth of temptations in one conversation to join him, but Leo didn't trust, hadn't trusted him then and wouldn't ever again. No, Leo had lied first, tried to kill him, and then Riario had struck back with trying to kidnap him with lies about art.

(from an experimental DVD Leo/Riario fic I was trying based on the song Love The Way You Lie by Skylar Grey. It probably won’t be finished.)

5. Zo was down to his last crumpled pack of cigarettes, and it was only the beginning of October. He'd have to remember to owl Amerigo again, even if the prick made him beg and pay double for more contraband to be smuggled in.

(Untitled OT3 meme ficlet featuring Leo/Vanessa/Zo at Hogwarts)

6. Zo always claimed he was just sitting there, innocent as a lamb, trying to relax and enjoy his night out at his favorite bar. Sure, he was savoring a couple drinks. Yeah, he'd maybe thought about trying to pick up someone for the night.

(Untitled OT3 meme ficlet featuring Leo/Riario/Zo pre-slash)

7. Kabu watched the scene in his kitchen from the protection of pretending to read his newspaper. Nirasawa was bustling around, occasionally mumbling to himself, pulling pots and gadgets out of various cupboards and examining them with an air of complete mystification.

(Form Over Function  the story that makes me the most ridiculously happy because I love these two fools with all my heart and there are only THREE  stories with them on AO3, and unfortunately, I have written 1/3 of those. Attempted comedy and smut with Kabu/Nirasawa from Bi no Isu and Kobi no Kyoujin)

8. “Nico, Nico, what in the name of all that is good and holy is this?!” Zo pounced on the bright yellow T-shirt Nico was about to stuff into his duffel with all the rest of the things he was taking home for Christmas break.

(Clothes Make the Man Riario/Zo )

9. “Are you sure it’s okay for us to camp here?” Scott asked, frowning at Stiles who was already enthusiastically shaking out a tent.

(Creature Comforts the weirdly popular fluffy gen story that is pre-Derek/Stiles sorta)

10. It was Zo’s big break, and he was not going to blow it.

(from the untitled modern OT3 AU Leo/Riario/Zo)

11. The first time it happened, Riario thought he was back on active duty. The earth trembled and he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, and he awoke wondering who was attacking the base this time.

(from the same untitled modern OT3 AU world as above Leo/Riario/Zo)

12. Leo acknowledged that, on some level, he took most things for granted. There were certain constants that he could count on—the earth revolved around the sun, the seasons changed in due course, and Zo would always be there for him.

(I REALLY need to finish the third one of these. Here’s the first line, Leo’s third part of the modern OT3 AU Leo/Riario/Zo)

13. Leo stared at the man before him, the one offering him the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, as many mysteries as he could ever imagine and the free opportunity to solve them.

(From my epic Leo/Riario rewrite of the series from Ep. 2 on titled Fire Meet Gasoline. This will probably never be written the way I see it in my head, but eh, who knows.)

14. “I just wish you would get out more,” Tifa told him again, standing over Cloud with her hands on her hips. It was the same posture and the same lecture she'd given his so many times that he knew it by heart. Cloud sighed and put his arm over his eyes to block her out.

(From my someday vampire comedy with Cloud/Zack.)

15. Leo slid his arm out from under the man with a move practiced over many late nights and early mornings. He was practically an artist of escaping from the beds of women and men before they woke up and expected anything from him—another round of sex, breakfast, or, even worse, a second date.

(Sigh of the Llama, or No One Wins a War on the Internet (Except Maybe Riario) my modern band AU with Leo/Riario and the optional Leo/Nico/Riario/Zo epilogue which still makes me giggle.)

16. Leo clapped his hands together and rubbed them gleefully even as Zo woke up with a start. “So, who do we have tonight?”

(Master of Desire Leo/Riario PWP)

17. “I'm not sure I can do it,” Nico turned his pale face up to Riario. “I've never killed anyone before.”

(Meme ficlet fill, no pairing, also on AO3 under A da Vinci Collection here)

18. “There's blood on your hands,” Riario murmured, grabbing Leo's wrists and turning the hands palm upward before Leo could touch him.

(Meme ficlet fill, Leo/Riario from the Thick as Thieves verse. Also on AO3 under A da Vinci Collection here.)

19. “I don't see why I have to be Daphne!” Nico wailed.

(Meme ficlet fill with some Leo/Riario under A da Vinci Collection here.)

20. Zo stared at the flyer his professor handed out. He'd seen them posted around campus the past few days as the spring semester began. Although the large, bolded PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY first grabbed his attention, he'd quickly ignored the notice. While he could always use cash, he was not in a relationship, and frankly, none of his romantic liaisons had lasted anywhere near six months.

(Zo’s Long Con to Love Riario/Zo craziness)

I really need to finish some of this junk.