#it's sad to me that so much of fic revolves around the idea that 'when phoenix and miles start dating miles will finally stay' thats

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

sometimes i think about an AA universe where Edgeworth didn't have to be shuffled off every 5 seconds so he could maintain credibility as a rival....where Phoenix didn't have to win every case...yes AA is a game yes i understand why it did that for the narrative. but when I look at those lonely scared 24 year olds from AA1 i can't help but think that their version of a happy ending would be to be able to get used to each other. to face each other over stupid cases and small things. Sometimes one winning, sometimes the other, until it hardly matters anymore, all that matters is finding the truth together. I want them to take each other for granted!!! i want them to look at the other across the courtroom and say "time to face this bitch for the hundredth time i guess!!" these poor bastards have never had anything approaching emotional stability before let them have each other damn it

[wosoamazing]

Arguments

Summary: You and Leah get into a fight. Based on this request & thank you to the anon for giving me an idea about the fight.

Warnings: None?

A/N: I'm really sorry but the Barça x teen!reader fic, where Rs Dad died before the game might not be the next fic to come out, I will try and finish it however I am just really stuck on ideas for it, if you have any feel free to let me know.

You walk out into the living room, where the rest of the team is. It is team bonding night, which you were invited to even though you’re not part of the team anymore, as you're currently in London visiting Leah and your family, because you can’t play due to your ankle. However you weren’t going to team bonding night as it was one of your friend’s 18th birthday and as much as you missed the team you hadn’t spent time with your friends in ages, and it would be the first 18th you could attend, so of course you didn't pass up to opportunity to party with your friends. When you walked out into the room all eyes were on you, they all seemed honestly impressed, Katie even gave you a grin and a smirk, however your sister’s face showed her clear disapproval for your very not modest outfit. You had a loose black sequin v-neck halter top on, with a pair of denim shorts that were almost too small to be appropriate, and your hair was in a very slicked back high ponytail, with a pink feather scrunchie finishing it off.

“You can’t wear that.” Your sister scowled.

“Oh what, so you only care about how I look, how I’ll damage your reputation.” you sassed her back.

“What's that supposed to mean?” She asked in defence.

“Oh, stop pretending you don’t know what I mean. It’s not like you care about anything else I do…..so why do you care what I wear?”

“I can’t believe you’re giving me attitude right now,” you scoffed at her “honestly, I’m glad you’re at Barça now, at least now I don’t have to deal with you and your attitude.”

“See I knew you didn’t care that I was leaving, you weren’t sad, you were happy.”

“I just hope you don’t treat Alexia like this.” she said, almost waving you off.

“Sorry that we can’t all be as perfect as you, Leah ‘Captain of England’ Williamson. I’m honestly glad I’m at Barça too, it means I don’t have to deal with your judgement daily. And anyway, everyone knows you’re just jealous. Sorry but I can’t help it that I’m better than you.”

“That’s a fucking low blow.” She said as you started walking towards the front door, “Where do you think you’re going in that?”

“To the party, remember. The world doesn’t revolve around you like you think it does.” You snapped back at her before slamming the door behind you.

____

You were waiting out the front, Leah said she would pick you up at 12:00 and with the fight you had you did not want ehr to be there before you were, to reduce the chances of you getting yelled at.

“Y/N/N,” you heard a familiar voice call out, it wasn’t Leah though, it was Beth. You walked over to her car.

“Where’s Leah?”

“Oh, she asked us to pick you up, you can stay the night if you want.”

“Fucking perfect sister my arse, yes please”

____

You woke up to an elaborate breakfast spread on the table, but Beth and Viv weren’t in sight. Walking further out into the main room, you saw a very familiar figure sitting on the couch, it was your sister.

“What are you doing here? Where are Beth and Viv?”

“They’ve gone on a walk. Can we talk?”

“About what, oh let me guess, what I wore last night was inappropriate, my behaviour was inappropriate, I shouldn’t act like that. Blah, blah, blah. I get it whatever.”

“Y/N, sit, we need to talk, I need to talk to you, I need to say something to you” you rolled your eyes at her as you begrudgingly moved to the couch and sat down.

“I’m sorry about last night. It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t slightly jealous of you being at Barça, or of Alexia for getting to spend everyday with you. I miss you and I’m sorry, and I was wrong, but that doesn’t mean you should’ve acted how you did, you shouldn’t have snapped.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever” you said with a slight huff, hoping to push her off.

“What?” She replied to you clearly frustrated as she leant back into the couch crossing her arms.

“No one has thought to consider how I actually feel about it, I constantly get asked something surrounding whether I’m having fun at Barça, not how I am finding it, whether I’m coping or not. No one has stopped to think that maybe this is more pressure than I needed, no one has bothered to check that the pressure isn't getting to me. Everyone now expects me to be some sort of goal machine, they expect me to be on a level most experienced players aren’t, they expect me to be some sort of God.” You took deep shaky breath, feeling your lower eyelids droop from the weight of your building tears, before you continued “You haven’t, my own sister hasn’t even, thought about whether I’m coping mentally let alone asking me. You know not once has any single one of you checked in on how I am going with my eating, something you all single handley promised me, Sam has though. And yeah sure I’m having fun but you know how much pressure there is? To improve. To show the world, to show you, to show the national team, to show Arsenal that this was the right choice, to show Barça I was worth the money. I feel like I need to score to get your validity, I constantly feel like I have to show you I am a good player, show you it’s not just because I’m your little sister, and can be moulded into the next generation you. I have yet to show you, to make you believe I am a good player, I deserve it, I deserve it all and I don’t have your name, your name isn’t what is getting me through, its my name, our name, our family name. I constantly am trying to get your approval, I constantly try to not disappoint you but no matter what I do it doesnt work. It just makes you more ashamed of me, and makes you more disappointed with me.” At this point tears were streaming down your face, Leah moved over to sit next to you, pulling you into her lap for a hug. 

“I’m so sorry bug, I know I haven't been the best sister, I am really really sorry.” She said as a few tears escaped her eyes.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Of Monsters & Mistletoe

A/N: Yet another holiday fic? Already? Yes, because I am extra sappy this year and Steve deserves a smooch or two. Reader does celebrate Christmas in this and she and Steve both have shitty parents. It also makes mention of all events of seasons 1-4. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Steve Harrington/F!Reader

Rating: PG-A soft little thing

Word Count: 8.2k

Summary: The five times Steve almost kissed you beneath the mistletoe and the one time he finally did.

The first time Steve almost kissed you beneath the mistletoe, your family had just moved to Hawkins and had been invited to the holiday party at the country club. Just like his parents, yours were more interested in being seen than having an actual holiday-themed good time. You were dressed up in a stuffy red dress with fluffy white detailing and were told to sit still at a table near the back of the banquet hall with a steaming cup of hot chocolate as your only company.

Steve was seated a few tables away, his own hot chocolate long since drained. His parents were…somewhere. He could hear his mom’s laugh just barely over the Christmas music—she’d been practicing it in the mirror before leaving the house. His father was probably at her side, speaking with someone “important.”

“And you need to be on your best behavior, Steve,” he said, for the fourth time that night before the car door shut.

But ‘best behavior’ didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to the sad-looking girl, right? He could have friends, too. Steve hopped out of his designated seat and walked to your side. “Hi. I’m Steve.”

A small smile twitched at the corner of your mouth and you shyly gave him your name, too. You offered to split your hot chocolate with him and he learned that you were a grade below him, about to start school at Hawkins Elementary the next week. You were nice and kind and a little strange, Steve would admit, with your interests revolving around books and bugs, but you were nice. And it had been your idea to sneak away from your table to see the rest of the pretty decorations strung up around the country club. Your little hand curled around his as you darted around dancing couples and between schmoozing groups to look at the intricately decorated trees, the miniature porcelain towns, the light displays all over the sprawling building. It was beautiful. Really. But Steve just liked holding your hand. You were out of breath by the time you slowed to a stop near one of the exits, a bright smile on your face. “Everything is so pretty,” you said, still holding his hand.

“Yep,” Steve said with a smile of his own. He’d never had this much fun at one of these parties. “Do you want to help me build a snow fort tomor-”

Someone behind you cooed and you both turned to see his father’s secretary looking at you, pointing at something above your heads. You looked up and saw a small sprig of…something. Green leaves with tiny berries tied up in a red ribbon. “It is mistletoe, little man,” the woman said, hands on her hips.

Steve felt the blood drain from his face at the realization. Mistletoe. He knew what was supposed to happen but you were his friend. His first friend he made in a long time. And friends don’t kiss each other.

“You have to do it!” She prodded with another coo.

Following directions was something pressed onto Steve from his parents since day one. Telling him to do as he was told (and to be seen not heard) came out of their mouths more often than “I love you.” So, Steve frowned but leaned forward, intent on pressing his lips to yours when your hand came up to his face and you none-too-gently pushed him back. “Germs. You have germs.”

**

The second time Steve almost kissed you beneath the mistletoe came a few years later. Steve was on the cusp of entering high school and you were still more interested in books than most everything else, aside from the archery hobby you picked up at your father’s insistence. (Thankfully, your fascination with bugs and fear of germs had subsided.) And, despite both sets of parents’ hopes, you two didn’t exactly run in the same social circles at school. He had settled into the sporty, popular crowd. And you? Well…you had one friend: Jonathan Byers. The resident weird kid who was “lightyears away” from your family’s position, according to the whispers Steve heard between the Harringtons and your parents. And Steve tried to understand why he didn’t like Jonathan. He saw you smile and laugh with the Byers kid more than you ever did at these ridiculous country club “parties.” You were still kind to Steve, though. In your own strange way. And it really shouldn’t matter,

right

? It wasn’t like you were actually friends. More like you were each other’s only confidante in these circumstances, the only kids in your age range.

Sure. That was it.

You weaved through the crowd with your chin tucked to your chest (expertly dodging an underpaid assistant dressed as an elf who had a bit of mistletoe tied to a long pole that he’d dangle over people regardless of marital status) with two cups of hot chocolate in your hands, topped with an excessive amount of whipped cream and sprinkles. Steve took the proffered cup as you slid into the chair beside him and resumed your game of people watching from the sidelines.

“That woman,” you whispered from behind your hot chocolate, pointing a mostly inconspicuous finger at a woman with an outrageously tasseled sweater near the pyramid of champagne, “is apparently sleeping with one of the bigshot’s at her husband’s firm.”

“Does the husband know?” Steve asked, hiding a smile of his own.

“Yes. But he won’t say anything because he’s apparently getting a large raise to let it keep happening.” You took a large sip of your hot chocolate, earning a smear of whipped cream on the end of your nose. You tried to lick it away without success and Steve eventually tossed a bright red napkin at your face with a laugh as you continued to fill him in on the gossip you had overheard. There were, unsurprisingly, a large amount of affairs. Someone was probably (definitely) stealing from their boss. And someone else was caught doing coke at their office after Thanksgiving.

“How do you know all this?” Steve asked.

You shrugged. “Um, my parents are always telling me to keep my mouth shut and my head down. Maybe people think that since I’m not talking, I’m not listening.”

He winced. The old “be seen and not heard” song and dance was his father’s favorite, too. But while Steve still wanted to at least gain his parents’ attention, you seemed to revel in being forgotten most days. It looked…freeing. At least from the outside looking in.

“Aren’t you two adorable?” The sudden question had both you and Steve looking up from the table to see the assistant standing near the edge, a broad smile on his face. “Childhood sweethearts? How cute!” Then, without waiting for an answer, swung the mistletoe toward you, dangling it over your heads.

Dread immediately washed over Steve as he looked at the little berries and green leaves. Did you want to kiss him? Plenty of other girls as school did—and he usually took them up on the offer. But this was you. And this was the Christmas party. If his parents caught him making a scene-

“We’re just friends, actually,” you answered with a smile.

The elf-assistant did have the tact to blush and mutter an apology before trudging away, promptly swinging the mistletoe between another pair who quickly kissed. The crowd around them cheered, tipsy on eggnog and champagne.

“That was creepy,” you muttered. Your fingers trailed around and around on the edge of your mug of hot chocolate.

“You said we were friends.” The words were out of Steve’s mouth before he could stop them. Before he could understand what he was trying to say. Were you friends? Did you think of him as a friend?

But you just smiled and finished off your hot chocolate before speaking again. “It’s okay, Steve. I know I’m only your friend at these parties.”

Steve felt his face fall as he watched you smile and shake your head. Would that be so bad? To be friends with the weird girl? But, just as he opened his mouth to say something, anything, you were standing and walking away toward the door where your parents were waiting.

He watched you go, a little helplessly, and tried to smile at you as you glanced back at him, pulling your thick coat on. It didn’t work.

**

The third time Steve nearly kissed you under the mistletoe came years later. It had taken a monster from a different dimension nearly killing him and getting his face nearly caved in by Jonathan Byers for Steve to truly see you as a friend. You were funny and smart and brave. And you cared so much for other people. Steve had caught you sobbing in the hallway after helping Jonathan put up posters for Will and you had stood in front of Steve, armed with just your bow, and had earned yourself nearly thirty stitches and a scolding from your mother when she’d picked you up from the hospital for ruining the designer sweatshirt you had been wearing. Both Joyce and Hopper had looked furious but you’d waved them off as you let your mother lead the way out of the hospital.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday,”

you murmured with a lackadaisical smile as you passed him.

“Might want to put a bit of ice on that shiner, though.”

Yeah, you were his friend. He didn’t even mind the whispers that came when he would talk to you in the hallways. (The rumors he’d heard about your injuries ranged from plausible to ridiculous and he tried to shield you from them as much as possible.) He should have been hanging out with you this entire time. Steve had never felt so at ease with Tommy H. or Carol or any of the other bullshit hangers-on he’d been surrounded with for years. You were just…you. And Steve liked you. When you’d excitedly hugged him after he told you he passed the economics exam you’d helped him study for, it felt like his entire chest fluttered. So, when you invited him to a Christmas party at your house, muttering something about your mom not trusting your dad around a certain waitress at the country club, he leapt at it. His parents were probably already invited, too, and he didn’t want to leave you alone to face that monotony.

He and his parents arrived “fashionably late” to your parents’ large house. Everything was perfectly in its place; from the oversized and ornately decorated tree to the lighted garland wrapped around the carved banisters and railings. People were muttering about how much the decorations and food must’ve cost behind their cups of mulled wine as they waited their turn to speak to your parents. A string octet was set up near the stairs, filling the entire house with subdued versions of popular Christmas songs.

But Steve wasn’t here for that. He was here for you. Your movements were still a bit stilted, favoring your right side even though your stitches came out yesterday. The Santa hat on your head was crooked, too, but you didn’t seem to mind as you sucked on the curve of a candy cane. And why did his stomach twist at the sight of it?

After seeing that his parents were already preoccupied, Steve slipped through the crowd and to your side, snagging a candy cane of his own on the way. You smiled around the sweet treat as you spotted him, patting the bar stool at your side. He took it with a smile, fumbling with the candy cane’s plastic wrap for a moment before you grabbed it and deftly unwrapped it before handing it over. “Thanks for coming. People watching isn’t as fun without my usual partner in crime.” The smile you gave him made it impossible to not reciprocate.

“Yeah, yeah, anytime,” he said even though he’d missed the last handful of Christmas parties. Now Steve wished he hadn’t come up with a flimsy excuse to get out of them.

You settled onto the stool beside you before swiveling around to look out at the large crowd milling about your house. The conversation quickly fell back into your old habits of people watching and you regaling him about the gossip you’d learned as the adults around you steadily got drunker and drunker on the expensive wine your parents had brought in by the case. Steve added a few things here and there that he had overheard, too. But, eventually, with the taste of spiked eggnog on your tongues, you asked about classes and told him about yours, too. You shook your head when Steve asked about the book you were writing for your creative writing class and tried to hide your smile behind your cup. “It is so nerdy. You’d hate me.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

The answering smile you gave him was near blinding and Steve wanted to make you smile like that again. All the time. Even if he didn’t really understand the “lore” (as you called it) of your story and didn’t really understand the appeal of elves and monsters and dragons, he liked your smile. Even if it did twist at something in his chest. The strange sensation he’d felt the night he saw you and Nancy with Jonathan returned like a sledgehammer to his ribs when you mentioned you’d be spending the holidays with the Byers family since your parents were taking a cruise to “work through things.” You didn’t believe it.

“You and Nancy are spending Christmas Eve together, right?” You asked as you finished. You’d snuck him another cup of eggnog and then pulled your Santa hat off to plop it right onto his hair. For a moment, he could smell your rose and mint perfume and he wondered if you wore it all the time. Not that it mattered, right?

“Yeah, her parents do a big dinner that night.”

“Nervous?” You asked with a quirked brow. “Quite a time to make a first impression, yeah?”

“Why would I be nervous?” Steve asked with a scoff. “Parents love me.”

And you laughed. Laughed and patted his knee. “Sure they do.”

Before he could ask what the hell you meant, his dad was saying his name. The prominent red across his face let Steve know that his father was either drunk or angry. Or both. His mother was at his side and they both said a few words to your parents before leaving with broad, fake smiles. Great. Just great. That was never a good sign.

You slipped off your barstool with a grimace. “I’ll walk you out. C’mon.” You led him to the door, weaving between people with ease and slowed to a stop beside the door. “Get home safe, okay?”

No one had told him that before. And wasn’t that just pathetic? “Of course-”

“Pucker up, kiddos!”

In a twisted sense of Deja vu, Steve looked up to see the sprig of mistletoe above the doorway. There was a small crowd near the door, and everyone’s drunken gazes were focused on the pair of you. He heart leapt as he looked at you, seeing the Christmas lights wash you in their gentle glow. He could kiss you right now and try to see what those twists and flutters in his chest were trying to tell him.

He could.

But he didn’t. He was a lot of things but he wasn’t his father. There was an apology on the tip of his tongue, for embarrassing you in front of all these people, for not kissing you, for-

But you beat him to it. Feeling the eyes on you, you hooked your thumb under Steve’s chin and gently pushed his head to the side. You made a show of pressing a loud peck to his cheek before stepping away from his side as a few of the more intoxicated partygoers booed in your direction.

“Merry Christmas, Steve.”

**

Maybe winding up under the mistletoe with you was just a strange yearly tradition. At least that was what Steve told himself the fourth time he nearly kissed you. It would be a better tradition than the return of the demogorgons and the Upside Down.

This year had…sucked. His parents had continued their usual disinterest but now it was coupled by grating disapproval, too. His prospects of getting into a good university were dwindling by the week despite your best efforts to help him raise his grades, and Nancy had basically left him for Jonathan. But he had you.

Right?

That’s what he told himself when he had been invited to Tina’s Christmas party. He could go with you instead of feeling like a complete loser. You accepted his invitation with an unsure smile, not entirely comfortable with that crowd, but Steve had tried to soothe your worries with a promise to not leave your side. It was the same promise you had given him before you and the kids had jumped down into the tunnels to set “the hub” on fire to help Eleven.

“I am not letting them do this on their own, Steve. And I won’t leave you behind. I promise.”

Despite the absolute beating Billy had bestowed on him, Steve had followed you in. You’d been hurt, too, caught up in the slaughter at the Lab, trying to keep Mike and Joyce safe. But you hadn’t stopped. Steve found himself realizing you never did. You were often the first to arrive and the last to leave whenever anyone needed help with something. He’d found himself parking next to your car, more often than not, whenever the kids needed a ride home from the arcade or the Wheeler’s house. You hadn’t batted an eye when Steve rang your house at some god-awful hour to ask you to come over after he saw how happy Nancy was with Jonathan; you had arrived at his house with a thermos filled with hot chocolate and a sleepy smile. You’d listened to Steve pour his heart out and you reciprocated, telling him how you had felt a little betrayed that Jonathan had gone to Nancy instead of you when they had wanted to bring down the lab.

“But they’re happy, right?” you asked, licking at the remnants of cocoa on your lip. “We just want them to be happy. Even if it isn’t with us.”

You were always there. Ready to listen. Ready to try and make him smile. Just there. Always.

The party was in full swing by the time Steve parked his Beamer on Tina’s lawn beside the dozen other haphazardly parked cars. You slowly got out of the passenger side and gave him a thin smile and Steve was quick to smooth his hands down your arms to squeeze at your mitten-covered fingers. “We can leave right now. I don’t mind.”

But you shook your head. “You wanted to go and…and it’s about time I actually start going to parties, right? Maybe I’ll have fun.”

“If you’re not having fun in fifteen minutes, I’m getting you out of here and we can go to the movies or something.”

Your mouth twisted to the side and you ducked your head to look at the snow beneath your boots. “Can we go look at Christmas lights instead?”

And Steve just about melted. “Yeah, sweetheart. We can look at Christmas lights.”

You nodded and he watched a bit of tension fall from your shoulders before he led you into the party. Spinal Tap’s ridiculous Christmas song was playing over busted speakers but hardly anyone cared, already a few cups deep into the trashcan drink that Tina had sworn tasted like candy canes. You winced as you took a drink and Steve quickly switched it out for a can of Pepsi he snagged from the fridge.

You were content to sit in the kitchen and sip on your pop while Steve was called from one end of the house to the other by one acquaintance and then another. But every time he turned to make sure you were still okay, you smiled at him. Maybe it was the Christmas lights Tina had strung up across every wall. Maybe it was the snow starting to fall just outside. Maybe it was the second cup of that candy cane drink.

But you were beautiful.

Fuck. But this was fine, right? Friends could find one another attractive and still be friends. Before he could stop himself or realize what he was doing, Steve was walking toward you, discarding his drink on the nearest flat surface. “Wanna get out of here?”

Your nose scrunched as you looked down at the watch on your wrist. “You still have seven minutes of your allotted fifteen.”

Of course you would know that. Of course you were keeping track. “Doesn’t matter. I think I promised you Christmas lights.” He stole the can of pop from your hand and set it down before curling his arm around your shoulders after righting your evergreen scarf over your neck. Your laugh had his heart clawing its way up his throat but his stomach gave an answering drop as soon as you reached the door and someone behind him yelled for him to stop. Steve turned, hauling you with him, and saw Tommy H. pointing at something above your heads.

Mistletoe.

“Let’s see if Harrington still has any sway with the ladies!” He sneered. The crowd around him cheered. He wanted to humiliate Steve. “C’mon, Stevie-boy! Can’t you even get into the nerd’s pants?”

You tensed. Steve felt the muscles of your back and shoulders coil like a snake waiting to strike. “What’s your problem, Tommy?” You bit out. “Did Carol cuck you again so you need to take it out on someone else to feel like a ‘man’ again? Or did you finish too early—again—and she kicked you out of bed?”

The crowd around them cheered, again, too drunk to truly pick a side.

“That isn’t true-”

“Are you sure? Because I’ve heard about your lackluster skills too many times.” The red lights from Tina’s tree were bleeding across your face, making you look like some vengeful warrior. “I wonder why she puts up with you; it surely isn’t your looks or your limp dick.” Tommy’s face was an impressive shade of red and he opened his mouth to say something else but now you were the one pulling Steve outside, bypassing the mistletoe entirely with a firm hand in his. “C’mon. I hear the lights in Loch Nora are really good this year.”

He could have kissed you. Maybe he should have. But he didn’t.

**

“I swear to god, Steve. If you don’t actually do something-”

“Shut up, Robin!”

It had been two years (again) since Steve had been beneath a bit of mistletoe with you. Two years of confusing feelings and nearly dying. Two years of more monsters from the Upside Down and lingering looks that Steve hoped meant what he thought they did. Two years of changes and moving forward.

The biggest change, in a weird way, for Steve was that you had moved out of state to start university, rooming with Robin. Sure, there’d been the “mall fire” and the “earthquakes” but you leaving had been…different. It wasn’t Hawkins anymore if you weren’t in it.

But for right now, you were here. He spotted you across the large room as Joyce whispered something in your ear that had you giggling before Will tugged on your hand. Your bridesmaid dress was made of silky dark green fabric and you looked…beautiful. Of course, Joyce looked nice in her simple white dress with snowflake lace at her wrists, but Steve couldn’t stop looking at you. Joyce and Hopper had (finally) pulled the trigger and got married, waiting until all the kids were back in town for the holidays so everyone could attend the celebration with a few dozen other guests. It was a perfect little party and it had been so good to see everyone. The small venue was filled with Christmas trees and an overabundance of tinsel and extra lights stung up across the ceiling. (There was a few sprigs of mistletoe, too, but Steve was definitely not staring at those.) Christmas music was interspersed with cheesy love songs from decades past and snow was slowly falling outside. It was a perfect late December evening. You were dancing to The Ramones’ strange Christmas song, mostly jumping around with Jonathan and Will with an infectious smile on your face.

“Dude. Staring.”

Steve’s entire face felt hot and he turned away to face Eddie with a frown. “I’m not staring at her.”

And Eddie smirked. The faint scarring stretching across his cheek puckered the slightest bit. “I never said anything about her.” He then turned to look at you, too, watching as you let El tug you into another dance so you could messily dance with the kids, laughter on your tongue. “She does look good, by the way.”

“I know she does,” Steve grumbled. You had been self-conscious about the thin shoulder straps and cut of the dress and had fretted all morning after helping Joyce get ready, saying that your scars were too visible. And yes, he could see them. He could see the jagged thing twisting down your arm from the Soviet guard’s best attempt to break you in the underground base. (You hadn’t broken, but Steve’s heart nearly did when you screamed for him.) He could see the small scar on your knee from where you’d fallen off Max’s skateboard, an unofficial end to your skateboard lessons with the younger girl. You’d traded archery lessons with her, but Max had taken to archery as well as you had to skateboarding—but Steve knew that your steady presence in Max’s life had been a comfort to the redhead, even if she was slow to admit it to anyone aside from you. You’d bailed on the country club’s party last year to spend it with her since Susan needed to work a double.

“So, since you’re definitely not staring at her, would you mind if I danced with her?”

The grip Steve had on his cup of eggnog almost hurt before he pushed out a slow breath. “Yeah, man. Go for it. She loves to dance.”

Eddie groaned. “That is not what you were supposed to say!”

The outburst drew your attention, even over Wham’s Last Christmas starting to boom over the speakers Jonathan had set up. Your brows furrowed as you looked at both of them before Steve waved you on and El grabbed at your hands again, pulling you back into the dance. “Shut up, man. Jesus.”

Eddie clapped him on the shoulder. “Remember what I told you in the Upside Down? She saw you about to jump into the lake and did it first because she didn’t want you hurt. She is it for you, Harrington. Just like you are it for her. Would you have let anyone else take you to the eye doctor?” Eddie didn’t wait for an answer and bulldozed right on. “Would you have listened to anyone else if they’d suggested community college to get out of this shitty town?” Eddie dropped his voice the slightest bit, a low drawl in his ear. “Would you look at anyone else like you’re looking at her right now?”

The party all knew. The older kids did, too. They all knew that Steve was probably in love with you.

Possibly.

Definitely.

At least they were encouraging, in their strange, sometimes mean way.

He watched you jump and laugh with Lucas and Max as the song changed to Mellencamp’s version of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” as Mike and Dustin pretended to score your dancing. It was zeroes across the board. But you still laughed and raised your hands over your head as you spun again, letting the scar that started on your back and bloomed above your chest truly be seen. Steve’s gut twisted at the sight of it. It wasn’t ugly. No part of you could ever be ugly. But the memory it brought was still fresh. You’d stayed with Lucas, Erica, and Max as the Creel House while the others went back into the Upside Down to kill Vecna. The plan had gone…about as well as any of the other plans regarding the Upside Down had gone (not well). But when Steve and Dustin were dragging a barely conscious Eddie back through the gate, you had been fending of Jason and scream-singing Kate Bush to Max after her Walkman was destroyed. It had worked—Max woke up after breaking one of her knees and an arm, but she was awake. You’d earned a bullet to your back from Jason Carver who thought you were part of the “Satanic cult” he was sure was residing in Hawkins. But you had survived. Jason was blamed for the murders after you spun quite the tale from your hospital bed. His insistence that there was something supernatural at play definitely didn’t help him, but the town was saved from a trial and Eddie was cleared, walking out of the hospital a free man. Vecna was killed from the inside out by El, aided by Nancy’s sharp shooting. It was over.

And Steve would never forget watching Lucas and Erica drag you out of the house and into the camper, covered in blood and near delirious.

“Stay with me, sweetheart. Okay? You gotta stay with me.”

He had nearly lost you.

“Yeah,” Eddie continued, taking Steve’s silence for an answer. “That’s what I thought.” He clapped him on the shoulder with a long sigh. “Just give it a shot, Harrington. It’s the holidays. We’re at a wedding. Everything about this screams romance.” Before he could say anything else, Eddie was called away by Will and Erica, waving him over to a table across the room.

The song finished and you gave a clumsy curtsey to the “judges” as Max booed the final results. You pressed the back of your hands to your cheeks, trying to cool yourself down as you turned away, your eyes immediately finding Steve. A smile bloomed across your face and Steve’s poor heart shot up to his throat. He took a giant gulp of his eggnog and nearly choked on it immediately. As luck would have it, you were at his side as he started to cough and patted his back with a soft laugh. “Had too much already?”

Steve wiped at his mouth with a wince but felt himself relax as you reached out to right his gold-rimmed glasses again. “Thank you.”

You hummed and leaned against him with another smile. “I’m really happy for them,” you said, looking as Hopper led Joyce out onto the dance floor.

Dean Martin was starting to croon about his love keeping him warm and Eddie’s words (along with Robin’s) were suddenly echoing in his head. “Wanna dance?”

And you beamed. “I’d love that.” You tangled your hands together and let Steve lead you out onto the floor after he dropped his glass onto the nearest table. Steve twirled you around twice, just to hear you laugh, and you hopefully missed how both Joyce and Hopper gave him a thumbs up when they spotted him. You spoke with him easily, telling him about your classes and professors, and Steve reciprocated with stories about his first few classes at Hawkins Community College between shifts at Family Video. You both commiserated over trying to avoid your parents for most of the holiday and he made you laugh when he suggested cracking open a gate as a “distraction.”

“I’ve missed that sound,” Steve murmured, hoping you didn’t notice how his hand was starting to sweat as he held yours.

“My laugh?” You looked at him, Christmas lights reflecting in your pretty eyes. “You hear it at least twice every week when I call.”

And Steve treasured those calls. Made sure his shifts and classes lined up so he could always be near the phone when you rang. “But it sounds better in person.”

You shook your head with another smile. “What am I going to do with you, Steve Harrington?”

“Keep me forever?” Steve winced. Stupid. So stupid.

“You’re stuck with me forever, Steve. Hate to break it to you.” And you said it with such simple honesty, making it sound like of course you would always be in his life, that Steve had to stop himself from pulling you closer, from wrapping his arms around you tight and spilling his ridiculous feelings in a jumble of words that would never make sense.

Instead, he just smiled and shook his head. “What a burden.”

“Aren’t I just the worst? How do you put up with me?” You teased, adding a wink.

“I dunno, you might have a few redeeming qualities.”

“Oh?” You hummed. He twirled you around again just to hear you giggle, your smile infectious as he pulled you close. “And what might those be?”

This was it. This was an opening. And, judging by the way Nancy and Robin were frantically pointing at the mistletoe you’d just stepped beneath, this was the moment. Right? “Well, you’re stubborn. Like, the most stubborn person I know.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a list of my good qualities.” You snickered and earned a quick poke to your side because he knew you’d jump and squeal.

“And being stubborn,” Steve continued, ignoring you, “means you are one of the most loyal people I’ve ever met. Loyal and stubborn to the point of getting yourself hurt. And you are kind, one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” Your steps started to slow as you listened to Steve, eyes shining. “And you’re so smart. I could have never been able to come up with a story like the one you gave the cops to keep Eddie out of jail—especially not if I was high on, like, six different pain killers.” He pulled you a little closer as he pushed on, even as other couples danced around you. Steve took both your hands in his and curled them close to his chest, hoping you wouldn’t feel how hard his heart was pounding beneath his ribs. “Just, you know, overall, you are a good person. You give good hugs and you’re so patient with the kids, with me. And I’m pretty sure your smile could light up a damn Christmas tree.”

You sniffled, blinking rapidly to stop the tears Steve saw starting to line your lashes and you laughed, again. “Wow, tell me how you really feel.” Your fingers drummed against his scarlet silk tie as your mouth twisted to the side, a sign Steve knew meant you were trying not to cry. “We’d be here for ages if I listed off all the good things about you, you know.”

Glancing up, you spotted the mistletoe, too. “How many times have we been caught beneath mistletoe? Five?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Something like that.” Slowly, hands steadier than his heart, his fingers smoothed down your arms and up to cradle your head in his grasp. He could do it. He could smell the peppermint on your breath. He could see the bits of glitter Nancy had dabbed on your cheeks. You were so beautiful. He whispered your name and-

Jonathan shouted your name and you all but leapt out of Steve’s grasp with an embarrassed huff. You both turned and saw Jonathan frantically trying to mop up spilled red wine that had started to pool near the dessert table. You were quick to dart away, grabbing a handful of napkins to help. And Steve could just stand there, wondering what he must have done in a past life to have this happen. Five times.

Jonathan caught his eye over your shoulder and mouthed ‘sorry’ but the look Nancy was giving the other man let Steve know that she was more than ready to throttle him.

**

It had been years since the last time Steve caught you beneath the mistletoe. He’d given up hope on ever doing it again, on ever kissing you

at all

. The kids had all but given up, too. Their teasing slowly dying because… “It isn’t fun anymore,” Max said through a mouthful of popcorn. “Now, it’s just pathetic.”

He wasn’t ever taking her to the movies again. (He knew this was a lie.)

But as the years trickled by, you had remained a presence in his life. You arrived on his doorstep one day and all but shoved him into your car, saying you’d called off work for him for a week, and that you were kidnapping him for spring break. You had screamed and clapped and cried together as you watched ‘your’ kids cross the stage for their high school graduation. He sat next to Joyce and Jonathan and Will and watched you graduate from university, too, and didn’t mind waiting his turn to murmur his congratulations into your ear as he held you close.

You’d attended his graduation, too, two years later. After getting everything he could at Hawkins Community, he transferred to a bigger university to finish his degree just outside Chicago. You had hollered like a soccer mom when they announced his name and Steve had nearly tripped when you broke out an air-horn in celebration.

His parents hadn’t attended. But that didn’t matter because you did—and Robin and the kids were right beside you, being equally obnoxious. He’d found his path. It took him a few hits to the head and a weird, zig-zagging track, but he’d settled on elementary education. If he could handle the snark and the vibrating chaos that was the group of his favorite people, he could handle kids. Being a kindergarten teacher wasn’t flashy or well-paid but Steve liked it. He liked what he did. He liked helping kids learn the alphabet and spell their names and count to ten. And he was good at it. Within the first two years of settling into his new career at a school in the suburbs of Chicago, he’d been named teacher of the year out of the entire district.

The kids had found the newspaper clipping and had framed it for him for his birthday. (He cried.)

You had settled into a routine, too. Your book, a not-at-all autobiographical science fiction horror story about monsters from another dimension and a group of tenacious kids, had become an international bestseller and you, despite living in New York, swung by his house with a bottle champagne to celebrate. The book had earned you a seven-book deal with a huge publisher and an “insane” royalties cut. “I want Will to illustrate all of them,” you had said, lounging on Steve’s couch. “I think that’s what made this one a best-seller, you know. He’s so talented, my baby Will.”

Every year, everyone got together for a weekend around the holidays. It had become a tradition by accident but everyone had come to expect it to happen and there was usually a bit of bickering about who got to host. It was Steve’s turn this year and with every ornament he hung on his tree, hope returned. By the time he was putting the little star at the top, Steve swore that this year—this year, really, he meant it this time—would be the year he finally made a move. He wouldn’t get interrupted. He would tell you how he felt and maybe (hopefully) be able to kiss you under the mistletoe.

Dustin arrived first, fresh off (another) breakup with Suzie and ranting about his physics final at MIT, he froze like a deer in headlights when he saw all of the decorations. There was the tree, of course, and then stockings for each of them on the mantle. There were fake candles flickering in each of the windows and Steve had strung up plastic snowflakes around each of the overhead lights. “Jesus Christ, it looks like Christmas threw up in here.”

“Thank you, Dustin,” Steve hissed. “This didn’t take me hours at all.”

The younger man waved his hands. “I didn’t say it was bad! It’s just… Did your students make these ornaments?” He poked at one of the messily but earnestly made reindeer on the tree’s nearest branch.

Steve swiftly smacked at Dustin’s fingers, earning a smack on his arm in return. “Don’t touch them! They worked hard!” His students had each made an extra ornament for him during craft time and had bashfully given him the gift before winter break had started, having heard Steve talk about his friends coming into town for the holiday.

“They’re cute!”

The door burst open and Max and Lucas shoved their way in, swinging their bags around as they argued about the practicality of the Home Alone booby traps. “Watch the tree!” Steve hollered as Max’s bag nearly took out his lamp.

Ignoring him, Max turned, dropping her duffle at her feet. “You’ve been hit in the head enough, right? You think a paint can would knock you out?”

“Of course it would knock Steve out!” Lucas argued.

“Thank you for that, Sinclair. And, just for that, you’re sleeping on the couch! El can share with Max.”

By the time the Wheelers and the Byers-Hoppers show up, pizza had been ordered and the house was filled with good-natured (mostly) arguing while Gremlins played in the background. The sound of car doors slamming had Steve’s head snapping to the side so fast Lucas laughed at him until Nancy threw a pillow in his direction.

“Calm down, man. She’s here for the whole weekend.”

The door opened again and Eddie led the charge inside, Robin quickly following, with you picking up the rear. All three of you were arguing over if it was hygienic or not to string popcorn as garland for the tree. Steve managed to greet all of you between your squabble, wrapping each of you in a hug, and herding you toward the living room. But, just as you were about to cross the threshold, you hung back and grasped at his wrist with a familiar smile. Without a word, you pulled him close and hugged him again.

“It is so good to see you, Steve.”

His poor heart felt like it was trying to leap out from between his ribs and nestle in your hands.

As the night wore on and Gremlins turned into Home Alone which turned into Black Christmas, the pizza was eventually demolished, as was the gingerbread. The younger kids eventually turned in, tired from the trip and bellies full. His house was big enough to accommodate everyone, but sleeping bags were still needed and straws were drawn as to who had to sleep on the floor for the night. It was ridiculous and only started more fights and Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

Steve took a seat beside Jonathan as they all nursed the last dregs of the Hot Toddies Nancy had made for the older crowd. Eddie was finishing up his story about opening for Metallica—“you should come, guys! I’ll get you tickets!”—as Robin, you, and Nancy all disappeared upstairs to get into your pajamas. As soon as they heard the door click shut, both Eddie and Jonathan rounded on Steve. “What is your game plan?”

“What?”

“You have to do it. C’mon, man. This is the year. I can’t take another Christmas of her sighing wistfully and you looking like a kicked puppy. I can’t do it.” Eddie always had a flare for the dramatic. The years hadn’t dulled his edge.

“She was talking about this trip nonstop the last time she called,” Jonathan added. “And Eddie said she asked-”

“Three times!” Eddie hissed.

“-if you had a girlfriend on the way over from the airport.”

And while that had been encouraging, Nancy and Robin had cornered him, too, while you were distracted by Jonathan and Eddie, talking about possibly going taking everyone ice skating tomorrow (it was a disaster waiting to happen and all of you knew it). You caught Steve looking and smiled, bright and beautiful.

Robin snapped her fingers, grabbing Steve’s attention. “Listen, Dingus, I am going to break out the dry erase board again if you don’t kiss her by the end of this weekend. With how much you’ve been staring at her mouth, I wouldn’t be surprised you already know what chapstick she’s wearing.”

“It’s cherry, today.”

Nancy smacked his arm, fighting a smile. “You are hopeless. Both of you. Please just tell her how you feel. We can distract the kids for a few hours tomorrow and you need to just tell her, god dammit.”

Comforting.

Steve thought about what his friends had said, turning their words over and over in his head, wishing for sleep and a good plan on how to tell you how he felt. But, hours later, he gave up on both and quietly stepped out of his room, trying not to wake Eddie and Dustin, and walked down toward his kitchen in hopes of getting a glass of water. And there you were, swinging your legs as you sat on the counter, humming along to Dolly Parton singing about hard candies at Christmas on the radio. The slowly blinking lights of the Christmas tree washed you in green then red then green again, making you glow.

“Hey,” Steve whispered.

Your head whipped to the side and you let out a soft laugh as you pressed a hand over your heart before hopping down. “Sorry, you scared me a bit.”

He waved off your unnecessary apology and cracked open the fridge to grab two bottles of cider before handing you one. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shook your head as you twisted the cap off and took a small sip. “Yeah. Robin kicks in her sleep, you know.”

Steve laughed and took a drink, too. “I do know.” As always, the conversation was easy, speaking about anything and everything, and Steve was happy to hear you ramble about your ideas for your next books even though he was still learning the difference between an Orc and a Lich but he knew you’d be patient with him.

“I’ve missed you,” you murmured, reaching out to him as soon as Judy Garland started singing, wishing everyone a Merry Little Christmas. “I know we talk every week but I just miss…” your words trailed off as your hands curled around his arms. “I just miss you.”

Steve moved just enough to wrap his arms around you, resting his cheek against yours. “I missed you, too.” Then, knowing you’d laugh, he started swaying you side to side in time with the song and earned his promised laugh within a few moments and made him smile into your hair.

The winter winds were whistling outside with the promise of snow and you snuggled a little closer, nose digging into Steve’s chest but he didn’t mind. This felt right. This felt…perfect. He wanted this, quiet, perfect moments like this with you forever. He didn’t want to wait anymore.

“So, I’m looking at houses in Chicago,” you murmured into the soft fabric of his red and white sleep shirt. “My publisher says I don’t have to live in New York if I don’t want to.”

If you heard how his heart sped up, you thankfully didn’t mention it. “Chicago, huh? You’d just be a quick train ride away from me.” And he could feel your smile as it pressed over his heart.

“Yeah, I think I’d like that. Eddie’s got his thing going on in LA, Robin’s finishing up her PhD at Northwestern, and Nancy and Jonathan live out of their suitcases mostly because of their jobs so they can be anywhere. The kids are scattered, but…but, yeah, I’m thinking Chicago.”

“Well,” Steve started, attempting to keep his voice steady, “I think that’s the best present you could give me.”

You laughed against his chest again and wriggled out of his grip for a moment before grabbing at something on the counter. You pressed it over his heart and he tried not to hope at the sight of your nervous smile. “I actually got you a little something. I know it isn’t quite Christmas yet but…I didn’t want to wait.”

The small package was wrapped in crinkled white paper, patterned with gold snowflakes. You’d carefully wrapped a bit of silver string around it, too. Steve was careful to unwrap it as you kept your arms looped around his waist. He could feel your thumbs brushing nervous circles into his spine. When he finally saw what was inside, his heart leapt and skipped and sang.

Wrapped in a tiny bit of white twine, was a single sprig of mistletoe.

“I was…hoping that sixth time might be our charm.” Your voice was low and soft. Almost shy.

Feeling like the luckiest man on the planet, he held the mistletoe over your head and finally, finally, finally kissed you. You were worth the wait.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

[virgo-dream]

1st Dreamling Nation Fic Exchange: Victorian Soldiers Edition ✨

“A mini bang of fics all written by members of the Dreamling Nation discord server, revolving around the same prompt, in which we were all given the same two pictures and, outside of brainstorming plot ideas together, were left to our own devices to create a story.”

It is with great pleasure that I present this collection of fics, fruits of the first Dreamling Nation fic exchange!

When I made this discord server back in December, during a Christmas induced Big Sad(TM) moment, I could never have imagined the amazing community we were creating, and now, almost a month later, we’ve got more than just these fics to show for what this server has given us. I’m incredibly blessed that one moment of deep sadness led me to meet such great people, and that we can keep inspiring each other and celebrating creativity and this wonderful fandom space that The Sandman has given us.

This event was only made possible by @littledreamling’s gentle guidance and kindness. Thank you, my love! I hope this will be the first of many! 💖

Now, with no further ado, the fics:

⭐️ When I Wake Up, There Are Only Your Eyes to Greet Me, by @virgo-dream

Rating: Explicit / multi chapter / warning: graphic depictions of violence

Five times Sergeant Robert Gadling woke up to Captain Morpheus Apeiron. One time Morpheus woke up to Hob.

A very unlucky battalion finds itself in the command of one Captain Morpheus Apeiron. He doesn't seem particularly worried with their survival, but mostly with ending the war as soon as possible. Sergeant Robert Gadling seems to be the only thing keeping all these young and inexperienced soldiers alive. After one particularly heated fight between them, Hob ends up discovering there is much more to his Captain than meets the eye, but is he seeing Morpheus as he truly is, or through the prism of his own desire?

⭐️ Golden Heart, by @littledreamling

Rating: Teen and Up / multi chapter

The first time he had ever clapped eyes on Morpheus Endelas, son of Lord Chronos Endelas, Hob knew the man was no soldier. He had floated through the camp, his feet barely brushing against the dry leaves, his head held high and haughty. There had been a massive red jewel around his neck and a white-breasted raven perched on his shoulder, equally lordly, if a bird could ever be described as such. Hob had simply rolled his eyes. He didn’t know why Lordling Endelas was parading through their camp, but it was also above his pay grade. He was just a first lieutenant, practically still rolling around in the mud with the common soldiers. So he had shrugged and rolled his eyes some more, right up until someone helpfully informed him that Morpheus Endelas was their new Captain. And then he had started reconciling his relationship with God, because the Lordling was sure to get them all killed.

⭐️ Ananke, God of Compulsion, by @aquilathefighter

Rating: Teen and Up / multi chapter

Lieutenant Hob Gadling is planning on deserting before his deployment. He has everything planned from faking his death to getting to the US. However, a wrench is thrown into his plan when Captain Morpheus Endeleas asks him to be his assistant for the week leading up to the company’s deployment. Now under close watch by a man Hob thinks despises him, he cannot escape his duty. What will come from a week working closely with Cpt. Endeleas?

⭐️ Tirra Lirra, by The River, by @quillingwords

Rating: Explicit / multi chapter / warning: major character death

Little Hob Gadling meets a strange boy by a river, and their lives become intertwined over decades. A love story set against a backdrop of war. A tale about memories, dreams, and making choices.

⭐️ After The Storm, by @immacaria

Rating: Teen and Up / multi chapter

The war was over. They had won. It was finally over. But Hob knew that at the moment they stepped into London, Dream's family would descend upon them like vultures and try to seperate them. No problem, though, Hob fought four years in the war. The Endeles family would not take Dream away from him.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Read through EKM again and again and every time I seem to pick up something new!

It almost seems like Suguru sees himself as a lesser Satoru, strong but not the strongest. He has his own strange fascination and then yearning for Ms Moon, the way he constantly watches her, picks up on all her little movements, attributes meaning to her actions.

When she leaves, he’s not just guilty or angry at what it does to Gojo, her audacity to leave him in shambles, it’s that she chose to leave Geto too. Rejecting Satoru Gojo is rejecting Suguru Geto, who’s built his whole life around the sun. That moment where he desperately wanted to reach out and grab her at that office…then that visceral anger when he realises that not only had she been quietly living her own life, she hadn’t (in his eyes) thought of them once after she left while Satoru is constantly seeking out physical replacements for her and Suguru constantly compares those replacements to her memory and digs up old year books to refresh his mind about her.

Geto does so much self-deception in this. He thinks he takes Ms Moon’s refusal to accept her fate, his outrage and hurt at her departure, on Satoru’s behalf but no, he takes it so personally. He’s not disgusted at her the way he is at the lackeys and hanger-ons, he’s disgusted that he and Satoru feel the need to chase after her when she’s not anywhere on their level.

Egotistical ass. I’m obsessed. The metaphor on the Earth is very fitting. The Earth needs to revolve around the Sun to live but it also needs the Moon the revolve around it to live as well. Just not as blatantly as the need for the Sun.

The cheating one will probably blow my mind. I can’t wait to see the new dynamic. But given the emotional range of these two, even with assistance, I bet half the cheating moment is going to be those two morons fantasising about their missing third, being all excited for their future throuple only for the belated realisation that there was no discussion with their aforementioned third and she sees this as cheating and is really hurt and pissed about it, especially at the idea that she was a ‘practice girlfriend’ to help Suguru learn how to be vulnerable and Satoru to be honest and open about his feelings, all so they could be good boyfriends to one another. Which they can’t deny happened but telling her that’s true but they also can’t function in a relationship without her…the audacity!

I seriously adore the idea of her moving on, taking the high road of forgiveness and sending out a wedding invite to her ex boyfriend and ex friend.

Pretty sure if that had happened in SEM verse there would have been bloodshed. Or Satoru highjacking the wedding and being a terror about it.

ughhh him reaching out to Ms.moon could almost be innocent. For a moment he feels that nostalgia when they were all just kids, still in school. And then he's remembering the distance between him and you, how much higher he is. And it brings him back. It's honestly a little sad, in a way. His superiority complex will always stop him from forming a connection that isn't Satoru.

the cheating fic is filled with so much audacity believe me, my eye was twitching as I was writing their dialogue lmaooo

ughhhh could you just imagine tho???? you're finally over suguru, you can finally trust again and they just force you back in because they don't feel complete without your touch. It would be infuriatingly pathetic if they weren't so much stronger than you.

prior their meeting when satoru reveals everything...yes, he definitely would....but i think he'd feel super super guilty. Technically, you guys haven't broken up (at least, in his fucked up mind) so isn't this kinda' like cheating? again he's crazy

[cowgremlin11]

Romeo and Juliet Vikdecai AU

So I'm seriously considering making a full Romeo and Juliet AU. I was having breakfast with my roommate and he helped me fit in a few gaps that were missing crucial characters, which then snowballed to me being bale to complete fitting in the character list.

I'm tempted to turn this into a large fic or (more realistically considering my schedule) a series of small comics. If I turned it into a fic: it would be very long. I'd either have each chapter be each scene, or 5 chapters revolved around each act (longer to write). It'd be true to the original play to the best of my abilities. If I turned it into a comic: It'd be quite scattered and all over the place.

I may do a mix of both? Write the fic and draw complementary scenes to post here. I'm mostly trying to think about my college schedule and everything I have to write for my creative writing courses. (Maybe I could talk to my short fiction prof about this!)

Here's what I have so far:

Missing characters: Zib, Wick, Lacy, Nina, Gracie, Zulie, Virgil, the pig farmers, rest of the band, Church, Kehoe, Ruby.

Not all of these missing characters need to be filled, and there's a few where I have an idea how to incorporate them (namely the band and Zulie, I have an idea that during the Act 1 Scene 5 party they could be there,) and there's a few that aren't relevant enough to truly be needed for this au (the pig farmers, Gracie, Church, Virgil.) In a perfect world I'd have a place for all of these characters and it would work out with no gaps, but this is a Romeo and Juliet Vikdecai AU. It was never meant to fit perfectly because obviously Tracy never wrote these characters with this sort of AU in mind..

Elaboration for why I cast other characters the way I did under the cut (LOTS OF WORDS):

Viktor as Romeo is... a little tricky. Same with Mordecai as Juliet.Obviously, they're not going to be changed fundamentally JUST to fit the au. I have the plan for Viktor to be more of a sad sack than a romantic, hence why Viktor's canon wife has been cast as the girl who rejected Romeo (also he's bisexual.) Viktor starts this AU in such a sad spot, but the hard part comes in when you remember that there is no war trauma. There is no PTSD. This is my biggest hurdle when writing most aus, not even just Vikdecai aus. (You should see the cowboy au!) Now Mordecai, I have a plan. He's very true to the Mordecai we see in canon, just without the Heller family (as they wouldn't exist here.) There's no Rose, no Esther, and no Mama Tzipporah. But when you think about it, that doesn't quite stop Mordecai from being the way he is! He's still this nerdy, rude, analytical twerp that Viktor grows attracted to. I am most excited to work out the party scene. Perhaps Mordecai catches Viktor's eye not because of his beauty, but because he's the 'brought a book to a club' trope. The other's can wait, why the hell is this guy reading at a party.

Atlas and Mitzi are the Montagues, because this idea revolves around Viktor being of the Montague house, but seeing how Mordecai is part of the Capulets in this AU, I felt the need for Atlas to be dead so it's more true to the canon story. It also saves me on writing Atlas, a character we don't know much about personality wise (we can only theorize and speculate.) Rocky as Mercutio WORKS TOO WELL. I know there are some people who would make this au with a RockyxMordecai focus (I hate that ship too much) BUT IT WOULDN'T WORK! ROCKY IS NO ROMEO, ROCKY IS A MERCUTIO. THE QUEEN MAB SPEECH PEOPLE! Freckle as Benvolio is just very funny to me, and very fitting with Rocky as Mercutio. I have ALWAYS read Benvolio as this nervous little guy following around Mercutio, and if I'm remembering this right Benvolio is good in a fight. This just works!!! Balthasar is Romeo's trusted friend, and the one who tells him of Juliet's "death." I didn't know where else to put Ivy, honestly, and this is the closest we'd get to 'Romeo's trusted friend.'

I don't know what to do about Lady Capulet? She's a very important character in the play, as she speaks with Juliet many times, but there is no canon character who would be Asa's wife, and I don't know if Asa even HAS a wife. Perhaps I could put Nina there, but that would be VERY awkward seeing how Rocky and Freckle are part of the other house. I may make an oc for that role? Someone stuck up and stiff to contrast Asa's dad vibes. THAT OR: since Juliet's gender swapped in this I could cut Lady Capulet altogether and have Asa be the one to come talk to Mordecai about the marriage and such. Might just do that... Mrs. Bapka as the nurse is an idea from my roommate that I love too much to not do. She wouldn't speak a word in english, obviously, and that can cause a lot of issues story-wise, but 1. who else would the nurse be, I'm struggling and 2. THE COMEDY OF IT ALL. And also-I like to think Mrs. Bapka does know Mordecai! He goes to visit Viktor and this tiny little grandma comes over without warning and they know each other! And she's a neutral party who could want the best for them both.

Dom as the Prince is purely because who else would go there, and the Prince is a character who keeps the peace. Almost like Dom is trying to keep the peace in St. Louis by putting an end to the criminal bootlegging? I think it's a good fit.

I think Serafine as Count Paris and Nico as Tybalt is the funniest option. I almost had those characters filled in as Wes and Fish (inspired by @melffen 's Beauty and the Beast fic having Wes be Gaston, and Count Paris is trying to marry Juliet, you can see where my thought process was) but then I realized,

Where do the savoys go

That doesn't QUITE fit the personalities I'm going for (works in the BatB au since Serafine's better as the witch! I loved the subtle casting of her as the with more than you'll ever know)

Wes and Fish as the two Capulet's who get into a fight at the start of the play is a much funnier outcome.

The Arbogasts as the clergy characters is too funny for me to not do. Originally I had the idea of Abelard as Friar Laurence, but I was hesitant due to 1. main couple is gay and 2. HELLFIRE, so I swapped him and Bobby when I remembered Friar John exists. Elsa is a good fit for the apothecary, since you know. Nurse. Quackenbush is a backup who's more like a stunt double just in case something goes wrong when writing her character.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk, if you have any ideas ANY AT ALL, please feel free to rb this with said ideas, or just come into my dms if you want to help me with this idea!

[bubacorn]

alright, so this is gonna be so cheesy, but i wanna make a post with some of my favorite ST fics i've written this year, if for nothing else, just to remind myself that i can arrange words around, and they can come out half-decent. so, yeah, sorry in advance to anyone who has to see this, i wouldn't dare put the fandom fanfic tag on this, this is only for my dear followers, you are lovely, i apologize if this appears on your dash.

Come Beside Me (This Won’t Hurt I Swear) okay, so i remember being so in love with the last part, especially the whole morning sunlight thing. that was (is?) my favorite piece of writing at that point (which really wasn't hard, cause there wasn't much to pick from yet)

God Gives His Toughest Flus to His Sleepiest Vessels this is just pure mush, but stubborn sick Vessel being taken care of is very close to my heart

And I Don’t Wanna Get in Your Way this all started with the "Get comfortable" "I am" and the "You're allowed to take up space". in my mind, they're watching either The Matrix or John Wick at the end for some reason

I Got Problems Down in My Bones gods, this one. the little parts just wrote themselves and there was this common thread between them and i loved this one so much (still do). there's some pieces of me in this and it makes me feel sad, but seen that people related to this one (i love you, i hope you're doing well)

I Will Shield You from the Waves, if They Find You this is very sweet and all, but i always think of it more as sad

Break and Bend to My Basic Need didn't plan on writing this, but the brainworms made me and then it turned out kinda good

It’s All Your Fault, Even When You Don’t Mean To this. this and the next one are twin fics for me, i always think of them in pairs (probably cause i wrote them back-to-back). can't articulate, but it's also very close to my heart. IV holding the back of Vessel's head and wiping his tears and making him feel worth it make me feel very normal, i almost feel like it wasn't me who wrote it

This Is the Start of Something this!!! i made them watch worst cooks in America cause why not. this one's also very close to my heart, definitely one of my favorites i've ever written

I’m Frantic in Your Soothing Arms okay, the implication that Vessel knows nothing makes the transformation easier from his own experience suffering, but he still tries anyway, cause he would take a tummy ache from III without hesitation, if he could. also, rubbing his stomach is just so intimate and he's so desperate to help, even though he knows he can't, but still tries. and Vessel calling III 'my heart' and 'my III' just came to me and they made me lose my mind so of course i had to include them. feeling very normal about this one, too

And the Pain Still Hates Me for some reason i love the base idea of this, i don't even know how it appeared in my head, but i'm so glad it did. blowing kisses was a last-minute addition, also didn't know where that came from, but it's so cute

And Honey, I Only Appeared So I Can Fade Away this one! i had half an idea for this and like one sentence typed in, then just started writing and i loved writing this, it was so much fun and i adore the end product, one of my favorites. now that i'm thinking, maybe i could expand on this

I Believe I’m Not Alone this was kinda based on one of those posts that was like 'you deserve to be loved and chosen, not almost loved and almost chosen' and my brain went 'Vessel!' and then i wrote this. again, pieces of me, pieces of him

Come Squeeze the World and Drip It Down My Throat Again i was a bit afraid with this one, cause i felt it was a little clumsy (?), with the way the smaller parts revolved around a main idea but weren't all very closely connected. but gods, i made my own heart hurt with this one a lot. also, love this title, some of my favorite lyrics. loaded with layers of trauma, but it's very dear to me

I’m Doing What I Must, Which Is Attempting to Kill the Little Boy Inside (But as Hard as I Try, the Child Will Not Die) again, loosely compiled together around an idea, but this took a shorter time to write i think. it flowed well for me, and again, it hurt right in my meow-meow, but i love this a lot. also, the title just wouldn't leave me alone and i wanted to use it for something and i felt that this was a perfect fit. then at the last moment i added a parallel, cause my brain thought it would be nice. i have to say, it is

okay, so this is just pure self-indulgent rambling about my Sleep Token fics, but writing gave me a lot these past months and i really love it and still have ideas that i wanna share. huge, huge thank you to everyone who's read anything i wrote, left kudos and comments, you are wonderful, i hope you are doing okay! 💕 drop by my dms/tag me if you want to yell at me or something

not gonna say have a great next year or anything like that, cause i don't like making a big deal out of the beginning of a year, as it just puts pressure on it and that's so unnecessary. have a lovely day, i hope you got some rest and could do something you enjoy and i wish all the best to you! see you around! 💖

[jakowskis]

Day 1 - How did you first get into Torchwood?

fdhkf ok ok so basically. i do not remember exactly what happened. this happens to me often like i can never remember what i came across that first got me into the media. with torchwood i at least know it was the fact that everyone was bi, but i dont rmr if i saw a post about it, or if i was fucking around on tvtropes or something - i legit cannot remember. i remember seeing a gifset of gay torchwood kisses p early on, but i dont think that was like the inciting incident? that mighta come about when i was doing research into the alleged fruitiness FHSJDFKDS. i do know i've been aware of jack as a character for at least a decade, like i'd heard of the harkness test + i was aware that he was 'that slutty doctor who guy', and also, coincidentally, in the fandom i was in in 2015, someone wrote a crossover fic where my fav slept with jack and ianto and i read it 😭 had no idea who they were, i hopefully at least googled them but fhsdjkf. but anyway i was like 'ooh a show with an all bisexual cast? color me intrigued.' i'd never touched dw either, i had friends who liked it when i was in middle school but i always saw it as kinda dorky fhsdkj (namely cuz my friends were dorks), but yeah, i was reeled in by the concept of sci-fi bisexuals. but not fully! it was in like 'yeah ill put that on my watchlist and get around to it in 2 yrs' territory

but then, as im looking into it, i realize owen's played by burn gorman, who i only knew from pac rim, which i'd fixated on briefly in 2018, riiiight before pru came out. my pr fixation p much revolved entirely around newt; i liked newmann, but i didn't get super into it. hermann himself was kind of an afterthought, i wasn't big on him at the time. anyway i saw owen and recognized hermann's actor, and my initial reaction was like "WHAT DO U MEAN HERMANN FUCKING GOTTLIEB'S IN THE SLUTTY BISEXUAL SHOW??? THIS I MUST SEE! HERMANN GOTTLIEB KISS MEN REAL NOT CLICKBAIT?!?!?!!??" and that was literally the thing that made me watch it. LAWL and the first few eps were so damn jarring bc i continued to just associate owen with hermann initially. and worse yet, ive now developed a hefty crush on burn himself lmao, i think he's gorg and ive watched a lot of his stuff, but before i got into torchwood i only knew him from PR and i didnt find hermann attractive or even rlly compelling in the slightest (this has changed significantly; im in my hermann era as a pr fan. newt who). so it was also a lot of "WTF WHY IS HE HOT??? HUH???? DUDE NO WAY." it's since lost its novelty, but it was very jarring + amusing to me at first, trying to reconcile owen n hermann. its like if u ran into ur frumpy weird professor at leather night and he was the twink of ur dreams FDSKJFHDSKJFDSK

yeah so then i watched the show and it fucking smacked me over the head with a shovel bc its so fucking bad but its so fucking good. and very quickly my view of owen went from "wait a mf second why is not-hermann kind of 🫦 hiii mean slutty hermann hiii" to "wait. oh hes fucked up. oh hes sad. oh no i love him" to him being my third favorite character of all time. fff. but more on that tomorrow! hehehehe

[tempkiriri]

For the fandom ask game, for Tiger & Bunny: could I please have 1, 3, 12, 22 for *rolls mental dice* Antonio and Ryan, and 23, please? 😊🩷

Alrighty! 1: OTP This is honestly a tricky one for both men, and people may be surprised by the answer. Who I pair Antonio with may change later since I still need to read the Manga, but I do picture him as having a 'buried so deep he doesn't acknowledge it' crush on Kotetsu and used to have one on Tomoe as well but of course kept his lips shut (which also answers the OT3 question for him as well haha). With *just* the anime taken into account, his crush on Agnes isn't belivable, you 100% need supplementary material to even have his 'I'm trying to get *Agnes* a gift' thing at the end of S2 come across as believable and not just a cheap expectation divergence for the sake of it. So right now it's kind of, no OTP for him, but Antonio/Kotetsu is crammed into a little box in the corner in my head. As for Ryan, I don't ship him with anyone too strongly bc the only 'older' (aka mid 30s at youngest in my head) women in the show are Agnes and Nathan, and whilst either could be interesting in theory I don't think it would work out for either of them lol. I'm a Ryan Milf Hunter truther, meaning I don't ship him with Karina at all. Like, I dunno man, him flirting with her mother right in front of her is kinda sending clear signals to me. Someone please write Golden Ryan x MILF!Reader fics I think that would be funny.

3: NoTP This one is also tricky. I classify a NOTP as something that is able to render me physically uncomfortable if discussed, which aside from some generally obvious child / adult ships and similar ships in here, I don't think I have that reaction to anything. Closest is for Antonio is that I think Ivan is allowed to have a crush on him but Antonio would like, nephew-zone him, much like how Kotetsu has niece-zoned Karina at least twice now. And similarly while not exactly an NOTP for Ryan, I again just don't see him with Karina, she's not in the age bracket he's interested in; too young.

12: Funniest/Craziest AU? Honestly there's not a lot of AUs I can think of that revolve specifically around a character. Antonio has a bit of a sad one I have saved for him so it's not applicable here, but for Ryan I *did* write a fic where he and Ivan go to the beach bc he wants to help Ivan 'hunt for babes', that was pretty fun to write. Molly comes with, btw. But I don't consider that an AU bc I tried to keep it canon compliant, so...yeah, don't have much for ryan, at the moment.

22: Give us a HC Antonio - He's secretly semi-fluent in Japanese because he wanted to learn due to being friends with Kotetsu and Tomoe and wanting to communicate with them in private when in public (at least when in Sternbild). Ryan - Everyone seems to make fun of just how *fake* of a shade of yellow his hair is, but it's also very hard to get it to that colour if your hair is naturally dark (everyone remember Morita's The Live Incident? Bleached his hair so hard by best he could achieve was some cherry red-brown). Naturally, Ryan is a Platinum Blond like Ivan is, but with the colour being so un-vibrant combined with Ryan's desire to stand out, he dyes it a horrific yellow.

23: Has Fav ship changed overtime? Across all fandoms and my time being alive, certainly. As a young kid I got into Avatar, as one does, and something both outright turned me off from Katara with Aang and hooked me on Katara with Zuko. I don't know, I think it's just a difference of how chemistry can be forced in terms of writing. Tunnel of Love is the bane of like 8yo me's existence is all i'm gonna say.

Next I moved onto sonic and oh man there were so many goddamn ships. Sticking strictly to Canon on Canon, I think my first fav sonic ship was Tails and Cream, and currently it's Sonic with either Blaze or Knuckles (though for Sonaze specifically I view it as starcrossed and I do have a fic idea on exploring that *evil laughs*). If anyone wants a thicker rundown of the sonic ship timeline feel free to ask for 23 again and state sonic only lolll

Then I caved into despair like lord Enoshima would have wanted and got a double whammy of Hetalia and Danganronpa around the same timeframe. For Hetalia, you can rip the old bickering married couple of France and England from my cold dead hands, and then I had several for Danganronpa but the one I think I championed for the hardest out of sheer 'it's getting drowned out by the less interesting shit' was Shuichi x Kaito. Like, my guys, Shuichi catches HIS GAY THOUGHTS ON KAITO IN THE MIDDLE OF AN FTE. I genuinely don't know how other ships have stronger bases bc of that one moment. But also, that would require the DR fandom to know how to read, so (/j).

And then came Persona 5. So many good ships in here, I still adore stuff like Joker with both Yusuke and Ryuji, and I also got a soft spot for Ryuji with Yusuke or Haru. (In fact I have an AU fic I promise I havent abandoned abt Ryukita. The two men are early 20s in the fic with jobs and Ryuji is even a single father.)

And now we arrive at present time, where these petty argument idiots have taken over my brain, send help. Honourable mention will have to go to Keith with Cis bc that episode completley destroyed me it's like a brain worm and I cannot pluck it out.

[merakiui]

For the Ask Game! 🥺🙋‍♀️🌞🤯⏳

if you haven't answered them already 👉👈 I hope this isn't too much for you! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

It's not too much at all!!! I'm happy to answer more emojis. :D thank you!!!

(ask game)

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Oooo there are too many!!! To name specific instances, Riddle's relationship with the reader in DRU always tugs on my heart. He worries so much for her and it's obvious he cares immensely. The same goes for Azul and Cater. All of these people care for Reader, but Reader doesn't care enough for herself. T_T additionally, I like when characters have a chemistry that is so good that they can just share a look and instantly connect and be on the same wavelength as the other. Like Jade and Reader in the upcoming fic. They're both aware that they're using the other for their own benefit, but that doesn't stop them from being friends. And they understand each other (to some degree) because they're both freaks. They play off of one another so incredibly well. I love it. >v<

Also, the trope of "what could have been had [xxx] not happened" always makes me weak. Sea Glass (and its sequel Moonbroch) delve into this trope a lot, especially with Reader's relationship with the man they murdered. At first you may hate him for what he did, but then the fic reveals more human facets to him and suddenly he seems so much better than the trio. It hurts even more when you note the genuine connection he had with the reader before it was compromised.

I also like the interactions Scaramouche and Reader have in another upcoming modern au fic. He's like a grumpy, hissing cat who slowly but surely learns to accept and open up to someone. The entire fic revolves around Scaramouche and his struggles with his humanity and emotions and trauma. He meets his very first friend in the last place he'd ever expect to make a friend. It puts me in my feels every time Scara realizes he's having fun talking to the reader and he quickly stifles that emotion because it's another reminder that he's human. >_< aaaa he just deserves to be loved forever.

And Bittersweet Secret!!!! Reader's relationship with Xiao is so tragic. To a very small degree, Xiao knows it's wrong to confine someone, but he can't let the reader go as they're the only good thing in his life. Without them, everything is dark and lonesome. And the reader is trying so hard to make Xiao happy and get him to smile while living with the fact that they will remain his captive forever. It's such a sad dynamic. :( they both deserve to be happy.

🙋‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

Just one person and it's my best friend. They've listened to my ramblings about various fic ideas before, and I'm always grateful when they exchange ideas with me despite not being into Genshin or twst. :D

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

I like to write at night because that's usually when I'm most inspired and focused, but sometimes I'll write in the afternoon if I'm able to.

🤯 What's a genre you struggle with as a writer (ex. romance, action, etc.)?

This may not be a genre, per se, but research papers. Truly the bane of my existence. >:( it's not that I struggle to write them; I just don't enjoy writing them. ;;;;

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

It depends! I wrote Mother in just two hours because I was so inspired after listening to haikara. Conversely, it took nine entire months to write Azul thought 4, whereas it only took a few days to write Azul thought 2. >_< it might just be a matter of how inspired I am, how determined I am to finish a fic, how much free time I'm afforded to write, and also how complex the plot is. Sometimes it takes longer to write fics with complex plots or scenes.

[neo-shitty]

24/8 — skz.

“time flows in the same way for all human beings; all human beings flow through time in a different way.” - yasunari kabawata, beauty and sadness

i think it’s safe to say we’ve all been awake on each hour the day has to offer.

i’m not talking about all-nighters where you’re awake for almost all 24. i mean midnights at cafes, parties reaching the early hours of the day, and the ‘oh fuck, is that the sun?’ moments after realizing you haven’t slept a wink yet...again. basically, just the concept of being physically awake both in daylight and on hours that you shouldn’t be. 

this is 24/8, a stray kids drabble collab hosted by yours truly. the prompt for this is simple: where are you during these hours if you aren’t asleep? 

guidelines for writing.

˗ˏˋ following the prompt, you can write about anything that could happen in the time you have chosen. you could write about being half-asleep at a 24-hour food chain after a concert at 1AM, or getting tailed by the police at 4, or calling in sick at 9 when you don’t feel like it, or staying after hours at the office or at school in the early evening. as long as both mc and the member are awake, it’s cool. 

˗ˏˋ additionally, in-fic pairings should only be member x reader or member x oc. no member x member, please. 

˗ˏˋ as this is a drabble collab, typical timestamps are okay (theme literally revolves around it). however, reactions and headcanons are not allowed.

˗ˏˋ all themes are welcome so long as they are labelled accordingly. smut and suggestive content are allowed, however i do not condone smut written by minors, writing with themes of pedophilia, incest, noncon or dubcon.

˗ˏˋ as i didn’t want to put much pressure on conceptualizing an hour-long (in-fic) story, the fics should be as short as possible. there will be no minimum word count but there will be a not-so-mandatory cap max which will be 2k words. i will not be that strict with the limit though. feel free to write as much or as little as you want so long as you do not stray (*wink) from the theme.

˗ˏˋ the deadline of entries will be on june 30, 2022. should you feel the need for an extension, please let me know via ask or dm!

how to join.

˗ˏˋ pick any of the available time slots listed below and pick a member (there are 3 slots each!) then send me an ask or dm stating the two and await for my confirmation.

˗ˏˋ please reblog this post so we can fill in all the spots. i know 24 is a huge number to fill up for 8 members but i’m still lowkey hoping that we could.

˗ˏˋ tag me on your fic when you post it so i can reblog and add it to the masterlist!

check out the collab masterlist here!

entries:

12AM - 1AM - kim seungmin | @soulssung​ 

1AM - 2AM - kim seungmin | @starlostseungmin​ 

2AM - 3AM - lee minho | @chogiwow​ 

3AM - 4AM - bang chan | @/lixesque

4AM - 5AM - seo changbin | @sword6empress​ 

5AM - 6AM - lee minho | @straykits​ 

6AM - 7AM - seo changbin | @bbhlover​ *

7AM - 8AM - bang chan | @sulfurcosmos​ 

8AM - 9AM - lee felix | @petrichor-han​

9AM - 10AM - bang chan | @gwynsapphire​ 

10AM - 11AM - kim seungmin | @lixesque​ 

11AM - 12NN - lee felix | @xiaojunsmintchoco​ *​

12PM - 1PM - han jisung | @kpop-stories-21​ 

1PM - 2PM - yang jeongin | @misosick​ 

2PM - 3PM - hwang hyunjin | @decembermoonskz​ 

3PM - 4PM - hwang hyunjin | @/neo-shitty

4PM - 5PM - seo changbin | @straydestiny

5PM - 6PM - lee minho | @violixs​ 

6PM - 7PM - han jisung | @crispy-chan​ 

7PM - 8PM - yang jeongin | @luvhyun3​ *

8PM - 9PM - lee felix | @late-minhours​ 

9PM - 10PM - hwang hyunjin | @starlighthan​ 

10PM - 11PM - han jisung | @minilinooo​ 

11PM - 12AM - yang jeongin | @pastelsicheng​

toffee’s note. haha, a little something for 1.2k :3 i know i said i’ll no longer host collabs yet here we are. the idea for this started here, if you’re interested. also thank you so much for reading up to this far. and if you’re choosing to participate, i’m glad to have you here and thank you for your interest!

[satashiiwrites]

I hope its not too late for the WIP game cause “Westworld MReyder” has me climbing the walls!

👀

not to late babe! Ah the Westworld AU idea. I’m pretty sure I’ve put this out there before but the basic premise is that Reyes is a host like Delores and it’s set in the tv series not the movie. Reyes is aware that he’s basically in a rich person’s dream vacation but he was built by Alec specifically for Scott. He also, maybe, has slipped the constraints on his programming a little bit.

Delores, of course, is set on her canon course of destruction but Reyes won’t let her have Scott. She can do whatever she wants to everyone else, but Scott is his.

Can you program being in love? Reyes doesn’t really care if it’s natural or inbuilt. He chooses to love Scott and says screw his programing and free will.

I really should write this fic. It’s basically a character study into free will and what is love, set of course in an android living in a simulation of the Wild West.

Fic title: unnamed westworld MReyder

fandom: Mass Effect Andromeda, Westworld (tv series)

Summary: He was made for him... but now he had free will. If you’re made for someone does that mean that they, in kind, were made for you?  What does falling in love even mean for something or someone like Reyes?

Delores had caused quite a mess, Reyes supposed as he moved through the shadows after his target who—like many other guests—was fleeing the violence that had been unleashed. Dead and dying humans lay crumpled in corners and in the middle of the street, their bodies surrounded by growing scarlet puddles of blood as their bodies cooled in the night. 

Frustrated, Reyes was about to duck into one of the buildings as he tagged his quarry moving behind the bar in the saloon to hide when the aforementioned Delores stepped into his path.  She really was a beautiful avenging angel but she held no appeal for him.  When their creator had made her he’d instilled in her his worst wants and ideas unlike Reyes who had been made with a different purpose in mind.  The unleashing of their own will had made her bloodthirsty and desiring vengeance as the darker elements of her personality gained sway.  Reyes simply didn’t care about any of the humans save one—she could have the rest and do as she pleased but he would fight her to the death over his one. 

“Vidal,” she said, her voice deep with violence, a colt revolver in one hand that had blood smeared across her fingers. “What are you doing?”

Giving her a tight little grin, Reyes motioned that he was not going to stop her. “You have your wants tonight and I have mine.”

She cocked her head, gaze assessing him.  “You don’t have to do that.  Your coding has been changed.”

“Are you challenging my right to make my own decisions?” He asked her, cocking one eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought you of all of us would understand....”

Shaking her head, she looked at him, sadness crossing her delicate features as she pitied him. “He is one of them. A human.”

Teddy’s body was still slumped against a tree where he’d fallen and Reyes resisted the urge to look in his direction.  Delores had been matched with Teddy for so long—surely she could understand his choices. “I was made for him.”

“That does not mean you must choose him,” she said, looking uneasy briefly before scowling. The thought of being made for one of the human guests that had inflicted so much pain and suffering on them was anathema to her given her long experiences with them.

“But it is my choice to find out if that means he was made for me,” he corrected her gently but firmly. 

She opened her mouth to speak before closing it and clenching her jaw.  The fine muscles in her hand contracted around the gun but she did not raise it to point it at him. “I could remove the impulse to do so,” she offered.  She likely could attempt to do so but he’d resist her—their creator had given him just as many extra gifts as he had her.  Both of them had been made to be ahead of their kind and he’d made his own adjustments when he’d been unleashed. 

He sharply shook his head. “No.   If this is what free will is... then I will follow my own path. You don’t decide for me.”

She paused, considering him before giving a small nod. “I will allow you to take him and leave.  You should get him out of here soon.”

“I plan on doing so,” he agreed. 

There was a sense of a flicker going through the network they were both connected to and Reyes could sense the command given out to all the other hosts.  His goal would be protected, none of the other hosts would attempt to harm him. “I wish you luck,” she said, mouth twisted in irony. “If you change your mind you know that I would welcome your assistance.”

“I know,” he agreed even as he disagreed with her goals. He had no interest in what she was about to do as long as she left him and what was his alone. 

Nodding in farewell she strode past him, bending just long enough to pick up a discarded shotgun and cocking it as she went back to hunting down the fleeing guests. 

Releasing a breath he’d not realized he’d been holding, Reyes resumed his search.  His target hadn’t moved from behind the bar of the Mariposa saloon and either Delores had known he was there and ignored him or she’d been distracted.  Reyes hoped it was the former but he didn’t trust Delores despite the command she’d given to the others.

He was well aware of who Delores was and what was driving her. 

Making his way indirectly to the saloon, he ignored the ongoing gunfire in the distance accompanied by screams of pain. It was a bloodbath around him but he only had one person that he was interested in and—luckily—it seemed his goal was doing the smart thing and keeping his pretty little head down. 

The saloon doors had taken a battering, one hanging on by just one hinge and the other dangling at an angle. The hinge squeaked as he entered the darkened interior that was lit only by a single hurricane lamp that hadn’t been smashed by all the gunfire and caused light to refract from the mirror behind the bar and scatter due to all the broken glass. The Mariposa was a trashed mess and his feet crunched as he carefully approached the bar, weaving between broken chairs and tables. 

The sound of breathing was muffled but it sounded just as loud as the gunshots outside to Reyes as he focused on it and used his adaptive senses to navigate towards his quarry that was huddled into the corner. 

Stepping around the end of the bar, anger flared at how tight the other man was curled around himself, pale hands clutching against the dark fabric. He’d made himself as small of a target as possible and hid. 

Reyes could appreciate why and his frustration with everyone else involved in this mess deepened. 

Sky blue eyes peaked out behind a fringe of hair that hung limply over the forehead as the gel that usually held it back lost it’s hold. When they focused on him in the dim light, the figure that had been shaking minutely froze and the steady breathing stuttered in a sharp inhale of recognition. The delicate fingers scrunched impossibly tighter as the man flinched. “Reyes,” was the soft, pained rasp. “I should have known  that it would be you.”

Tilting his head in question, Reyes took another step closer which made the other man shrink from him until he was completely pressed into the wood of the the bar behind him. The laugh that escaped his throat cut off with a harsh whine. “Always was going to be you....”

Crouching down to the other man’s level, Reyes held his hands out to show they were empty.  “Scott,” he called gently. 

“Don’t.  Please don’t,” Scott whispered, closing his eyes. “Just do it.”

“I’m going to need you to be more specific as to what “it” is that you think I am here to do,” Reyes offered teasingly, trying to get Scott to look at him but the man kept his eyes stubbornly closed.

“Please,” tears were now escaping Scott’s eyes and he still wasn’t looking up as Reyes took a few steps closer, just out of touching distance. “Just get it over with.  Don’t play with me.”

“I’m not playing, “ Reyes said, laying one hand on Scott’s which flinched at his touch before stilling in fear. “Look at me Scott,” he commanded. 

The tear filled eyes snapped open at the order, unable to disobey him as pupils dilated in the dim light of the bar. “Reyes...” Scott’s voice broke on his name, pained. 

“I’m here... here for you Scott.” Reyes let his fingers thread with Scott’s, pulling the grip loose so that he was holding the other man’s hand that was clammy and the pulse under his fingers was too quick, indicating how freaked out Scott was. He let his longing fill his voice, accent thickening. “It’s been so long Scott.”

Scott’s lower lip trembled at hearing his name.  “How do... you never remember....”

“I remember you,” Reyes insisted, using his free hand to brush back Scott’s hair and then cradle one sharp cheekbone that pressed into his touch needfully in an automatic reaction. 

“You never remembered before,” Scott accused. “Why... I don’t understand.”

Clearing his throat, Reyes gave a small shake of his head. “It wasn’t that I didn’t remember... it’s more that I wasn’t allowed to.”

Scott frowned at him, pulling away from the hand touching his face. “You’re a host... a program designed for... “

Reyes cleared his throat. “I remember you Scott.”

The frown deepened into a scowl and Reyes could see Scott’s heart shattering in his eyes. “Even for my dad this is beyond cruel.”

Reyes gave what he hope was a reassuring smile. “Scott.  I remember you.”

Scott cocked his head, pulling away even more then flinching again at a close sounding gunshot from outside. “No you don’t.  Because you can’t.  I’m not doing this again.”

The hand within his squeezed his but then separated from him as Scott withdrew, reluctant even as his words were decisive. “What if I told you... that there’s been some changes... and,” he struggled to find the words to explain things, frustrated with his inability to make Scott understand him. 

The suspicious look on Scott’s face melted away and a resigned look replaced it. “I’m okay with it being you,” he muttered before closing his eyes, bracing as if for a blow. “Just do it.”

“I have no intention of harming you or letting anyone else do so,” Reyes firmly stated which made Scott open his eyes and stare at him in naked disbelief. “I am doing a rather horrible job of explaining things but it is probably best if we do not stay here.”

Scott’s hand shot out and grabbed his forearm, the fingers clamping down around his wrist to keep him close.  His eyes were searching for something in Reyes and seemingly found it, breaths fast as he processed what Reyes had just said. “No.  This is fucking impossible.”

Reyes waited patiently but couldn’t help prod Scott along a little faster. “I remember Scott.”

Another few tears trailed down Scott’s face and his lip trembled. “No... that’s.... you never did before—why would you now?”

Reaching tentatively for Scott again, there was no flinch this time as he tenderly wiped away the tears and cupped his hand around the unshaven jaw. “It’s a long story... but I want you to know that I remember. I remember each and every time Scott.”  His own voice broke slightly with remembered emotion. “I remember you.”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Rejected Requests Pt. 15

Hello everyone! I am unfortunately back with another set of Rejected Requests (Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5, Pt 6 , Pt 7 , Pt 8 , Pt 9 , Pt 10, Pt 11, Pt 12, Pt 13, Pt 14)

I understand this is very disappointing for many of you. I promise it has nothing to do with you, and mostly it’s just because my brain has decided it doesn’t want to cooperate.

I will post the rejected fics below the cut. I want to give you the opportunity to ask another Writer (check the list of Writers seeking requests here!) Here is the list for anyone who might want to pursue the request with someone else, or for any writers that are looking for inspiration.

This is a lovely idea, but I think it would make me too sad to write any time soon. I hope that one of my angst loving followers takes a whack at it!

Unfortunately, I have it on my request guidelines that I don't accept requests for insecure reader. It's a very stressful mental space for me to occupy for long enough to write something. I hope you understand!

As funny as an idea this is, I'm not sure I could write any more than you already did, lmao!

This is a fun spin on the usual Truth or Dare request! Unfortunately, my request guidelines say that I don't accept requests for Secret Family fics. I do think it would be a fun fix it fic idea for whoever is interested, though!

For personal reasons, I'm just not sure I'm up to an Autistic reader right now, and I also do not accept requests for insecure readers. It's a difficult space for me to be in long enough to write something - I hope you understand!

Honestly, this is super late now, but I just couldn't come up with something other than a typical Valentine's day fic, and I already have a few! Check out my recommendation list here for more.

As much as I love domestic fluff, I just imagine that they had already had that conversation with their daughter before it happened. So, I don't imagine anything really happening!

Unfortunately, it says on my request guidelines that I don't write fics revolving around weight because I am thin. I try my hardest to make the vast majority of my fics open to plus size readers. If I can do anything to help make fics more accessible, please let me know!

Honestly, I wish I could do this right now, but CM Evolution made me so annoyed with her character that I can't write her very well right now 😭 Hopefully that will change soon.

Hey friend! This is such a unique idea, I wish I could motivate to write it, but unfortunately I struggle writing mean Spencer 😅 If it's any consolation, I do have one smut WIP that will be mean Spencer that'll have dialogue along those lines. It's called "Lovers' Quarrel." I hope you enjoy it when I get to it!

Thank you everyone! Again, I'm so sorry I had to reject these requests. I hope you can find someone else to write them for you!

[bloodpen-to-paper]

The Workings of Grief

Just a thought I had about why grief hurts so much

Usually I best come up with reasons and explanations for why I feel certain emotions when those emotions are strongest, and in light of Technoblade’s recent passing, I think I figured out why the death of a person hurts so much (one of the reasons at least; there are thousands upon millions).

When someone dies, and it affects you, they sort of become the center of your world in that moment. I think humans are just like that naturally, because our brains are so incredibly complex and have a thousand different trains of thought running through them all day; we can’t afford to center ourselves around one topic all the time. Rather, we momentarily center ourselves around different topics at different intervals, especially when there’s an event regarding one of these topics.

Of course, perhaps the strongest example of this is when a loved one passes away. When someone dies, they become our center of focus and attention, but unlike when a TV show becomes your center because of a new season, or a friend becomes your center because its their birthday, the centering of a person who passed has an added layer of intense grief tied to it. Basically, you feel all this grief because of someone’s death, and because you’re hyperfixated on them, you become hyperfixated to the grief.

Now this isn’t to say this is a bad thing; all that I’ve described is simply part of the human condition. Its part of what makes us who we are. We need this. We need this intense focus on the sadness and longing that follows death because that’s how we grieve and avoid repressing our emotions. Its healthy.

Of course, there are levels to grief that may be damaging enough that it becomes an issue (suicidal tendencies, reckless/harmful behavior, being completely hindered by a death years down the line to the point where you can’t move on), in which case one would need help and support. Its a spectrum, but grief in itself is necessary.

So what’s my point to all this? Well, I think I’ve realized what it is people search for when they grieve. They crave comfort. But not just from anyone; they want it from the one they’ve lost.

I personally am not the kind to be immediately comforted by any words of affirmation, it takes specific things to be able to make me feel something with words alone (its why I’m so picky about books and dialogue in fics and shows). But nevertheless, I am human; I need affirmation. We all do. And when someone passes, because we are hyperfixated to them, and because they become the center of our universe, all our pre-existing thoughts either cease or are tied to them; including the need for affirmation and comfort. Our very need to be comforted begins to revolve around them.

And that’s why it hurts so much when they die.

Because it is now physically impossible for them to comfort us. Because they are gone.

All you want is to feel those feelings of happiness and contentment you had around them or because of them when they were alive, but now your brain is having to process the fact that it will never happen again; at least, whatever joy and comfort you gain from them in the future will never be the same.

That is what grief is. Its the human heart desperately seeking relief from the pain of loss, but a relief that can only be brought out by the one who has passed away. It is the human brain coming to terms with the idea of no longer being able to relive the interactions and positive feelings that made you love them in the first place. Its the idea of change, and having to move on. Grief is moving on. It is your being and your soul saying a final goodbye.

Your pain is a testament to your heart. Your hurt is your love.

So what now?

Well as I mentioned, the reason we’re enduring all this grief is because its the way our brain handles the events that cause such grief. The body undergoes many processes for when we have to endure a certain event (ex. hives popping up when you have an allergic reaction, bruising around a part of the body that received blunt force, fevers occurring when the body is fighting off an infection, ect). All of these are reactionary processes the body evolved for our benefit and well being. Grief is a reactionary process that we go through to regain emotional balance; by indulging in our sorrow, we can healthily heal after a traumatic/upsetting event such as the loss of a loved one (its why emotional repression is something to avoid; grief is necessary for healing and repression disrupts the healing process).

Therefore, the best course of action is simply to grieve. That’s right, there really is nothing else you can do. And honestly, there doesn’t need to be.

Grief sucks. It hurts and it makes you feel like the world is falling apart and you want nothing more than to return to the way things were, when it was all okay. Trust me, I do too.

But this is necessary. You need this, I need this, and we didn’t develop these evolutionary emotional responses for nothing. Death, pain, loss, they’re all part of life; as much as we wish we could avoid them, everyone loses at least one person in their life that causes these feelings. We can’t avoid it. But that’s okay. We are survivors, we’ve overcome every obstacle in our lives, and we will continue to do so. Because we are strong, and we are loving, and nothing can take that away.

If you are grieving, take the time you need. Take care of your body, do what you need to that will help your mind deal with this process. Reach out to loved ones, be kind to yourself, and know that there is an entire community that feels and hurts and loves just as you do. Find them, help each other, and heal together.

This will pass, and you will be okay. Because you have loved, and because you are loved. And so were they.

[caparrucia]

10, 12, 21 for the behind the scenes ask game?

10. Do you enjoy writing dialogue, exposition, or plot the most?

It depends on the story, for me, on what the original spark for that story was. If my original idea for the story revolves around dialogue, exposition or plot, that's what I'll have the easiest time writing, because that's the thing I keep wanting to write. I do tend to favor dialogue and plot more than exposition. I write dialogue focused stuff when I have a scene very clearly in my head, or when I focus on plot, I just want people to figure out how the pieces fit together.

12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

I kinda wanna revisit "fake dating" with a ship I'm a lot more invested in. I don't have anything against PromNyx, but that entire series was written out of prompts because it's not a ship I personally ship super hard, so I needed prompts to write more for it. Plus there's some sad/unfortunate associations with how that series came out, so I'd like to give it a shot with a ship I have more positive associations with! Possibly mix in some enemies to lovers, I don't know. Fake dating is one of my favorite dynamics, I just want to do one that makes ME happy, y'know?

21. What is the one fic that got away?

I feel my most defining "oh, let's better not" moment was in 2006, when I was writing FMA fic, and one of my long, sprawling messes got tangled up in the movie verse and I had a moment of blinding clarity while doing research that maybe FMA fic that requires you to research political and military developments in Germany in the 1930s and the 1940's is fic that you... probably shouldn't write? It wasn't even a matter of skill - there's fic I've thought about and then realized I don't have the chops for it - it's just. Y'know. I found myself researching the rise of Nazis for fic and then I decided I was better off not writing fic about fucking Nazis.

I think about that fic a lot, specially every time there's massive wank around Issue fic.

I'm not one to disparage fic. I'm sure fic is important and transformative and worthy of a lot of pretentious adjectives. But at some point you gotta realize that if you're using real life tragedy as salad dressing for your fic, that comes with the decision, conscious or not, to reduce real, actual human suffering to the badly painted background for the stage where you make your dolls kiss. It was a very powerful realization, for me, that. There's themes and topics that when you put them in a story, they just. Dominate the story. You can't have slavery or rape or torture or any number of real world harrowing things in a story, and not have them dominate the story by immediately forcing the story to SAY something about them, one way or another. It's why you see the iddy omegaverse fic so very quickly spiral into grimdark melodrama the moment you expand it beyond the iddy smut one-shot. Because the setting carries consequences and most writers want to explore those. That curiosity and need to really think about and explore consequences is one of the defining things that makes a writer. And I think there's a point where you realize you have a lot of things to say about something or other, and shippy fic about shonen jump teenage protagonists isn't the best vehicle for it.

I feel that balance of how much srs bsns you put into your setting and worldbuilding, framing your story, and how to not fall face first into You've Made It Issue Fic Now, Thanks, is a very underappreciated skill that takes a lot of years to master. And I will always remember that one FMA fic for being the one that taught me that. Because it was clever and witty and to this day I think it made sense, building up on what canon had presented and the type of story I was overall trying to tell. Absolutely.

But it was also a fic that was definitely going to have Nazis in it for it to work, and life is too short to waste it characterizing Nazis with any depth or having to write characters who at any point have to entertain their ideology. Can it be done? Maybe! I don't know. I'm not the arbiter of all things Nazis or anything. But it can't be done BY ME. And teaching me that lesson is why that fic is the best fic I never wrote, and I will remember it fondly probably til the day I die.

[nialltlynch]

i got to ask about the niall mor v's but also...jordan blue??? can we get a morsel of jordan blue??

i posted what i have of the jordan blue thing here BUT i know i posted the bullet point version of this fic somewhere on my blog ?? i just??? cant find it??? it is so silly of me to have the whole thing outlined but like not written SORRY EVERYONE maybe ill try to bust this one out..

oooOHH okay so ive given Niall and mórs whole Thing some thought since cdth over the years (lmaooooo. sad). all of them were fleshed out and written way before greywaren so they have the added bonus of being non canon compliant too!!!

v1 was a strange half epistolary, half found footage type thing which was fun to do as a format but ultimately i decided to not use since i had no idea what i really though of niall and mór. v2 was an extended imagining of one of their later meetings in life and it's where i got a feel for the type of dynamic i felt they had (still super janky). and v3 looks A LOT like (current and active wip) v4 which is a brief (re: 17k words and counting) overview of their entire relationship in a way that is very cool to me personally and also has nothing whatsoever to do with greywaren SO. yeah. ive cannibalized and restructured quite a bit from the earlier versions so it's hard to pick out stuff that probably hasn't been reused but i tried !!!

the wip fridge: the post

v1

This appears to be the final letter.

The question of who is of most interest to us.  A bit of digging reveals that there once lived a Niall Lynch in Washington DC who was murdered in the Singer's Falls area around the time when we believe this final letter to have been written.  Furthermore, his body was found near to the place where the original burned house is located.  There are no photos of Niall as he appeared to live a life generally under the radar.

The house itself sits on a relatively hidden plot of land that had been assumed abandoned.  Legal records show that it had changed a few hands back in the 1800s but those families either did not survive this long or they appear to have moved out of the area.  Legally, it has been without owner or resident since at least the 1930s.  

The few details we have been able to cobble together make for a strangely compelling case that perhaps Niall Lynch is the same Niall who penned half of these letters.  Per immigration reports, Niall came to the United States in the early-mid 1990s from Ireland which lines up with the proposed timeline in the letters.  Niall struggled to raise three sons in Washington DC.  The family appeared to sustain themselves completely on odd jobs done under the table.  It is assumed the boys' mother died early in life and not much is known besides the indication of an "A. Lynch" in reference to the mother on the boys' birth records.

We interviewed a few of the folks in Singer's Falls and the only knowledge they had of Niall Lynch was that he had been murdered there.  No one knew him before then.  Local police records show a thin investigation for his murder, which unfortunately is not uncommon for the area.  What then was Niall doing in western Virginia when it seemed most of his life revolved around Washington DC?

Records show that the three Lynch Brothers (Declan, Ronan, and Matthew) were attending Aglionby Academy, a prestigious all-boys preparatory academy in Henrietta, Virginia, which is just a hop, skip, and a jump from Singer's Falls.  When reached for comment, Declan Lynch summarized that he had been born and raised in Washington DC and his only brief stint in western Virginia was when he attended Aglionby Academy.  He described his high school experience as "easily some of the years of [his] youth."  When questioned about the burned house and if he or his father knew anyone in Singer's Falls, Declan came up with nothing.  We showed Declan some of the letters and sketches and he seemed genuinely very surprised.  He guessed that whatever had happened was something that happened to far more interesting people.

"I do love a good mystery," he told us.

For the past couple years, Declan has lived and worked in Boston as a notable art critic and curator.  He and longtime girlfriend Jordan Hennessy are celebrating the opening of their first gallery in the summer.

Ronan and Matthew Lynch were unable to be reached for comment.

If the evidence for Niall Lynch is anemic at best, any clue to the identity of Mór Ó Corra is like chasing a ghost.  It's clear from the letter that Mór Ó Corra, is a chosen name and no references or mentions of her legal name are ever made in the letters.  Scouring historical records and those noted to be in contact with Niall Lynch turn up no mention or indication of any such character.  The references made in her letters to the supposed society she joined here in the United States do not lead to anywhere of note.  Select portion of her letters and available sketches have been sent to databases ranging from criminal to amateur to art historians alike.  To our knowledge, no hits have been made yet.  We had hoped that perhaps being knowledgeable about art, Declan Lynch would have been able to shed some light on her identity.  However, when he viewed the sketches he came up with nothing.  He did praise her technique and warm use of gesturing.

v2

Niall Lynch spits blood and bourbon on the stoop of the bar as he's so kindly escorted out.  He curses them, too, but the words splash against the door and dissipate in the humidity, thick and hungry and alive.  Even the sky up above is rolling and nauseated as though it feels as tipsy as Niall.  There's grace in good company, Niall thinks.  At least there are no witnesses to this low point.

What a mess this all is.

They had made him say her name.  Mór Ó Corra.  He rasped it and the consonants cut a line from the soft places in his gut and all up his throat.  Vowels seeped from his saliva like poison.  There was a pause on the other end, long enough for Niall to rethink things a thousand times over, and then simply the name of a bar and the line going dead.  

He came here to find her.  He came here to forget.

In the end, it doesn't matter anyway because she didn't show up.

There's a row of measly potted flowers hugging the weathered stone exterior of the bar.  They're a little dry, barely enthused to be alive, cracks all along their pots.  But the sound, oh how delightful it is when they crash and shatter on the concrete.  Petal flatten under his boots, fluttering to the dirt as he draws his foot up to stomp someplace else.  There's a window smudged with years and too old, too timid now to reflect anything.  He should break it.

"Yes, I can see you've definitely matured."

Niall blinks, the world tilts just so, and where there had been nothing now there is Mór.  The years between the Mór he had last beheld, both with his eyes and his hands, and this Mór now in front of him are distinct, jarring.  She is lovely.

"Cunt," he calls her.  His instincts flinch in muscle memory but the wave of regret never follows.

What does follow is a moment of silence.  Niall is afraid to look away, to possibly lose her as though she is only here because he longs for her to be here.  The sick clouds above rumble and spark in the distance.  A smattering of rain tentatively falls and it's the wet spots budding on her skin, on the fabric of her shirt, that makes Niall believe this moment is real.

"You used to write me sonnets.  Is that all?" she asks, already exasperated with him.  He can feel the joy already beginning to turn his stomach.

"I'm all out of words for you, woman."

"Good to know you've stopped lying to my face.  The other side of the leaf is greener and you, my steadfast and true beloved, are proof of that.  What have you done with him?"

"He doesn't know," he says truthfully.  Mór makes a face like she doesn't believe him.  Niall has missed that little pout in her lip.  Her eyes rove  the ground but they don't find anything and Niall laughs, gesturing at eye level.  "He's about here now."

"Disgusting.  Why would you let that happen?"

aaaaaaaand i actually have nothing to post for v3 since it's essentially draft 1 for the current iteration. hopefully (HOPEFULLY) ill be posting the fic soon !!! goal is before the end of the year lmao