#maybe at least one of my wips would’ve been finished by now but oh well

[hideitaway]

i’ll follow you down ‘til the sound of my voice will haunt you

[opluffys]

Reverse Captain- Killer x Reader x Eustass Kid

okay okay this is like the last old story from my archive account that i’m posting here *maybe? lmao idk* :,). i’m head over heels in love with killer so i got like ten wips for him lololo. lowkey don’t like how this one turned out, but it’s a couple of months old so idc anymore hehe. anyway i hope you guys enjoy! oh, also sorry if the spacing looks weird, i was too lazy to go through the whole thing and edit it...

-smut/nsfw-

You felt deliciously full and sore, the quick sliding of your captain's cock against your tight walls nearly made you lose consciousness.

"Fuck... Kid..!" You yelled, feeling his girth stretch you.

He grunted behind you and continued to thrust into you wildly, almost as wild as that red hair of his, which was now stuck to his forehead.

Your breasts were flush against the table of his office, rocking back and forth, creating a wanted friction that fueled your desire.

It was no surprise that Kid was rough in bed, just one look at the man and pretty sure anyone could tell. But you just weren't ready for it all, the way his cock just hit every spot inside of you so perfectly... When he leaned down to nip your ear and leave harsh markings on your neck, you felt like you couldn't keep up with him.

You broke the eye contact you had with countless papers and unfinished works in progress on Kid's desk, and looked fervently for your sword. You took that damn thing with you everywhere you went, you would risk your own life for that sword.

When you finally made eye contact with that beautiful blue casing, your face illuminated, you quickly grabbed it, using the hilt of the sword to press against Kid's chest.

"What the fuck..." He started angry, then stumbling backwards onto a stray chair in the middle of the room that fell victim to you and Kid.

"I think you need to slow down a bit, Captain." You said, your voice like sweet honey as you sauntered over to where he was sat, straddling his thighs.

"So you used Sea Stone to tell me that?!" He snapped, about to get up before you pressed the hilt against him once again.

"Ah ah. Feisty are we? I think it's my turn to take charge for the night, don't you, my Captain?" You asked, raising your hips to line yourself up right against his shaft, teasing the redding head with your slick entrance.

"Damn woman..." He growled, trying to get up again, but you were barely faster than him, trailing the hilt of the sword all over his body, making him groan tiredly.

"I would fucking end you if you weren't such a good doctor." He grumbled, still attempting to take charge every few minutes, evidently failing.

"That's all I am? Your doctor?" You responded, faking a disappointment tone. You still continued to rub your folds teasingly over the painfully hard head of your captain.

He raised his hand and you raised your sword, he almost chuckled, instead sending a smirk your way.

"Relax, princess. If I still wanted to actually take charge, you would've been screaming my name over my desk years ago. I guess I'll let you dominate this one time, but next time," He leaned into your ear, nipping it and taking the sensitive cartilage into his mouth. "You're gonna be wishing that you had done it my way." He finished.

You gulped nervously, the tone of his voice nearly made you want to bend yourself back over that desk, forgetting the thoughts of ever wanting to dominate your captain ever again.

Kid let out booming laughter at your reaction, about to come up with a snarky retort, but he was soon silenced by a grunt of pleasure as you finally decided to lower yourself onto his hardened arousal.

"Oh, fuck... So tight..." He whispered, biting his lip as he tried to silence his sounds.

You shuddered noticeably as he filled you to the brim, no, even further than that. He never let you ride him before, because 'You're too slow.' as he said. But as of now, being slow worked in your favour, making the red haired captain begin to lose his cool, grunts and groans of frustration leaving his full painted lips.

"Oh! Oh Captain!! Yes!!" You yelled, feeling his strong arms just tightly wrapped against you and feeling his warm pants fanning across your equally warm face just did something for you.

"Keep talking like that... I won't fulfil my end of the deal." He panted, hands attached to your plush hips, grinding against him thoughtfully.

"That'd be a shame, Captain... Because next time, I'm up for whatever you wanna do. And I mean anything, Kid." You said, sultrily pulling him in and out of you, your wet insides protesting him pulling out every time.

That seemed to shut him up for a while.

"So I've been thinking." You started, bottoming out on his lap, hissing in pleasure after feeling so full. "Your first mate, Killer... He doesn't like me much?" You asked, warming his cock, leaning your forehead against his pectorals.

"I know how Killer ticks. He doesn't hate you or anything, just no reason to make conversation with you. Why do you ask?" Kid replied, unconsciously bucking his hips upwards once in a while, earning you to pull your sword out and poke him with it a couple of times.

"No reason. I just think he's kinda sexy. What's under that mask leaves my imagination running wild, ya know." You said playfully, using your agile hands to tweak and pinch every inch of his built torso.

"What are you really getting at, (First Name)." He said, tone now completely serious, and even though he was stilled inside of you, length twitching and just dying to ravage your insides, the captain's voice never faltered, remaining serious.

"Okay, maybe I daydream of being pinned under your first mate, childhood friend, whatever. But hey, I admit it that he's really, really hot. Okay, happy now, Eustass?" You groaned, hitting your head against his chest in embarrassment, ready for him to scream at you for wanting to have sex with his best friend.

"Okay."

"Yes, I deserve whatever punishment you think is fit- wait, what?" You paused, thinking that you didn't hear him properly.

"I was your first, but by no means were you mine. So if you wanna fuck another dude, at least do it when I'm gone, or some shit." He grunted, rolling his eyes when he saw your surprised expression.

"Fuck, Kid. Please bend me over and fuck me as hard as you want." You whimpered, feeling so pleased at his response.

"With pleasure, princess." He replied, sending a wicked grin your way, harsh hands attached to your sides.

You stood at the edge of the ship, waving goodbye to your captain, who stood alongside Heat and Wire, going into the next island that you all had drifted to.

The two of you decided to hatch up a not too great plan of leaving you and Killer alone on the ship, which was 'I leave with Heat and Wire to the next island, because I'm captain, I do whatever the fuck I want.' which, had actually worked out well.

He sent a shit eating smile your way, then turned around to take his leave, the two other men following their captain.

Killer stood by your side silently, he was never one for being chatty, you knew that much. You took a few looks at the man, his plain black shirt hugging his muscles so tight, that scar on his arm made you tighten your legs, feeling an undeniable warmth flood your senses. You continued your not so subtle stares, the way his blonde mane fell down his broad shoulders and framed his body looked phenomenal, and the only thing you couldn't see was that damn face of his. You stared at the dozen holes on the striped mask, almost like trying to see through it.

"Is something the matter?" He asked, sounding more like a statement than a question. You stiffened, looking upwards towards the blonde, feeling so small in his presence.

You didn't get to be in bed with Eustass Kid for feeling small, though.

"No, Killer." You said, dragging his name out from your tongue, walking closer to his stature. You leaned against his strong chest, a gentle hand laying on his rippling muscles.

"But I think that you have something the matter with me." You said, taking your hand off of him, giving him a sly smile.

"You must've imagined it." He replied coolly, walking away to his quarters, not even giving you a chance to further your attempt at a conversation.

You clicked your tongue and walked past Kid's lackeys, who were all staring at your ass while you passed by, going to wandering into the kitchen.

You turned your head to look at them, smiling at how painfully obvious they were being while gawking at you. If only Killer sent a single gaze your way like these men here, it'd make your job of seduction a lot easier.

You took a seat in the kitchen, a stray chair in front of the stove. You picked at your nails, desperately waiting for someone to scream for your help, claiming they've been injured and needed your help. Though it was a bit bad to wait for someone to become injured, it was your role to assist them.

You didn't know when, but you leaned your head over onto your hand and started to doze off for a while, only jolting awake when you heard the sound of running water from behind you.

"Finally awake?"

You turned to where the voice came from, swallowing hard when you saw that mess of blonde hair.

"There's a plate in front of you, if you're hungry." He said, continuing to wash dishes. Yes, of course you were hungry, but not for food.

You hummed softly, getting up to smooth your skirt and walk over to Killer, offering your hand to help. "Maybe later. How about some assistance?" You asked, settling next to him to dry the wet plates. He shrugged lightly, his blonde tendrils swaying along his strong shoulders. Oh, how you wanted to just grab onto those shoulders while he thrusted into you wildly, grunting and groaning in your ear how you took him so well-

"Here."

You snapped out of your daydreams and took the plate from him, drying it off and placing it onto the shelf.

The two of you sustained a steady rhythm of washing and drying for a while, until you accidentally had dropped a glass cup, seeming to smash into a million pieces upon impact.

"Shit." You mumbled, crouching down to pick up the glass with your bare hands, of course, a bad idea, but you weren't weak, you could take a few cuts as long as you cleaned the mess.

Killer stood silently behind you, admiring the view of you bent down, even though he really shouldn't be. He pulled you up by the arms, surprising you, nearly dropping the glass shards.

You looked at his mask with a perplexed look on your face, dropping the bits of glass into the trash bin, dusting your hands off.

Killer started walking over to you, and you, being confused of what he needed, continued to back up, until your back hit the wall.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to drop it or anything. Besides, I cleaned it up. We all good?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Why do you do this, (First Name)." He asked, grabbing your chin in his calloused hand, forcing your wandering eyes to peer into the mask.

"Do what?" You replied, resting your hand atop his sculpted arm, his muscle twitching at your touch.

"Make me want to pin you against the wall and fuck your brains out." He said, not moving his hand from your skin.

You froze in place, it seemed your job was easier than you had thought. "So do it, Killer." You smiled, tracing your hands over his strong torso.

"I can't." He answered, moving away from you, back to the sink to dry the rest of the dishes. You frowned, your painted lips then creating a flat line as you stood in thought.

"You can. I'm the captain's girl, right?" You said, walking behind him, trailing your nails through the material of the black shirt, feeling his muscles tense under you. "And you're captain when he's gone." You said, standing on your tippy toes to nip at his strong neck, leaving a barely visible mark behind.

You were sure you didn't even blink before you were over the counter, Killer's arm against your back, preventing you to move. A smile spread across your features, sighing contently as you felt his other hand squeeze and pinch along your clothed body.

"Mm, Killer..." You whimpered softly, grinding against his crotch. His breath hitched, but he easily retaliated, a loud hiss of pleasure leaving your lips as you felt a stinging sensation on your ass.

"I guess you're just like captain. Always wanting to take charge." You sighed, feeling the cool air hit your dripping cunt, accommodating the size of Killer's digits. "I guess so." He said, his gaze on how you took his three fingers.

You moaned loudly, biting your lip while shifting your weight from foot to foot, unable to take the torture any longer. "I didn't come here for your fingers." You grumbled, closing your eyes as he curled his fingers deep inside of you.

"Yeah, but this is probably the only time I'm going to be able to enjoy you. Gotta take it nice," He stopped, pulling his fingers out to circle your clit. "And slow." He finished. You were sure he was smirking underneath that mask.

"It doesn't have to be." You whimpered, backing your hips against him again, feeling his bulge rub against you. You heard him take a sharp inhale, contemplating whether to continue the teasing, or to just give in.

"Please." You begged, placing your forehead against the hard table.

And he had his answer.

The sound of a fumbling belt buckle behind you put a smile on your face. "Finally." You mumbled, feeling his tip press against your entrance. You bit your lip from letting out a scream as he suddenly filled you, a shaky sigh leaving Killer's lips.

"Ah... Fuck, Killer!" You panted, your hands grabbing the counter harshly. His tan arm lifted from you, now squeezing your hips tightly, pulling you back against him, relishing in your warmth.

"Killer... Fuck... You stretch me so good!" You yelled, moaning when you felt him fill you over and over again. "You're awfully quiet back there, am I not what you expected?" You said, a fake tone of sadness lacing your voice.

"Unlike you or Kid, I'm not so vocal." He responded, trying not to show the strain on his voice, even when you were wrapped so tightly against him, your pussy dragging him in deeper and deeper with every thrust. "You're even better than I thought, (First Name)." Killer said, pushing himself into you deeper than what you thought possible.

"Isn't this position boring? Why don't you pin me against the wall and fuck my brains out like you proposed? You can even have me do the work and ride you, or even-" You were cut off when your mouth was filled with Killer's long fingers, taking your tongue between them. "You know, you make a good point. I can't see the faces you're making." He said, pulling out of you slowly.

"Why don't we go somewhere more, private." He said, his deep voice making your legs shake. You nodded fervently, pulling your panties up and adjusting your skirt. You tried to take a step forward, but your wobbly knees betrayed you, nearly making you fall down until Killer took your hand, pulling you up gently. "We weren't even going for that long." He said, making sure that you could stand before letting you go. "You're big, what do you expect?" You mumbled, rolling your eyes.

When you were stable, you tried taking another step under Killer's gaze. Again, you failed and your hands flew to his extended arm. He sighed audibly and lifted you up, carrying you like a bride. "What a gentleman." You giggled, your hand wrapping around his neck softly. He didn't reply as he started walking back to his room, obviously attracting stares along the way.

"Killer..." You whimpered, feeling his cock push against your womb, making you see stars. Your back was against the cool wall, seeming to steal the warmth that radiated off of you. "You're tight even when you and the captain go at it everyday..." He grunted, his hips snapping against yours. You would've laughed if you weren't pinned against the wall getting fucked. "Yeah, sorry about that... I know I can get a little, ya know..." You said timidly, a warmth settling on your cheeks after getting called out for being so loud.

"I've always wondered what your lips feel like." You sighed, feeling him stretch you so good. "Not today, (First Name)." He said, biting his lip softly, trying not to let out too much noise, even though you couldn't even hear him. "Come on, Killer. All I've wanted to see was your face the second I joined the crew, and that was years ago, that says something." You said, trying to sound angry, but that was seemingly impossible with a huge cock inside of you.

Killer seemed to stand still in thought, wondering if he could actually show you his face. He didn't hold any negative feelings toward you, but he wasn't sure if he trusted you enough. "And if I do..?" He asked, not moving any longer, his cock deep inside of you. "If you do, then I most definitely think that we would enjoy ourselves much more." You replied, hands squeezing his strong shoulders tightly. He made a sound of disapproval as he pulled out of you again, walking away from you. You barely stood, only with help of a chair next to you were you able to stand.

A confused face took over your gentle features, pondering if you had said or did something wrong. "Damn it, how the fuck did I mess this up so badly..?" You sighed, starting to gather your clothes slowly, silently wishing Killer was here to help you out. It was the least he could do if he didn't want you anymore.

"(First Name), do me a favour." You heard him, he was out of view, for some reason. You hummed, signalling that you heard him. "Close your eyes, just for a little while." He said, his voice coming closer to where you stood. You complied, used to taking orders, especially on a ship where Eustass Kid was captain.

You felt a rougher hand tangle with your soft one, leading you somewhere. You trusted Killer, but you had no clue what he was going to do.

You were stopped for a moment, then brought down onto muscled thighs, your hand still tightly wrapped with Killer's. It took you a moment to realise that you were straddling his thighs, your cheeks adapting a sudden warmth at the intimate pose you two held.

You felt warm lips against yours, your abdomen knotted tightly at the feeling. His tongue softly pushed against your own, his lips tangling within your own in a fierce dance, the two of you seemingly unable to get enough of each other.

Your hand still laced with Killer's, you squeezed it harder unconsciously, feeling your lungs start to burn after not inhaling enough oxygen. Your open hand wandered lower, tracing Killer's strong abs and his beautiful V-line, finally finding his rock hard length, your hand softly pumping it when he released your lips with a groan. 

"Fuck, (First Name)... Just like that..." He whispered, his pants warming your face. His breath smelled of a cool mint, opposing your captains fierce cinnamon scent.

Your eyes were still shut, though you were dying to take a small peek, you were sure he was just as beautiful as the rest of his body.

You continued your ministrations while Killer ravaged your soft lips, his lipstick mixing with yours. Any time while the two of you locked lips, you felt his cock twitch in your hands, obviously wanting to be back inside of your warmth. You subtly raised your hips, lining his cock up with your entrance. Just as you started to lower yourself, Killer thrusted his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of you quickly. You yelled against his lips, separating the two of you.

He would've laughed if he didn't dislike doing so. "You know I can see what you're doing, right?" He asked, his harsh tone of voice seeming to disappear.

"S-Shut your damn mouth..." You whispered, closing your eyes tighter than they already were. You opened your mouth to speak once again, but you were silenced by a pair of lips against yours once again. It was as if he couldn't get enough of you, each kiss was like air to him, his lungs burning like a fire until your cool lips met with his scorching ones. It was weird how you were the one who wanted to kiss him so bad, but he was the one who kept initiating it.

He pulled back from you, leaving your lips slightly agape and stinging, a sensation that was welcomed by you. "You can open your eyes now." He sighed, worried about how you'd react.

Your (eye colour) eyes strained open, the light making it hard to fully open them on command. You squinted, then little by little opened them fully, eyes resting on Killer's tanned chest, your mouth wanting to leave markings on the skin. You just realised that your hand still laid on top of Killer's gently, you muttered a quick apology and looked up at him, your eyes meeting his.

Your mouth hung open slightly, seeing his blonde hair fall into his face perfectly, his long eyelashes tickling his strong cheekbones, his full lips swollen after meeting your own countless times.

"So handsome..." You mumbled, seemingly forgetting that he was still inside of you. You noticed his cheeks get warmer, as you sent him a small smile. 

"Thank you."

He looked at you, confusion written all over his pretty features. "For?" He asked, his now free hand caressing your hips, tracing small shapes with his tall fingers.

"For trusting me... I know we never talk, but I trust you as much as Captain." You sighed, your forehead against his chest. "And well, obviously the other two." You laughed, referring to Heat and Wire.

He didn't know what to say, but he began to feel slightly bad. "Why did you never talk to me, anyway? When I first joined you used to at least make small talk with me, but then it stopped." You said, looking up at him with an undeniable sadness in your eyes. He sighed, averting his stare. "I knew something like this were to happen if I continued to talk to you. When you and Kid became a thing, I had to back off, respect that you were his, or the temptations would overcome me someday." He said, returning his gaze to you.

You hummed, satisfied with the answer. "At least you don't hate me." You said, raising your hips to be able to kiss him again, lips against his own with fierce intent.

"Please fuck me, Killer." You whimpered, unable to take just his stationary cock inside of you any longer. He didn't respond back to you, but began to assist you in moving on top of him, your arms resting against his shoulders as you started to bounce on him, his cock going inside and out with such a lewd sound.

Killer's hands gripped your hips tightly, lifting you onto him easier than if you were doing it alone. "Fuck..." He groaned, feeling your fleshy walls tighten around him, warmth over flooding his entire being.

You felt him push against the spot that nearly induced you into a deep unwanted sleep, letting out a loud moan, unable to form words to tell him to keep hitting that spot.

He knew what angle to go out now, abusing your wet walls with every snap of his hips. He moved his hand lower to circle your clit slowly, hearing you give a wanton whisper of his name fuelled his need to make you finish around him.

You felt your leg twitch as you felt your inevitable release creep up on you. Your moans and whimpers grew to a higher pitch, with a raise of your hips, Killer met your lips against his once again, you never growing tired of the feeling. One more deep thrust inside of you, and you couldn't take it, accidentally screaming into Killer's open lips, you separated from his mouth and whimpered again as you came around him, your arousal dripping down onto his erection and onto the both of your thighs.

He continued to lazily drill into you, filling you to the brim until he was satisfied. He bit his lip as you tightened onto him harshly, almost like not wanting to let go. You moaned his name, feeling sensitive with every move.

"So fucking good." He whispered to himself, getting lost in your soft insides. He too felt release coming sooner than he thought. You were just so good around him, smaller than him and still able to take him better than initially thought.

A few more thrusts and he pulled out, grunting softly as he came on your stomach, thick white ropes of his sticky seed on your naked body.

He got up to bring you a towel, finally feeling the after effects on him, collapsing onto the bed beside you gently. You smiled, your lipstick was slightly smeared and your hair was tousled messily. You cleaned yourself up and laid next to him, locking lips again softly, feeling him being so gentle with you made you feel like you could take him again right then and there.

His eyes were on yours after you backed up from the kiss, a smile on your face as you closed your eyes.

"I could get used to this."

[berena-cpr]

Unfinished Masterpieces - Fic Rec List

Remember the WIP on ao3 you can’t let go? The one that resonated with you? The one that you’d give anything to know how it ends?

While the Berena Creative Project Resuscitation event is all about starting to work again on projects sitting in our draft folders, life can get in the way of finishing a project for a hundred reasons.

These works, posted, but still a few chapters short of ending, are loved though and with this list we’d like to share the love for the unfinished masterpieces one can find in the Berena tag on ao3.

Given the high response we had when we asked to tell us about your favourite WIPs, you’ll find the list under the cut:

Anything Else to Declare? - LittleMissO

“I've personally had sleeping issues since I read LittleMissO's Anything Else to Declare because yeah, I'm still there, breath held and heart pounding like crazy after the most delicious slow burn, and pining, and that outrageously flirtatious conversation over a whiskey.”

that line between your heart and mine - ktlsyrtis

“it is just plain hot but also I love the idea of them writing letters to each other and I also love the exploration of what their relationship might be like with Bernie still being in the RAMC.”

you disappear like your cigarette smoke (now the taste of your kiss is all that remains) - bonnissance

“A wonderful, emotional angst filled fic, looking at how Bernie’s life might still have progressed after Serena left. I loved how it showed her testing her own boundaries to see if it was possible to find another relationship with someone else and when she found that wasn’t something she could do, she accepted it and found other ways to be happy without Serena. I reread it fairly often because although unfinished it doesn’t ever seem incomplete. But the last word “Serena” always leaves me full of a hope that I would dearly love to have fulfilled.”

Secrets in the Dark - Wonko

“I’d love to see this continued!”

For a Good Time Call - Regency

“Young Serena using that pure sex voice of hers to make a little extra as a phone sex operative, and young nervous Bernie taking the first tentative steps in exploring her sexuality. Who better than Serena to help her figure things out? The premise of the fic is ingenious, the writing amazing, the dialogue just outstanding. Hot, sexy, soft and full of compassion and feels. I would sell a kidney to read the next chapter to this – Bernie and Serena meeting years later and recognising each other’s voices.”

you're the only one I never looked for - gutsandglitter

“Never expected I'd enjoy a Baby Boom AU, but I love this fic. Serena hanging out in the country feeling extremely overwhelmed and constantly running into this weird tall, awkward woman named Bernie is a mood. I will forever hold out hope for an update so that I can someday read about them having lots of sex (after an appropriate amount of angst, miscommunication, and unexpected grocery store encounters, of course).”

Things Kayryn doesn't write - Kayryn

“So they’re not exactly unfinished, because they are complete, beautifully crafted, amazingly inventive, head canons, but they’re not completed fic’s so I’m counting them. I actually think that’s one of the lovely things about them, there’s a full story in there but enough space in them to bring your own imagination to the details. The fact that every head canon is spot on and you can completely image it happening is the icing on the cake, and the perfect characterisation is the cherry on top. Canon could have taken lessons from from Kayryn”

I Want to be Your Fantasy (Maybe You Could Be Mine) - Regency

“I just love the concept and the first chapter just pulled me in and I so very much want to know what happens next.”

Notting Hill - Bat_and_Breakfast

“All the “Rom Com idiots in love but they don’t know it miscommunication capers” re-envisaged for Berena you say? Sign me up! I love the way the plot of Notting Hill is absolutely recognisable, but never at the expense of Bernie and Serena’s characters. Everything they do, their responses, the dialogue, is so them. And the cleverly cast Holby regulars as supporting stars - genius. It’s an absolute triumph of transformative work. It’s wonderfully and engagingly written. If you’ve ever got sucked into watching “just a bit” of rom com and found you’ve just lost a couple of hours of your life - this fic does the same thing.”

Follow Me There - troiing

“Full disclosure: I’ve never watched Sanctuary and I know nothing about the characters. But this crossover fic is so good, that it doesn’t even matter.”

hold me closer (tiny dancer) - serenacampbell

“I don’t know why I’m so attached to that fic, but I am. I love the premise of a slow burn fic where the characters still get to do sexy things during the awkward slow burn oblivious period. It’s like the best of both worlds.”

Machu Pechinku - Jrnsaxa

“Forget France and Nepal, what if Serena spent her sabbatical in Peru? The setting in this is beautifully vivid, as is the the delicate ways in which Serena and Bernie start to reconnect after Elinor.”

Hello, Major - lesbianquill

“This is a near perfect Serena being fixated on Bernie in fatigues fic. The first chapter is very insightful, helping us to understand why Bernie might not be happy to accede to Serena’s small kink/obsession. That of course doesn’t last for too long because Bernie loves Serena and she loves having sex with Serena. It was offered as a smutty one shot, but then they rewarded us with an even smuttier second chapter and teased us with the news that a third chapter would be forthcoming. It never happened. Main reason for wishing it could be continued? I enjoy well-written smut.”

In the Spirit of Three Stars - alwayssomethingelse

“Bernie and Serena as Federation officers on Deep Space Nine. Oh, the potential!”

Anatomically Correct - phantomunmasked

“Bernie severely overcompensating for any possible awkwardness in their first time by ordering a mountain of sex toys is a premise that will always delight me. Every time I go back to this one, I ponder what their weekend away would bring with a big grin.”

The Clinic - RexWolfe

“Maybe it’s all the Bramwell we’ve been watching, but this one’s been on my mind lately. Can’t go wrong with a Victorian AU.”

a life in pictures - Regency

"I soooo want to see Serena maybe modelling for Bernie (or at least just how the date goes)”

working up a storm inside my head - sevtacular

“While this isn’t actually an unfinished fic in the sense of chapters missing, the prompt fic collection of Sev can always be added to as far as I’m concerned. Love what has been written so far, hope there will be new chapters with time.”

Body and Soul - ChalkHillBlue

“Possibly the weirdest AU idea ever, this body swap AU makes my brain go crazy with the possibilities every time I read it.”

When We Need One Another The Most - Whispersmummy

“I know this isn’t strictly Berena but it wouldn’t have been written if not for the Berena fandom who love most every conceivable way these two dorks might get together. Very well written (imo) and cleverly constructed fic. Lots and lots of angst and who doesn’t love angst? Only thing missing is a small amount of smut. (Yes I’m back there).”

Ring In The New - fiveroundsrapid

“Fics where Bernie comes to Holby before/during Adrienne’s illness are my kryptonite, and this one is so good!”

Holby One: A Star Wars AAU Story - elitryalittle

“Holby One is my favorite unfinished fic. It’s not just because I came to Berena via Star Wars (a bit of an unusual way, but here I am), but also because I can totally see Serena as a healer and Bernie as a Jedi knight. Kudos for their excellent knowledge of the SWU and this great idea of a crossover fic. I’d give them a limited edition “Looking for Leia” patch and a sticker if they’d finish it.”

to gaze at you, from afar (I sigh, I sigh, I sigh) - bonnissance

“The photographer/model AU you never knew you needed in your life, but you really, really do.”

Heroic Endeavor - Nicolaruth27

“I never would’ve thought I’d be down for a Greek god AU, but this fic has permanent residence in a corner of my brain. Bernie as Athena in mortal form is inspired, and the way the fic is interwoven with canon is a delight.”

what a lovely way to burn - ktlsyrtis

“I just love anything that's weaved into canon but with them being happy and dating and communicating."

Love, Unexpected - Igerna

“Bernie is still married to Marcus when she meets Serena during a conference. They immediately bond and keep in contact, sharing both professional advice and thoughts on their private lives. Love, for them, happens rather unexpectedly. I do love conference fics and slow burns - and this is a good one.”

a little less war torn - kitnkabootle

“The setup for this - in which Serena is the one who goes to help when Bernie is brought to Holby, instead of Raf - is one of my favorite ‘what ifs’ to ponder, and the writing is outstanding.”

[chyrstis]

WIP Tuesday!

Over the last few days if not the past week, @blissfulalchemist @ma-sulevin @pheedraws @nightwingshero @amistrio @adelaidedrubman @shellibisshe @redroci @faithchel @jamesbvchanans @honeysides @vasiktomis and @jackiesarch were all kind enough to give me a tag, and I’m here actually on the cusp of a Wednesday ready to cash that in, darn it. Thank you all a bunch, by the way!

Tagging: @writerofblocks @painterofhorizons @hunnybadgerv @cobb-vanthss  @shallow-gravy @geronimo-11 @chazz-anova @unlikelynick @fadedjacket @aceghosts @starsandskies @gamerpurgatory @its-jeph @lilwritingraven @johnnycranes and @prometheas but this is totally a free tag for anyone wanting to share any WIPs they’re currently working on too! But no pressure ever intended at all. <3

The next chapter of the Trap fic’s coming together, just a bit slower than anticipated due to work both winding down and winding back up again, but either way Hana’s definitely in a tenser situation here than she’d prefer by far. 

---

The cramped building didn’t give them a lot of options, but she watched him tuck himself just behind the counter in the kitchen, and ran into the bathroom.

It wasn’t much of a hiding place, and Hana poked her head out to tell him that when the door on the other end of the trailer creaked open. Her heart beat double-time as she curled back against the wall, and bit down hard on her lip as she fought to stay quiet.

Whistling filled the room. The kind meant to get the attention of something, or someone.

“You sure you saw something over here?”

“Yeah, something’s throwing shit around. If it were a fucking cougar like that one over at Mabel’s we’d already know it, though. Think it’s that stray we’ve been seeing the past few nights.”

The Peggie let out a series of whistles, the kind that would’ve had any loyal dog up and bounding to him in an instant, and Hana heard him sigh in disappointment after.

“It’s not that damn dog,” the other replied. “Besides, it tried to bite you last time, remember?”

Something scraped against the floor. It was either pushed or kicked to the side as a loud sound rang out in the room soon after, and Hana couldn’t help it. She leaned forward just enough to peek past the doorframe as the two men’s steps grew closer, and caught the overturned chair.

“Cut that shit out!” The long-haired man on the left shoved the equally long-haired man on the right. “You know you’re just jealous that it loves me more than you.“

Their backs were to her, however. And that was more than enough of an opening to take advantage of.

---

And here’s a bit more for the No Cult AU! Finishing this up’s still my immediate goal, and with this now two parts instead of one, I’m trying to see if I can at least get the first part up before the week’s out. 

...I say, all while posting a part from what’ll be the second. Whoops

---

Sharky tapped him on the arm as they came to a stop. “Wait, I thought you’d moved here with him? Like, I remember seeing you round here just as much as Joe at first. Like wandering around, seeing what was open and even buying up some shit that was borderline.”

“Borderline?“ John scoffed. “Some of it had been actively disputed off and on for decades, but the rights to the land here had lapsed without a renewal.” He folded his arms, but still gestured freely with the hand crossed on top. “They were approached, the topic discussed in full, and an offer made. One that was more than reasonable given the circumstances, and one that I made sure was clear and well-defined to the very last letter.”

“Yeah, man. You say that, but sometimes you’re hurting hard enough in the moment to wanna do anything to get out of it, and other times you don’t even get a say. Some asshole comes in flashing a pink slip you don’t remember losing, except instead of one person dealing with that, it’s more like five or ten, and well, a whole lotta people start getting their panties in a twist after that.” Sharky’s mouth twisted. “Er, uh-underwear. Boxers, shit, just-you know someone was gonna get pissy either way, right?”

“…Perhaps.” John rubbed his fingers together as he mulled it over, and eventually sighed. “And maybe some of the terms could have been left open to some further form of negotiation, but Joseph was certain this was the place, and if there was one thing I could do for him, I wanted it to be that. To give him this at least, and a chance to build a better home than the one he’d tried renting. That could hardly fit one person, let alone two or three at a time, and how he expected to live there comfortably with either Jacob or I’s beyond me.”

“I hear you. I had to room with Hurky once a while back, and let me tell you, there’s not a lot you can do if someone’s not even two feet away from you. You gotta keep the entertaining semi-private, gotta keep your junk covered, can’t catch up on any reading on the can with door open-”

John wrinkled his nose at him. “Truly unfortunate.”

“But that was only a couple of weeks. Just to get the last of the wasps out, ‘cause I still don’t know how they built that huge-ass nest where they did, with all of the buzzing coming straight up through the floorboards whenever I’d settle down for the night. Anyway, you were headed back and forth from here to wherever there was for how long? Weeks? Months?”

He didn’t get a response to that. Only caught the start of a frown as John turned away.

“And where’re you all from? I know you’ve been out and overseas, and all over the damn place, but don’t think I remember anyone mentioning it, short of uh, somewhere south?”

“Really?” John raised an eyebrow. “South?”

Sharky wracked his brain trying to remember who’d first brought it up, and Adelaide’s voice entered his mind. Something she’d said way back at Nick and Kim’s barbeque bash, sighing dreamily about southern boys as she’d looked over at them, eyes focusing right in on John as he bent over to reach into a nearby cooler, and Sharky tried to shake that shit out of his head fast. At least before John found a way to read it on him somehow and ask.

“Uh, yeah! South. Somewhere south of here if I’ve gotta guess,”  he managed, mid-grimace. “So, that’ll leave what, at least one of the Dakotas, or South Carolina? Oklahoma, Texas, Louisiana, and Alabama?”

He started ticking off more as he went, making his way down the map until a thought hit like a truck.

“Oh shit, don’t tell me you’re from-”

“Georgia.” Sharky watched John tuck both hands into his arms, crossing them around him tighter. “Is that southern enough for you?”

---

...And because I can’t resist, maybe one more WIP that’s been gradually coming together too. ;)

---

She pulled the blanket closer around him, making sure to cover him completely as she leaned forward, and felt him shift. Wondered if she’d somehow managed to wake him up only to watch his nose twitch in sleep as he continued to breathe softly, no snoring coming from him yet.

Sharky seemed to be dreaming of something, though. Mumbled under his breath a few words she couldn’t make out as she stood there with one hand on the blankets and another on the couch.

So she stayed. Watched him continue to sleep undisturbed for just a little longer, a smile almost playing at his lips and leaned forward. Let her lips touch his, pressing just enough against them to savor it as she squeezed her eyes shut.

The corner of his mouth twitched, moving as she drew back and he adjusted himself, but he didn’t wake up. Just let a smile drift into place as Hana hovered close enough to touch him again if she wanted to.

[ambii15]

Untitled Clexa Fic

Recently I’ve opened a very old WIP that has been sitting in my google docs. I read it over and my brain just started running with ideas for it. I’m thinking this is a possible new story for when I finished Shattered Reflections and would like to see if anyone is interested in it to be a future fic! (I think I’ve posted this on here previously but I can’t seem to find it in my archive anywhere so if I have, oh well. Here’s to reading it again!) This is only a small portion of it but please, enjoy!

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

The sirens didn’t help with the nightmares.

Neither did the screams.

Pillows only blocked so much of the noise before it became too much of a steady muffled buzz in her ears. Not even the headphones now laying dejectedly on the floor seemed to work. It was almost as if the sounds were engraved in her mind. Playing on that old time record player that seemed to drone on for hours on end.

But the noises were the least of her problems.

The real fear was the bites —biters. It was like something out of a horror movie. The dead rising and stumbling uncoordinatedly through the busy streets of Los Angeles, rotting teeth sinking into ripe flesh and pulling screams of agony from the poor souls trapped beneath them. The military was supposed to control it, orders for everyone to return to their homes and stay there until everything was right again.

But it never happened.

They became mostly overrun save for a few posts that were able to keep things together long enough for some backup to arrive. Not that it was helping. Each day was different. Each day the sirens were less and less and the screams were more and more. Hope was dwindling on the horizon along with the setting sun, becoming nothing but little wisps among the darkening sky, barely able to dance among the stars.

And hope wasn’t the only thing she was running low on.

“Shit.”

An empty soup can was slammed against the counter, the last tiny crumbs from some stale crackers bouncing beside it. A dejected sigh sounded from the sole occupant of the apartment. She had only had a few rationed goods when everything started and now she had nothing. She knew no other apartments on her floor had anything in them. She’d already searched through every single one of them with little to nothing coming from them.

There were other floors.

But there was no guarantee they weren’t overrun by biters.

And with nothing more than a few flimsy kitchen knives, she would be no match if a hoard was waiting for her.

Weeping blue eyes peered over her shoulder to stare at the family photo hanging by the entryway of her kitchen. With her mind and body completely defeated, Clarke slumped against the counter before falling to her knees. Sobs racked her body as she slowly curled into herself, trying to keep herself from screaming out in sorrow.

“I’m sorry mom, dad. I’m not strong enough to do this. Not by myself.”

With shaky hands, Clarke opened the drawer to her left and reached inside. After grabbing what she needed Clarke slowly turned and sat on the dirty floor, back meeting the cool wood surface of her cabinets. She stared at the object in her hands, slowly examining it as the setting sun coming from her kitchen window bounced off the shiny metal blade.

Maybe the flimsy kitchen knives would be her savior after all.

Clarke flexed her fingers around the handle of the knife as she lowered it to the skin of her wrist. Her chest began to rise and fall in rapid succession as panic set in. The tears that lingered at the corners of her eyes finally fell along pale cheeks before splashing against the slant skin of her arms.

Clarke took a steadying breath.

She could do this.

Just before Clarke could slide the blade across her wrist the sound of her front door busting open caused her to yelp and defensively hold the knife in front of her. She jumped to her feet, hands shaking as she prepared herself to come face to face with biters for the first time. Clarke had only seen them from her living room window, watching them stumble and chasing things around the streets below her. She was nowhere near ready to have one looking her right in the eyes.

Her breathing stilled, waiting for the sounds of groans and uneven footsteps to sound through her living room and into her kitchen...but they never came. Clarke calmed her breathing, carefully switching the blade to her other, non-sweaty hand for a better grip, before easing forward with light footsteps.

As she peered around the corner of her kitchen entrance, Clarke never imagined she’d be looking right down the barrel of a rifle.

“Don’t move.”

The words were whispered but quick and harsh. The voice was one of a female, probably around Clarke’s age if not a few years older, if she had to guess, but the rifle blocked her view of her face. Clarke shakily raised her fingers from her knife, leaving only her thumb to hold it against her palm in a show of surrender.

“I-I won’t hurt you. Just...don’t shoot,” Clarke responded as she began to bend to slowly lower the weapon to the floor.

The barrel of the rifle moved impossibly closer to her forehead causing Clarke to stop in her tracks.

“I said, don’t move,” The woman growled and Clarke could see one of her hands shifting along the rifle’s handguard, the other with a cautious finger hovering over the trigger.

“Okay, okay. I’m just going to drop this,” Clarke whispered as she went to drop her knife.

“Stop,” The woman commanded before she could drop it. “Do you have any other weapons? Guns? Machete even?”

Clarke wanted to laugh. If she had even one of those things why would she choose a lousy kitchen knife to defend herself at a time like this?

“What makes you think I have a gun or a machete? I thought biters were breaking in and I’m defending myself with a kitchen knife. You really think I would choose this over either of those things?”

The rifle lowered slowly, revealing a strong jaw, smooth skin smeared with dirt, brunette hair pulled back by braids, and eyes green as a vast forest. Clarke clung to those eyes, feeling herself get lost in them and the tension easing from her body unconsciously.

“Have you been bitten?”

The words barely registered in her mind as those green eyes searched her face before dropping to search below Clarke’s neck. Clarke could feel her cheeks warm under the slight smudge of dirt covering them.

“W-what?”

The strange woman used the barrel of the gun to push Clarke’s flannel open, successfully showing off milky skin caked in weeks of dirt. If it had been any other day, if there weren’t biters crawling around the streets or the fact that there was a gun pointed at her chest, Clarke would’ve punched the woman for exposing her in such a way.

“Bites? Were. You. Bitten?” The woman snarled, eyes bouncing between Clarke’s face and body. “I won’t ask again.”

With her flannel now hanging around her elbows leaving her in nothing but a black cami, Clarke glanced down at her own skin as if to confirm for herself that she had no bites.

“N-no. I haven’t been bitten,” Clarke began slowly. “To be honest, I’ve never even come face to face with a biter. I’ve only ever seen them from my window.”

Green eyes darted over to the window Clarke had weakly gestured towards before landing back on her. The muscles in the woman’s jaw clenched before raising her gun back towards Clarke’s face.

“Are there any others here with you?”

From her position, Clarke was still able to see the picture of her family hanging on the wall. Blue eyes clouded over in sadness and drifted down to the dirty floor of her apartment.

“No. It’s just me.”

Clarke kept her eyes to the ground, resigning herself to whatever fate this beautiful saw fit for her. Just mere minutes ago she was ready to end her own life. What should it matter to her if this stranger chose to do it for her?

“Keep the knife. You’ll need it.”

The knot that had formed in her stomach since the moment her apartment door had opened suddenly eased. Hazy baby blues snapped up from the floor as the woman stepped around Clarke and into her kitchen. Clarke watched as the stranger started moving around the empty cabinets in search of food that Clarke knew would not be there. She almost wanted to laugh when the woman let out a string of curses as she opened the last cabinet.

“There’s nothing here,” Clarke chimed. “There’s nothing on this floor at all. I’ve checked.”

The rifle that had been shoved in Clarke’s face now bounced against the woman’s chest as she turned to face her. They exchanged glances across the kitchen, neither choosing to voice just how bad of a situation no food was at a time like this.

“You’ve been in here since it all started?”

Clarke’s eyes finally explored the full form of the woman who now leaned back against the counter. She wore a simple black t-shirt covered with a few dark stains which Clarke assumed to be blood. A black leather jacket, which was surprisingly clean, hung over her lean shoulders and Clarke almost blushed as her eyes drifted down to gaze at toned thighs wrapped in dark denim.

“Yeah,” Clarke nodded as her eyes lingered on the dark timberland boots the stranger wore. “After the military called for a mandatory stay-at-home order I never left, but almost all the people in the building didn’t listen because they thought the city was unsafe. That’s why all the apartments are all empty...well at least on this floor. I don’t know about the others.”

A sudden dark chuckle slipped past the woman’s pouty lips.

“So you haven’t left this floor for what? Almost two months?”

Clarke’s eyes rose to the ceiling, silently trying to count the days in her head but failing.

“Honestly, I don’t know how long it’s really been. I barely had any food to begin with, no weapons to defend myself, so I just chose to hole up in my room. Sleep the days away and hopefully wait for the day that help comes.”

This time, a bitter laugh sounded through the kitchen.

“Help isn’t coming. It never was.”

And the last of Clarke’s hope was crushed. Not that it hadn’t been already. If she was honest with herself, Clarke knew long ago that there was never going to be any help after the military in the city fell. If their numbers in Los Angeles were overrun...there was definitely no hope for any other cities.

“I...I kind of figured that. After the military, after watching all those things cover the streets, I had a feeling there was nothing -no one- left. I guess part of me was just hanging on to that hope that maybe something would change and someone would come...maybe that’s the only thing that’s kept me sane this long. The thought of being saved.”

The strange woman absentmindedly pushed at the empty soup can Clarke had discarded earlier as she processed her words. After a few beats of silence the woman pushed herself away from the cabinet, hands pulling her rifle back into her grasp and moving over to the little window in Clarke’s kitchen and peering down.

“You can’t sit here and wait for someone to save you. You have to save yourself. Because no one else is coming.”

Clarke glanced curiously at the intricate braids woven through the woman’s hair and suddenly felt the need to know if she wore it the same way before the biters.

“But you’re here,” Clarke found herself suddenly saying.

She didn’t know why she said it. Maybe because it was true. Here was this woman, armed and fierce looking, like she knew what she was doing, standing in Clarke’s empty kitchen. Clarke lived on the fifth floor and if her fear was right, that there were biters on the floors below her, then the woman obviously had to sneak around them or fight them off to get here. Whatever the case was, it meant she knew what she was doing...and Clarke needed someone like that to help her learn to survive in this world.

That thought was jarring to her. Not even minutes ago she was ready to leave this world, but now? Now Clarke found herself staring at this woman and thinking that she could have a chance at living. That maybe she could be taught how to navigate this new world and fight back.

Survive.

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Please let me know if you’d be interested in me continuing this story in the future! I look forward to writing more for this little universe that’s running around in my head once my other fic is finished! :)

[scribeofred]

Thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the tag!

 1. What fandoms have you written for?

This is embarrassing but I actually had to look at both FFnet and AO3 because I couldn’t remember all of them. TRON: Legacy, Assassin’s Creed, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit, Sherlock, Final Fantasy VII and XV and Kingsglaive, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Merlin, Skyrim, and, of course, Thunderbirds. I have a couple other fandoms that crop up in various wips, including a Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover that I really should finish.

2. How many works do you have on AO3 &/or FFNet?

FFnet has 45, and AO3 has 41. There’s also a couple stories lurking on tumblr, notably a final chapter for Reflection.

3. What are your top 3 fics by kudos on A03 &/or Favs on FFNet?

AO3 dominates in this area, if I can use a word like “dominates” for stories that have less than 125 kudos each haha. Oh well, the numbers don’t matter!

1.     118 kudos on tell the shades apart (my world is black and white)

2.     94 kudos on Reflection

3.     91 kudos on The 43rd Hour

4. Which 3 fics have the least kudos & Favs?

Again on AO3:

1 kudos on I Am You (And You Are Me)

5 kudos on The Dragonborn Chronicles

6 kudos on cynosure

5. Which Fic has the most comments and which has the least?

Reflection has the most at 29 threads, and I Am You (And You Are Me) has the least at zero.

6. Which complete fic do you wish had gotten more attention?

Lodestar, definitely. Sure, it’s for something of a rarepair, but they aren’t that rare, and I just really really like the way the story came together. On the other hand, of course my unfinished Merlin fic has gotten probably the most attention, because that’s just the way it goes, eh?

7. Have you written any crossovers?

None that I’ve published! I have various crossovers lurking in mostly unfinished states, including the aforementioned Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover, and an Assassin’s Creed/Thundeerbirds crossover that is very good and I should also finish. There’s an Expanse/Thunderbirds fic lurking in my brain that I may or may not ever commit to paper, who knows. I’ve also very vaguely toyed with a Batman/Thunderbirds crossover, in the sense that “nebulous” is too strong a word for the kind of toying I’ve been doing.

8. What is the craziest fic you’ve written?

I don’t really write crazy or crack or humor in general, so probably the closest thing to “crazy” is On the Lam, which was the result of wanting to throw Scott and Penelope toward an Egyptian stud farm. It ended up being the host for a bad joke about that, courtesy of one @thebaconsandwichofregret, who consistently gives some of the best dialogue advice I’ve ever encountered.

Actually, the true answer is probably a chapter in Glimpses into a Supernova, maybe the one about blood? It seems bonkers when I think back on it now, but I admittedly haven’t read it in many years. Possibly I am misremembering. Glimpses has some weird ones, though.

9. What’s the fic you’ve written with the saddest ending?

It’s a tossup between The Painting and a place where the water touches the sky. The former deals with a prior off-screen death; the latter is (maybe??) an on-screen death. People seemed upset by it, at any rate. I said it was ambiguous!

10. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

“Happy” is probably a matter of perspective? Depends on the overall reading experience and the ending within that context. Either septet or Three Towels and a Tracy, they’re both pretty fluffy overall.

11. What is your smuttiest fic?

protoinstincts, which I completely forgot I wrote and then rediscovered like a year later and realized “hey, this is actually pretty good” and you know what, despite it not being overly spicy, it is pretty good.

12. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, per se, but someone left a review on Less Than Nothing saying they “didn’t like” that I “wrote the story as a series of drabbles.” Cool, I didn’t write the story for you, random guest reader, and the back button exists, friend 😂 It didn’t bother me on a personal level because I wrote the fic for an audience of one (incidentally, not myself and rather the recipient of a secret santa event), but I was mad because the reviewer had no way of knowing where I was at as a writer, and I know from longtime observation how that kind of comment can crush less experienced or confident writers.

Don’t leave flames, kids, you don’t understand the power your words have. Don’t like, don’t read.

13. What is the nicest comment you’ve received?

The nicest? Goodness. Hmm. I’d have to go hunting to find the nicest, but in recent memory, @ayzrules sent me a couple passages from Spanish texts she’s been studying that reminded her of my writing, and I was honestly so touched by the fact that she even thought to make such comparisons, much less mention them to me. Taking the time to familiarize yourself with someone’s style until you can make comparisons between it and someone else’s work is so much more meaningful to me personally than a basic “Nice story!” or “Loved this!” type of comment ever could be. <3 Ayz <3

14. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of, but I’ve never gone looking on any sort of copycat site or whatever either.

15. How many fics do you have marked as incomplete?

Two. First is The Dragonborn Chronicles, which is a retelling of Skyrim from Lydia’s perspective via her journal, to complement the in-game journal. It’s a slog of a style to write, though, even for someone who loves writing first person and doesn’t really want to write a lot of dialogue, and the outline is huge, and the story will be many times more huge, and just. Some day. Some day.

Second is tell the shades apart (my world is black and white), which has always been unfinished because the outline itself is over seven thousand words and the fully written story would undoubtedly land between 100,000 and 200,000 words, and there’s no way I’m writing that. I’ve always meant to upload the outline, but I got kind of self-conscious about the way I formatted it, and ugh I just haven’t bothered. One day, one day, right?

Moral of the story is I’m intensely a short story writer, and I’ve really found myself settling into that role over the last couple years. Better a clipped, punchy short story than a bloated slog of an epic.

16. Which of the WIPS will most likely be finished first?

Literally no one knows that. I wrote 95% of the observable entropy of a closed system over five years ago, and then I proceeded to pull it out roughly once a year and write and rewrite various endings until last month, which was when I finally figured out how I wanted to end the story. septet, too, languished for about five years before I finally remembered it existed and managed to wrangle an ending. Endings are hard, man. So are those third plot points. Terrible creatures, those, bog me down every time.

17. Which WIP are you looking forward to finishing?

Uh... mm. See. If I were looking forward to finishing any of them, I’d be actively working on them. At this moment, writing fic isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities, but I am also coming off a four-day idle game bender, so I still feel like I haven’t quite reengaged with myself as a living person. Give me another few days and I might have an answer.

(I am always most looking forward to finishing this ridiculous Ignis-drives-the-Audi-R8 fic that’s been languishing in my wips for literal years. As mentioned above, third plot points. Killer, man.)

(oh and also the working-titled the art of murder. Scott and Penny attend a private art auction. Things don’t go to plan. It, too, is stuck at the third plot point. I know, I know I have a problem, shush.)

18. Is there a WIP that you’re considering abandoning?

Any wip has the potential to be revived—this year and the old wips I’ve unearthed, dusted off, finished, and posted have been proof of that. I don’t intentionally permanently abandon anything for that reason, some stories just probably will remain dusty old wips forever because I didn’t actually need or want to write the full story for one reason or another.

19. Which complete fic would you consider rewriting?

Now that’s an interesting question. Hmm! Honestly? None of them. Once I finish a story, I’m not inclined toward rereading it again any time soon, to the point of years in some cases, and I feel like I’ve moved on from the stories I wrote one, two, five, eight years ago in the actual writing sense. They’re finished stories, and on top of that are relics of their time, which doesn’t mean the stories don’t have any ongoing significance on a reading level—I just don’t have any interest in rewriting those particular stories. I’ve gotten them out of my head, to the point of not remembering at least a third of them on demand anymore, and I don’t have any desire to “retell” those exact stories. I do tend to tighten the wording and fix perceived errors/weaknesses whenever I do end up rereading an old story, and I usually silently update the AO3 version if I make any significant changes because AO3 makes it a breeze to update a posted fic. I might do FFnet too if I’m feeling up to it or have the time.

20. Which complete fic is your favourite?

Once upon a time I would’ve said Holding On, but I honestly find it kind of unbearably melodramatic now. the observable entropy of a closed system is equally melodramatic, as it was written in the same era, but at least it has the excuse of being told in second person and via a style that is a half step away from being poetry. Possibly I will reread it in a few years and find it equally obnoxious and overly dramatic, but it received some shockingly positive comments, which I wasn’t expecting at ALL, and I’ve been honestly blown away by the amount of praise it’s received. <3 to everyone who’s said anything about it!

21. What’s your total published word count?

141,000 on AO3, 160,000 on FFnet, but technically the light of my life SS wrote fifty thousand words of each. It’s too late for math.

 I tag @velkynkarma, @lurkinglurkerwholurks, @writtenbyrain, @thebaconsandwichofregret, and anyone else who wants to play!

[ourstarscollided]

jatp fanworks appreciation - day 3 (wips)

wip wednesday - I didn’t think I wanted to join in on this day for my own stuff considering I’ve never posted anything original for this fandom, but I think this might just be the little boost I need from myself to actually finish the wips that I have sitting around. I am peer pressuring myself and holding myself accountable by posting this - or at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Most of the past 6 mths has just been me screaming to no one in a Google Doc, so here are some things I’ve been ruminating about over the last 6 months (and if my secret agenda is to get other people to write about it so I don’t have to? Then that’s between you and me).

Everything’s under a read more because I like giving context and that usually spirals out of control!?!?

If you would like to see more from any of the below, feel free to shoot me an ask/message and I can definitely share some more! (Or you can just come yell at me about JATP in general.)

Strangers Fake Dating AU // Julie x Luke

I’m a simple person. I see a prompt, I latch onto it, and then I completely miss the entire point of the prompt as my imagination goes wild for no real reason. This really was supposed to be a super short drabble, but it manifested into a 3k+ thing that isn’t even finished.

Julie’s not really sure what she’s supposed to do now. Nothing has ever prepared her for a situation in which she’s supposed to pretend to be a stranger’s girlfriend, especially if that situation involves parents. Does she continue this ruse? Can she come up with a quick enough excuse to tell this Luke character that she actually can’t stay? What if this is just all an elaborate plan to kidnap her? Has she been listening to too many true crime podcasts? Why does Luke smell so good? Does he know how to cook? Why does his shirt not have sleeves? What-

“I can hear you thinking from here.” Her head whips up at the sound of Luke’s voice, which is now at a whisper and kind of frantic. “I just- I just really needed to get my mom off my back, so I kinda need you to pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for the night. I swear I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Julie studies Luke’s face and it’s nearly impossible to not cave under his gaze, which can only be simply described as ‘puppy dog eyes’. She finds herself smiling back, letting out a huff, “I hope you like lasagna.” And the grin that spreads across the boy’s face is enough for her to know that he’s incredibly relieved that she agreed.

“I’m Luke by the way. Luke Patterson.”

(Okay, he’s kinda cute. And no one this cute is a serial killer. Right?)

She gives a small smile back, “I’m Julie.”

//

5+1 alive!Juke AU // Julie x Luke

Inspired by paper - LANY

This is one of the first things I ever felt the urge to write down back in September because I love exploring the idea of how two people can appear to be the perfect relationship on the outside, but are actually fighting their own demons. Especially when it comes to celebrities and people who are in the spotlight. It’s basically a 5+1 fic about the moments from other people’s perspectives who happen to orbit around Julie/Luke that all revolve around paper. My outline for this is so long because I can’t manage to narrow it down, and there’s zero cohesiveness but I do have little things jotted down.

“Hey little man,” Luke’s knelt down to match his 5 year-old height, and a hand extends out to him for a high five, “What are you doing here?”

His eyes flicker to the left, towards his own apartment door, where his mom is giving him an encouraging nod. “ I- I just wanted to-” he stutters and finds himself looking at his feet as he shuffles back and forth on the spot. “I- I drew you guys something!”

He shoves the paper out towards the older boy in front of him, but doesn’t look up.

//

Reincarnation AU // Julie x Luke

I had a random thought in December about how magical it is that Julie and Luke are so tied to one another that their love transcends time and space, which will always lead them back to one another. I remember reading a book a long time ago about how the main character is fated to die at a certain age, and that kind of sparked this little idea. I can’t bring myself to actually plot out every single timeline right now, but I did manage to write a little bit.

It will never be as complex as Rosie’s idea and all the wonderful additions in the link here, and I don’t really plan on it being anything more than a small idea. But I really do still think someone should write some sort of reincarnation AU cause I’d hop on that so fast!!

“Okay- that’s not- Luke. You seriously just ran away?”

“What was I supposed to do Alex? We all know how this ends.”

His friend looks at him, face painted in understanding and he sighs, “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

Because it’s true, Alex does know, so does Reggie and Bobby. Most importantly, so does Luke. It’s the exact same tragic love story every time.

Call it a curse or fate or destiny. Maybe it’s because Mercury is in retrograde. Whatever. It always ends the same way - with a heartbreaking goodbye, a whisper of the promise that they’ll find each other again, and the possibility of a happy ending. He’s said the same goodbye at least 734 times, but it’s not like he’s counting or anything. Fuck the universe and its mystical ways.

//

Competitive Alex // Alex x Willie

No real thoughts or reasons for this other than I just think I self-projected my need to play board games with people in real life into a fic. And maybe a little bit of my competitiveness onto Alex and then threw in Willie because I think he would be able to handle it while also finding it endearing. I also have written nothing about the actual competitiveness, it’s just 2k words of Alex crushing on Willie.

“Wait,” his eyes dart between the three boys, “You both know Willie? How come I’ve never met him?”

His roommates look at each other, and there’s a smirk on Luke’s face when he says, “Actually Alex, I think you have. Remember that time you got really drunk after one of our shows?”

Oh no. He really hopes that it’s not the time he’s thinking of, so he tries to sound nonchalant. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Luke.”

“The night we played at that tiny bar at the edge of the campus! We got paid in those tiny colourful shots?” He doesn’t really know where Luke is going with this, so he’s slowly nodding along. “And you were super upset that the hot dog vendor at the end of the street was closed?”

//

Dear Julie, Love Mom series

I made myself sad with this thought when I first watched the show and was talking to my friend about how I think that Rose would’ve left messages for the Molina family, especially when we found out that Wake Up was actually from her mom. I wrote a bigger explanation for it here.

Anyways, I started with the one for Julie’s wedding and it kind of became an 8k monster with three different POVs?!? As much as I love how I wrote this, I feel too unsure about my writing to share it in full, so you will get carefully selected looks alkfe. (I’m also kind of stuck on some of the more emotional scenes and I may or may not have procrastinated by photoshopping a moodboard for it.)

Excerpt 1 (Julie POV): A look into where I’m going with this whole letters from Rose thing.

The key clicks into place, and with a turn, the latch falls open. She’s not sure what she wants to find in the box, and she’s too scared to think about it really. All she knows is that this was the sign from her mom that she was waiting for all week, and in true Rose fashion, her mom had managed to give it to her, even if at the last second. Her dad turns the box to face Julie, and gestures to her to open up the lid.

Tucked inside is a VHS tape, the words ‘For Julie, on your wedding day’ written in her mom’s cursive on the cover. Some loose glitter and confetti fall back into the box as she reaches in to pick up the tape and turn it over in her hands. There’s a little purple butterfly etched on the back, the same one that’s been drawn on all the other messages that her mom had left her. Her finger automatically finds its way, tracing the shape of the small doodle.

“Do you want me to leave you alone, mija?”

Excerpt 2 (Julie POV): This part has absolutely nothing to do with the main plot of the story, but it self-inserted itself into this fic after @tangledstarlight and I talked about You’re Still the One by Shania Twain being their first dance. This whole scene came to me at 4am one night and might be the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written.

They knew that when they had asked Reggie to be in charge of the first dance performance, that they (and Alex) weren’t allowed to veto any of his ideas. Luke had warned Julie that that would be a mistake, but the giddiness that radiated off of Reggie when she had told him he could have free reign was worth it. She just hadn’t thought that he would actually take it to heart and run with it.

Sure, they had chosen You’re Still the One by Shania Twain as their first dance song, and sure it was more or less a country song, but she didn’t really imagine that she’d be staring at her adoptive brother, Carlos and her Dad wearing cowboy hats and boots at her wedding. They had somehow managed to ditch their Flynn-approved suit jackets and were sporting a taupe-coloured suede-textured vest over their dress shirts. If she looked closely, she could see that they had somehow also found some gaudy looking bolo ties with a matching set of ornamental clasps to wear. When she envisioned her wedding, she really didn’t expect that her first (public) dance as a married couple would be a full-on Western themed occasion. The only exception was Alex, who had settled on his cajon in the back, still in his pink suit, eyes rolling when she met his gaze. But even she knew how there was no real annoyance in the blonde’s reaction or else he wouldn’t also be wearing one of the tacky ties around his neck as well.

“I’m gonna seriously kill him.” She hears Luke grumble under his breath, only low enough for her to hear. But she’s still too busy giggling to actually be mad, and she knows that Luke isn’t really going to kill Reggie. At least she doesn’t think so.

Excerpt 3 (Luke POV): Idk man. My mind went “What about Luke?” and I said “You’re right!! What about him?!?”

He doesn’t realize that he’s just been silently staring at the woman in front of him, until a gentle voice breaks him out of his thoughts. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Julie’s peering at him from under her eyelashes, a curious look on her face.

“You just-” he gives a little shake of his head, trying to come up with the right words. He wants to tell her she’s beautiful. Stunning. A wicked beauty. But she’s more than that - she’s almost angelic. “I can’t believe you’re my wife.”

“Luke, we’ve been legally married for like, a whole year.” Her lips are quirked up in a grin, amusement in her voice. “You’ve only just realized that now?”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah? Different how?”

This feels a little strange to post and a little like my inner self seeking validation but let’s not talk about that.

Kskssj anyways present me @ future me: finish one of these because writing has been really cathartic for you and you didn’t think it would bring you so much joy!!!

[lordeasriel]

a memory: a man with a mission

Chapter excerpt from my WIP sci-fi novel, The Timekiller. If you check it out, I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback. The novel is divided into normal chapters, that follow the present timeline and its plot, and the memory chapters which are flashback chapters of different moments, like memories, telling key events from the past (and future).

--

December 23, 1946.

Duke’s powers manifested in a way he couldn’t quite understand. He was a man hailing from the far gone future, born amongst robots and artificial intelligences, raised in a world where the AI had rebelled against the humans and their oppression. He was a war child, for all intents and purposes, yet he never quite felt like a soldier. There was a scholarly aspect to him that made him stand out amongst his peers in the resistance and what granted him the alias The Duke, which was often shortened to just Duke; his name had only been known by his fiancé and a few friends, close friends.

He walked into a pub, in London, in an environment that was the most foreign thing he had ever seen, despite the fact he had been to London in his own time. He was shocked to realise his attempt to time travel that far in the past had worked, but he quickly gathered his wits, and stole clothes so he would fit in, and suddenly he blended wonderfully into the post-second war background world, with matte colours and broken buildings, yet with a spirit of renewal only known to those who have witnessed mayhem - and survived.

Doing justice to his scholarly spirit, Duke had done his research in the time he wanted to visit, and thus he knew vaguely how to communicate, and what to say and how to say it. How to dress, what to order for food and drinks, and how the culture worked. It was hard work, but he managed just fine, asking for a pint at the bar, while glancing around the place.

There weren’t many people there, but there were only a few tables vacant, despite the fact it was nearly christmas. Cold weather mostly sent the people in, couples, elderly men, veterans and so on; it was a workers’ pub, mostly, so not many posh people were to be seen. He kept a quiet, low profile, watching around, looking aimlessly. He had to wait until the far night to do what he had come here to do, so spending his time amongst folk was a good idea. He realised these people had good food and drinks and peace.

“Poor lass.” The barmaid told him, a tough looking woman with red hair, cleaning up the glasses in front of him. He raised his eyebrows, inquisitively. She nodded in a specific direction. “She’s been sitting there all day, sipping her lukewarm pint. That has to be the tenth moron who has been to nag her.”

Duke hummed, slightly uninterested, but the woman didn’t mind his lack of interest.

“Ah, she keeps on saying she’s waiting for someone, but I think her lad might have stood her up, oh yes.” Duke nodded, just to appease her sense of communication, drinking his beer quietly. “Do you know her?”

He lowered his glass, and turned to see in the direction the barmaid had pointed out. In the corner of the bar, a few meters away from him, there was a woman occupying a single table, holding a glass mug of beer with a dishonest disinterest. She was dressed simply, with a plain skirt and white blouse, her coat on the chair she was sitting, her hair done modestly, keep in those hair nets Duke thought were so funny.

She raised her eyes to him, and her bland expression disappeared, replaced by the smallest hint of a smile. She would have been in her thirties, maybe late twenties, or so he guessed, strong eyebrows and light-coloured eyes that glittered under the soft, warm light of the pub. Something about her was disconcerting, he felt as if the entire room was staring at her, as if she was the sole focus of a picture and the only thing worth looking at. She was pretty, but it wasn’t that that made her such a magnet of attention, it was something else. It scared him, astonished him. He locked eyes with the woman, and he blushed for no reason he could explain.

“Never seen her.” He said, truthfully. He turned away because the woman’s gaze was making him uncomfortable. Somehow he felt she knew what he was doing in that time period, but the mere idea sounded insane to him. How could she know?

“She’s been looking at you an awful lot, though.” The barmaid smiled at him, a bit wicked. “Hope you aren’t the married type.”

Zohariel watched him from her chair, intensely, her fingers fidgeting on her lap as she was focusing on expanding her presence so he would be drawn to her. Usually she did the opposite, quieting down her spirit so people’s lives wouldn’t get caught in the strength of her being, but this time she wanted him to notice her. She needed him to, otherwise he would commit the worst mistake of his life.

He looked, at last, confused and intrigued. No doubt he had a dozen questions, and no doubt she could have answered them patiently and carefully and gently, but he had a determination in his eyes that made her wary. One tiny wrong move, and the timeline would’ve gone to hell and Zohariel would be in an even bigger mess. She was intent on avoiding that. Unlike him, she knew who he was and his entire fate, but she never shared that with him, not until a long time in the future.

He resisted her presence, as much as he could. She had expected that. He was strong-willed and his abilities had a similar root to hers, no doubt her own fault. He sideeyed her from his place, wary; while her presence was strong thanks to her different frequency, she couldn’t control how people reacted to it. Some were attracted to her, some were terrified, some hated her on principle; it was a roussian roulette of psychology and emotion. Zee was beginning to feel hopeless when he finally moved towards her table, two mugs of cold beer in hand and he stood in front of her, his jacket too big for him, a clear sign those clothes didn’t belong to him.

“Do you mind?” He asked, quietly, almost shyly. It was rather unbecoming of him: she has expected him to be more forceful.

“Not at all.” She gestured with her chin to the chair across her.

Everyone at the pub watched as that strange fellow, for no apparent reason, sat down with that even stranger woman, whose attention had been craved by many, all whom she denied politely, so gently it was nearly cruel.

He slid the mug at her, pacifyingly. She let go of her empty one and closed her grip on the new one, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

“Rumour has it you have been dumping men left and right, tonight.” He said, taking a sip from his mug, his eyes locked onto hers. There was faint music playing in the background, an old tune, filled with white noise. The conversation resumed as Zee toned down her presence as much as she could.

“I enjoy the loneliness.” The corners of her mouth twitched up; he observed her carefully. She knew he was trying to figure her out; people from his time spot were terribly suspicious of anything odd.

“Yet, I’ve been told you can’t take your eyes off me.”

“You’re an odd one.” She said, jokingly, but there was enough truth in it to satisfy him. It didn’t, however.

“So are you.” He crossed his arms over the table, and she leaned in to whisper back at him.

“And together, the two of us make quite a pair in this trivial place.” She tilted her head. He hummed, the closest thing to a laughter he could give her. She leaned back on her chair, her drink in hand. “You look like a man on a mission, if you don’t mind me saying it.”

He hummed again, and his eyes lost focus and he was invaded by a sadness she was well familiar with. He wouldn’t know, of course; there was so much he didn’t know.

“You have no idea, miss.”

“Oh, I might.” She blinked slowly, but he barely reacted. He didn’t believe her, and she could scarcely blame him. Most time travelers struggled in their first months, even years; it was not the sort of thing one could easily adjust to. But Zee didn’t have time to do things subtly; Duke was about to make a very common mistake between time travelers who just discovered their powers: he thought he could change history. “Tell me, what brings you here?”

“Just passing by.”

“How vague! You sound as if you don’t want to talk, yet you’re the one who approached me.” Her amused tone sparked something in him, but by his attitude, it was probably something bad.

He looked at her, puzzled, baffled. She knew how this conversation would follow, it always happened the same way, the few times she had done it before, when she was still with the League. I don’t know why I did it, he would say, his senses betraying him, his mind being engulfed by the everlasting presence of her high frequency.

Being from another universe, Zohariel’s atoms vibrated in a frequency suited for her own universe, and her frequency was so high that in the universe she lived in, she disturbed the natural order of things. Some resisted it for longer, like Duke, but it was pointless; in the end, she could change their lives dramatically by simply existing in the same vicinity for long enough.

“I don’t know why I did it.” He said, looking around, carefully. “You were looking at me.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. A lot. Why?”

“I don’t know, I do a lot of things for no good reason.” She finished her glass and put it down with a soft noise. Her eyebrows had a crease between them, more about doubt than confusion. “You may not want to hear it, but I have some advice for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. That which is consuming you right now, it is the sort of ailment that afflicts every one of us. You don’t believe I understand, I know, but I do." She sighed when he shook his head. "Grief is overwhelming. It feeds off our energy, our hopes, our fears. But it will pass, eventually, or at least fade to something bearable. Until then, you must persevere."

"How do you know I'm grieving?" There was a legitimate curiosity in his question.

"It's in your eyes." It was true, anyone who looked at him would have seen the pain he was in, but she knew more than just that. She knew everything and more. My responsibility, she often repeated to herself, my fault. Everything he was and would be and do was on her head and she wanted to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. "All over your face. You could use a shave, no offense. I like the beard, but these folks… They're on a different time."

"More free advice? Who would have thought?" He mocked, but there was very little malice in his attitude. He thought of her as odd, quirky. A weird woman in a weird time spot.

"What can I say, I appreciate being helpful and advice from me is a common item to spread around." She raised her eyebrows, amused. "I hope you will heed my words."

"I don't believe you told me your name."

She smiled, sweet and mischievous.

"While my advice is free of charge, my name is a luxury item, in this silly metaphor." She tapped at his hand, gently, and he pulled away as if she had given him a shock. He checked his watch and she observed, quietly, hopeless, intrigued. He brushed his thighs before he stood up, and Zohariel thought he looked exhausted.

He must be, she thought, he probably has no idea how to properly time travel.

The first mistake of a rookie was to go back or forth in time without mastering their powers, which could also be translated to, without knowing how to go back to their time spot. They'd get stuck, and create anachronisms which would then trigger the League. If they did little damage and were untrained and not dangerous, the League would do nothing more than fix the issues, and give them a reprimand and invite them in - very few people refused an invitation like that. However, as Zohariel knew because she had used the League's rating system, Duke was to be considered a red alert threat; he was an anachronist who would stop at nearly nothing to achieve his goal and neither would the League. Worst fate was to have his memories deleted and have him do mild paperwork, while keeping him on his own time spot. It was cruel, in Zee's opinion; worse even than just erasing his existence entirely.

"I appreciate your kindness, but you don't really understand." He nodded before walking out of the pub. Zee watched, almost as if that was a film.

She knew where he was going and she knew she had to stop him before the League did.

[fantastic-rambles]

Ahhh yaknow what you’re right. I just went back and looked over some of the rod, and I didn’t see Langa explicitly agree to not to skate with Adam. He promised that he wouldn’t quit skating with Reki, but he only acknowledged Reki’s warning to not be reckless. It actually makes a bunch of sense why Langa would be confused by the distancing and argument. I see now why you were upset with Reki’s behavior. It feels kind of like a ‘secret contract’ sorta thing where Reki got upset over a broken rule Langa never realized he was supposed to abide by. And not only is that unfair like you said, but it flipped the situation as if Langa was being untrustworthy to his word when really Reki didn’t trust Langa not to quit skating with him just because of danger/injury. And especially since I’ve seen people make solid arguments for Langa being neurodivergent or neurodivergent-coded, it’s really not a stretch at all for him to see the situation like you did. Langa most likely saw the issue as solely reckless behavior leading to quitting. But clearly Reki’s own jealousy/insecurities added Langa preferring better skaters as potentially leading to them not skating together without ever discussing it until Langa was blindsided during the argument. I would’ve looked a better apology from Reki where he fully explained why he was upset when they were making up. It’s human for his feelings on the issue to change, but that should’ve been better expressed to Langa. Although Langa did a great job of accurately smoothing over what was bothering Reki without that. Maybe that’ll be rectified if he apologizes to Miya. I think Miya deserves one especially since Reki physically shoved him after he opened up about why his actions were such a sore spot for him. I actually thought Miya’s words would help Reki see the other side of things so seeing Miya get pushed was like a “Bro wtf??” moment for me. Again it’s understandable that people act out when they’re angry and Reki was obviously already struggling with his emotions, but it should be acknowledged again how wrong that was. Boy are you opening my eyes to a lot of problematic stuff lol.

Also, I’m very curious as to why you hate Shadow. For me, it’s because I can’t move past that comment in ep 1. I know ppl brush it off as just an (unnecessarily misogynistic) act for his persona, but that woman literally didn’t say anything to him and he insulted her for no reason by using her body as trophy to be defaced if he won. Ew. And just because he’s super nice to the flower shop lady, he does not get a pass. If he’s only respectful to women he’s attracted to and jumps at any other the opportunity to degrade women, he’s still a misogynist. And I’m pretty sure that he already new flower shop lady when the series started, so I don’t think you can argue that his character developed to be better towards women as a whole because of her or that he wouldn’t do something like that again at this point in the story. Especially since the goal of proving yourself as a “strong man” has not historically worked out to men being compassionate with women. (Tho within a vacuum devoid of his other actions, I can appreciate his commitment to a makeup routine)

Oh! And I would totally wanna read that fanfic if you write it!! I’m not even as gung-ho about Adam going to jail as most fans and Adam-haters tbh. Mainly because it’d probably be for political corruption via money bribes which is already kinda common and I don’t think the show has stated him to be doing anything particularly bad with it I don’t think so?? Like it seems to be mainly for the purpose of keeping S secret which is indeed a waste of money and effort when he could just buy it, but on the other hand, there doesn’t seem to be any ill consequences on the citizens the politician represents. So yea, it’s illegal so the jail time is technically deserved. But also like... no harm no foul🤷‍♀️ If he would be getting charged for assaulting other skaters than I definitely think that’s fair, but I doubt that’ll happen in the show just because I feel like no one will actually say anything when the time comes partially due to the shock of his arrest if they’re even involved. And I mean, Cherry was pissed at Adam for getting skaters hurt but still rolled out the hospital and joked like he was fine, so I just don’t particularly see anyone calling him out on it to the point of it being apart of his sentencing. The end of ep 11 with Cherry and Joe arguing about one of them going against Adam just doesn’t sound like condemning him to battery charges to me XD

But yaknow I’ve been loving hurt/comfort type fics lately, so I’d be really interested in seeing Adam truly work and change himself for some type of redemption in that setting. I can see hitting rock bottom as being really good for him given it may provide a reprieve from having to manage his image. Adam is underrated in complexity so it’s always cool when people try to flesh him out more and dive into his inner world. And of course Tadashi is kind of my fave (if you couldn’t tell) so I love anything healing for him as well :)

Yep, I was majorly pissed at Reki for how he treated Langa and Miya. His behavior is absolutely problematic. Not as bad as Adam, obviously, but with everything I’ve said and you’ve realized... yeah. I’m glad he made up with Langa and will probably make up with Miya, but it doesn’t invalidate everything he’s done before. Yes, he’s still an immature teenager, but I don’t think he realizes how messed up his behavior was, even after making up with Langa (the resolution seems to be based on him accepting that he’s not an ace skater, rather than recognizing how toxic his behavior was), so I’m still not satisfied. But hey, it’s probably just me being hyperfixated on trivial details that nobody else even cares about. /shrug

(I’m glad to know that I wasn’t misinterpreting the “promise,” or lack thereof, though!)

And I have two major problems with Shadow. My first--and biggest--problem is, as you’ve pointed out, that he’s an enormous misogynist. At “S,” people have the freedom to be exactly who they are beneath the facades that they show to the world. For example, Adam is someone desperately searching for someone who can understand him, not the perfectly put-together politician Shindo Ainosuke. Cherry and Joe are more true to their “real life” selves, but there are differences in their behavior on the track and off. And then there’s Shadow, the overcompensating “strong man” who threatens to make a guy tattoo “Dumpster Slut” over his girl’s name. So I 100% agree with everything you said about Shadow. He’s a chauvinistic pig.

The second problem is that I honestly think his actions when he’s racing are worse than Adam’s, and the only reason it’s not made out as such is because he’s the buttmonkey rather than the villain. I believe that, as problematic as Adam’s antics are, he does not intend to cause severe physical harm to his opponents. I’ve discussed this idea in more detail in other posts, but in short, even in the most extreme case--Cherry’s--his injuries were far lighter than they would have been if Adam had seriously wanted to hurt him. Death, coma, etc. were all highly probable outcomes of that situation, so the only reason they didn’t happen was because Adam was holding back. Or anime logic. But even anime logic can only stretch so far. And against lesser opponents like Reki, he generally holds onto them to ensure that they don’t accidentally hurt themselves when they’re panicking.

Of course, Shadow doesn’t intend to cause severe physical harm to his opponents either, but he does not exert any control over the situation after he throws fireworks at his opponent or shines a laser in their eyes. We’ve twice seen his opponents fall off the course as a direct result of his actions: Reki in the first race, Harry in the quarterfinals. They could have just as easily fallen off the cliff or slammed into a wall (at full speed) and been badly injured. If Shadow were an actual villain, I fully believe that he would have an actual body count of people who died racing against him (as opposed to Adam’s trail of injured opponents). So it bothers me that people shrug off what Shadow does while screaming for Adam’s death.

As for the scandal subplot... I’m *pretty* sure it’s a lot more serious than Adam bribing the police to leave “S” alone. I think he’s actually involved in some majorly shady/illegal activities politically. Like, in Episode 7, when the other Diet member gets pulled over, arrested, and has his house searched... there’s no way that has anything to do with “S.” At the very least, the two of them were collaborating on something really bad, something serious that Adam lied about under oath, and that’s enough for Adam’s staff to worry about what’s going to happen, especially Tadashi. We don’t know what it is specifically, but it’s definitely a lot more than just passing out bribes to hide “S.”

Lol, I’ll have to see how it goes. Probably won’t start it until after the anime finishes at the very least so I can see how it turns out for Adam and Tadashi, plus I have another half dozen WIPs at the moment and nowhere near enough time to work on them all. xD

[memoriashell]

the luck of the draw ( surely is not in her favor )

Characters /  Pairing: Fukawa Touko / Naegi Komaru ( focused ), ft. ( some of ) Class 78

crossposted on ao3

Notes: day two of @tokomaruweek, i'm combining the killing game and talentswap prompts!! it’s still before midnight i’m totally not late at all here,

featuring my totally not original talent / roleswap luck student komaru au. because creativity is dead and i think komaru being stuck in a killing game is ??? when you think about the fact that komaru canonically sees ghosts. you KNOW she ends up possessed by one of the dead students in the last trial bc someone wants to say fuck you to the mastermind :/ also the fact that syo remembers shit but just never says anything feels like great potential!! they just want to love their partner but toko won’t let them front this is homphobia /j

anyways this au just lives in my wips rent free bc i keep changing my mind on how i want things to play out anyways. so this is more of a concept and not canon to that au if i ever finish it and that's also why this takes place in ch1 so i don't gotta think too hard on the details <3 any talents brought up are the ones i'm for sure sticking with.

tws for touko's general paranoia / anxiety / etc, mentions of murder bc kg au, and also since i usually depict syo as nonbinary with they/them pronouns, komaru’s technically accidentally misgendering them from her pov bc she doesn’t/can’t tell that syo is fronting, in case that bothers you!!

Summary: for being chosen on the basis of luck, it doesn't feel like she's ever going to catch a break here.

It’s quiet, this morning.

Not that she really knows any better— they’ve only been trapped in the school with the murder bear for a few days, after all. So maybe Komaru’s focusing on the wrong part.

It’s less that it’s quiet, there’s a few faces missing that she’d have expected to get there before her. Especially since she’d managed to sleep through her alarm again and had been kind of late; she had fully expected to be greeted with a lecture as soon as she’d gotten to the dining hall. Alright, one person specifically that stands out in her mind, but it hasn’t gone unnoticed by her that Fukawa’s not there yet. Weird, given the moral compass had lectured her for being tardy to meet up with everyone on their first day, and then for sleeping in the first morning, but...given the videos that bear had shown them the previous day, she supposes she can’t blame some people to feel reluctant to show up. Maybe that’s where she is? Going around to check on people? She had seemed a little paranoid that people were skipping out on gathering in the morning on purpose...

( Because she really, really doesn’t want to think about the possibility that Fukawa, or any of her other classmates might possibly be dead. That someone would have actually gone through with trying to kill one another? So she simply won’t think about that fact. It feels kind of like a Pavlovian...no, wait, that’s the wrong person. Uh. Freudian theory? Ah! Schrödinger’s cat. Yeah, that kind of scenario )

Okay, that settles it! She should probably have breakfast first, and if Fukawa hasn’t shown up by the time she finishes, she’ll go see if she can find her. Besides, she’s sure they aren’t the only ones who are concerned about the ones that haven’t shown up. Maizono seemed super nice ( unsurprisingly ), so maybe if she’s still hanging out in the dining hall, Komaru can convince her to help her in her search! Now that she thinks about it, she can probably ask anyone that comes by the dining hall for any leads.

...But why does she care so much in the first place? It’s not like she doesn’t care about the others: even the ones already dead— she can’t place why exactly she feels attached to people she barely knew, but she’s always been pretty sentimental. Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s the way Fukawa seems to try so hard to be close to people in one moment, and then so distant in the next.

In any case, standing in front of the fridge and spacing out is probably far from a good idea, besides the obvious fact that she’s in the way— she doesn’t even notice that someone has decided to take advantage of her distracted state to pull the wool over her eyes. Er, the hoodie of her jacket, technically.

She’s hardly gotten a chance to push the hood back before a hand comes down on her head to ruffle her hair. Or, well, she presumes that is his intention, even if the gesture comes off as more of a light noogie. She puffs her cheeks out in a pout, glaring up while the other smirks down at her. “‘Sup, squirt? Falling asleep on yer feet, or is there another reason yer zoning out in the middle of the kitchen?” The baseball star tosses an apple in his hand like one would with a ball, and she considers lightly kicking Oowada’s ankles in retaliation.

“Just thinking. You probably shouldn’t play with your food like that though.” She responds, and he makes a face at her.

“Ah, so ya do still got something still rattlin’ in that tiny head of yours, good. Worried I knocked everything outta ya.” He teases, reaching past her to open the fridge door. “An’ why would you do that to yerself? It’s still too early in the mornin’ fer that shit.”

“Well...I’m just a little worried. There are fewer people hanging out in the dining hall this morning.” She admits.

He scowls. “Pretty sure they’re just antsy ‘cause of that damn bear ‘nd if any of them have a lick of sense in ‘em they’ll be busy looking fer a way out or somethin’. Don’t worry yer pretty lil’ head about it.”

“...Yeah, I guess.” She can’t help but worry, but her concern isn’t exactly going to help right now, at any rate. Maybe she’ll just find something that she can take with her to eat. “Oh! But speaking of that, did you happen to see Fukawa-san on your way here? I would’ve thought she would have stayed around here this morning, honestly.”

“Her? Mm, yeah, heard her and Ishimaru goin’ at it in the halls earlier—”

“They were what?” Before he can finish his sentence, Asahina’s voice cuts in from behind her, pitch breaking midspeech.

“Fighin’! They were jus’ yelling at each other! N...Not anything weird!” Oowada backtracks in a panic when he realizes how poorly his wording could be misconstrued, even if such a thought never occurred to her. “Jeeze, ya think the Public Morals chick would engage in that shit? Not that I don’t think she might be a bit hypocritical with her rules ‘nd shit but—”

“No! No, I don’t! That’s why I was asking!” Asahina retorts with a huff, and while they bicker, Komaru takes this as an opportunity to slink out of the kitchen with a slice of toast. Unfortunately, Maizono seems to have left in that span of time, but the Clairvoyant happens to be sitting alone, so she figures she might see if she has anything interesting to contribute.

Enoshima opens an eye to stare at her upon hearing her footsteps, presumably, and before Komaru can even greet her, she speaks, monotone. “Four.”

Whatever question you’d planned to say dies in your throat, instead sputtering out a bewildered, “H-Huh?”

“It’s your lucky number for the day.” She sounds bored, as if she’d been stating the obvious, instead of some cryptic statement.

“...Isn’t that the number of death?” She is less certain of herself than she wants to be, ignoring the shiver that runs down her back upon realizing this.

Enoshima grins at that, for reasons she doesn’t understand; cheery voice a total 180 from what it’d been moments ago. “Well, perhaps it means you’ll be having a meeting with death today? Probably about time someone kicked the bucket, someone was bound to snap sooner or later... I’m sure your luck will kick in though, right? But I’ll wish you good luck anyways!”

“Thank you...?” Is that the appropriate response here? She’s not sure, but it’s probably not worth lingering on any longer than she already has, and decides with a rising urgency that maybe she should find Fukawa.

Although, recounting the conversation in the kitchen, she wonders if she should check on Ishimaru as well. Neither of them really struck Komaru as the kind to fight ( with their fists, at least, Fukawa’s mouth seemed set on picking a fight half the time ), so to say she was a little concerned might be an understatement. Given the writer had a tendency to be more openly friendly she could probably get a straight...well, an honest answer from him as to what had happened.

But she wanders for what feels like ages, and doesn’t have any luck ( haha, the irony ) in finding any hint as to where either of them might have gone, and decides to stick to her efforts to find Fukawa first. Ishimaru seemed like the type to be more resilient, so maybe she can catch him around their next meal time. If he didn’t lose track of time again, at least...

Ugh, she’d kill to honestly run into anyone around here. Not literally kill, obviously, but for reasons she’s been trying to keep quiet on, she really hates wandering the halls alone: or most places that they can access right now, to be honest. She keeps seeing this one ghost this one ghost in particular ( or at least Komaru is pretty sure she’s a ghost ), but she refuses to acknowledge her hanging around because that would be weird, and she would like to seem normal and if someone saw that it’d be a hassle to explain.

Fortunately, her search finally turns up fruitful when she finds Fukawa spacing out in the A/V room.

...Unfortunately for her, finding Fukawa earns her a pretty close brush with death. In the blink of an eye, a pair of scissors are thrust against her throat, pinning her back against the moment she steps into the room.

Oh. Uh. Oh god? Was Enoshima actually right about that? Her breath catches in her throat and for a moment, she wonders who would find her if she was killed here. Would they care? What about her parents— Makoto?

Would they sigh and just ponder if she’d ever been lucky at all?

And just as quick, the cold metal is pulled away from where it rests against her neck. “Oh. It’s just you.” The words are spoken with more warmth than she can ever recall hearing Fukawa speak with, which is really weird considering what just went down.

Ever so smartly, Komaru doesn’t actually process what is said to her, and responds with, “Isn’t that technically against the rules?”

A thin eyebrow is raised at her, scissors being tucked away under her shirt. Uh. “No? That’s what they want, right? Or are you so naive that you think that everyone would really follow the rules?”

Well. She’s probably not entirely wrong in thinking that she’s naive, but... “Isn’t, uhm. Isn’t that your thing, though? The rules?”

Fukawa looks startled to have this pointed out to her, for some reason. “Oh, hahaha, yeah. T-Totally! I was just...uh, testing you.”

Okay, now she’s just downright acting strange? Komaru’s willing to give her the benefit of the doubt that maybe she’s just acting odd because the videos are weighing on her mind. They are in the AV room, after all. Something doesn’t add up though, but she can’t quite place what it is...

Komaru opens her mouth to ask the other a question, but when she looks back over at Fukawa, her expression has gone kind of...distant? Hazy? She doesn’t quite know how to describe it, and begins to ask if she’s feeling okay when the other girl sort of...collapses into her, arms going around her loosely. She panics a little because that can’t be a sign of anything good, right? Is she feeling dizzy? She’s not passed out, and at least she’s breathing normally. She’s surprisingly pretty light, so it’s not like it’s really an issue to just help support her until she feels better.

The only warning that she gets is the feeling of the other girl tensing up before Fukawa suddenly bolts upright and shoves herself away. Komaru frowns a little, not because of the sudden change in attitude ( if anything, she finds that strangely reliving ), but moreso out of concern, attempting to reach her hands out to help steady her on her feet, but gets her hands slapped away before she can do so. “Don’t touch me.” She hisses.

Okay she’d be lying if she said that didn’t sting, but she can’t help but laugh for a moment. “Ahaha— sorry, I’m not laughing at you. For a moment there, you seemed like a completely different person! I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, Fukawa-san.” If she were more aware of the situation, she might feel more guilty for being unintentionally insensitive: but as she doesn't, she simply misses the way the other looks nervous for a moment while she wonders what that had been all about ( but can’t quite gather the nerve to actually ask ).

“Y-Yeah, real likely story. You just...just came to l-laugh at me in a moment of weakness, r-r-right?” She glares, hands clenched. “I know your type! No one is...is actually that nice w-without some kind of ulterior motive.”

Is that what she actually thinks about me?

“No! I really am glad to see you’re feeling better. You really had me scared there for a minute.” She says sincerely, offering her a reassuring smile. “If you want, I’ll listen to whatever’s bothering you. It’ll stay between us.”

Fukawa scowls, watching her for a long minute with a guarded expression. “There w-was something on the, uh, disc that Monokuma gave you, right? Just like— like everyone else?”

Huh? Well, if this is what it takes to get her trust, then she supposes she can talk about it... “Yeah. It was my parents and my older brother. It’s...kinda scary to think about, honestly. What about you, Fukawa-san? Was it also your family?”

“No. M-M-Mine was blank. Because...because there was no one to choose. Or so he says.” Her jaw is clenched. “Of course, I had to— I acted like I was the same as everyone else, b-because it’d be strange if I didn’t, right? You’d think I was, was working with them or something...everyone would really hate me after th-yhat.”

“Uhm, I’m pretty sure Togami-san didn’t even blink an eye...?” She tries to bring up as a counterpoint, but apparently she has more to say.

“A-A-And before you ask, it’s not like they’re wrong about that, so...so it didn’t surprise me to here it. But everyone got s...something similar, right? All these personal th-things about us...just how much do they really know? How are we supposed to act like, like this is all normal when they’ve got that kind of leverage over us...!”

Oh. She’s shaking— she’s scared. She’s been putting up a front? Komaru puts two and two together after a moment, gently taking the other girl’s hands in her own. This time, she doesn’t get pushed away.

“I’m scared too.” She admits. “Thinking about it like that is scary. But that’s what they want from us, right? To make us scared, so we act the way he wants us to, right?”

Fukawa remains silent, but the conflicted look on her face at least indicated that she was paying attention to her and not ignoring her like she might’ve feared. Komaru squeezes her hands in an attempt to be reassuring. “But you think we’ll all get out alive, right? So no matter what, as long as you believe that, no matter what they might know we’ll be okay. And if you don’t think you can do that on your own, I’ll be right here to support you. So we’ll definitely get out alive, it’s a promise...!”

“You...You really don’t know wh-wh-what you’re saying.” She mutters under her breath, but Komaru takes it in stride with a grin.

“That’s not a no!” It’s not a yes either, but Fukawa doesn’t humor her in further acknowledging the subject: it doesn’t really mater, because Komaru sees a hint of what might be called a smile in her gentle expression.

Yes, at least with one of your peers, you are sure you’ve grown a little closer with today ( and for today, that is a good enough start ).

[crqstalite]

ghosts.

to be entirely honest, i got overly ambitious with this one. another wip i started earlier this year and decidedly didn’t finish. you’ll probably be able to tell where the original ended i picked it back up -- but i liked the concept, so here it is.

f!shenko. post-alchera, post-me1. mention of major character death.

-

"I've never liked attending funerals, mourning people in general. Reminds me of everything I failed to do, and if I couldn't do anything, then that I should've been able to," Her eyes bore into his, head in her hands, "It's so many should'ves, and not enough 'dids'."

"You did all you could."

She's just out of reach, eyes downcast at the gardens of the Presidium. Still smoking, still mangled. She'd always said she hated the color black, hated mourning, but had worn it anyway. He's not sure what to do, looking at her standing there, but he reaches out for her anyway, "Did I?"

"Kaidan?" He retracts his hand from where he'd reached, pushing his elbows off the railing to face Liara. Dressed in black, accepting the human tradition though looking uncomfortable. Tired, not all there with dark circles etched underneath her eyes, "Tali is looking for you."

It takes him a moment to find his voice as Shepard disappears, Liara taking her place, "Why?"

"She...wanted to say goodbye before returning to the flotilla." Her voice is quiet, hoarse. The Asari hadn't been taking the death well, one of the more affected crewmates after the tragedy. He doesn't know why, but it isn't as if she didn't care for Shepard as well.

"So soon?" It'd only been a few weeks since Alchera, not even a full month yet. He hadn't expected anyone to stay if they didn't want to, the investigation against Saren had been over for months now. And they had only been here for Shepard regardless. Now, they didn't have any reason to be together, much less on the same ship. He didn't expect to become so attached to all of them, watching them go wasn't something he wanted to do.

"She didn't give any reasoning to her departure, if you were wondering," Liara answers, "Possibly, she isn't interested in staying."

"Is there anyone staying?"

"Garrus mentioned wanting to return to Citadel Security. I believe Wrex will return to either his mercenary lifestyle, or to Tuchanka," She pauses, turning her big blue eyes back to him. It was odd to think she was still just on the cusp of becoming a young adult in Asari culture, yet at times, times like these, was when her younger nature came through. The whites of her eyes were a bloodshot red, puffy. She'd been crying again.

"I trust Liara. She's a bit naive, but she's brilliant. Wish I was like that when I was her age -- or however that translates to us humans," Shepard's voice again, as if she's standing behind him. Her fingers ghosting over his own, her head on his shoulder, "Poor girl though. Losing her mother. Can't imagine how much that hurts. She doesn't talk about it, little worried she's deflecting from the problem entirely."

"I met her family today. They were very kind, and expressed their gratitude that I'd been a friend of her's. They didn't seem surprised, but I suppose when one dies, no one acknowledges the fact you're Asari. Only that you knew them in their life, and they cared about you enough to tell those they cared about who you were," Liara continues, snapping him out of his thoughts as Shepard's presence fades, "Losing their daughter though, that must've been devastating for them. She was a lovely person."

"It never gets easier," He responds in agreement. He hadn't had the heart to talk to Captain Shepard when he'd seen her around. He's almost glad he hadn't seen the youngest Shepard daughter milling around, after having met her after Shepard's first near death experience, Kaidan doesn't think he could find any other words to comfort her with, "I can't imagine what they're going through."

"I understand you were close to her, Lieutenant. I will not pry, but I offer what condolences I can," She offers him a gentle smile, pulling at the corners of her mouth while a tear slides down her cheek, lip quivering, "I did not expect for her to become so much to me so quickly. Why I find myself more upset about this than the events of Noveria, I'm surely broken."

"You're not broken, Liara. It's natural to grieve."

"For someone you knew for a few months instead of the woman who raised you?" Liara questions, "I think about this, some days. Had she not come to find me on Therum, whether I'd even be here today. How even though I was an alien to her, that she still cared for me as a friend. She did not mind me, in fact enjoyed my company. She did not poke fun at me when I didn't understand human mannerisms. She taught, she guided. Answer me this, Kaidan, why was she so important? Why is it impossible to stop thinking about her?"

I wish I knew, "She was a friend. Inspired a lot of people. She appreciated everyone, gave them purpose. It's normal for us to miss her, she gave her life so the rest of us could get off the Normandy," He answers, "There aren't a lot of people like her. Doubt we'll meet another Shepard in our lifetimes."

"Ashley gave her life to save ours, Kaidan. Maybe it was because of us, maybe I will feel horrible about it for the rest of my life, but I don't think I made the wrong decision, if that's what you're asking. I...would've switched places with her in a heartbeat, if it meant both of you would live. But fate doesn't work that way, and I chose you."

She'd been a mess then. Angry, frustrated, sad. Pacing around the mess late at night when she couldn't get to sleep -- he'd watched her fall apart. Losing Ashley had destroyed her, and yet she somehow made it sound like the right decision. It echoes in his head.

He still wonders if she chose right. He wonders if he chose right, going ahead to the escape pod instead of stubbornly staying with Shepard and forcing her along with him.

Now he'd never know.

"I suppose," She says shakily, gently wiping away rogue tears with delicate hands, "Ah, you are right. Still, she is someone I will not forget easily, but grief is finite. It is better we see her for how she was in life -- someone we were lucky to meet."

"That's all we can do," He agrees. And he echoes the sentiment, maybe it had been luck that drew them together. Maybe circumstance, he can't quite place it, "You know Shepard, she wouldn't have wanted us to wallow in that sadness."

"I do not believe Shepard intended to die," Liara gives him a quizzical look at the comment, before a gleam of understanding flashes through her eyes, "Oh. No, I suppose not. I do hope that where she's gone, that she's at least at peace for once. She's done so much for the galaxy, it is only fair that she finally rests."

"Vancouver, you said?" Liara grows quiet while Shepard's presence fades back, "I like the idea. Never been up there, but after this cruise, we'll carve a little time out for us. How's that sound?"

Her grin isn't really there, nor is the kiss that she'd pressed to his cheek just a moment after the sentiment was made. None of her is, "Yeah. It's only fair."

Liara takes her leave a little while later, the silence beginning to suffocate the both of them. The procession begins to thin out sometime after that, but he's still struggling to wrap his head around it. And he shouldn't be, not after she's already been gone so long. A part of him misses her more than he can verbalize, or even really rationalize.

What he'd give to have her back.

"The galaxy didn't end after Virmire, as much as I was convinced it would. Ash’s mom even called me once. I thanked her daughter for her service, and we talked for a while. Didn’t rip in to me for it, even though I deserved it," Soft, yet firm. He remembers how she'd leaned against a railing similar to this one, a lazy half-grin on her face before turning to him, "If anything happens to me, no one sets the galaxy ablaze. That's how we get villain origin stories."

He should move on, he hasn't even known her that long, and yet she's all that he can think about.

He's not sure he wants to live in a galaxy without her.

[varnienne]

Shattered Reality - Year 1, Part 1

A/N: Finally got around to finish editing this. I know I said I'd work on the Pokemon Crossover project (and I am, concept drawings and the outline are a WIP) but I think it's better I have at least a few different projects to focus on at a time.

That being said, I hope you guys enjoy my story.

TW: brief references to PTSD and grief, I think that's it?

Her eyes snapped open.

Heavy breaths echoed in the room as a scream died in her throat. Soft ticking penetrated the haze first. Moonlight glinted off of the four-star ball. Its familiar energy caressed her aura. Avoca focused on that feeling. Took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She absorbed the soothing blues of her bedroom walls as she kept breathing. Training clothes folded on the nightstand. A picture of her family hanging by the clock. Its glowing hands reading three fifty-seven.

She sighed. No point trying to sleep now. Tossed her covers off and swung her feet around. Avoca grabbed her training clothes as she stood. Started changing, completely dressed when her door opened. She glanced one way. Then the other. No one but her was up. Thankfully.

Trudged her way down the hall and out the front door, steps carefully soft. The deep violets of early morning kept her hidden as she walked across the field. She stopped in front of a rounded door.

“Open, please.” Air hissed out as it unlocked. Slowly, it fell open, turning into a ramp. She tapped the close button as she passed the frame. The second the door resealed, Avoca called out to the system. “Gravity on, level 275.”

She moved into stretches as the weight settled on her body. Deep breath in, an arm raised into an overhead block. Deep breath out, it was slowly switched with a punch from her other hand. She glided through every new movement, aura swirling around her like a gentle tide.

“Increase the gravity to level 290. Training bot level 3,” she called out to the room's control system.

[Commencing…]

Her body became heavier and she tensed all her muscles before relaxing again. One foot slid back and the other moved to the side. Her brother’s feet wavered as she stepped next to him. Set a shaky hand on his shoulder. Her arms rose into a loose block as small orbs floated in. Light swirled through their seams alerting her to their activation. Together they fell into a familiar stance. They could do this. They could end it. She formed a ball of red energy in her hand and smirked. Avoca sent her energy at the nearest bot.

“Give me what your daddy couldn’t.” His aura expanded as the blast grew. “Before I send you home to him.*”

She snarled at the creature. “You’re reign ends now.”

Her blast ricocheted from it onto the others, passing her every chance they could. She let her body take over and forced her mind to fall silent. Years of honed instinct kept her movements fluid as she danced around the blast. The snickering monster was distracted with a blast to his back. Avoca noticed. “Now, brother!” She added another ball to the fray. They gritted their teeth, planted their feet, and forced out everything they had. Another command to the system had the gravity strengthening to 310.

As she created a third energy ball, the door opened. “Avoca-nee?”

She jumped and released the ball as she turned, but the bots took advantage and aimed all three blasts at her. Growling, Avoca twirled, tail unwrapping from her waist to bat them into the walls. She commanded the system to shut off and whirled back to her brother.

“Gohan, you know better than to come in here when I’m in the middle of my routine!” The younger Saiyan chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. Avoca sighed. “Just be careful next time, okay?”

He glanced away and scratched his cheek. Her heart lurched. Gohan looked just like their father doing that. She sighed and asked him why he’d come to get her. “I wanted to make sure you'd have time to get ready for your first day.”

Shit. Had she gotten too caught up in training? It wouldn’t be the first time. “What time is it?”

[The current time is six, twenty-two…] echoed through the room.

“Oh, good. I have time to shower.” The Saiyan girl thanked her brother as she rushed down the hall. Maybe school could keep her memories away for a while.

~oOo~

A week earlier, on the other side of town, a team of teachers were chatting as they waited for the principal. He’d called an impromptu meeting so early some of them were still yawning. One person, in particular, was curious why Nedzu would call him in. He wasn’t even done with his teacher certification yet.

The tired heroes perked up as the being in question finally joined them. In his paws was a red USB that arrested everyone's attention. Its implications sobered them immediately.

Nedzu maneuvered into his seat at the head of the table and smiled. "Good morning everyone! I'm sorry to call a meeting like this on such short notice, but I've been informed that one of our new admittees is… quite powerful."

He paused to plug the drive into the table's display input. The places in front of the staff members lit up with the school logo before showed a fierce young brunette with determined amber eyes. There was a hardened light in her gaze that told of her experience in battle. Her hair was noticeably thick and spiky, much like the furry tail around her waist.

"This is Son Avoca, publicly registered as Midoriya Izumi." The lightness in Nedzu's tone vanished. A conflicted look took over his face. "She is one of the two children responsible for ending Perfect Cell."

Toshinori's heart dropped. She was so young and had already been exposed to such horrors. He'd known the two who'd stopped the creature were a bit young, but he wasn't expecting children. She was barely fourteen.

"From what I understand, young Gohan will also be attending UA in a couple of years." The screen changed to show an even younger boy with black hair just as spiky as his sister's. Though his expression was a bit softer, the same determination reflected in his eyes. "He'll be going to a nearby middle school until then."

Toshinori frowned. If these kids were so powerful… "How come we hadn't heard of them before the Cell Games?" The abilities they displayed both with and without the aid of their quirks was unbelievable. Most kids their age had nowhere near the amount of training they surely must've had.

"They were living out in the mountains in the southern district. But they have been mentioned in the news before." At this, Nedzu's nose twitched. "Had Miss Son- Miss Midoriya - not mentioned it herself, I doubt even I would've noticed the connection."

The principal pulled up an infamous headline from eight years ago.

Throat dry, Toshinori glanced around at the other teachers and found them just as pale as he felt. He returned his focus to the files. The more he read, the more questions he had, a pit growing in his stomach with each one. The hows and whys swirled in his mind until Nezu spoke again.

“I know you all have questions. I do too.” His smile returned. “I've organized an interview so we may learn more about Miss Midoriya and perhaps find some answers.”

“Wait.” Present Mic frowned and leaned back in his chair. “I don't recognize her. Did she not take the entrance exam?”

Nezu's smile became strained. “The Hero Commission was quite insistent about her attending our school.”

Oh. That explained a lot. It also brought more questions Toshinori wasn’t sure he wanted answers to.

~oOo~

Looking at her reflection, Avoca turned. The skirt was a little short on her with how curvy she was starting to get. At least they were allowed to wear leggings underneath it. The blazer was a nice neutral grey to compliment the greens of the skirt and lapel stripes.

Her gaze caught the papers sitting on her desk and the brunette frowned. All the important papers she needed to verify her "new identity." Any reference to their father or their role in the Cell Games was conveniently left out. But they'd made note that Principal Nezu and her teachers would be aware of who she was.

Ugh, the regulation and hidden identity were like some twisted witness protection program. More like monitoring persons of interest. She shook her head to force those thoughts from her mind.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She turned to see her brother in the doorway. His pink checks and twitching tail made her smile reassuringly at him.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I, uh, couldn't tuck it in comfortably…"

Avoca giggled. "I had the same problem when we were younger. Here," pulled the band of skirt down. Lifted and resettled her tail. "Wrap it just under the waistband and don't wear a belt." Watched her brother do as told. Gave him a small smile when he didn't look back up. Patted his shoulder. "It'll be fine, brother. We just have to play by their rules a bit." Gohan merely sighed.

He was dressed in his own uniform. The black slacks and blazer looked good on him. She ruffled his hair and laughed at his protest. He'll make friends easily.

Which reminded her… "You remember the names we've been registered under, right?"

The boy nodded. He didn't like having to hide their identities. She didn't either. They were children of Earth's former protector. Maybe they wouldn't shout it from the rooftops, but it's not like anyone would think to look into their father’s past. It wasn't out of shame, but it felt like they were hiding their father.

"Well, let's get going." Avoca sighed and grabbed her backpack. "We don't wanna be late on our first day."

"Yeah."

She nudged his shoulder. He nudged her back. They joked and played as they walked out. She laughed.

Avoca had hope that whatever adventure lay before them, it would be one full of memories.

~oOo~

*TeamFourStar reference. I believe this is from Episode 60 Part 3?

Buy the writer a Coffee

[hoidn]

Writer Tag Game

@anghraine was kind enough to tag me for this.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 110. they're not all fic, though.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 386,718. again, it's not all fic, so let's call it an even 385K for the fic portion.

3. What are you top 5 fics by kudos?

A Wild and Distant Shore Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth/Darcy

Hearing Light Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth/Darcy

to suppose the truth of it possible Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth/Darcy

Drowning in the Absolute Yes Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth/Darcy

if you came this way Star Trek: Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay

4. Do you respond to comments; why or why not? for the sake of my mental health, i would prefer not to answer at this time. (i’m not being sarcastic. this is actually very difficult for me to talk about.)

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? probably Periapsis. Callisto’s just been raped by Zeus. we all know what happens next.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? i really don't know how to answer this. most of my fics have, at the very least, hopeful endings, and i think a lot depends on the context. for example, Elizabeth and Darcy are happy in both A Wild and Distant Shore and Hearing Light, but one is the happiness of a newly married couple still learning the joys of sexual intimacy with each other, whereas the other is the happiness of a newly engaged couple still in the first tremulous throes of requited love and attraction. how do you quantify which state is happier? to use a different sort of example, Harvest ends happily for Griet because she’s achieved a kind of freedom she never imagined, but i don't know how to compare that to, say, Mulder’s happiness at still being with Scully after so many years in and the world keeps beginning. there are different kinds of happiness is what i'm saying, and i don’t know how to judge the relative values.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest most absurd one you’ve ever written? how about we don’t use the word ‘crazy’ here? i’ve written a few crossovers, though i'm not a big fan of them. (as opposed to fusions, which i absolutely adore.) for most absurd, considering that Pride and Prejudice and Star Trek: The Next Generation are two of the unlikeliest canons to combine, Lydia, still has been a surprisingly well-received fic.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? if i have, it wasn't particularly memorable. i suppose it depends on how one defines 'hate' in this context. i know i've had comments from people who have not been happy with some aspect of a fic, or with me generally, but nothing i'd actually term hate. (truthfully? i'm kind of disappointed.)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? there are kinds? i wasn't aware of this and i don't know what the categories are. amusing fact (at least to me): my most popular fic by kudos happens to be the first piece of smut i ever wrote. since then i've written a lot more, for a variety of f/f and f/m pairings, including various kinks, dub-con, non-con, and even alpha/omega (heavens to betsy!); however, my writing preference is people who love each other (even if they don't know/won't admit it), and those pairings make up the bulk of my smut fic.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? just the once, to my knowledge, and it was an extremely disappointing experience. a few years ago if you came this way was repackaged into a fic called Hired for Love by someone named cress26. and when i say it was disappointing, i mean... like, okay, i know i'm a solid writer. (that sentence notwithstanding.) obviously i'm no anne carson or a.s. byatt, but i'd give myself a solid B average for overall quality. so i guess i figured that if someone was going to steal my stuff, it would be because of that. but, no. instead of merely suffering the insult of being plagiarised, i was forced to also suffer the much, much worse indignity of having a story that is absolutely freakin' beautiful in places -- and i do say so myself -- taken apart and put back together like frankenstein's monster. seriously, even now, i am still so much more offended by how dreadful they made the fic than by the actual plagiarism. a copy and paste job i could understand! that fic is good, damn it! that is some A-grade shit right there. but how can anyone have so little respect for writing, or for language, just in general that they’d take something and then ruin it to claim it as theirs? ugh, it’s so dreadful. 

...wanna see? ;D most of it is still available on the wayback machine.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? i feel like maybe someone did once ask me if they could? but i have no confidence that that actually happened, so i don’t know. anyway, i’ve got a blanket permission statement in my profile, so it’s possible that someone has translated something and i’m just not aware of it. or i was aware and i forgot. these are all possibilities. i’m a very unreliable narrator.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? no. it's something i've long been interested in trying, and there have been a couple of people i've wanted to try it with, but i can only imagine i'd be a nightmare for someone else to work with, so i've never broached the topic.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship? once upon a time i would've said Mulder/Scully but i'm sad to admit that's no longer the case. while Elizabeth/Darcy is now my most enduring ship, i really can't say it's my all-time favourite (though it's in the top 5, certainly). i think, at this point, given the word count devoted to them, and the number of hours i've spent thinking, writing, and making gifs of them, it's going to have to be Walt/Vic. our relationship is only six years old, but those six years represent an output that exceeds all the years of all my other ships combined.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? yeah, see, there's a reason why i don't post real WIPs. (with one current exception that i’m still actively working on). actually there are more than a hundred reasons, scattered across a variety of documents on my hard drive. i doubt i'll finish any of them, but this way no one’s disappointed except me, and i was disappointed to begin with.

15. What are your writing strengths? i'm able to compose grammatically correct sentences and i actually know what words mean. oh, sorry, was that overly sardonic? let me try again. sex and feelings. those are my strengths. i’m good at writing sex and i’m good at writing feelings and when you put those two things together you have most of my fic.

16. What are your writing weaknesses? getting bogged down in details or overly convoluted metaphors, anything resembling plot, actually writing things. (see above re: over a hundred WIPs.)

17. What are you thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i'm pretty sure i've never had any thoughts on the topic. nobody told me there was a prerequisite for this meme!

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? The X Files. the year was 2006 and i was 29. that's right, kids. i was late to the fandom party. also i am middle agéd. run away! run away!

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written? i don't have one. i feel affectionately towards some for different reasons; there are some i don't like at all; a few i'm particularly proud of, whether or not i actually like them. basically, my feelings about my own writing are very complicated. i will say that i think Darlin', everything's on fire is one of the best things i've ever written. even there some bits make me wince when i read it, though. (and now the song is stuck in my head again. damn it.)

▪︎

i will tag @sarking, @sqbr, @wendelah, and @ziparumpazoo if they feel like it, because they’re the only ones i can think of right now, but any other fic writers who want to participate, please consider yourself tagged. below you’ll find the list of questions (with my edit) for your convenience:

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 3. What are you top 5 fics by kudos? 4. Do you respond to comments; why or why not? 5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? 6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? 7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest most ridiculous one you’ve ever written? 8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? 9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 11. Have you ever had a fic translated? 12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 13. What’s your all-time favourite ship? 14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? 15. What are your writing strengths? 16. What are your writing weaknesses? 17. What are you thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? 18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? 19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

[presumenothing]

living, fast and slow

OK SO who remembers marvel au? no? well you’re getting it anyway because i went spelunking in my eternal wips today and found this sitting around basically done. so there

(AO3)

Shinichi doesn’t bother looking up when Hattori flops down beside him on the park bench, two cans of cold milk tea balanced precariously in one hand. “So, neechan seems ta think that you’ve been all broody over something lately.”

“Which one?”

Hattori frowns as he passes one of the cans over. “Which what?”

Shinichi gives him the most unimpressed look he can muster – what did Kazuha see in this man, honestly. “You call almost all of the women ‘neechan’, Hattori. Real specific of you.”

“Well, it works just fine, doesn’t it?” Hattori says with a shrug. “And it pretty much is all of them this time, anyway. Stop stalling, Kudo, unless you actually want your neechan going all Murder Soldier on ya.”

And that, well – aye, there’s the rub, Shinichi’s mother would’ve said.

At least Shakespeare’s still a thing in the future, he thinks.

Shinichi toys absently with the ring tab before pulling it up carefully (they’ve lost track of how many cans he’s ruined by yanking too hard). He doesn’t need any enhanced senses to feel Hattori staring a hole through his head, but he ignores it and takes a long drink.

It’s not fair at all, really, getting asked things like this when he can’t even get drunk.

“...damn,” Hattori says, eventually. “It is bad, isn’t it.”

Shinichi doesn’t answer, doesn’t trust his voice to, only reaches into his pocket to pull out a small wooden box that weighs heavy on his palm.

Hattori’s hesitant at first, but takes the box at Shinichi’s slight nod, turning it over in his hands. “A puzzlebox, Kudo? You really like your mysteries, don’t ya.”

Shinichi shrugs, this time, and leans back on the bench, eyes drifting closed.

It’s almost pleasant, listening to Hattori sliding the patterned panels this way and that, muttering to himself under his breath as he tries to figure out the sequence that Shinichi could’ve remembered in his sleep. To pretend, just for a while, that there’s nothing more to this than a puzzle, rather than the most important mystery of his life.

“That’s – ”

He’s managed to render Hattori Heiji, patron saint of banter, completely speechless. Kazuha would probably call that an achievement.

“...wow, um. That’s one hell of a thing, Kudo.”

Shinichi manages to quirk a smile at that – Hattori’s literally incapable of beating around a bush if his life depended on it, but apparently understatement is at least on the menu.

“They found it in my personal effects, after we – ” his voice cracks. “After. Either they didn’t realise what it was, or they never managed to figure out how to open it. Maybe they assumed that the mechanism had gotten damaged during a fight or something.”

Shinichi doesn’t bother entertaining any illusion that whoever had the box wouldn’t have at least tried opening it. The headlines of history didn’t allow for such things – The last tragedy: War hero planning to marry made for better news than Cap’s final secret remains unsolved.

(If it’d been anything else, anyone else, Shinichi might’ve been mad at that implication, that a bunch of strangers had looked at this and seen only another piece of history to be decoded, the last problem of his life on display.

This once, though – he’s just. Numb.)

“I was gonna propose to her once the war was over.” Shinichi laughs, bitter, and swipes one hand impatiently across his eyes. “Look where we are now.”

Hattori’s quiet for a long while – they both are.

Shinichi finishes his milk tea in the silence.

“Did she know?” Hattori asks.

“Only about the box, not what was inside.” Shinichi lifts the ring out of its hiding place, running a finger over the inscription, but leaves the box where it is. “Most of the people in my unit knew, probably – I kept it in my pocket every time we got sent out.”

Though he wouldn’t be surprised if some of the Howling Commandos had guessed – it was unsurprising, the amount of things you learnt about people when you regularly fought Nazis with less plans than grenades.

But they’d kept the knowledge to themselves if they had. Shinichi’s read the opinions from various sources – the speculation is wild, to say the least, but it means something that there are guesses about the box containing the last of the supersoldier serum but nothing even close to hitting the truth.

“Not that it ever blocked a bullet or anything, I had the shield for that, but it still felt like – ”

(Shinichi’s clenched his hand around the empty can without quite realising it, and he forces himself to let go, to uncurl his fingers from the metal.

He’s broken too many things already.)

“ – like a good luck charm, y’know? Like everything would be fine as long as I had it. And don’t laugh, I know you carry that omamori from Kazuha with you everywhere we go.”

“Do you see me smiling, Kudo?” Hattori retorts, and it’s true; he looks serious, more than Shinichi’s ever seen him. “I don’t – jeez, man, how long have ya been keepin‘ a lid on this?”

Shinichi bites his lip, and locks the box again with a soft snick.

“Oh my god,” Hattori mutters under his breath, and Shinichi smiles despite himself at how incredulous he sounds. “For the record, I’m deeply offended on all of our behalfs – behalves? Is that even a word? – our collective behalf that you actually thought we wouldn’t take you seriously. Even the robot neechan, and you know she doesn’t believe in this stuff unless she’s got another super lucky fortune from the shrine again.”

“Yeah, well. Didn’t work out so well in the end, did it.” Shinichi hasn’t thought about the train in a while, what with all the ruckus that’s happened – it both hurts more and less, knowing everything he does now.

He hadn’t even been able to look at the box without flinching, after the train. Almost been tempted to leave it in that bombed-out shell of a bar, though he’d settled for hiding it amongst his belongings instead. Regretted both choices when first the arctic ice then the twenty-first century had rushed up to meet him in turn.

He’s not sure which would’ve been the better option, even now.

(Sometimes, it feels like his entire life has been a catenary chain of afters: after the serum, after Azzano, after the train. After the ice. After the people they’d once been and could never be again.

He wonders what this will be, after.)

“And to think, this only happened ’cause someone gave ya infinite money and orders to get out of her sight.”

“Or a team of lawyers and free reign to bully every single memorabilia collector into submission, more like.” Shinichi snorts. “If Miyano wants to keep me out of her lab, she ought to invest in better locks. Most of the Tower’s made careers out of spy work – hell, the Commandos invented stealth missions, for goodness sakes’.”

“Like you don’t just bash locks with your shield until they break, Cap,” Hattori says between snickers.

Shinichi kicks him in the shin. “Say what, birdman?”

“Better me than Hawkeye. And no kicking with supersoldier strength, ow!”

“Right, no kicking,” Shinichi says, and shoves him bodily off the bench.

Hattori falls onto the grass with a loud yelp. “Who’s on your left now, you – ”

“I thought you could fly, Falcon!” Shinichi hollers back.

(The box is a familiar weight in his pocket as they walk back together; Shinichi can still remember the hot-cold flash of shock when he’d seen it listed among the inventory of his possessions that’d survived the end of days only to end up in some private collection. “Did you know, I’d almost forgotten about it until Miyano’s mafia of lawyers made me that list?”

“No,” Hattori says with conviction, looking directly at him, “you didn’t.”

And Shinichi’s too tired to laugh, only swallows back a sigh and says, “no. No, I didn’t.”)

[slashyrogue]

If you're still taking prompts, maybe elias and adam towers high school au? I love your writing, btw!

Thank you so much! 

Okay this has been lingering in my WIPs since 2018 because I think I meant for it to be a longer fic which it still might be but I feel bad so here’s a bit of it. 

*********

"Did you see that weird kid?"

Adam took a long drag and blew it out slowly as he chuckled. "Which one?" 

"With the fucked up face."

Adam glared at his best friend Shelby, "You're one to talk about fucked up faces, Freckles."

She laughed and he handed her the rest of his cigarette, recalling the new kid that he'd only seen in passing but heard loads about from almost everyone. 

Elias Thanatos, transfer from Denmark. 

"What about the new kid?"

Shelby grinned. "I heard he got a hundred on Lecter's last test."

Adam scoffed. "No one has ever gotten over an eighty in his class there's no way."

Turned out, there was. 

Dr. Lecter posted the scores of his last history test the next day, angrily letting Adam's class know that he was "severely disappointed" and would be having multiple tests a week in order to get them "up to grade."

Adam stared at his sixty two, littered in red marks and 'See Me' written in capitals above. 

Dr. Lecter had always scared the shit out of him even before entering his senior year. He had been dreading going up his next three grades when catching a group of seniors exiting his classroom all with red eyes and wet cheeks during Freshman year. 

"Mr. Towers."

Adam looked up and saw Dr. Lecter staring at him intently, obviously very into his response from the grade. "Dr. Lecter."

"I will be waiting."

He walked off and Adam scoffed, tossing down the test. It was hard to miss seeing Lecter lean over and pat Elias on the back, "Excellent work, Elias."

Adam leaned over and saw a bright red ninety written on Elias's test.

What the fuck?

The rest of class Adam watched the weird new kid, his intense staring while their teacher spoke almost creepy if not for the near constant squeezing of his knees together.

Adam was startled by the bell, knocking a pencil from his desk as the others all started to leave. 

Adam watched in annoyance as the pencil stopped at Elias's foot. 

"Hey."

The new kid seemed to be ignoring him or just couldn't hear, grabbing his bag as Adam stood to lean over next to him. 

Which was when he saw what had been causing Elias to squeeze his legs together all throughout class. 

"Wow."

Weird Kid was packing a monster between his legs.

Elias startled, his knee jerking into Adam's face. 

"Fuck!"

He fell back, catching himself, though his head hit the desk. 

Elias moved back fast, sputtering, "You shouldn't stare or creep up on people!"

"I wasn't, idiot! I was getting my pencil!"

Adam moved to stand just as someone held out their hand for him to take that wasn't Elias. 

"Dr. Lecter."

He took the help, standing and holding back on the desk with effort. 

"I would've preferred to make introductions in a different way, but this seems as good a time as any. Adam Towers, this is Elias Thanatos. Your new History tutor."

Adam frowned, "Him?"

"This is," Elias's voice shook, "No. I...if I had known it was him I would've said no. No, sir."

Adam scoffed, "Like you have any right to..."

"I have every right! I..."

Hands on both their shoulders stopped the argument, the two boys looking up at Dr. Lecter whose smile was so angry that Adam had sudden flashbacks to those seniors from so long ago. 

"This has already been discussed with your father, Mr. Thanatos, and your mother, Mr. Towers. The idea that your permission is in any way important here is not the case."

Adam's eyes narrowed. 

"Fine."

Elias sniffed,  looking at the floor. 

"Yes, fine."

Another pat to their shoulders before taking the hands away, "I expect you to remain tutoring until Mr. Towers has raised his scores at the very least two grades from the current record."

Adam opener his mouth to protest and Elias stepped on his foot, "Yes, sir."

Dr. Lecter stared them up down for several minutes before his phone he gestured to the door. "You're both dismissed."

Elias stood up so fast he almost fell, catching himself last minute and glaring once more at Adam over his shoulder for good measure. 

Adam didn't know what weird kid's problem was with him. It wasn't like their paths had crossed much in the few months Elias had been in Baltimore High. 

He headed out into the hall and down to his locker, spotting Elias putting away his books and seeming flustered still. 

Adam didn't know what made him stop, though the memory of the thick impressive cock Elias was hiding might've been a part of it. 

He leaned against the locker next to him, startling Elias into dropping his calculus book which Adam picked up to hand over. "So after school, mine or yours?" 

Elias was blushing almost as red as Adam's sneakers when he took the book, not meeting his eyes. "This is all your fault, so you should be the one to come to my home."

Adam smiled, "Okay, Curly," he patted Elias's shoulder, "I'll wait for you by the big dying oak out front."

Elias slammed his locker hard, "You had better be, I won't wait for you."

Adam laughed as he saw Elias's back, turning to head for Mr. Graham's Biology class. 

Biology with Mr. Graham was always one of Adam's favorite classes if only to listen to him wax poetic on the human body. 

He headed inside right for Shelby, leaning in and accusing, "I think you cursed me thanks a bloody lot."

She frowned, "What are you on about?" 

"Weird kid is my new tutor," he shook his head with a sigh, "Lecter says I gotta get up two fuck..."

The bell rang and Mr. Graham came inside, glaring at the books in his hands though Adam thought there was a strange blush to his cheeks. 

"All right. Everyone let's get started, I hope you all did the reading."

Adam hadn't, but Shelby did, hurriedly letting him copy her notes while Mr. Graham droned on about the human body before announcing a test. 

He'd never been much of a test taker, though he knew an awful lot about the human body. 

They were given free time after finishing, Adam passing notes to Shelby in the meantime. 

I can't believe you're stuck with that weirdo. Are you going to his house?

I couldn't miss seeing where someone like Thanatos lives! I'll text you pictures while I'm there :P

Shelby snickered, and they started on about how hot Mr. Graham looked in those chinos he had on today, Adam wiggling his brows just as the bell seemed to come out of nowhere. 

"Time's up! Make sure to read chapter seven tonight!" 

Adam headed off towards Calculus and knew he'd see Shelby at lunch, content to spend the rest of the morning trying to figure a way out of this tutor thing. 

Adam didn't expect to see Elias again till the end of the day but couldn't help but notice when he ran into the boys' bathroom. 

He debated with himself whether or not to follow, Mr. Stammets was a stickler for tardiness, but did anyway. 

The room was emptying out as the bell rang, Adam noticed Elias's shoes in the furthest stall. 

"You ok, Curly?"

Huffed breath answered and Adam went into the stall beside him. He heard what sounded like Elias on the verge of tears, resisted the urge to climb up to peek over the stall edge. 

"Curly?"

"That's not," Elias huffed, "My name."

Adam climbed up and was more than surprised to see Elias was jerking off. He felt his own cock twitch seeing the monster between Elias's legs, imagined the feel of him and couldn't resist the gasp when he heard Elias moan. 

Elias let go and looked up, the angry red of his cheeks was almost cute much to Adam's dismay. 

"YOU SHOULDN’T SPY ON PEOPLE!"

He moved to fix himself away and Adam left his stall, cursed as Elias fought to get passed him when he left. 

"I'm not making fun of you."

Elias's eyes were wet, cheeks still red, and Adam pushed him back inside. He ignored his protests and forced Elias onto the toilet. 

"You do this a lot?"

"That's not your..."

Adam knelt at his open legs, stared up at him and repeated, "You do this a lot?"

Elias's blush from jerking off deepened and his lip trembled as he answered. 

"It hurts if I don't."

Adam couldn't imagine carrying that monster between his legs and also dealing with super sized urges.

"I can help?"

"We're late for class."

He took Elias's cock in hand and watched him shudder, "Stammets will kill me either way," he stroked and watched Elias bite his lip to keep quiet, "I don't know what class you're..."

Elias jerked his hips up and closed his eyes, "English with Miss Bloom."

Adam knelt up and resisted the urge to suck, despite knowing Elias was more than likely a virgin. He wasn't new to any form of sex obviously, hadn’t been for almost two years now, but he was new to this whole need to please. Adam did want to, he realized. 

He wanted to make this fantastically pleasurable for Elias Thanatos. 

They didn’t have much time but he didn't rush as he slow stroked his spit slicked hand up and down the monster cock. Elias’s breath hitched as he stared at Adam, eyes shone with tears, and when he came perfect lines of wet slid down his cheeks. Adam wiped him off and teased a lick just to see the reaction. 

“Oh!” Elias gasped before he shuddered. 

Adam patted his leg. “Good?”

“Very good,” Elias mumbled, “it's never felt good before.”

Adam stood up to climb into his lap, wrapped his arms around Elias’s neck, and smiled. “Then you’ve been doing it wrong, Curly.”

Elias sniffled. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Oh I’m not, don’t worry.”

“Yes you—“

Adam kissed him soft, a tease of lips that both startled and caused more protest before Elias fell into it. He rocked his own half hard cock against Elias as they continued, thoughts of that monster inside him running through his mind.

He’d teach Elias how to fuck him properly, coach the big weird virgin till he could use him as he pleased. 

If anything it would make tutoring a lot more fun. 

When they pulled apart Adam smiled at Elias’s closed eyes. 

“All right, Elias?”

He blinked his eyes open and turned slightly pink. “I was just resting my eyes. That was...pleasant as well. Now is it time for me to,” he felt Elias’s fingers touch his crotch but stopped him. 

“Later, Curly. I think it’s—“

The bell rang and they both cursed, righting themselves as Adam stood. 

He stepped out of the stall and looked in the mirror. His lips looked swollen but otherwise he didn’t notice anything else. 

“Since we’re both already late,” he said, turning to see Elias buttoning up his pants, “How about I show you how to make it pleasant for me?” 

Adam grinned when Elias’s eyes looked down, then up again, blushing. 

“I’m going to miss class, I….” 

He stalked toward him, his cock still hard in his jeans, and herded Elias back up into the stall they’d just left. 

“What sounds like more fun, Curly? Class or my ass?” 

Elias’s hands came right to Adam’s jeans and he smiled. 

This was almost too easy. 

He couldn’t wait to start tutoring. 

[smallblueandloud]

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7 for the writing ask- I AM SO SORRY I COULDNT STOP!!! xoxo

aaaah these questions look SO GOOD thank you so much <3 <3 for this ask meme, which will be open all weekend!

1. tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

i pulled open all of my WIP google docs for this and my laptop started whirring ominously, lmao. this is going to be a Little Long but i love talking about my wips so who cares!! (under the cut because EXCERPTS)

guys and dolls but gay - very, very casual rewrite of guys and dolls if sky masterson was a woman. i’m loving how chill i’m being about this one because it’s so much fun to not have to worry how i’m going to write lyrics in a not-weird way and just focus on the story. this one’s first because it’s theoretically closest to being finished.

sky, laughing: “oh? people. all the people you turn down every day. well, i imagine there’s someone out there that’ll catch your eye.”

sarah, stiffening: “...yes, there will be.”

sky: “and what might this person be like?”

sarah: “he will not be a gambler, for one.”

sky does not miss the pointed pronoun. “i’m not interested in what he won’t be, i’m interested in what he will be.” she sits down on the desk, in a pointedly masculine pose, and sets her fedora next to her - at her most Hot Queer, basically. “how will you know when he gets to you?”

my fic for the aos rarepair fic exchange - i can’t give any plot or ship details, for obvious reasons, but it’s 1.3k and i’m having fun with it!

steven roadtrip of destiny - canon divergent fic set at the end of steven universe future where steven goes on a roadtrip instead of... canon. it deals with some heavy emotions and it’s also a character study so it’s tentatively shelved until i get around to rewatching suf. but i am projecting on steven like crazy and it’s really, really cathartic. it’s taught me a lot about myself too lmao.

He’s never been anonymous before. He kind of likes it. It means he can fold his arms on the table and put his head down without Pearl worrying about his posture, or someone asking him if something’s okay.

In the last few months, he’s grown to hate people asking him how he’s doing, or if he’s okay. He always ends up lying, because he doesn’t want to worry them, and he ends up feeling worse.

Probably because it’s more of him supporting other people without supporting himself.

He should have told someone how he was feeling. He should have reached out. Sadie could’ve helped him. Lars would’ve listened. Connie would have hugged him and then found him the appropriate mental health professional.

(God, Steven wants a hug. Also the appropriate mental health professional? Whoever that would be.)

untitled aos fic - i don’t want to give a lot of details because :eye emoji: and also i don’t know much about what the plot of this is going to be anyway, lmao. but here’s an excerpt:

daisy “that actor who doesn’t shut up about data harvesting” johnson (@daisyquake) tweeted: two weeks :eyes emoji:

Elena Rodriguez | Seven Cents S2 Streaming On Netflix Now! (@yoyorodriguez) retweeted and added: the problem with being friends with daisy is that you SHOULD have some insight into what her tweets mean but you still have no idea

Fitz (@justfitz) retweeted and added: Try being married to her

untitled star wars twins fic - because i am a total and massive nerd. i’m just kind of stuffing everything i have feels about from the post-anh era into this and planning on figuring it out later? i’m really loving talking about the culture of alderaan (and the culture of the survivors) and also i just love writing luke and leia’s relationship... so much......

(no excerpt for that one because i’ve basically posted all of it in various posts lmao)

aos ds9 au - i’ve posted a LOT about this already and i want to keep the plot a surprise but fsk is in this and married and half the cast is aliens, what else do you need in life.

“Good morning,” says Jemma, coming into the room with her hair wet and her uniform crooked. “Hello, darling.”

“Hi,” says Daisy, turning her face up for a kiss. Jemma obliges absently as she walks past, looking around the room.

“Has anyone seen my hair clip?”

“No,” say Fitz and Daisy in unison.

and of course, last but never least in my heart, chapter 3 of the magnum opus - writing this is on hold until my brain decides to stop hitting me over the head at every possible moment, but there’s like... 2k written so far? it’s. it’s going.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Coulson, and makes quick work of the right gauntlet. It’s only halfway through the left one that his fingers slow and he says, quietly, “Simmons designed these, didn’t she?”

She lets out a quick breath. “Yeah.”

He stays quiet for a few more seconds, finishing up the last of the straps, making sure they’re tight enough. Finally, he says, “She should be helping you with these.”

Daisy pulls her arms back and swallows down some words, or maybe a couple of feelings, or maybe a sob. “Yeah, well.”

2. tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

the last sentence of the magnum opus!!!!!!!!!!

no, lmao, i’m gonna try to be serious. i really, really want to write some librarians fic in the near future? also MORE OF THE SENSE8 AU. i’m DYING to write some stuff about that. especially sam’s cluster, for some reason? Let’s Make Him Suffer (Comedically)! one day i’m gonna finish that list of what cluster/situation each song is about and then it’ll be over for all of us!

3. what is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

i spent about eight months imagining a scene where riza hawkeye was really injured and mustang was holding her in his arms (basically the promised day scene but with more privacy) so does that count?

hmm, just for some other possibilities: glinda telling dorothy about elphaba, laura somehow seeing or speaking to natasha during catws, a good omens au of the good place (specifically the ”i don’t even like you!” / “you doooooooo” scene), kencyrath au of star wars (ESPECIALLY THIS ONE, except setting up the first scene alone would take 7k, but i want to talk about leia and luke and their MESSED UP TRUST ISSUES in this au).

oh, also, something about star trek tng where jean-luc and beverly and jack were in love and then jack died and picard left. more specifically a scene set during the pilot episode where jean-luc very cordially offers beverly the option to transfer off the enterprise, that he wouldn’t dream of holding it against her, and beverly very cordially telling jean-luc to go fuck himself. i want to write 30k of that broken triad. i want it so bad. i dream of that fic. maybe one day when i find myself with a completely empty month or two, i’ll binge all of tng and Write Some Stuff.

4. share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

since you and i have tww in common, i’m gonna do a tww fic! otherwise i’d have to reread literally every fic i’ve ever written, lmao.

(this is long but i put this post under the cut so i have RIGHTS. also consider this a sneak peek for the j/d fic in the sense8 au?)

“It’s okay,” says Helen. She sits for a moment in silence, seeming thoughtful. “The Congressman and I are in the same cluster,” she says eventually. “I’d- I supposed that’s easier on the Secret Service?”

“Yes,” says Donna. “The-”

She stops herself from saying anything further. President Bartlet and the First Lady aren’t exactly quiet about who’s in their cluster, especially with senior staff, but that doesn’t mean she should go talking about it in an unsecured room in LA, of all places.

To cover for her blunder, she gives up something else: “The same with Josh. They got really lucky with him, actually. It’s just him and me, so they won’t have to worry about anyone threatening the Chief of Staff through the barista in the local Starbucks.”

Helen looks up from the Ohio numbers she’d drifted back to, a slow smile creeping up on her face. “Josh is in your cluster?”

“Uh-” says Donna, feeling like national security wasn’t worth whatever she’s just blundered into. Oops. “Josh- Josh is my cluster, ma’am.”

She catches her mistake the second it’s out of her mouth, but Helen doesn’t call her on it, more focused on other revelations. “No wonder you two look at each other the way you do!” she says, sounding delighted. Donna shuts her eyes, praying for this to go away. It’s not that she’s ashamed of Josh - it’s just so, so complicated, and other people never think about how difficult it was. Still is.

i’m just... i really liked the idea of donna fumbling and having to reveal this to cover up for what else she was going to say? i don’t know why i’m so charmed by this. i think it’s because it would be impossible in the show - you can’t show what someone was going to say on television, not without a lot of setup and very careful scripting. it’s just a really fun situation to write about and i’m really proud of this conversation in general.

also helen santos was a dream to write and i love her a lot. i kind of want to write one of the fics in the series about her and her cluster solely because like... look at her. she’s a delight in literally every scene. i love her.

5. what character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

daisy johnson!!! i love writing daisy johnson!!!! she is the most adhd character i’ve ever written and i literally just have to transcribe my own inner monologue and it works perfectly!!!!!

Swing shift: 1600 hours to 2400 hours. Daisy always ends up getting back to her quarters at like 0030 hours, when Jemma is asleep and Fitz is reading some kind of technical journal. Then she has to eat replicated pizza, alone, and freshly replicated pizza is actually pretty hot but it feels cold at that time of night, like, spiritually.

6. what character do you have the most fun writing?

...whoops i literally just answered that lmao. uh. i also really love writing sky masterson in the guys and dolls fic? she’s just weaponized hot queerness in a suit and i love her for it. she is intentionally trying to seduce this repressed lesbian and it’s really funny and also really hot of her and it’s so much fun to write.

also, i wrote chidi for the tgp fic and it was possibly the most fun i’ve ever had with a pov, although that was also because i was purposefully trying to mimic the tone of the show. i still think that line about michael and a grenade is, like, the funniest i have ever been in my life. but chidi’s panic was surprisingly easy to write? all of tgp’s characters have such STRONG voices, it makes writing fic ridiculously easy as long as you don’t get stuck on a plot for six months.

7. what do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? would others agree?

oof, this one is ALWAYS tricky. uh? uhh?? i’m going to ruin everything by saying this but i basically alternate between the same two sentence structures and i am really frustrated about it. i also alternate between the same two styles of endings and i always use the same beginning (set scene, main character pov, thoughts-as-exposition, back to scene).

BUT ON A MORE POSITIVE NOTE i like to talk about emotions and relationships and character development!! i have my “queer subtext goggles” superglued to my face, lmao. i like to think about how characters must have felt about things in canon and how it must’ve influenced them. i like making people deal with the consequences of their actions, especially how it’s influenced they themself. i also just really, really like writing people who love each other, whether it’s romantic or platonic or anything in between. i just want them to be happy! i just want them to stick together! doesn’t matter what fandom, i stand by it.