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nobodysdaydreams · 3 months

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OH AM I GONNA HAVE SOME FUN WITH THIS IF I EVER HAVE THE TIME TO WRITE FANFIC

(Or my reaction to Episode 61 of Wolf359: Brave New World).

Well gang, we did it. We've reach the end. Sorry for how my reactions went from super spaced out to speed running the finale in a number of days, but I did warn you that I'm just sporadic like that. Though I have been semi-putting Brave New World off, because as much as I want to know how Wolf359 ends, I don't want it to end. I love these characters. I want good things for them. As much as I hate what they did, I wish that Hilbert and Maxwell had gotten the chance to get the redemption arc that Jacobi got. Hilbert had plenty of opportunities, but Maxwell was young and its not fair. I don't know how much more sadness they are gonna throw at me, but I'm guessing its a lot and I can't listen to it all in one sitting, so I'm just mentally preparing myself.

I also don't want this to end because I've loved giving you guys these reactions. Thank you all for reading my rambles and enjoying them. It means a lot to me, and I hope you were entertained. Thanks for coming on this journey with me, and please know that the second this is over, I am gonna figure out how to unblock the wolf359 tags (I did it so long ago I forgot how I did it, oopsie-daisy), and I am am gonna be reblogging and going crazy over all your posts and fanart and stuff so I hope you're ready for that.

Plus finishing the podcast also means it's time for me to deliver on those fics I promised y'all, which have been very carefully written (in my head). I will write them out eventually, but if there is anything my tmbs mutuals will tell you, my wolf359 mutuals, it's that my ideas tend to lead to other ideas, which means my fics do tend to be a little long, but (based on the reviews I've gotten) worth the read. So it might take a while to get them on AO3, but when I do, I hope you enjoy them!

Tagging the mutuals who got me invested in this, and if you want to be tagged or untagged from these posts, lmk, or you can follow my blog or simply follow the tag "#bods wolf359 reactions". Anyone who has followed me for a while knows my updates are inconsistent, so I apologize in advance for that and for any spelling/grammar mistakes in my posts.

@sophieswundergarten @oflightningandstars @acollectionofcuriousreblogs @herawell @commsroom @lovelyladylavie

Episode 61: Brave New World

The fact that Brave New World was written in 1932 and Cutter and Pryce are old and the fact that the message of Brave New World is about humans losing their humanity...already we're setting the stage.

And based on Kepler's earlier declaration, why do I suspect that this is the part where Doug's daughter's life and Minkowski's husband's life are finally on the line. I know Cutter and Pryce won't hesitate to aim their guns at them (and probably the rest of the planet too).

That moment when you can't tell if Wolf359 starts with sad piano music, or if this is just an ad for another podcast.

Oh it's the intro. Hi Hera! Or Miranda...oh wait I genuinely can't tell if this is Miranda talking about herself or Hera talking about her.

Clouded eyes, weak heart, child genius, orphan, no friends...I see. Obsessed with making things stronger and better. Yeah, except for herself I bet. Oh. She made her friends. Because she could control them. "Never left her behind, never talked back, never were afraid of her...except when she wanted them to be." "The one thing she couldn't fix was herself" see I called it!

Until? Oh no. Marcus.

And Old Man? Almost as clever as her? "Hello little girl. I want you to make a doll for me. You're very best doll. It must look like a real person, and sound like a real person, and be a real person." "And if I can?" "Then you and I will fix the world. I will be young and you will be whole and the world will finally be everything it could be. Everything it should be."

Okay. Thoughts.

When I made my jokes about Pryce being Cutter's evil science girlfriend, I was not assuming a romantic relationship, I was trying to use that language to insult Pryce and Cutter by making them sound like the kids they hate so much in a frivolous, juvenile and toxic relationship. Then, I was told by a few of you that given this assumption, it’s important that I know that I shouldn't assume that Pryce met Cutter when she was young based on this story and it was meant to be "fairytale language", which does make sense given that Cutter being willing to call Miranda his "work wife" when he's known her since she was young enough to be his granddaughter is incredibly creepy.

I appreciate the clarification, but also, I really don't think it matters whether this is hyperbole or not. If it is, then okay. Pryce and Cutter's relationship is still weird. If it's not, then Cutter's a creep, what a surprise. Tell me something I don't know.

"And so they did. And everyone lived happily ever after. The end."

The fact that it's Cutter that interrupts Miranda's story to give that closing line and declare this the end adds to the creepiness. Miranda says what Marcus's promise to her was, but never says whether she agreed before Marcus jumps in with "and so they did". Also, if Miranda was dying, Cutter was her only chance at survival. It also sounds like she was a kid with a pretty messed up view of the world. Doesn't excuse anything she did, but see Cutter? THAT is how you give a good sad backstory, and she did it in five minutes. You spent a whole hour with Nash just so you could cry that the government took your precious telescope.

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

"THAT'S the evil plan?" Care to fill us in Doug?

"That's THE plan, yes." Shut it Rachel. It's evil and you know it.

It's...so evil. And so...planned. Doug's words might be simple, Rachel, but sometimes simple is better. It gets to the point and cuts through the BS.

"It's real and it's happening" And ARE you happy about this Kepler? And why tell them?

Good question Kepler, why are you here? Please tell me you're going to take Rachel away.

"You're going to help" "of course I am" Are you Kepler? Oh please tell me he gets a redemption arc and betrays Cutter.

Does anyone want to fill ME in on the plan? No one? Okay. :(

"Where's the trust?" That's not for you, Rachel.

"I really don't like her" I don't either, Doug.

"What about Cutter's plan?" WHAT IS THE PLAN? WILL BOB AGREE TO IT? WHAT WILL WORK? WHAT WILL THEY DO?

We can't stop them, so let's see our families again. No, Minkowski, you can do this! I believe in you! You can't just go home, we have two hours left! That's plenty of time to stop them.

It's been a long...years.

I forget how long they've been up there. And that everyone on Earth believes they're dead.

And not do anything about WHAT? WHAT IS THE PLAN PLEASE FILL ME IN.

What was that sound?

-----------

Oh Doug is in the comms room. Oh yikes. It's okay, Doug. We've all broken very expensive lab equipment before.

"Living in a cuckoo clock" you have no idea, Doug.

"I wouldn't do that." Is that Pryce or Hera? And yeah why is there gas?

"Good boy" oh good it's Hera. Hera calls him good boy, Pryce just calls him boy.

"Who are you?" OH THIS IS DOUG MEETING HERA FOR THE FIRST TIME. At first I thought that Doug...forgot her? Or something? I was confused.

Ultraviolet halo? Contraband cigarettes. 😂

"Just ask. I'm here to help." Aw that was sweet.

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

Ew Rachel. I'm gonna start using "----" breaks to cut off sections.

"Actually he's in quite a lot of pain. Back to work." Always charming, Rachel.

"Thanks for saving our lives-" Kepler, that's a great question. What IS this? Where was the concern for brainwashed Jacobi or better still, WHERE WAS YOU CONCERN FOR MAXWELL? Or Jacobi dealing with her death?

"And do what? Get myself shot? Get you shot? No. I played the game." Was it worth it, Kepler?

"That's the lie you tell yourself. The truth? The truth is that you were afraid. And the only thing YOU did was try to save YOUR hide?"

Dang this dialogue is amazing.

"You're not wrong." "Which one?" "Both of you." This isn't YOUR conversation Rachel.

-----------

Momentary weakness?

Oh my gosh, the good food too? Why does Cutter hit so many show Curtain parallels? He might torture, enslave, and kill people, but he's gonna get them a good meal first.

Good for you Doug, turning down the wine. I'm proud of him.

This is a sweet moment between Doug and Lovelace. I gotta say, since I'll be reacting to this section by section, it's nice that they have it broken up a little like this so I can reach a section and then get to a stopping point if I need to.

I'm just worried about who is going to die. These conversations feel like goodbyes.

----------

Minkowski. I know you miss your husband. But...yeah, ARE you ready to go back?

YEAH WE'RE DOING THIS! To borrow from Eris's words: "Let's beat the bad guys 🥳"

----------

Quiet Rachel.

LET'S GO MINKOWSKI. WHO CARES WHAT CUTTER AND PRYCE WANT?

Wait. Destroy a whole species?

Are they talking about humans?

...are they ecofascists? Eugenicists? Pryce is literally disabled, how the heck...

"Only stay if you have to." Well, it sounds like you all have to.

"Hera what did you say to her" "Something a friend once said to me" 🥰🥰🥰

"I'm starting to think these guys are my kind of stupid" GO JACOBI!

"Adorable corpses 🥰" Rachel you suck!

"Come with us. You're still people, you're still on our side, even if you don't think you are." Very true. What do you think Pryce and Cutter will do to YOU when they have what they want? They'll dispose of you too.

"You're allowed to make mistakes as long as at some point you admit that they're mistakes!" "I was wrong and people died. All I can do is not be wrong again" "You knew what you were getting into" "No I didn't. I didn't know I was getting into mind control and reducing people to nothing. There's a line. And you're almost out of chances to get on the right side of it." PREACH!

"There is no line. Forwards. Always forwards." FORWARDS TO WHAT RACHEL? WHY HAS NO ONE SHOT HER YET?

"Thank you, Daniel, and goodbye." Oh so that's how it is. Goodbye Kepler. I look forward to your last minute sacrifice.

Character arcs woven like a quilt.

"We're going to crush them" Yeah, let's do it!

A full reboot? Worth the risk? That kind of stuff always worries me.

Is this Maxwell's notes? It's hard to recognize the voice on the recording. "She really was something special" Oh it is Maxwell.

----------

Ah. Another flashback! Jacobi meeting Maxwell.

Looks like Kepler got an important text.

"Cool stuff with robots" good work Maxwell. The best scientists can always dumb it down.

"The Whiskey speech" 😂

"You're one of the best. You're gonna do great things. It's the last nice thing you'll ever hear from me. Except: you need anything I got you're back. No matter what happens, I've got your back. I'll take you up on that." 😭💔

Oh it's okay. Take my heart. I didn't need it.

----------

"Are they going to do the smart thing?" "Well who are we to deny them an agonizing death?" Shut it Cutter.

They put a tracker on Jacobi? See I knew Rachel was a snake. So is Kepler, but at least he's gonna take a bullet for someone or something. My money's on Jacobi, but I could be wrong.

----------

Yep. Eiffel logs everything.

"I never got the chance to say I'm sorry. YOUR DAD LOVES YOU, YOUR DAD LOVES YOU SO MUCH." 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

"Don't let anyone tell you that you can't do something. You can go so far. I wish I could be there to see it. I love you Ann. Always and forever."

AKJLS;DJFKL;SJF;ALSKDJFA;KD

Time to go? Oh. The comms room? Oh, right. Poor Doug.

"One more day, and then we're done." This is so sad.

Wait...what is happening? OH SHE LIED. SHE'S TAKING EIFFEL HOME TO PROTECT HIM. SO HE CAN SEE HIS DAUGHTER? DON'T DO THIS TO DOUG! DON'T DO THIS TO ME.

"Go home Eiffel, hug your daughter" OH HE CALLED HER RENEE!

This leaves me with so much feeling.

Eiffel can't leave he's the main character. Who will make pop culture references? Who will save the day through the power of random associations, luck, and good intentions?😭😭😭

I hate that they the bad guys know exactly what happened too.

"I'm so sick of this happening!" Use too Doug.

Oh "For god's sake just let me change the flight plan!" So that's what the F stands for. The lore I've been waiting for.

"People need to know what's coming?" Minkowski...I get why you did what you did, but HERA DIDN'T GET TO SAY GOODBYE.

----------

Is this Minkowski's flashback?

Oh when Minkowski met Hera.

"I heard units prefer to go by their serial numbers..." "I don't" Good for you Hera!

I love this. I love these flashbacks, but they just make everything so much more sad!

----------

Ah. More piano music. Does this mean we're back to the bad guys, or...?

Is this Cutter playing the piano?

"The Tempest. Do read a book sometime. Is this the best use of our time?" Pryce and Cutter are really the most toxic people.

"A storm is coming. And on the other side..." "Oh Brave New World." "That has such people in it."

Yes, Pryce and Cutter. People. As in humans. As in: NOT YOU.

"How have they decided to throw their lives away?" "By destroying the device"

WHAT DEVICE? What are you talking about?

Heck yeah a harpoon! I hope Cutter gets it.

----------

"This is Minkowski. I love schedules and musicals and that man who I married." 😂 1-2-3-4-5? It was a good guess Doug. Would have worked in my fanfic.

Okay here comes Victor...

...um what is happening? What is this?

...a surprise party? Sounds fun! 🪩🥳

Oh right, the bio tracker. I'm happy to see Jacobi pulled one over on him. Now shoot him! Please tell me that was Victor that got shot.

They...they trapped him in the room. "Tell me this before I kick your ass" Why on Earth would he ever tell you anything Victor?

----------

Okay, so they are blowing up Pryce and Cutter's evil device, but...what is the device? What ARE they doing? Did I miss it? I'm sure they're doing something to enslave or kill all of humanity, but I'd like the specifics.

"The Hephaestus has almost fallen out of the sky so many times, it's hard to believe it's happening." Well...the show isn't over until it's over.

Is this a Lovelace flashback? A date? A date with who? Oh, Hilbert. Not that kind of date then. Oh, this is her introducing Hilbert to the crew he's going to betray.

"Prudent to keep things formal" to avoid the guilt.

Selburg. Once again with the constant fake names. Dmitri. Matthew.

Though I think Miranda has always had hers.

----------

Yeah Doug. You've listened to her say it so many times. This is like me trying to drive in my hometown. No, I wasn't paying attention in the car as a kid, I was not the one doing the driving. I just zoned out and we got from point A to point B by magic.

Oh, Minkowski. "Get up and do it already. You can do it."

Yes you can Doug. You are the main character. You are the guy that's gonna swoop in at the last second when Cutter pulls one over one them. So you CAN do it. I believe in you, Eiffel.

"Victor Uniform Lemma Charlie Alpha November VULCAN" I knew it must stand for something! Good work Doug!

----------

Oh dear. More of Pryce and Cutter's marriage falling apart.

"Time to change the world." Or you could not. Maybe you could just not.

WHY IS THE DEVICE RUNNING? WHAT DEVICE? WHY DOES HE NEED TWO MINUTES?

Please explain this? Oh of course he has a speech.

Oh he's talking to the dear listeners, not the Hephaestus crew.

Ah. The Decima virus. Thanks a lot Hilbert. DEPLOY THROUGHOUT THE EARTH? He wants to cause a pandemic????

Automatic, can't be stopped, destruction of human race? But why would the aliens care? Oh because Cutter wants them to talk to HIM? But the aliens prefer Doug.

As do most others it would seem. Hurts, doesn't it, Cutter? All those years of experience and work, and yet, you still just can't have what he has, can you?

Ah. It's Bob. Did he just shock Bob? No temporal jumps, no disintegration?

"Remarkable and cold" No Bob, you saw Doug! It's just them. They don't need to be cold.

Willing to disrupt species survival??? What piece of tech do they want? Surrogates?

They want to fill the world with people they can control?

"You can't make duplicates of our species." Bob, they are worst than you can ever imagine.

"We're going to make better humans." "That is not the way that-" "Random part out of the equation" That's a bad idea. Do you know how evolution works? Do you know the negative side effects that have come out of selective breeding of animals? The unintended consequences? To quote Miranda from earlier in the episode: READ. A. BOOK.

"Our Humanity" Gross.

HOW ARE THEY ACCEPTABLE? IT'S MUSIC. WHY ARE YOU THAT DESPERATE FOR MUSIC?

Oh here is comes. Betraying Rachel and Warren.

OH TELL HIM BOB.

"Your brains can't handle it without modification. I cannot with my limitations. Do you have Doug Eiffel?"

Hahaha...hahahahahahaha....HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA..... 😂😂😂😂

Oh boy...oh Cutter is gonna snap. If only Doug had just kept going...

Oh wow okay Cutter has lost it. What happened to emotionally playing the piano and giving speeches about how the time had come?

oh geez no, Doug is back. Doug, no, they need you for the evil plans. This is a good idea, but very bad timing.

"He wouldn't" Oh he WOULD. He really really would.

Show 'em how it's done Dougie Boy!

"I'll get it" No you will NOT Miranda.

Kepler, now is a great time to betray Cutter and Rachel. A really good time.

Also is Victor dead? I'm trying to keep track of how many bad guys are gone.

----------

"You're the only person who can receive the data Pryce and Cutter want" Oh dear.

"With my life darling, with my life" 🥹💕

So what is Hera going to do?

"Lets make sure at least someone makes it through this" YOU ALL NEED TO MAKE IT.

"Let's go get our idiot back" That's the spirit baby!

----------

Oh dear. Jacobi. "Terrific for an SI-5." Wow.

"I'm gonna win!" I hope so Jacobi. But it sounds very not good.

Oh and here's Doug. And um...other Doug. Aka Bob.

Bob. Do not do this.

That was it? "You shall not call me again" "No Bob. I shall not."

THEY KILLED BOB.

"I hate loose ends"

I mean, I saw that coming, but dumb idea. I'm SURE Bob's family will be cool with that! Oh right, he just...recreates himself. But this has got to be trippy for Doug because Bob takes his form. Imagine watching a clone of yourself die.

"Pryce is not right?" DANG IT DOUG, I WAS GONNA USE THAT PUN IN MY FANFICTION AND NOW I CAN'T (WELL MAYBE I STILL WILL WE'LL SEE WHAT HAPPENS HERE).

"Let's make a deal 🥰" Wow Pryce is the worst. Again, very trippy how much she sounds like Doug.

Wait. GOING IN? What does. What does "going in" mean? Don't go in, I don't like going in?

Ah yes. Going into someone's mind. I've done that in my fics before too. Fun stuff. And um...it's because you're disorganized Doug, I hate to tell you.

"That was...that was...that was..." OH SHE DESTROYED THE MEMORY. OH SHE TOOK THE MEMORY?

This is...horrifying. She could take his daughter away. She could take Hera, Minkowski, and everyone and everything away.

HERA! HECK YEAH!

Oh my gosh is she actually here? Like as a person?

This is everything.

----------

Ah yes, confrontation with Cutter.

Cutter has modified his body or he has a magic shield.

He can catch bullets? Of course he can.

I wouldn't try hand to hand combat either. I bet he gave himself super strength.

There has to be a weak spot. He has to have a weakness. But what could it be...

...what is the opposite of a chai latte?

----------

Ah. Back to Jacobi.

Kepler this would be a GREAT TIME to come in and get your arc. "I'm not a good guy" oh Jacobi. What's happening now? Oh has he been pretending to lose this fight to buy them time? What is happening? It's hard to tell.

----------

She's always been interesting, Pryce! You’re just noticing now.

"You don't look like me." Disappointed, Pryce? Sad that she’s better than you?

And the fact that all these AI want human forms...this is so sad. They structured them based on human consciousness so of course they want human bodies and experiences, that's just cruel.

Wait Doug got beat up in the 2nd grade? The Star Wars Prequels? "I might be okay without that one" No one tell him about the sequels 😂😂😂

"Of course you can. You can do anything." 💕

"You and what army, 214?" The sounds in this really makes the fight sound super epic. One of my favorite parts of the whole thing.

----------

Oh gross not Rachel again. Why is she still here?

And Kepler. Dude, you wanna hurry it up? Grab your arc or go, the clock is a-ticking.

"We're changing what humanity can be." you suck Rachel.

Pulse beacon, half power? What does that mean? The signal wouldn't have made it back to Earth?

"We have tell Mr. Cutter." "Do we?" KEPLER THIS IS IT!

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES!!!!

He gave you a chance, Rachel. He gave you a chance. "After all, I am still a person. I'm on Jacobi and Minkowski's side. Even if they don't think I am"

And even if they never know you were.

Is she gonna blast him out the airlock? Rachel, you're dying, it's over! You were wrong! The best thing to do is let him live!

He's literally drinking as he goes out the airlock. My...my wish came true. But this isn't how I wanted it to... why now? Why like this? 💔

It's a true sacrifice though. Because even though no one will ever know, he still did the right thing.

You became more than just a Whiskey Boy in the end Kepler. You became so much more.

Rachel, no so much. You were never anything. It doesn't matter if Warren was not as good as you. Because now you're both dead. And your life, well...you were never anyone. Or at least, you haven't been anything or anyone for a long, long, time. So be quiet now.

Silence at last.

----------

HOW CAN CUTTER GET HER TO POINT HER GUN AT MINKOWSKI? WHAT...WHAT DID THEY DO?

Well this isn't good.

Ah yes. Back to Jacobi. Looks like Kepler's not coming to save him. But at least he took care of Rachel.

Explosives? Fireworks? Oh this is a party! 🎆🎇🧨

Well that was a grand surprise party! But um...does this mean Victor and Jacobi are dead now?

Ah back to Lovelace and Minkowski!

"It's...side wave radiation!" Okay, thank you Cutter, now we know what we need to shut down.

"Humans who do exactly what we tell them to do" "You're crazy"

Yeah. He is literally crazy.

OH SHE SHOT HER??? Oh no....Oh no please tell me SOMEONE makes it out of this.

What really did happen the night of Doug's junior prom? Sounds interesting.

Fishing with Dad? Okay these memories are getting personal.

Wait, what did Doug do?

What are they going to do? Oh they could delete the memories Bob put in there. But they need to find them before Pryce.

----------

Shut up about the stomach wound Cutter. No one cares. This isn't rewriting a person. And THAT'S NOT WHY PEOPLE CARED ABOUT HER YOU IDIOT. And without your intelligence and tech, who. are. YOU, CUTTER?

Renee Minkowski! YES! Tell him!

Lovelace you can fight this. I know you can.

Shut it Cutter. No one cares.

"Sooner or later, you're gonna do as your told" And sooner or later, you are gonna lose everything, Cutter.

"You really think I'm afraid of you?" "THE BEAUTIFUL THING IS I DON'T NEED YOU TO BE"

Please tell me they have the harpoon gun.

IT WAS THE HARPOON GUN? OH HECK YEAH!

"That's...not...how...this is suppose to..."

Yes, it is Cutter. Like you said. You know how these stories end. The good guys win. They might lose a lot in the process, but, they win.

Is he dead now, like, for real dead? I don't want to celebrate too early but MAN what a way to go.

He and Rachel even died in similar ways to. It's like they short circuited when they realized they didn't win.

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Ah Pryce. "I don't need to beat you. No matter how much I want to, no matter how much you deserve it, it wouldn't change anything. What I need to do is make sure you're not going to hurt anyone else again ever." That's right!

"I'm not going to hurt you." OH SAY THE CLIP YOUR WINGS LINE COME ON COME ON COME ON.

"Clip your wings a little. Goodbye Dr. Pryce."

So...Hera's gone now. So what is about to happen?

Oh no. Is she...is she gonna delete both their memories?

"Bye bye to my memories?" Oh Doug, oh poor Doug. His daughter, everything...oh Doug this sacrifice will not be forgotten. 🫡 This is so Milligan coded of him (@/tmbs mutuals).

"You can't. Don't do this." "Oooo...sorry buddy, we gotta" YEAH THROW IT BACK AT HER EIFFEL!

And goodbye. I hope you have a second chance with your daughter. I hope you never remember the trauma. All a bad dream. All a bad dream.

"Do you have any idea what you've...I'm sorry...what was I saying...where...where am I?" Oh my gosh the way her voice changed...and she apologized. Oh my gosh. She's literally a new person.

So...memories gone? Where does this leave her? Oh this will be fun in fanfics. Imagine having no memories, and people are weird about it, and then finding out that before you were basically the worst person to ever exist. How would you even mentally cope with that?

"Yeah commander, it's going." No, Doug! Doug!

"It was an honor, sir" Oh this is so sad.

"Hera...Hera I...I..." You know Hera. You were in his mind. Please tell me you know.

Oh. He's gone. 💔

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WHY IS RACHEL BACK I THOUGHT WE TOOK CARE OF THAT?

Oh it's her and Eiffel meeting, okay.

"Are you just asking if I'm the commander? Yes." I love Minkowski and Doug's friendship.

"Never use one word when ten will do" oh Doug...never change. Even if your memories are gone, I hope you find yourself again.

He didn't know you couldn't smoke in space? Oh Doug...at least now you can quit.

----------

"Do I know you?" Yes Doug. Yes you do.

She's briefing him. He...he doesn't remember Star Wars???

Well. At least he gets to watch it all again!

Wait. What's happening to the station? Are they...are they going into the star?

Oh no. So it's up to the dear listeners to save them, or...they just die here. Heroes. Heroes that everyone on Earth thought were dead already.

Oh she's rebooting now.

"Should we be doing something?" Oh did Renee pass out?

So...is Doug on the ship alone without his memories? What's happening?

----------

Where is Renee now? Lovelace? Where? What? The Urania? How?

Did they leave Pryce on board? Did Jacobi get out?

Oh good Hera, Minkowksi, and Lovelace made it. Jacobi did it! Nice work, Jacobi. Oh gosh he's so dramatic 😂

So I assume Doug made it too?

"What about Kepler" "No." Oh so, they must have found Rachel and discovered what he did. "You can't save everyone I suppose"

But you did save him, Jacobi. You did save Whiskey Boy.

And then where is Doug?

Oh he's listening to himself.

"I was a jerk" There's a lot worse things you can be, Doug.

It does make you wonder. If you looked at your life with a blank slate, what would you think? How would you be kinder to yourself? How would you be more critical?

"Am I still that same person?" If you want to be, Doug. If you want to be.

And what happened to Pryce? Please tell me you did not give her to the dear listeners.

IS THIS PRYCE?

Oh Hera and Pryce. "Your voice is like mine, isn't it?" "Nice to meet you, Hera." Oh. Oh my gosh. Pryce calling her Hera.

"And I'm...I'm going to tell you a very, very long story about the two of us, okay?"

I hope this ends well...

...please be a good guy, Pryce.

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Hey guys. Guys. Quick question.

Why are there 10 minutes left?

I um...I like this ending. They're going back to Earth, all is well. Please tell me nothing bad happens.

What happened with Pryce? Hera hasn't glitched at all? She did it. She conquered her fear. GO HERA! But um...what about Pryce? Is she...is she good?

Minkowski needs to find her husband. And yeah...you guys have a lot to figure out.

Lovelace...yep. Take Goddard down. Good idea. Explain to your friends you're an alien with extended lifespan...might want to break that gently.

Take who out?

Oh the ship. Is this it? They're going home? Please tell me they're actually going home. Don't tease me like this.

Oh right, what will Hera do now? I'm sure you'll find something.

And yeah. Doug might not know who he is, but he knows there are people he should see. And then...he'll figure it out. They'll all figure it out. "Am I still Doug Eiffel? I'm not sure. Want to find out together?"

Yes. I love this. 🥰

I also love how it connects to "will I miss you, when you go away forever Doug?" Yes, but he's not gone Hera. He's not gone.

----------

Five minutes left. So...what is that for? Do we finally get to meet Doug's daughter and Minkowski's husband...or…

That was wolf359! Oh it’s just the credits!

Great ending. But...wait. No wait. I'm confused hang on.

How did Jacobi escape from Victor to get the Urania? How is Hera going to survive on Earth? How did they fix those wounds? If the Hephaestus went into the star...

Wait. These aren't more alien copies are they? Oh wait, no Hera's here, sorry y'all I panicked for a moment. They duplicate human lives, but as far as I know, not AI. Also, if this was a happy dream sequence, why would Pryce be there? Okay, phew, we're good. We're...finally good.

And even if they are alien copies...the process will take 14,000 years. So. For the rest of their lives, at least. Especially since...they're still using Lovelace to spy on Earth. For the next 14,000 years. But I guess that’s a problem for future generations.

Okay. Great ending. Thoughts:

Cutter got what he deserved. So did Rachel, but I feel a bit sadder that she never realized the pointlessness of her life until it was too late (and really not even then). Also love that Cutter's original last name was "Newman" since he keeps making himself into "new men".

Kepler's sacrifice was great no notes. I hope he enjoyed the Whiskey.

Blessie should have come back, and in fanfic, I will find a way to make this happen.

Eris should have come back, and in fanfic, I will find a way to make this happen.

Are the Dear Listeners just going to leave Earth alone now? If the Hephaestus went into the star...does that mean they can make Rachel and Cutter copies? Because I don't like that...

I love that the aliens weren't the biggest threat in the end and Cutter was always the real monster.

Is Pryce cool now? She doesn't want revenge, does she? Like what do you even do with her at that point? (I have plans for this, don't worry).

How do they dismantle or repurpose Goddard? Cutter probably has guys still loyal to him on Earth or people who are gonna try to be the next Cutter now that he's out of the picture. How do you deal with them?

Okay...so the decima virus can be used for great good and great evil. Cutter apparently had stations with it set up all over the Earth. I hope no one stumble across one of those anytime soon. What exactly are they going to do about decima? It's still swimming about in Eiffel's blood.

Is Minkowski's journalist husband going to blow this case wide open? I hope that after her brief phone call with his secretary, Cutter didn't kill him to keep the rumors from spreading.

Will the families of all the other astronauts that died ever get closure? I know we don't want this getting out and causing panic, but they deserve answers too.

When. Is. The. Empty. Man. Going. To. Show. Up???? /j /It was Cutter the whole time because he has no humanity

Well that was fun. Again, the fanfic will probably take a good long while (I put off a lot in order to listen to this ending), but I look forward to mapping it out.

Once again, thank you all for listening along with me. This has been fun.

Now, to figure out how to unblock those pesky tags...

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bi-bats · 8 months

Note

🤓 u know why im here haha. 14, 17, 19, 27, 29 please 💕

Bean, hello!!!! Enjoy this food while you get your food lol 💖

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

Okay. I know I've shit all over Rooftops & Bookshops, but I was able to picture so many of the scenes in that fic SO vividly and clearly, I think I would have to pick that for a film. Specifically, I'm thinking of the scene in the breakroom. That would just be SO funny. And also some of the writing things that bother me now wouldn't be an issue on screen lol

OR I would say You Hear His Voice Once and You Know It Again as a comic. There are so many parts that I think would make really amazing panels rhgruaghr if anyone wants to make fanart for it they are more than welcome to!!!

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

Ballroom dancing, which is funny because I actually barely used the research lmao it was for Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.

oh boy uhhh okay here's a teaser from the jaytimkon piece!

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Kon explains, because he knows it’s true. “Are you upset?” Jason asks it like he knows the answer, which of course he does. He’s a bat. “I guess.” “Did he say something that made you upset?” “Yes, but—” “—Just because he wasn’t trying to hurt you doesn’t that mean he didn’t.” Kon looks up as Jason takes a bite of his bun, then breathes out a little through his teeth like it was still too hot. “That doesn’t mean he should be shot?” Kon says hesitantly. “Step two is empty threats, sweetheart. If I wanted to shoot him, I wouldn’t have to steal bullets from B.” Kon’s cheeks burn. Sweetheart. He’s heard Jason use endearments for Tim before, Darlin’ and Baby and Gorgeous and Pretty Boy, and seriously how did Tim think Kon didn’t know they were fucking—but he’s never heard sweetheart come out of Jason’s mouth. His stomach is fluttering, warmth radiating through him, and he wants to giggle in a totally manly and not at all school-girly way, wants to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear and— “Don’t shoot him,” Kon says, a smile creeping out for the first time since this morning. Jason grins back, and his smile is fucking gorgeous.

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

Answered that one here!! Sorry 💖

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

alright FINE you can have a snippet from that Know Yourself scene where they were going to bake cookies for Barbara that I had to cut because it was too early to involve her and they weren't getting along this well yet

Tim shifted the groceries in his arms while they waited outside Barbara’s door, eyes flashing over as Jason reached up and tugged the helmet off. Tim forced his eyes back to the door. “You have flour in your hair.” “Hm?” Jason asked, tucking the helmet under his arm. “From the helmet.” Jason peeked inside the helmet, finding a small streak of flour across the inside. He made an irritated tut, trying to arrange his bag and the helmet so he could get a free hand. Tim sighed and turned to him, shifting the bag in his arms again. He reached up to do it himself, then stopped when Jason pulled back a little, eyes wide with surprise. Tim’s hand hovered in the air, and he raised an eyebrow, waiting for permission. Jason sighed, then leaned back in. “Go ahead.” Tim finished reaching for the streak of white that didn’t belong. He ran his fingers through it, shaking them slightly so that the flour would come out. Jason’s hair was softer than he thought it would be. Even though they were both still wearing their dominos, Tim could feel Jason’s eyes on him. He looked back, his hand slowing down. “Thanks,” Jason said, his voice was low and rough as it broke the silence, making something warm flare up in Tim’s gut.

thank you for the ask bestie!!! 💖💖💖💖

#🫘 this was a terrible idea #batsasks #batwrites #know yourself #bad days #i feel like I should tag Leo #I know you want to see the JayTimKon snippet lmaooo

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butmakeitgayblog · 11 months

Note

Do you have any advice for fan fiction writers who aren't getting many readers etc? I feel like giving up some days but I love writing and find fan fiction my personal therapy if that makes sense. I'd love any advice you can give or any suggestions. 💕

Well, honestly I'm not any kind of authority so take whatever I say with a grain of salt. Because honestly, I never really thought I'd get any kind of following to begin with 😕 this surprised me, and still does to this day, more than anyone. When I started posting my first fic (very nervously and through the feeling like I was going to throw up) I thought "well, I'll just write a few chapters and probably no one will ever read it and I'll get bored and it'll be out of my system." And now here we are, and I have no idea how that happened 😳

What advice I can give is, you can't write for the sake of other people. I know that sounds cheap as hell because the whole point of sharing fic is to get feedback and interact with others in the fandom, but really at the heart of it you have to just write stories that you like and you want to read above everything else. Keep writing. Keep growing. Keep refining your work and your style so no matter what the view count is, you know you're becoming a better writer regardless. And truth be told, you never know what idea or fic will hit with readers and what won't. You may write something and think oh no one is gonna gaf about this and then out of nowhere, that's what people love. It happens more than you know.

Another thing is - and this is going to sound harsh at first but bear with me please - in this day and age sadly you have to manage your expectations. Not because you don't deserve more readers or comments or because your work isn't good, but because the culture of fandom and fanfic/fanart is changing, and not for the better. There's dozens of posts that make the rounds on here passively warning people about how a lot of writers and artists are getting burned out and fed up with the lack of reciprocal community from their audience. Tiktok and IG and all that shit has kind of ruined the landscape of fandom because now everything is seen as just consumption based. More and more people read a fic and move on, binge a show and move on, burn through a fandom's entire AO3 content in 3 months and move on, and it sucks. I mean when you look at fandoms of old, the days of Xena and Buffy for example, a lot of those fans are still around and still participating and still creating work even though the show/fandom/ships are long gone. You don't really see that loyalty much anymore, and it becomes a cycle of the fandom shrinking and then the feedback and comments and support grinds to a halt, and then creators stop feeling like wasting hours of their life to pour themselves into work that gets maybe a handful of comments even though they see hundreds or thousands of people have read it. It just sucks all around. So expecting to see the numbers that a fic did even 3-5 years ago, sadly, just isn't going to happen.

BUT

I do also know this, the Clexa fandom has been one of the best fandoms I've ever been in, both as just a fan on the outskirts and someone who tries to contribute. I've found Clexas to be funny and welcoming and we have a core group of fucking awesome and loyal, supportive readers, but the thing is you have to keep going. Sometimes building an audience and a regular group of readers takes time. Name recognition matters. Yes there are writers out there that are just synonymous with the fandom, but there's other writers (hi yes hello me, I mean me lol) who came late to the party and it's taken some time to get people to see their work. Tagging things and reblogging, talking in tags, reaching out to other people in the fandom and making friends who want to help you with your work because you help support theirs. All that stuff. It makes a difference. Damn near every week or so I get a new reader saying "wow idk how I hadn't heard of you before/read your stuff before but I'm glad I found it, keep going!" And that 100% will never have even the possibility of happening if you stop writing!

In the end, you just have to decide what's best for you. If this feels incredibly unhelpful I truly am sorry, I wish I had better advice to give you but I'm as clueless to this all as you are. But 2 things I do know for sure without a doubt? One, there is a place for you in any fandom, and your work does matter. There is an audience out there who want to read what you have to write and they'll love it. And two, in the end just be kind to yourself. Love yourself and be proud of yourself for trying, and for being creative and growing your work. Fanfic is supposed to be fun, writing about your favorite blorbos is meant to be fun, even if more often than not it feels like the equivalent of just dancing alone in your kitchen. Ya get what I mean?

#anon #writing

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wd-ghosty · 16 days

Text

Chapter 1 - Resurrection

Haiii! It's me again bringing you more fics, this is chapter 1 of Ophelia's backstory.

TW!!!- Mid writing

It’s 3:45 am, and I’m in a dark room illuminated by fluorescent light, from screens surrounding my bed. I linked up to all these tubes, I’m constantly getting shots, my mind has been infiltrated by that wretched beating sound coming from the heart monitor. I dont know how I got here, I remember being at the beach with my friends, we got on a boat with a bunch of guys we didn’t know, I think we got drunk. And after that, all I can remember is a splashing sound and I stopped breathing…

did I mention I can’t swim?

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

I grew up with three older brothers they all had their own interests but one of them went through a ninja/samurai phase, and I watched all those shows with him, Ninjago, Randy Cunningham, and Power Rangers Samurai, but my favorite was the one about the turtles.

They had a very passionate fanbase one i was a part of, I made so much fan art, and OCs hell one of my OCs was an obvious self-insert. Well she didn’t really look like me, she was tall, thin, pretty, the most confident person you’d ever meet, she would always be that one person people would go to if they had a problem, she was adored by everyone and hated by those envious of her. Nothing like me at all, I dont stand out in a crowd, I try my best to blend into the background I want to be almost invisible. Hell, she basically is an OC because she’s not one bit like me, comparing the two of us is an insult to her perfect being.

I made her so I could draw fanart of her and Donnie. Stupid right? I would draw the two of them in situations I imagine the two of us in. We’d go shopping together, and I’d give him the montage he deserved in the clothes dont make the turtle, in rise. I’d always be by his side willingly, helping him with anything he needed, in 2012. In the bay-movies, I thought I'd be the owner of his favorite cafe, and I'd always stay in late to make him whatever pastry I thought he’d want that day, and a coffee. When I got the finished product I was so happy sure I couldn’t let anyone see it out of embarrassment, but I was so proud of them.

Hmm… the beating is starting to slow down, and I hear a bunch of people running into the room, I think I’m gonna die. This reminds me of a short comic I made, Ophelia was assassinated by whatever villain and Donnie completely lost it. I wonder if he’d lose it if he knew I was seconds away from dea- everyone stopped talking and an irritating ringing sound replaced the beating.

“Ladies and gentlemen we are now landing in Manhattan New York, please get your bags from the overhead compartments, collect all your things, and thank you for flying with us.”

I rub my eyes open and get up from my seat. “I just had the weirdest dream ever. I was some random girl and I drowned to death, I think?” I take the two suitcases from the overhead compartment, and hand Nasir his.

“You have dreams of drowning all the time, yet you still go to the beach and crash into waves ten thousand feet taller than you. At this point, you’re seeing the future.” Nasir is one of my best friends, and also one of the most useful people I know. If you have a problem with somebody, just tell him and he’ll dig up some shit that’ll ruin their life.

“Oh my god, are you saying I’m psychic!?”

“No I’m saying you’re stupid, Stop standing there and move so we can get off this plane.”

Scoff, “Whatever, I can tell the future.”

“Your delusions cloud the part of you that's actually worth having, common we have to go before the Uber leaves us.”

Oh, I don’t think I properly introduced myself. My name is Ophelia Mafuta Chenett, you might ask “Why did you tell us your full name?” and my answer to that is, that's what the villaness does in every manhwa when they introduce themselves so that’s what I’m gonna do. I’m a soon-to-be freshman at Manhattan Institution of the Arts, (It’s not a real school) After passing the entrance exam I moved across the country to pursue my passion of becoming a fashion designer. Sounds stupid right? Doesn’t it sound like I'm some quirky girl from a 2010’s show? Well, I’m kinda going for that, as the main character of this world I have to keep up my spirits and believe that I can do whatever I want and even live in one of the most expensive cities in this godforsaken country. Oh, I’m also 17 years old, and my birthday is coming up soon so I'm basically 18, other facts about me, I'm from southern California, I have three older siblings, I’m 5’9 but basically 6’2 when I put my shoes on, into alt fashion, and I’m really big on video games especially when they’re story driven. Well, I think that’s it, you guys can just follow along on my journey to become… well, ME, aka perfection. XOXO byyyy!

“Please dont tell me you’re talking to your fictional 1audience again.” Nas slumped into his seat side eyeing you.

“They’re very much real I’ll have you know” She rolls her eyes at him and puts on her headphones.

“Drug addicts are probably so jealous of you, you dont need pills to get high off your ass, you were just born like that. You’re most definitely a crack baby.”

The two of them expected to get to their destinations rather quickly but, the traffic was honestly something that crawled out of the ninth ring of hell. Nasir got accepted into Princeton so he was especially irritated by the traffic. And Ophie got to campus two hours late but still managed to register and get settled in her dorm.

“Well it’s nice to know that all my stuff got here without issue.” then her phone started ringing, she got off her bed to check who called and her heart dropped. “Telli! Please dont tell me you left early, I'll hate it if you left early!”

“Nice to talk to you too Ophe, and no. I’m still in the lair because your plan landed hours ago and you haven't texted called or posted about it, so I knew after you got M.I.A. you’d unpack, and then pass out. We’re meeting tomorrow,”

“Oh… well that's embarrassing. It’s nice to talk to you again Telli, I've been so busy lately I forgot when we spoke last.” She flops onto the bed and gets under her pillows.

“Yesterday, at 5:45 am before when you were getting ready for your flight at 10”

“I’ll have you know I'm African, we usually leave ten hours before a flight, my mom was rushing me out of the house. And I find it shocking someone who’s never left the CITY is talking shit about me.”

“I've been to Tahiti before, what other countries have you been to?” she can feel the sassiness of his bum-ass eyebrows through the screen.

“OH let me correct myself. I CAN’T believe that someone who has never been to an airport IN HIS LIFE is talking about me.” She can hear him laughing his ass off through the phone, “So I think I win”

“No, I’m letting you off the hook. See you tomorrow Ophe.”

“By Tell, kiss kiss.”

She hung up the phone and rolled on her back staring at the ceiling. “Hmm… I’m an adult now. No more mom, no more siblings, just me. AAAH!” She screamed in join and kicked her feet. She hopped off her bed and dug through her bag to find her laptop, camera, and ring light. After clicking record she gets in position. “Ehem. You hear that watchers I’m a grown-ass woman now! and you hoes better prepare for Escapism season 8, watch me as I live out my college dreams! This is gonna be amazing, you know looking past all the exams and homework. Yeah, I know now I’m not special, I'm surrounded by other talented people. But I’m the MC, I’m better than them by default, and I’m special in general, all those current fashion designers that slap a print of a t-shirt and call it a day won't survive here. I have to watch out for the people who actually make their garments, but being able to sew doesn’t mean they’re a good designer and I’m BOTH. Everyone else on my wave length will become an ally or an enemy, but I crush all those who oppose me under the heel of my platform red bottoms rest assured. Well, that’s all for now bitches, see ya!”

She turns off her camera and gets back on her feet, “Well, I guess I'm done for today. I have three more days before orientation, and I don’t have my roommate yet. So I guess I should decorate my half of the room.” she turns her head and sees all the boxes stacked on top of one another.

“Or I could take a bath. She grabs her towel and opens the bathroom door, so she can bathe in boiling hot water while listening to Nightcore on repeat.

After her bath, Ophelia lays in bed scrolling through Tumblr when she starts to think of that dream she had on the plane. “That girl. What was her name?” she thinks to herself. Ophei tries to recall all she can about her, “She was on the bigger side. Short hair. I only ever saw her in muddy browns and greens.” she eventually drifts off to sleep, just to wake up again.”

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

“Sweetheart wake up.” She feels someone nudge her awake, “Hun you’ve been sleeping the whole class period.”

“Oh sorry Ms. Mayflower.” She scatters to put her stuff away and tries to leave the classroom before Ms. Mayflower stops her.

“Bear, sweetheart can we talk?” She pulls out the chair on the other side of her desk, and Bear sits down in it. “You’re failing this class, and I've talked to your other teachers and you’re not doing too well in their classes either. Is everything okay at home, did something happen with Mom and Dad?”

“NO. I um… I'm just not good at school, it’s just not for me.” Bear looks down at her lap fiddling with her fingers.

“Hun, you’re only passing art, but that’s an AP class we’ll have to pull you out if you keep this up.”

“But, math and science are hard. And I always try during PE I just never pass, and Mr. Brown SUCKS. A simile and a metaphor are basically the same thing, and nothing makes sense. And I like history but I never pass the test despite the fact I always get good scores on classwork.”

“Hun I’m sorry but me, including the rest of your teachers, have talked about it.” Tears start to swell up in Bear's eyes, as she stands up. “I’m sorry”

“It’s okay, you’re fine.” she leaves the room tears threatening to fall down her face, when she accidentally bumps into a small girl.

“What the hell is yours!- oh Beary, I haven't seen you all day. You look…cute.” she stares up and down Bear, and she decides to wear the sweet Lolita dress her dad got her today. She got self-conscious and covered it with a jacket but she left it in Ms. Mayflower's room.

“Oh thank you, my dad got it for my birthday.” she uses her arms to try and cover her body.

“Yeah, you look like a baby doll,” One of the other girls said. “You know the things babies throw up on?”

“Aww look at her skirt it has plushies on it. do you sleep with them?”

“No” she whispers

“What was that?”

“No, i dont sleep with them.” she raised her voice

“Oh, well I thought you still slept with plushies, considering no one’s ever sleeping with you.” the girls start laughing and bear laughs with them trying to play it off.

“What are you talking about she's sleeping with the bears on her skirt, dont diss her man!”

The girls continue to make jabs at her dress nitpicking every single part of it to oblivion

“Haha you’re so funny Bailey, but I need to go now.” She tries to leave before the girls see her crying, but she’s stopped.

“Noo, where are you going we’re having so much fun eat lunch with us.”

Isn’t it shocking how much girls preach about sisterhood yet be so cruel to their fellow “sisters”? They’re pestering her trying to get on her nerves, she just wants to leave and they won't let her. Tall and big vs short and thin if they were guys then this would be clear cut, but for women with’s a lot more complicated. One of the girls, the smallest one grabs her arm and tries pulling her.

“Common eat with us bear we know you can eat a lot. Oh! I didn’t mean it like that.” all the girls laugh with her, and Bear starts crying.

“Oh my god bear! Why are you crying?”

“If you keep wailing like that then someone’s gonna call Peta” at that moment she pushes one of the girls to the side but she falls on her ass and started crying. And at this moment the bell rings, and everyone flods into the hall they’re currently in.

“Oh my god! The bear threw Bailey!”

“She’s gone feral!�� everyone started staring at her, and some people started recording. Then someone started barking at her, and a bunch of people joined in. so she just ran away. She hid in the girl's bathroom where she cried until the security guards forced her to go to class.

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

Then Ophie woke up with someone patting her back and tears trickling off her face.

...

That's it. Hope you all liked chapter 1 XOXO luv ya<3

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kenta-rin · 1 year

Text

Ch 5-6

[I DID NOT WRITE THIS, just uploading for posterity]

Tips For Expanding Your Business On An International Scale

013

Chapter 5

Notes:

hey it's me again. couple of notes here: first of all please drive safe and distracted driving is bad dont eat and drive. second of all theres a line here thats like, "jesses a disgusting american who loves fast food" and i just wanted to say, i love americans some of my best friends are american, and i love fast food some of my best friends are fast food, the only person im calling disgusting here is jesse mccree. i will never shame u for being american or eating fast food, i will only shame mccree. for existing. ok, next up last time we talked there was one fanart for this fic drawn by the wonderful nance well now there's... 6. unbelievable. i am so incredibly grateful & overwhelemd & humbled by the fact that MULTIPLE human beings on earth read my fic and were like, hey, that's good, i'm gonna draw that. thank you all so much... and thank you to everyone who's left kudos! and left comments! you're all so good, kind, wonderful, i dont deserve u... links to art in end notes

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

For the first time in almost a week, it’s not a voice calling his name that wakes Jesse.

He jolts up from his pillow, hand instinctively closing around the handle of the gun that’s still holstered at his hip. He’d fallen asleep without taking off his gear and he already regrets it. He feels grimy.

He hears the noise that woke him again: a knock on the door. The room is dark, but that doesn’t mean much; the love hotel (Jesse wants to cringe just thinking those words) has electronic blinds that are tightly shuttered. He glances at the clock.

It’s just after nine PM, and someone is knocking on the door of the hotel room no one is supposed to know he’s in.

“It’s me,” a voice calls through the door.

Jesse raises his eyebrows in disbelief. On the one hand, the way the voice is muffled makes its owner ambiguous. On the other hand, there’s only one person Jesse can think of who’d think he’d open the door to that kind of message.

He opens the door. It’s Genji. Of course it’s Genji. Jesse lets him in.

“Do you think it’s smart to come here? You don’t think your dad’s gonna be suspicious?”

Genji shrugs. “My father never knows where I am.” He has a bag slung over one of his shoulders. He dumps it on the bed as Jesse locks the door. “I brought you a phone so you can call your gang.”

Jesse practically snatches it out of Genji’s hands. “Give me a minute,” Jesse tells him, and then he retreats to a corner of the room and starts dialling. Genji settles himself down on top of the bed, crossing his legs and rifling through whatever else he brought. He looks like he’s settling in for a long stay. Jesse resolves to ignore him, for now.

The call to New Mexico rings for a distressing amount of time. He hopes they’re not blocking him because it’s an unknown number. It’s more likely that no one feels like picking up the phone, but Jesse’s trying to give his fellow Deadlock Gang members the benefit of the doubt in believing they won’t leave him to die in a foreign country out of sheer laziness.

Finally, someone answers. “Oh, thank God,” Jesse breathes. “It’s McCree.”

“McCree?” The voice asks, incredulous. “You’re still alive? Shit, boy, you must be tougher than we all thought!”

Jesse grits his teeth, trying not to read too much into that. “Yeah. Look, I need -”

“Hang on a sec, lemme get you on speaker. Boys, McCree’s still alive!”

When the call goes to speaker Jesse has to hold the phone away from his ear. The cacophony on the other side is ungodly. He can make out a few distinct shouts of “Atta boy!” and other sundry encouragements, but mostly it seems to just be wordless yelling.

“I won’t be alive for long if you don’t get me a goddamn shuttle back to America!” He shouts back down the line. He’s not even sure anyone hears him.

The noise dies down after a minute.

“He won’t be alive for long if we don’t rescue him,” someone says, to a chorus of hoots and hollers. Jesse clenches his fist around his phone because first of all, he’d just said that and they would have heard it if they’d been listening, and second of all, he wouldn’t need rescuing at all if they hadn’t sent him on a suicide mission.

“When can you get a plane out here?” Jesse asks, knowing he’s in no position to argue semantics.

“We’ve been making calls,” someone answers, and Jesse’s almost relieved to know that at least one person is taking this seriously. “The Hanamura airport’s pretty much impossible to get into without Shimada’s permission. You need to get outta that city, Jesse.”

Jesse leans his forehead against the wall nearest him. That is so, so much easier said than done. He glances over at Genji, who’s flopped back onto the bed and is playing with his own phone.

“If I gotta, I gotta,” he sighs.

“If you get to a big city like Osaka or Tokyo you can catch the next flight to the States, then we can arrange pick-up from there.”

Jesse’s starting to wonder what the point of having a gang is. They’ve basically told him to take care of himself throughout this whole crisis. He breathes a deep sigh.

“Got it,” he says. His annoyance shines through the short syllables, but he doesn’t give anyone a chance to reply. “I’ll contact you soon.” He ends the call.

When he turns back to face the room again, Genji bounces up from his reclining position. “God, that took forever,” he says cheerfully. Genji seems to find an inordinate amount of joy in Jesse’s life-threatening peril.

“I need to get to a city with an airport your dad doesn’t control. As soon as possible.” Jesse rubs at his eyes, feeling tired and cranky. When he looks at Genji again, Jesse sees a smile on his face that he doesn’t particularly like.

“So, what you are saying is,” Genji begins, his grin taking up half his face, “We need to go on a roadtrip.”

“No,” Jesse answers quickly, feeling dread filling him up. “No, God, I just meant - I need a way to get there, I didn’t mean that we should go together -” Genji continues to grin at Jesse relentlessly. “Oh God, please, my life is in danger, you should be taking this seriously!”

“I am taking this seriously,” Genji says, and he schools his face into a mockery of sternness for about five seconds before he’s smiling again. “You cannot drive yourself because you do not know the way. I can drive!”

“If you can drive then why’s Yuri always carting you around?”

“Because I like Yuri, and Yuri likes to be useful. I can totally drive. I’m good at it. I have a car!”

Jesse considers this. The son of the man who’s trying to kill him (and the brother of the man who betrayed him, but he’s trying not to think about that) is offering him a ride out of the city so that he can flee the country. Genji has a car, which is what Jesse really needs right now. He’s probablynot a great driver, because he’s eighteen, and Jesse’s skeptical about him “knowing the way,” because the Shimada family would probably fly in a plane to the grocery store (if they ever went to the grocery store, which they wouldn’t, because they could just send other people to the grocery store for them).

There’s always GPS, though. And cars mostly drive themselves, these days. Put ‘em on the road and watch ‘em hover placidly to their destination. As long as no one tries to blow ‘em up.

For a moment Jesse wonders if having Genji in the car with him would deter Shimada from blowing it up. He honestly can’t decide.

“How long will it take?” He finally asks.

Genji beams, knowing that Jesse has resigned himself to the roadtrip. “Probably only two or three hours. We will have to go slow. Be stealthy.”

Jesse thinks of that circuitous route Genji took him on through the gardens to get to the beach party. He can already feel a headache coming on.

“Genji, if I die because of you I’m gonna be pissed,” Jesse tells him, rubbing his forehead wearily.

Genji makes a face at him. “If you are going to be like that maybe I will just leave you here.”

Jesse exhales loudly through his nose. “Fine. I’ll behave. Where’s your goddamn car?”

“In the parking lot,” Genji tells him.

“Of this hotel?” Jesse asks, his eyebrows raising (and his blood pressure too, probably).

“Yes, but don’t worry,” Genji answers, apparently anticipating Jesse’s loss of temper, “it has an undercover mode.”

“An undercover mode,” Jesse repeats flatly.

“Yes. Normally it has these green flame decals,” Genji explains.

“Jesus Christ.”

“No, they are really cool!” The slang is a little stiff in Genji’s mouth. Jesse feels like he should be pausing for a laugh track. “But when I need to hide from my dad I can make the flames black so they cannot be seen.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Genji says, gathering his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “We should leave here anyway. It is better to travel at night when you’re on the run.”

Jesse can’t argue with that, and he’s eager to get the hell out of this town anyway, so he grabs the suitcase he never bothered unpacking and follows Genji out of the hotel room. He wishes he’d been able to shower before committing to a couple of hours in a car, but he can shower all he wants once he’s safe in New Mexico. Relatively safe. Also, he probably can’t shower all he wants, because the gang pays their water bills sporadically and there’s no guarantee he’ll come home at a time when they haven’t been cut off.

Genji’s car looks just as generic as the next one parked in the lot, plain black with tinted windows.

“You know, people can still track the license plates and the registration number,” Jesse points out, but his heart’s not really in it.

Genji actually laughs in reply. “My father runs a criminal empire. The license plate is holographic and changes at random. There is no registration number.”

Jesse sighs and allows Genji to win this one, at least. He climbs into the car without further complaint. Genji settles himself behind the wheel, but he doesn’t start driving.

He’s not smiling, for once. There’s something hesitant, almost worried in his expression. Jesse tries not to presume the worst, but it’s a challenge.

“So,” Genji begins, fingers fidgeting.

“What,” Jesse prompts, not even a question; it’s nothing more than an exhausted gust of breath.

“Hanzo did not show up at the hotel room?” Genji asks, trying his best to seem casual.

“No.” Jesse has had more bad feelings in the past few days than he wants to count, but this is one of the worst. “Why would he?” His voice is almost as tight as the fingers clenched on his thighs.

“Well.” Genji seems to be very interested in the bright neon of the love hotel sign judging by the way he’s staring out the window and refusing to look at Jesse. “After Yuri and I brought you here, we went back home. And of course everyone was looking for you. They had no idea where you could have gone. My father locked himself in his office and said no one should talk to him unless they had found you.”

Genji’s started speaking faster and faster with each sentence. “Nobody was paying any attention to me, so I thought I had gotten away with it. But then Hanzo cornered me on my way to my room. And he said he knew what I’d done. And I thought he was going to kill me or something,” Genji laughs nervously, “but instead he just asked where you were? And I was not going to tell him. But he said that he could not leave things the way they were. He said that… You... “ Genji blushes. Jesse’s fingers are like claws digging into his thighs.

“I have never heard my brother speak the way he spoke about you,” Genji says. “I have never seen a look on his face like the one I saw.”

Jesse closes his eyes. “You told him where I was.”

There’s a very long, telling moment of silence.

“But he did not come to the hotel room after all,” Genji concludes. Jesse’s not sure if Genji means that to be tragic or reassuring.

Hanzo probably didn’t come to the hotel room because he went straight to his daddy with that information. They’re probably gathering a small army to come and shoot Jesse at this very moment.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Jesse says, peering out the window and expecting men with guns to appear at any moment.

“Right.” Genji stills sounds nervous. He jams his finger against the ignition and the car purrs to life. Then he very, very slowly reverses the car.

“What are you doing,” Jesse asks flatly. He wonders if Genji missed the memo on the whole urgency thing.

“I do not want to hit any cars,” Genji explains. He’s sitting very stiffly in his seat, neck craning over his shoulder, taking it one inch at a time. Genji’s only eighteen. He’s probably had his license for a few months at most.

Jesse resigns himself to being shot to death in a love hotel parking lot.

Then Genji finally shifts the car from reverse to drive, and he slams the accelerator.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Jesse yells, scrabbling for a place to hold on to. He’s really fucking glad he’d decided to wear his seatbelt.

“I thought you wanted to go fast!” Genji yells back, but he sounds just as frantic and alarmed as Jesse.

He swings the car into traffic and the automatic sensors adjust the speed, a chiding Japanese voice saying something that Jesse’s pretty sure means ‘stop endangering people’s lives.’ Genji snaps something back, but the car doesn’t answer.

Genji starts messing with the GPS. “Where’s the nearest airport?” Jesse asks.

“Oh,” Genji says distractedly, fiddling with something. “It’s not too far, but I was thinking… First, we should go through a drive through.” He’s grinning again.

Jesse wants to smack him for not taking this seriously (again), but he actually hasn’t eaten since breakfast. He’s starving.

“Let’s get out of Hanamura first,” he compromises. “Then we can go wherever you want.”

Genji mulls that over for a moment, then starts tapping at the GPS screen. Jesse wants to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but he’s pretty sure that would actually make things worse. The car is a much better driver than Genji is.

“Okay,” Genji says finally, leaning back in his seat. After a moment he startles and puts his hand on the steering wheel, like he’d forgotten he was driving it all. It’s pretty much just for show, and the car’s only going in a straight line so far, but once they need to turn Genji’s input will be required.

Jesse is honestly dreading that time.

“What should we talk about?” Genji asks brightly, eyes darting here and there at the scenery they drive by. Jesse wonders if Genji actually has a driver’s license. Maybe his father had one forged for him.

“We shouldn’t talk about anything,” Jesse says, leaning his head against the window. He’s ready and willing to pass this drive asleep. Then again, if he leaves Genji unsupervised he’ll probably never wake up.

“No, no,” Genji shakes his head emphatically. “We have to bond. That’s what road trips are for.”

Jesse is too afraid to ask about which movie, exactly, Genji learned his road trip knowledge from. What if it’s the 2002 classic starring Britney Spears, Crossroads? Not that Jesse’s ever seen the movie, of course. Only he can’t stop picturing these horrifying mental images of him and Genji doing karaoke to Joan Jett in denim short-shorts.

“Usually road trips are longer than two hours,” Jesse informs Genji grumpily.

“That can be arranged,” Genji says with a smirk that fills Jesse with regret.

“No! Genji, no, I’m serious, I could die. Your dad wants to kill me. Please help me get out of the country.”

Genji pouts a little. “I’m not going to let my father kill you. Have a little faith in me.”

Jesse stares at the eighteen year old World’s Worst Driver in the seat next to him. He’s torn between being touched that Genji’s offering to protect him and exasperated that he thinks he can.

They lapse into silence for the half hour it takes to leave Hanamura, which they do without incident, though somehow that doesn’t do much to relieve Jesse’s paranoia. Genji only breaks the silence when he points through the windshield at a big lit-up sign down the road.

“Fast food?” He asks, sounding way too hopeful.

Jesse’s tempted to put up a fuss on principle, but first of all he’s really hungry and second of all he’s a disgusting American who loves fast food.

“What do they have?” he asks.

“McDonald’s has the same menu all over the world, does it not?”

“Oh, you’re not going to take me somewhere uniquely Japanese? What kind of enriching cultural experience is this?”

“I enriched your culture yesterday, with ramen,” Genji scolds. “Besides, I can’t eat with chopsticks while I’m driving.”

“You shouldn’t eat with your hands while driving, either,” Jesse points out, but they pull into the drive through and get burgers anyway.

“How far is it to the airport from here?” Jesse asks with his mouth full.

“An hour and a half,” Genji replies, one hand on the wheel and the other shoving a handful of fries into his face.

“Is that the direct route, or the ‘stealthy’ route?” Jesse asks sardonically.

“Stealthy.” Genji grins so wide Jesse can see potatoes mashed in his teeth.

“You’re disgusting,” he says, wiping his fingers on his pants.

They continue to eat in silence until Genji finishes his burger and throws his ketchup-stained wrapper at Jesse’s head, which leads to a rant peppered with some of Jesse’s most creative curses. This, in turn, leads to Genji requesting that Jesse teach him more American swear words, which passes a long time because Jesse knows a lot. When he’s done, he asks Genji to teach him some Japanese swear words, and before they know it they’re in the city.

“I know you want to leave as soon as possible,” Genji begins to say, his attention fixed on the bumper of the car in front of them. Even now, when it’s around midnight, the traffic is incredibly dense. “But it might be a better idea to check into a hotel for tonight, buy a plane ticket online, and get to the airport tomorrow.”

“How do you figure?” Jesse asks. He’s in a surprisingly good mood considering he’s been stuck in a vehicle in dirty clothes for so long, but Genji’s putting him on edge again.

“What is your plan for when you get to the airport? Run up to the desk and start demanding a ticket for the next flight to America?” Genji chews on his lip. “That might raise some suspicion. And suspicion is not what you want right now. You are supposed to be lying low.”

Jesse rubs at his beard thoughtfully. “Alright. I guess you’re right about that,” he concedes. He’s not sure he’s gonna be able to sleep tonight, too worried about Shimada somehow tracking him down.

But in all honesty, for all the grief Jesse’s given him Genji’s gotten him out of Hanamura and fairly well-hidden here in this city. He probably shouldn’t have doubted Genji as much as he did in the first place, considering Genji’s had years of experience hiding from his father.

“I know a hotel around here,” Genji says.

“A love hotel.” Jesse says flatly. He can tell by the way Genji’s failing to suppress a grin.

“It is even better than the last one,” Genji says with a wide smile.

Better is, of course, a subjective concept. This love hotel has a baffling mermaid theme. It’s so lit up with neon that Jesse feels like it’ll act like a beacon drawing Shimada’s eye. The brilliance of it is that it does the exact opposite. Hide in plain sight. No one would suspect a man undercover to sequester himself in the brightest building on the block. Especially if that building has a giant sexy mermaid on its roof.

Genji, thank God and all the angels and saints, books them two separate rooms. Jesse has grown very, very fond of Genji over the past few days. That does not mean he wants their road trip to become a sleepover.

Genji follows Jesse into his room anyway, and Jesse would be embarrassed at the implication if there was anyone around to witness it, but the hotel hallways are deserted. Jesse is very glad there seems to be sturdy soundproofing insulation in the walls.

Flopping onto Jesse’s bed without compunction, Genji digs into his shoulder bag and pulls out a tiny laptop.

“So, flights to America,” he says conversationally. Jesse busies himself with peeling off his outer clothing.

“What’s the earliest I can catch?” He asks.

Genji clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “I mean, taking security into account, you’ll need to get there a few hours early… There’s one for New York City at 5 AM.”

“Yanks,” Jesse admonishes idly, his spurs rattling as he pulls off his boots. Genji laughs.

“You can fly directly to Santa Fe at eleven,” Genji says. Jesse mulls it over.

“Guess that’d be for the best,” he says slowly. He wonders if he’ll drive himself insane with paranoia between now and then. After the nap he took earlier he’s going to be wide awake, thinking every sound he hears is Shimada Clan thugs out to get him.

“Alright, I have purchased your ticket. Give me the phone I gave you, I’ll download the boarding pass to it.”

Jesse thinks, for possibly the hundredth time tonight, that Genji is going to get him shot. “You bought me my ticket to Santa Fe. With your credit card. That your dad is definitely tracking.” Jesse sucks on his teeth, trying to keep his temper. “When he sees that purchase he’s gonna kill you too, not just me.”

Genji shakes his head. “No, I did not. You think I’m a fool.” He snatches Jesse’s phone out of his hands impatiently. “I bought the ticket with my personal account. My father does not know it exists. The money is… my own.”

Jesse only raises his eyebrows in response. He wonders if Genji steals his father’s product and deals to his friends on the side.

“Don’t mock me for this,” Genji says, his eyes lowered shyly, and Jesse wonders what could possibly embarrass Genji Shimada, frequenter of love hotels. “I have a part-time job.”

The answer is so normal Jesse almost laughs, but he stops himself before he injures Genji’s pride. Where Jesse grew up, eighteen year olds whodidn’t have part-time jobs were the ones who got mocked. Got called lazy. Got called deadbeats. Got called “Jesse McCree, when are you ever going to get your life together and stop running around with that gang? You’re making your mother sick with worry!”

Genji continues, hurrying to explain himself, “I was spending a lot of time at the arcade, and one day I saw they had a help wanted sign, so I talked to the owner about it. I knew my father would never approve…” Genji gets a little bit of a glint in his eye. “Maybe that’s why I applied in the first place.”

This time, Jesse can’t stop himself from laughing. “My God, what a rebel,” he says. “Standing up to your mean ol’ dad by becoming a respectable citizen.”

Genji starts to laugh too. “I told you not to mock me,” he chides, faking a pout.

In a moment of brotherly affection, Jesse jumps onto the gross love hotel bed and squishes Genji. “I’ll mock you all I want,” he says, and tickles Genji’s ribs ruthlessly.

Genji starts crying almost immediately. “Stop! Stop!” He’s gasping out laughter, but he manages to tell Jesse: “You smell really bad! You’re so sweaty!”

Jesse rolls off the bed, offended. “I wouldn’t be so sweaty if you hadn’t almost killed me via automobile incident so many times.”

“I am a very good driver!” Genji protests, voice muffled because he’s busy wiping tears off his face. “You need to shower.”

“Well if you’d get out of my room, maybe I could,” Jesse points out, raising an eyebrow.

For a moment Genji glares at him from the bed, then he sighs and gets to his feet. “Fine,” he says. “I guess I will see you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Jesse calls, just as Genji gets to the door. Jesse shuffles a little in place. “Thank you, Genji. Thank you for doing this for me.”

Genji looks thoughtful for a moment, then he grins. “It was fun,” he says, and then he leaves.

Jesse wanders into the shower grumbling to himself about how helping him evade certain death shouldn’t be fun.

He spends a half-hour under the spray of hot water, and he would spend more, just to pass the time until his flight, except that he’s used to taking five minute showers and he actually finds it boring to be confined in that little space with nothing to distract him but his own thoughts. He tries singing a little, but the acoustics make him sound really loud, and he gets paranoid about people walking by in the hallway somehow being able to hear him even through the soundproofing.

Jesse’d dragged his whole suitcase into the bathroom earlier instead of digging out his shaving kit, so he takes his time brushing his teeth, towelling off, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers, and generally dicking around.

When he finally unlocks the bathroom door and gets back in his room he’s managed to kill… about an hour. He still has about seven hours until he needs to get to the airport. He wonders if the hotel TV will let him watch anything other than porn.

It’s because he’s staring at the blank TV screen that he sees the silent figure move in behind him, raising a hand.

Jesse drops to a crouch, narrowly avoiding the arm that’s reaching out to incapacitate him, and twists his body to tackle his assailant to the ground. Jesse’s still wearing nothing but his boxers, doesn’t have a gun on him, doesn’t have a gun anywhere within his reach, which is fucking stupid. He should never have let his guard down.

The attacker slips out of Jesse’s clumsy grip like an eel, landing in a graceful crouch, while Jesse’s momentum leaves him much less gracefully on his hands and knees.

In the light spilling from the bathroom Jesse can make out his attacker’s face.

It’s Hanzo.

Jesse’s heart stops for a moment. Then, when Hanzo starts moving, it kicks into overdrive, adrenaline flooding Jesse’s system. He springs to his feet, determined not to let Hanzo get the jump on him.

Hanzo has trained in various martial arts and with various weapons his whole life. Jesse’s the quickest draw he knows and a damn good shot, but his only hand-to-hand training is in bar fights.

He has two advantages, as far as he can see: the first is that Hanzo’s not using a weapon, and the second is that he seems to be aiming to incapacitate Jesse, not to kill him. If Jesse had a moment to ponder the situation he’d definitely wonder about that, but as it is - Hanzo strikes like a snake and all Jesse can do is recoil, trying to avoid being hit.

The room isn’t big enough for Jesse to keep fighting like that, but at the same time, that might be an advantage for him. The love hotel isn’t a dojo; there’s furniture, there’s close walls. Back Hanzo into a corner and maybe Jesse can use his superior weight and height to pin him down, but…

He can’t concentrate on strategy when Hanzo’s flying at him with all the fury and grace of an enraged cat. For lack of better options, Jesse puts his dukes up.

The fight is - messy. Jesse jabs a punch at Hanzo just as a warning, trying to make Hanzo keep his distance, but Hanzo latches onto his arms and pulls Jesse in. They end up grappling each other around the shoulders, legs spread wide for balance.

Hanzo kicks one of Jesse’s legs out from under him, but the momentum of their fall leaves Jesse on top, using his weight to keep Hanzo’s arms down. They’re both already panting.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jesse gasps out, searching Hanzo’s face. He can’t see anything in his expression but anger.

Hanzo slides a leg between Jesse’s and flips them in a move that almost seems effortless. All of the air in Jesse’s lungs hisses out of him as his back slams into the floor. He stares up at Hanzo, mouth hanging open.

“My father told me to kill you,” Hanzo growls. He lets go of Jesse’s wrists to slip his hands around his throat, but Jesse gets an elbow in his stomach before he can apply enough pressure. It takes three successive punches before Hanzo finally groans and rolls off him, giving Jesse room to back up, crawl to his feet again.

“You think if you kill me, your dad’s gonna magically start loving you?” Jesse spits, and - he probably shouldn’t have. Hanzo leaps at him, snarling. It’s a sloppy move, and Jesse sidesteps, using the force of the motion to push Hanzo up against the wall. “He’s never going to love you,” Jesse hisses into Hanzo’s ear, bending one arm against his back painfully.

“You do not know that!” Hanzo roars, thrashing. But Jesse’s bigger than Hanzo, even if he’s not necessarily stronger, and physics are on his side here. Hanzo tries his trick again, looking to loop his ankle around Jesse’s leg, but Jesse’s caught on to that play, has built up a counter.

Hanzo goes abruptly limp, but Jesse doesn’t fall for it. He increases the pressure rather than giving into his instinct to relax his grip. They stand there, nothing between them but their harsh breathing.

It reminds Jesse, in a sudden, aching moment of clarity, of the two of them wrestling in the water at the artificial beach.

He resists the urge to lean his head forward onto Hanzo’s shoulder, wary of being headbutted, but he does allow himself to say, “God, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

He’s a sappy goddamn fool.

“I guess there are a lot of things you do not want to do with me,” Hanzo growls.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jesse asks him, but instead of answering Hanzo starts struggling again.

He jerks so violently in Jesse’s grip that he wrenches one of Jesse’s arms. Jesse draws back without thinking about it, trying to distance himself from the source of the pain. Hanzo reverses their positions for a second time, pinning Jesse’s hands to the wall on either side of his head.

Jesse expects this to be the moment where Hanzo finally closes his hands around Jesse’s windpipe and fulfills his duty to his father.

Instead, Hanzo stares at Jesse, and his expression is less violent hate and more… lost.

“I hate you,” he whispers. There’s not enough conviction behind it for Jesse to believe him.

“You’re not the one who should be angry here. You made me believe you… wanted me,” Jesse snaps back. “Just to get me to sign a contract. Your daddy asked you to be his little whore and you did it!”

Hanzo releases one of Jesse’s wrists to slap him across the face.

Somewhere beyond the shock of the sting Jesse realizes that he could use his free hand to knock Hanzo down, to incapacitate him, to buy himself time to go get Genji for backup, or to flee the hotel altogether.

He doesn’t. He’s still agonizingly, magnetically drawn to Hanzo. Even now, when he should hate him for betraying him, he can’t look away.

“How dare you,” Hanzo says, low and dangerous, the hand that slapped Jesse splaying across his collarbone and pushing him back against the wall. “I did nothing for my father. You came into my home… You spent three days doing nothing but flirting with me… You sent me,” Hanzo’s cheeks flush red, and he grits his teeth angrily against it, “a picture of your penis. And then… you left.”

“Your father threatened to kill me,” Jesse points out, anger surging in him. He’s not sure how Hanzo thinks he’s going to paint Jesse as the bad guy, here. Jesse’s done falling for Hanzo’s tricks.

“My father is Genji’s father too, but I have seen that you do not hate him,” Hanzo spits.

“When Genji heard your dad wanted me dead, he didn’t try to convince me to stay by fucking me,” Jesse throws back with equal venom.

“You think I had some kind of evil plot! You think I was laying a trap, that all along I was doing what my father wanted me to!” Hanzo’s shouting now, right up in Jesse’s face. “I did not know, Jesse! I had no idea that you would be so offended by my father’s crimes! I thought you had done your research!”

For a moment, Jesse is cowed. Naïve. People keep telling him that.

Hanzo’s eyes drop, for just a split second, to Jesse’s lips. “When I came to your room,” his voice is so much quieter, slower. “I thought that you and I would…”

He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. Jesse’s the one who sent the texts.

“So your excuse is that you didn’t mean to hurt me, you’re just a bad person,” Jesse growls.

Hanzo lifts his chin defiantly, meets Jesse’s gaze sharply. “You did not think so before.”

“Human trafficking is wrong,” Jesse says flatly, amazed that he needs to point this out.

“I have no control over that,” Hanzo answers defensively.

“You will, someday. You gonna do something about it?”

There’s a brief pause.

“I don’t know.” Hanzo looks lost when he says it, his gaze lowered, fixated on his hand against Jesse’s bare chest.

He looks young, suddenly. He’s twenty-one. He’s the son of a crime lord. He doesn’t leave the compound that often. ”He’s never going to love you.”

”You don’t know that."

Jesse starts to feel it: that ache again. The one that’s becoming familiar. And its ol’ pal. Virgin.

“Hanzo,” Jesse says, all of the anger drained out of him. Hanzo’s father sent him here to kill Jesse, and he hasn’t. He never even tried, not really. He could have killed Jesse when he was singing in the shower, or when he was carefully manicuring his beard, or when Hanzo snuck up behind him. He hadn’t even had a weapon.

“When you texted me,” Jesse begins to ask, hesitant. He’s not sure he wants to know the truth, not sure if he can trust the answer Hanzo gives him. “Were you lying?”

He can tell by the colour rising in Hanzo’s face that he understands exactly what Jesse’s asking. “No.” His voice is soft.

Jesse raises a hand, threading the ends of Hanzo’s hair through his fingers gently. “Your father told you to get to know me,” he says, because he knows that for sure.

“My father told me to give you a tour of the gardens the first day you were here,” Hanzo replies.

“That’s it?” Jesse asks. “What did you tell him? Does he know about the beach? About the messages?” His voice remains soft, but he needs to know.

“I told him about the beach, because he wanted to know why I came home so late. I told him I was getting to know you for the sake of our alliance.” Hanzo tilts his head to one side, eyes dropping down to Jesse’s lips again. “I was lying, then. Not to you, to him.”

Jesse lets out a short breath, trying to keep his head. He’s been in this exact same position with Hanzo before, admiring the sweep of his eyelashes.

“I didn’t tell him about the messages,” Hanzo whispers. Their little secret.

“How did he know, then? About us?”

Hanzo’s eyes drop to the floor. His face twists into something ugly, a scowl. “He suspects that I’m fucking every man who stays on the compound.”

Jesse’s heart stings, sudden and painful. “You’re not,” he says, and it’s a statement, but there’s a question in there, too. A request for confirmation.

“You were the first one I wanted to,” Hanzo breathes.

A virgin.

Jesse kisses him, finally. After days that have felt like weeks, stretched thin and taut with longing, Jesse dips his head and presses his lips against Hanzo’s.

Jesse goes gentle, slow, as he runs his tongue across the seam of Hanzo’s lips, but Hanzo makes a noise in his throat, opens his mouth, presses forward. Brings the hand that was pressed to Jesse’s chest up to cradle Jesse’s jaw, urging him closer.

Hanzo is needy, demanding. Jesse can feel himself starting to sweat.

Hanzo licks his way into Jesse’s mouth, sends shivers through Jesse’s core, presses him back against the wall with his insistence. Jesse’s legs fall open all on their own and Hanzo fits himself neatly in between. There’s nothing shy in the way he presses their hips together, and Jesse can feel Hanzo’s dick through his pants.

Jesse drops his head back, gasping for air. Hanzo nuzzles at his exposed jaw, his neck.

“I want to see,” Hanzo murmurs against Jesse’s skin. His fingers are hovering at the hem of Jesse’s boxers.

Jesse’s stomach drops. “You already saw,” he teases, trying to pretend Hanzo isn’t fucking destroying him.

Hanzo presses his face a little more firmly into Jesse’s neck, tilts his head a little so his lips brush against Jesse’s ear when he says, “I want to touch.”

Jesse moans helplessly. “You’re gonna kill me,” he says. Hanzo’s fingers are still flirting around his waistline, but Jesse pushes them away gently.

Hanzo looks up at him, wide-eyed and stung. Jess realizes there’s a parallel here, between this moment and a very unpleasant one they’d had before.

“Hush, darlin’,” Jesse whispers, though Hanzo hasn’t said a thing. “It ain’t fair - me in my undies, and you all dressed up…” He trails off, plucking at the collar of Hanzo’s yukata - less formal than the ones he wore on the compound, and cut shorter down his thighs, with pants underneath. All black. Assassin’s clothes.

Jesse smiles idiotically against the crown of Hanzo’s head. Hanzo’s daddy thinks he’s killing Jesse right now. God, but he is, in the best possible way.

Hanzo makes quick work of his clothes, dropping his shirt, unbuttoning his pants.

“Where’s the fire?” Jesse teases, eyes taking in every inch of skin that gets bared.

Hanzo makes an exasperated face at him, but instead of answering he pushes Jesse firmly back against the wall and kisses him again, and again, and again.

Jesse considers himself thoroughly chastised.

His hands drift to Hanzo’s hips, then slide back. This time he’s the one whose fingers are dipping just past the elastic of Hanzo’s underwear. Hanzo breaks off from his aggressive kissing; Jesse can feel a shiver run through him.

The first person to touch him there. Jesse feels unaccountably emotional for a moment. He distracts himself by slipping his hands down, grabbing two handfuls of Hanzo’s bare ass. Hanzo lets out a little startled noise, ducking his head to hide the way he turns red.

“Aw, come on,” Jesse mutters, his voice hoarse. “Look at me, darlin’.”

Hanzo does; he raises his chin in that defiant way Jesse’s come to know so well, and it feels like his heart is swelling in his chest.

“Gorgeous,” Jesse whispers, one hand abandoning its post to tuck a stray piece of hair back behind Hanzo’s ear. Hanzo makes a quiet noise of protest, but the way he looks up at Jesse, lit only by the stream of light that’s falling in from the bathroom, hair messy from their fight, eyelashes long, cheekbones high and sloping, bare skin all the way down his torso -

It’s undeniable. Hanzo is so fucking gorgeous. Jesse kisses him again, because he can, and the fact that he can makes his heart surge in his chest, so he does it twice.

And then Jesse turns his head a little, rubbing his nose against Hanzo’s temple, and tells him, soft and sweet, “Baby, I’m gonna make you come.”

Hanzo breathes in sharply; his hand, resting on Jesse’s shoulder, tightens its grip.

Jesse allows the hand tucked in the back of Hanzo’s boxer to wander to the front, dragging teasingly across Hanzo’s skin. Hanzo squirms, and Jesse wonders if Hanzo’s ticklish, smiles at the thought. He pulls his head back, wanting to see Hanzo’s face as he finally closes his hand around Hanzo’s dick.

Hanzo gasps like the breath’s been punched out of him. Jesse can’t help the smirk that tilts the corners of his lips up. He takes a moment to pull Hanzo’s boxers down, and they both look down at Hanzo’s dick. Jesse wraps his hand around it again, makes a show of pumping up and down while they both watch.

“Feel good?” Jesse drawls, into the intense silence of the room.

Hanzo looks up at him. His eyes are half-lidded with pleasure, his mouth wet and open like he’s shocked at how it feels. Jesse’d thought he’d been keeping his cool up til then, but with Hanzo staring at him like that - his dick twitches in his boxers and he closes his eyes, swallowing a deep, almost pained noise.

“Look at me,” Hanzo pants at him, echoing his words from earlier. A hapless smile spreads across Jesse’s face as he obeys, utterly fucking besotted.

And then Hanzo really takes initiative: he slides his hands down Jesse’s waist, pushes his boxers down his thighs. He looks, and Jesse momentarily forgets that he’s supposed to be giving a handjob. That sharp gaze is fixed on him, and it’s not the first time Hanzo’s seen his dick, but even that is making it harder to breathe.

Just having Hanzo’s eyes on him makes Jesse’s dick pulse. Jesse moans a little, half from embarrassment and half from being so fucking turned on.

He lets Hanzo study his dick for a few minutes before he starts making impatient little noises. Hanzo raises an eyebrow at him, drawing out another sappy grin. It dies an abrupt death when Hanzo puts his hand on Jesse’s dick.

His grip is tentative, feeling the shape of it, thumb gliding delicately over the head, smearing the precome gathered there. It feels so fucking good Jesse wants to cry.

“God,” he whispers, and he’d be happy to let Hanzo touch him soft and gentle like that all day, only he wants to come, and he wants to come with Hanzo. He wants them to come together.

He loops the hand that’s not still weakly grasping Hanzo’s dick around Hanzo’s back and pulls him forward a few steps. He presses their erections together, opening his hand to encompass both of them.

Hanzo makes a muted noise at the sensation, his unoccupied hand tightening once again on Jesse’s shoulder. His other hand moves over to Jesse’s hip, giving Jesse more room to spread his fingers. Jesse latches his mouth onto Hanzo’s throat, kisses softly, sucks at the skin.

He starts to stroke the two of them, his owns eyes fluttering shut at how good it feels. He wishes he could watch Hanzo’s face while he does this, but the noises are already too much. Hanzo’s breath is stuttering, both of his hands clenching convulsively on Jesse’s skin. Jesse lifts his mouth to breathe against Hanzo’s ear.

“You sound so good,” he whispers. Hanzo lets out a groan. Jesse’s not sure if it’s from the barely-there stimulation against his ear, or because Jesse’s picking up the pace with his hand, adjusting his grip to be a little firmer, a little tighter.

“I -” Hanzo gasps, trying to speak, but he can’t seem to catch his breath. Jesse releases his grip on the both of them, and Hanzo’s eyes fall open, looking for an answer.

Jesse closes his hand again around just Hanzo. He drags his thumb torturously across the sensitive area under the head. Hanzo’s mouth drops open. Jesse moves his hand up and down, slow and tight.

Hanzo’s hips buck. Jesse’s about to open his mouth, tease him a little more, but - Hanzo’s already coming, hot and wet on Jesse’s stomach.

Jesse’s dick pulses in sympathy, heat burning through him at the sight of it; Hanzo’s grimacing like he’s in pain, teeth grit and utterly silent. Jesse keeps stroking him through, keeps stroking him until Hanzo groans, pushes his hands away, drops forward bonelessly onto Jesse’s shoulder.

“You okay, darlin’?” Jesse asks, low and teasing. Hanzo makes a weak noise against Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse kisses his temple.

With Hanzo still leaning against him like that, Jesse grasps his own dick, starts to touch himself.

“Hanzo,” he murmurs. Hanzo turns his head on Jesse’s shoulder, an acknowledgement. “When I was texting you,” he begins, voice slow and thick as molasses, “Where were you?”

Hanzo buries his face back into Jesse’s neck. “Osaka,” he whispers.

“With your dad?”

“Yes.”

“You touched yourself?” Jesse prompts, hand already speeding up, stomach already tense with excitement.

“Yes,” Hanzo breathes, and Jesse’s getting ready to ask another question, to play twenty questions, but Hanzo continues, “I read your messages under the table at the restaurant we were eating lunch at. When you sent the picture I went to the washroom.”

Jesse closes his eyes, his hand fast and tight, his tongue wetting his dry lips, his stomach clenching.

“I locked the door,” Hanzo tells him, step-by-step, “I touched myself. I thought of this. I looked at the picture and I wanted to touch you.”

Jesse groans as he comes, loud and long. He grips himself tight, riding the waves of his orgasm, and Hanzo kisses his neck.

He feels exhausted afterwards, like he hasn’t slept in years.

He manhandles Hanzo over to the bed, pushes him in under the covers.

For a moment there’s a look of doubt on Hanzo’s face, like he knows he’s supposed to be saying that he shouldn’t stay - but he doesn’t say it. Jesses climbs in after him, spoons up behind him. He thinks that he should have set an alarm. He has a plane to catch.

He can’t think about that. Not with Hanzo’s breath already deepening, warm in his arms. Not with sleep blacking out his peripheral vision, filling his sight with nothing but Hanzo, his inky black hair spreading across the sheets, achingly beautiful.

Notes:

warmsierramist@twitter (takes place in the Darkest Timeline where hanzos dad has seen mccree's dick pic... bone-chilling... i love it, i love it, i love this art) almadraws@twitter (godddd.... sometimes the only way to cope with an awful, heartbreaking scene in a fic is to lovingly draw it out in beautiful detail i guess lmfao THIS IS PAINFUL TO LOOK AT and i love it.) almadraws@twitter (MULTIPLE!!! CAN U BELIEVE.... genjis shirt is so good, and, this picture is good, i LOVE genji saying lmao out loud, fucking same) rokudo@twitter (this piece of art, is beautiful, and i love it, but i keep picturing hanzo saying "oh jesse, if only somebody loved you" which actually, would be better dialogue than whatever i wrote in my fic, didnt frozen win an oscar, ive never even seen that movie) badookie@tumblr (beach party mccree and hanzo....... im so emotional about the painstaking accuracy of their outfits tbh and ALSO it wasnt like expressly written but actually yes you were supposed to be visualizing genji wearing a naruto forehead protector in the beach party scene, so if you weren't please go back and re-read, thanks. I LOVE THIS ARt....)

Tips for Expanding Your Business On An International Scale

013

Chapter 6: these violent delights have violent ends Summary:

first 2200-ish words are porn sorry :^) then there's some plot.

Notes:

thank you for reading

the best way to contact me is twitter.com/broyaji. if you'd prefer to contact me anonymously my personal blog is banken-man.tumblr.com

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Jesse wakes all wrapped up around Hanzo.

Despite getting off enthusiastically the night before, his dick is hard and throbbing against Hanzo’s hip. Hanzo’s still asleep, as far as Jesse can tell.

He strokes one hand down Hanzo’s bare arm, nuzzles his face a little deeper against Hanzo’s warm shoulder.

“Your beard feels unpleasant,” Hanzo says. Jesse can’t help the way he smiles at that.

With one hand on Hanzo’s shoulder Jesse rolls Hanzo onto his back, straddles his hips. Looks down at him. He’s caught up all over again in admiring all of Hanzo’s sharp, angular features. He lifts a hand to trace over the line of Hanzo’s cheekbone, then the thick cut of his eyebrow. Hanzo’s face reddens under the attention.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Jesse purrs, voice deepened by the clinging grasp of sleep and his accent syrup-thick. Hanzo seems to become aware of Jesse’s hardness in that moment. He pushes his hips up experimentally, just a hint of pressure.

It makes Jesse gasp, his own hips arching into the friction. He brings his mouth down to Hanzo’s ear, kissing the shell of it, his breaths coming heavy.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Hanzo asks, soft and shy. Jesse can feel the way the words make his face heat where his nose makes contact with Hanzo’s skin. The way Hanzo’s voice drops, gets quieter like his mouth doesn’t fit quite right around the expletive makes his heart clench. He wants to ask, Who taught you a word like that?

It was probably Genji.

“Baby, I’m gonna make love to you,” Jesse promises, breathy and fucking romantic. He continues kissing behind Hanzo’s ear, moves his lips down to his jaw, his neck. His hand is on Hanzo’s thigh, conveniently bared by the cut of Hanzo’s boxers. The sensations make Hanzo gasp, his eyes already losing focus. He’s so good; he’s so fucking good, and Jesse could never deserve this.

“Please do not say that,” Hanzo murmurs, trying to kill the mood even as his legs are falling open under Jesse’s caresses.

“Which part?” Jesse asks, teasing. “You don’t like me calling you baby?” He runs his fingers lightly over Hanzo’s chest. “Or you don’t like making love?” He kisses Hanzo’s collarbones through a grin.

“Both,” Hanzo replies, his tone flat, at first, and then breaking when Jesse bites gently at his skin.

“Okay,” Jesse allows, easy. He leans back, gazing down at Hanzo from above. “I’m gonna make you feel good, though,” he says, like it’s a warning. Then, as he strokes a thumb over one of Hanzo’s nipples he whispers, “Darlin’.” His other hand finally stops teasing, closes around Hanzo’s dick, strokes once, twice, and he whispers, “Honey.” He leans down and presses his lips against Hanzo’s, and against his lips he whispers, “Sweetheart.”

Hanzo is so immediately responsive to the stimulation Jesse gives him. He takes deep, shuddering breaths, he shifts his hips, he arches his back.

Jesse hates to leave him, but he rolls out of bed anyway.

“Where are you going?” Hanzo asks, eyes snapping open as he sits bolt upright.

“Don’t you worry,” Jesse mutters. He’s on his knees digging through his suitcase. It takes him a long, frustrating minute to find his bottle of lube. He stumbles back over to the bed, rifles through the drawer of the side table. It’s a love hotel: there are condoms of every size provided. For a whimsical - perhaps foolish - moment, he toys with grabbing the largest.

He picks out the appropriate size, instead. Safe sex is no joke.

When he fits himself back into the vee of Hanzo’s legs, he finds that he’s ruined the mood a little with his practicality. He smiles ruefully, ducks his head a little. Resumes his lazy kisses. Hanzo remains recalcitrant against him for almost a minute, but all Jesse has to do is slide his hand back up Hanzo’s thigh before his legs are yielding open again. He’s so easy it sends shocks of pleasure down Jesse’s spine.

Maybe after last night he’s not exactly a virgin anymore. But when Jesse closes his hand around Hanzo’s dick again and hears that wounded little gasp, feels the tension in his spine, Jesse’s brain starts chanting it all over again. A virgin, and now, something new: Mine.

Jesse probably couldn’t stop kissing Hanzo if he tried. He has an agenda, knows at some point he’ll have to draw back, take stock of the situation, move on, but right now he’s in this haze of contentment, chest full of this glowing heat that occasionally sparks when Hanzo does something clever with his tongue - God, he’s a quick learner - or rubs his thigh - probably by accident - against Jesse’s groin.

He lifts his head, tries to steady his breathing. It sounds easy in theory, but when he pulls away Hanzo makes a soft, disappointed noise and opens his eyes little, gazing blearily up at Jesse through his eyelashes. Jesse groans, but he forces himself to sit back.

“I’d love to lie in bed with you all day,” he murmurs, opening the foil condom packet. Hanzo gaze sharpens as he watches, and he shifts against the sheets. Jesse thinks he must be nervous. He rolls the condom onto Hanzo’s dick wondering if sex has ever made him feel so ridiculously tender before. “But I gotta leave, so we better get this show on the road.”

And the thing about that is - it must have been the wrong thing to say, because Hanzo goes absolutely still under him. It’s possible that he even stops breathing.

“You’re going?” Hanzo asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

Jesse hadn’t been thinking much about it, but the sadness of it hits him right then. “I gotta,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind Hanzo’s ear. With a bitter smile, he reminds Hanzo, “Your daddy’s still out to kill me.”

Hanzo frowns this awful, fierce, thoughtful frown that turns his eyebrows into angry slants. Then he surges up out of the bed, catches his arms around Jesse’s shoulders, and pulls him down for one of the most intense kisses Jesse’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

It goes on, and then it goes on a little longer, and then Jesse realizes they’re in danger of falling into that same hazy trance as before, so he pulls back again and flicks open the cap of the lube. Hanzo’s attention zeroes in on it immediately.

“I thought that you would be the one to -” He can’t quite seem to finish the thought, cheeks reddening a little.

Jesse can’t quite figure out what the best answer would be. We don’t have enough time is too callous, would kill the mood all over. I wanted your first time to be as pleasant as possible would probably scare Hanzo off fingering, which definitely isn’t what he wants.

I really like taking it up the ass would just make him sound slutty. Which he is, but. Well.

Jesse elects not to answer, instead shifting back onto his knees and spreading his legs. It’s probably a good thing Hanzo can’t see what he’s doing from this angle, because he’s definitely rushing it and that’s not the ideal way to teach by example.

It feels good anyway, and Jesse’s mouth drops open as he works his fingers in. Hanzo’s eyes smoulder darkly as they dart from the slackness of his jaw to the movement of his arm.

“Does it hurt?” Hanzo asks, voice rough. He’s started stroking himself a little.

Jesse clenches his jaw against a whine, has to close his eyes. “God, no,” he breathes. Having Hanzo watch him makes the stretch so much better, makes the elusivity of that angle irrelevant, because he feels like he could come just from this, just from having those eyes fixed on him.

He’s getting a little carried away. He eases his fingers out, opens his eyes, blinks a few times. “It hurts when you’re not used to it,” he amends. “If you don’t know what you’re doing. You have to be careful.” Hanzo’s a virgin. Jesse shouldn’t lead him astray.

Hanzo’s half lidded eyes tell him he’s not really listening anyway, isn’t viewing this as a learning opportunity. His hand has unconsciously started moving a little faster on his dick. Jesse feels very pleased with himself.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, solicitous. He remembers that he promised he wouldn’t call Hanzo baby. Hanzo doesn’t seem like he’s even noticed. He’s nodding, planting his feet against the sheets. The pace of his breathing has picked up. Jesse can see it in the rise and fall of his chest.

Once again, that feeling that he could never deserve this, that overwhelming tenderness. Jesse closes his eyes against it. He settles himself carefully over Hanzo’s hips. He positions Hanzo’s dick. When he finally eases the head of it in, his eyes snap open.

The look on Hanzo’s face is - lost. Astonished. Anguished. When Jesse eases himself further down, Hanzo throws his head to his side, eyes shut tight. Jesse’s insides are clenching around Hanzo, and he knows it’s probably bordering on overwhelming, but he can’t stop himself. It’s been so long since he’s been properly fucked. And God, he’s going to - he’s not going to waste this opportunity.

He sinks himself down fully and lets out this full-throated moan at the exact same time as Hanzo keens like he’s in pain. And then, when Jesse’s not expecting it - Hanzo’s been so placid, so docile, lying there and being so good - Hanzo suddenly fucks his hip up wild and desperate. He impales Jesse so deep that Jesse curls forward gasping for air, shocks of pleasure shooting through him like electricity.

“Christ, Hanzo,” he pants, and Hanzo looks at him, wide-eyed, just as stunned, and then he does it again.

Over and over, Hanzo bucks, using his feet on the bed for leverage, hands twisting in the sheets, and what can Jesse do but ride him, take it, yell every time the angle hits that spot, that spot he can’t reach with his fingers, God, this is everything he’d hoped it would be, virgin, virgin, virgin,but in all things Hanzo is proud, shockingly strong, indomitable.

Jesse’s starting to wonder if that tender feeling that keeps filling him up is some kind of close relative to love, which he’s sure would horrify him if he could fucking think, but he can’t, so instead he bends his body into some awkward, unsatisfying angle because God help him, he just wants to kiss Hanzo.

It doesn’t last, though, not this time, because Jesse misses the way he felt so full before, so he sits himself back up, and when Hanzo slots back into place, warm, full, deep, fitting perfectly into him, Jesse throws back his head in pleasure.

“Jesse,” Hanzo groans.

It hits Jesse like a lightning bolt, it makes him clench and shudder and convulse on Hanzo’s dick, it makes precum spill out of him. He never knew hearing his own name could elicit pleasure like that, but it does, and he wants to hear it again, wants to hear Hanzo desperate, blatant in his wanting, wants to know that it’s because of him.

“Jesse,” Hanzo starts to chant, just his name over and over. His hips are starting to stutter and Jesse knows he must be close, and he doesn’t want this to end but it has to, and when it does it’s gonna be fucking glorious.

So he takes himself in hand and jerks off quickly, only has to stroke himself a few times, the feeling of it a counterpoint to Hanzo’s jack rabbiting hips, the flex and grind of them as he keeps trying to push himself deeper, and Jesse can’t stand how good it feels.

He comes, body rigid, crying out ridiculously loudly, and thank God they’re in a love hotel, actually, with its soundproof walls, because Jesse’s coming like he’s in a porno, throwing his head back and bouncing his hips and shouting Hanzo’s name.

Jesse looks down and sees Hanzo’s eyes fixed on him, a look of awe on his face. There’s a muscle in his jaw twitching and his fists are knotting the sheets and that’s when Jesse realizes Hanzo’s coming too, his hips pressed flush to Jesse’s ass and making tiny movements, not much more than muscle spasms. He’s buried deep, so deep, and it makes Jesse start groaning all over again.

In the aftermath he finds himself wondering: is it sad that it was Hanzo’s first time, and this is still the best sex he’s ever had?

Hanzo’s a quick learner, though. The concession must be made.

Jesse pulls himself off of Hanzo in one move and flops backwards onto the bed. He thinks he would be happy to never move again.

Apparently Hanzo doesn’t feel the same way. He sits up, back alarmingly straight considering the rigorous exercise they’ve just been through. He pulls off the condom and then, to Jesse’s horror, he gets out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Jesse asks. He wishes he sounded less forlorn. He’s never considered himself the clingy type, but he’s barely even been allowed three minutes of afterglow.

“I am going to shower,” Hanzo says. He shuts the bathroom door behind him. Jesse feels - stunned. First of all, Hanzo’s not the one who’s asshole is still wet with lube. Very rude. Very bad sex etiquette.

Maybe Jesse’s fucked up somehow. That would be pretty par for the course. He’s just not sure… He’d thought he’d done pretty well. He’d been pretty satisfied with his performance.

He’s lying there agonizing about it when there’s a knock on the door. Jesse glances at the clock on the bedside table. It’s half past eight. He’s also not wearing any pants, or underwear, and, actually, now that he’s taking stock of the situation his ass is still gross and sticky. He closes his eyes and breathes a deep, anguished sigh.

“Room service!” Calls the person at the door. There are several problems with that. One of them is that Jesse hasn’t ordered any room service. One of them is that the person behind the door has somehow intuited that he speaks English. Yet another is that he’s fairly sure that love hotels don’t have room service.

Jesse gingerly gets out of bed and pulls on the boxers he’d discarded earlier. On the bright side of things, he’s not walking with a limp.

He puts on the most deprecating look he can muster as he pulls the door open. Genji’s modelling some truly radical bedhead and still wearing the clothes he wore in the car yesterday.

“Just wake up?” Jesse asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m eighteen,” Genji explains, waving an arm. “I never wake up before noon unless my life depends on it.” That comment would probably be a little funnier if it hadn’t been for the fact that Genji’s father would kill them both if he found them.

Genji cocks his head to one side suddenly. “There’s someone in your shower,” he says, uncertain. As if he’s not sure Jesse’s aware.

Jesse shuffles his feet awkwardly. “Your brother followed us here.” It seems weird that Genji has no idea. Last night feels like it was years ago. He can’t believe he was grappling with Hanzo in this hotel room less than twelve hours ago.

Genji’s eyes fall, unfortunately, onto the mussed bed sheets. He makes a weird face like he can’t decide what kind of expression he wants to use. Jesse can feel his face going red. There’s no way he’s going to be able to deny what happened here.

“Okay,” Genji says. He carefully averts his eyes, staring blankly at the door Jesse is still holding open. “Well. We should. Get ready. And head out to the airport. I was thinking around nine. See you then.”

And Genji leaves. Jesse feels even worse than he did before. He’s somehow fucked up and made Hanzo mad (is he mad? Or is it some other emotion? Jesse can’t tell) and now he’s alienated Genji too. At least he can be certain what he did wrong in Genji’s books.

It had sort of seemed yesterday like Genji wanted Jesse and Hanzo to… Get along? Make up? He’d given Hanzo the address of the last hotel, after all.

Then again, getting along didn’t necessarily mean fucking each others’ brains out. Which Jesse can’t even be happy about, because Hanzo’s still locked in the bathroom, and God, how long has he been in there, anyway? Jesse’s ass is starting to dry and the lube is getting uncomfortable and with each second that passes he’s starting to feel closer to a temper tantrum.

When Hanzo finally emerges from behind the closed door, a cloud of steam wafting all around him, he's dressed again - in the same clothes as last night, but you couldn't tell that by looking at him. His hair is drawn back into a sleek ponytail. He looks put-together and sharp-angled; his jaw is tightly clenched.

In short, he's the very picture of restraint. No evidence of what they'd done earlier remains. No sign shows that he's the same man Jesse had under him on the mattress, the one Jesse kissed and kissed and felt tenderly for.

Jesse can't stand to look at him. He pushes past into the bathroom.

His normal five minute shower routine gets stretched into ten as he tries to clean up the mess Hanzo made. He grimaces at himself in the mirror afterwards, brushes his teeth fiercely. He dresses in plain clothes that won't attract attention at the airport, won't get him stopped by security. A white button-up shirt, blue jeans. Yes, he wears cowboy boots with them, but they don't have spurs.

He’ll look like any other American tourist, probably. He shoves all of his belongings back into his suitcase and exits the bathroom.

Hanzo has made the bed. He's probably ashamed, Jesse thinks. He doesn't want anyway to know what happened here. Not even the maids at a love hotel.

Jesse’s chest clenches. This is all he amounts to: another shameful secret for the Shimada clan to hide.

God. He's not gonna let that happen.

“What, are you mad at me?” Jesse snaps, because Hanzo’s standing there by the bed not looking at him.

Hanzo actually winces, as if the words have hurt him. But he doesn't make any reply.

Jesse’s fists clench. He crosses the room in a couple of strides, buries a few fingers in the front of Hanzo’s shirt so he’s forced to look Jesse in the face.

“What do you want from me?” He asks. He’d thought he was angry. The way his voice comes out is just sad.

Hanzo, despite the proximity of their faces, drops his eyes to Jesse’s chin to avoid making eye contact. He's quiet for so long Jesse thinks he's trying to get away with not answering.

Then he says, “It was supposed to change things,” and his voice is so soft. Fragile. This is a confession Jesse has forced out of Hanzo with a fist gripping his shirt.

“What do you mean?” Jesse asks. His voice has gone rough. Hanzo’s eyelashes are drooping. Shame, like always. Frustration. Tears are shining in Hanzo’s eyes. Hadn't Jesse predicted, days and days ago, that Hanzo would be the type to cry out of frustration?

“When I had sex with you,” Hanzo looks up into Jesse’s eyes, suddenly fierce and sharp and edged with anger. “It was supposed to change things. You wanted me to. You wanted me to give you my virginity, so I did. But it didn't change anything.”

Jesse - doesn't know what to say. He doesn't understand. “What was it supposed to change?”

Hanzo pulls out of Jesse’s grip so he can turn away. Jesse can see that he's the one with clenched fists this time.

“You're leaving,” Hanzo says.

“Yeah,” Jesse agrees readily. It had never been up for debate. “As long as your daddy’s around to try and kill me, I can't stay.”

“You're leaving me,” Hanzo clarifies. He half turns his head, glares at Jesse out of the corner of his eye.

Jesse doesn't have any quick draw answer to that. He can't say that he'll come back, he can't say that they'll see each other again someday. Even if they were true he couldn't say them, because they don't fix anything.

They don't fix this, they don't fix anything. This is big and broken. This thing between Hanzo and Jesse - or maybe he's being too self-involved. Maybe it’s Hanzo himself. All that misery and loneliness and self-loathing. Jesse’s leaving it all behind.

“I wish I wasn't,” he says. That doesn't fix anything either.

Still, the corner of Hanzo’s mouth pulls up a little bit. It's not really a smile.

There's a knock on the door. Jesse opens it. Genji takes a good, hard look at Hanzo - who looks spotless, not a hair out of place, dressed to kill in his black clothes - and says nothing. The three of them leave the love hotel in total silence.

In the parking lot, Shimada is waiting for them, with twenty armed guards.

He smiles.

Genji looks at Hanzo. Jesse thinks, What was he doing in the bathroom all that time?

When they were in bed together, there was a moment. Jesse’d said, I’d love to lie in bed with you all day, but I’ve gotta leave. Hanzo had gone still. Stopped moving. And after that, he’d changed. He’d gotten more aggressive. He’d been - distracting.

Jesse is a fucking fool, and he’s been reminded of it constantly the last few days. He keeps falling for these little tricks. It’s gonna be the death of him. Shimada’s standing there with a gun - well, Shimada doesn't have a gun. But his henchmen does.

Ha ha. Jesse’s starting to get a little loopy. Caught up on the details.

Hanzo shifts slightly where he's standing, a few steps ahead of Jesse. He's put himself in the line of fire. On purpose.

Jesse’s eyes catch on Hanzo’s ponytail.

He wants to laugh. A fool.

Hanzo spent that time in the bathroom blow drying his hair.

Now he's putting himself at risk of being shot by his own father to save Jesse’s ungrateful, undeserving ass.

That tender feeling? Fuck it, it’s love. One week is enough. One week is enough to know that Jesse McCree would blow up a country to get back to Hanzo, because it doesn't fix anything but it matters anyway, because it has the chance to make Hanzo smile.

That's so goddamn sappy. That's the most romantic thing Jesse’s ever thought in his life. Shit, it’s love, isn't it?

He pushes Hanzo out of the line of fire and puts his hands up.

Shimada beams, evidently pleased with his obedience. He makes a gesture at Hanzo.

Hanzo’s fists clench again, and by now Jesse knows that means he’s feeling defiant.

“Just do it,” Jesse mutters to him. Hanzo glares.

Genji picks up the slack, folding Jesse’s arms behind his back and making it look really realistic. Which is to say - “Ow, Genji, that hurts.”

“Shut up, prisoner,” Genji breathes, and then marches Jesse over to his father.

“What pleasant surprise,” Shimada says. He doesn’t sound very pleased at all.

The knowledge that he needs to act fast presses persistently and uselessly at the back of Jesse’s mind. He doesn’t have a gun on him. Of course he doesn’t. He’d been on his way to the airport. As far as he can tell, Hanzo isn’t armed either. Jesse’d gotten pretty closely acquainted with that outfit last night, and there were definitely no swords or guns hidden under the fabric.

Genji… Genji’s wearing jeans with little patches sewed on. Jesse recognizes Hello Kitty on the back pocket. There’s also a blonde-haired, blue-eyed anime kid who looks familiar. Little headband across his forehead. Jesse can’t remember what he’s called.

Anyway. Jesse can tell Genji would be worse than useless in a fight. He’d be distracting.

Jesse stands before Shimada, mind racing. He’s slightly bent over from the way Genji’s holding on to him. The grunt beside Shimada begins to raise his gun, aiming for Jesse’s head.

Genji relaxes his grip on Jesse’s arm. Jesse honestly can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not. It doesn’t matter; it’s enough. He breaks his arms free and grabs the gun. One hard tug and the gun comes into Jesse’s possession. One pivot and the gun is pressed tight against Shimada’s temple.

Shimada’s bodyguards all freeze, weapons half-raised.

“If you move, I’ll shoot,” Jesse says. His voice is completely level. This is not his first hostage situation. Beneath the hand gripping Shimada’s shoulder tightly, he can feel the way Shimada’s breaths are short and shallow. The man isn’t immune to fear after all.

Genji’s car is still in the parking lot. Jesse makes eye contact with Genji for a second, twitches his head toward it. Genji hesitates. Jesse has no idea what goes through his mind in that moment. He’s staring at the gun pressed to his father’s head.

Before Jesse can really start to worry about it, Genji climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

Jesse’s eyes meet Hanzo’s. “Get in the car,” he orders, adjusting his grip on the gun. Hanzo’s eyes, like Genji’s, seem drawn to the point where the muzzle meets Shimada’s greying hair. Hanzo climbs into the passenger seat.

“Time for a family road trip,” Jesse mutters to Shimada. He forces him to turn so that Jesse can keep the bodyguards in his sight while they walk backwards toward the car.

For a moment after the door shuts the four of them sit in silence. It’s like they’re all waiting for a cue. Jesse’s mind is racing. He doesn’t know when the thugs outside are going to start shooting, but he feels like, inevitably, they will.

“It sure would solve a lot of my problems if I blew your brains out,” he tells Shimada conversationally.

In the front seat, Hanzo and Genji both go tense.

He doesn’t understand it. Despite everything, they’re both terrified of their father dying.

“Drive, Genji. I got a plane to catch.” Jesse keeps the gun pressed to Shimada’s head, ready for the first sign that things are going south.

The car lurches into motion. Apparently, stress isn’t good for Genji’s already erratic, dangerous driving.

“Christ, Genji, I’m holding a loaded gun back here,” Jesse gripes. Genji replies with a wordless noise of distress. Right, Jesse probably should have handled that one a bit better.

The car proceeds more or less smoothly out of the parking lot from there, merges into traffic on the street. Jesse tries to carefully divide his attention between keeping the gun trained on Shimada and watching out the back window for signs that the armed guards are following. There’s no doubt in Jesse’s mind that they’ll follow; they’re too loyal, too well-trained to give up on their leader. The question is still how Jesse’s going to get out of this alive.

It occurs to him as the vehicle slows for gridlock traffic. “Hanzo,” he calls. Hanzo turns to face him, brow pinched with anxiety. “Come back here,” he orders.

Once again, Jesse is met with that tense moment of hesitation where he doesn’t know if his order will be followed. The thing about Genji or Hanzo disobeying him is that he won’t shoot them if they do. Shimada rebelling against him is no problem. In fact, it might actually be a relief.

But if Genji stops driving the car, or Hanzo refuses to crawl into the back with him… Then he’s stuck. No back-up plan. Probably doomed to die in Hanamura, the way the Deadlock Gang expects him to.

Hanzo undoes his seatbelt and gingerly moves between the two front seats.

Shimada strikes like a snake, hands grappling at Jesse’s wrist for the gun.

The car erupts into incoherent yelling. Traffic has started moving again, so Genji has to keep his eyes on the road. There’s a loaded, cocked gun being wrestled over in the back seat. Shimada has a grip on Jesse like a pitbull and won’t let go. Hanzo crouches there, frozen with indecision until a stray limb catches him in the face, and he reels back for a moment before launching forward to join the fray properly.

It ends when Jesse gets an elbow in Shimada’s stomach, bending him over double in the seat. Hanzo has the gun. Jesse’s panting. One of them is bleeding, but it’s not clear who.

Hanzo makes eye contact with Jesse over his father’s head. Jesse doesn’t look at the gun. He refuses to look at the gun. If Hanzo’s about to shoot him, he doesn’t want to know.

They stop at a traffic light. Jesse pushes the door beside him open. He seizes Shimada, who’s still clutching at his stomach and wheezing, gets a hand around his collar, and throws him out the door of the car. The man stumbles a few times, completely taken by surprise, and then he trips and falls.

In a few minutes, his henchmen will find him there. They’ll get him back into one of their cars and continue to chase Jesse to the airport. The chances of Jesse making it out of here are still close to zero.

Hanzo practically crawls into Jesse’s lap, staring at his father on the side of the road with his mouth half-open. He turns his head, meets Jesse’s eyes again.

Something like understanding passes between them - it’s only like understanding, because it leaves Jesse totally confused about what’s been understood. It doesn’t matter much, really, because the next thing he knows, Hanzo’s leaning forward a little, pressing their lips together.

Earlier that morning, Jesse’d thought he’d never been kissed so intensely by anyone as he’d been kissed by Hanzo. Now he’s thinking he’s never been kissed so softly.

Maybe that tender feeling is mutual.

Hanzo jumps out of the car. He grabs his father by the arm and drags him off the road, into an alley and out of sight. As he disappears, Jesse sees him pull a phone out of his father’s pocket.

Jesse suddenly realizes what he was supposed to understand from that look. Hanzo’s buying him time.

He pulls the car door closed. Genji starts driving again. There’s a weight in Jesse’s lap. When he inspects it, he finds the gun. Just in case.

Jesse touches his lips like he's trying to feel the impression Hanzo left there. He’ll probably do it again, a week from now, thousands of miles away. He'll probably keep doing it. For months, maybe. Keep trying to remember what it felt like.

He’s going to live through this. He’s going to survive Hanamura. Genji weaves through traffic with the help of his GPS, but he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the road. Jesse keeps looking out the back window, but he doesn’t see anything suspicious at all. No cars following them. No gunfire. Nothing.

That doesn’t mean he can relax. Even when they pull onto the winding drive that leads to the airport, he doesn’t relax. He sits forward in his seat, puts his hand on Genji’s headrest.

“Thank you,” he says. It’s not nearly adequate. Genji’s knuckles are white with the way his hands are clenched upon the steering wheel.

Jesse sighs softly as he pulls away. They stop in the drop-off lane. Before he can shuffle out of the car, leaving the gun behind on the seat, Genji grabs his shoulder.

“It was nice meeting you, Jesse McCree,” Genji says, managing a smile. It’s not the same carefree smile Jesse’d seen at that beach rave party - God, that feels like years ago. But it’s a smile Jesse is glad to return.

“If I’m ever back in Hanamura, I’ll look you up,” he says. Genji laughs.

Jesse gets out of the car. At least half of him expects someone to shoot him dead right there. Nothing happens at all. Genji drives away under the stern instruction of a traffic attendant. Jesse enters the airport and wanders his way toward the departures area.

He approaches the security lineup with no luggage, just the phone Genji gave him in his hand. It has his boarding pass and fake passport information loaded onto it. One of the sleeves of his shirt is stained red with blood. A quick catalogue of his body tells him he's not bleeding, so it must be from somebody else. He has no idea who.

The security officer at the checkpoint takes one look at him and summons someone else - someone who speaks English, he discovers.

Jesse speaks slowly and tries to stomp out his accent to better be understood as he explains: “I took one of them shuttle buses to get here, and I fell asleep on the way.” So far, so good. Nothing too suspicious. Innocuous.

“When the bus stopped I slammed my face into the window and gave myself a nosebleed. I had to use my sleeve to stop the bleeding,” he holds up his arm demonstratively. The security guard grimaces.

“I was so distracted that by the time I realized I didn't have my luggage, the bus was already gone. I can't afford to pay the exchange fee for my ticket, so I need to get on my flight now. Guess I’ll probably never see my suitcase again.”

If I was her, I wouldn't let me through, Jesse thinks glumly to himself.

But he must look as pathetic and hangdog as he feels. The security officer grimaces again - sympathetically, this time - and waves him through.

“You have to do something about that shirt,” she warns him. “They won't let you on the plane if you're covered in blood.”

That seems like a sound general rule. Jesse thanks the officer profusely as he passes to the other side - to safety. Maybe. They won't let Shimada through with weapons, right?

The paranoia doesn't leave him. It probably won't for a long time. Jesse buys a ridiculously expensive shirt with some kind of cute anime character on it from a kiosk aimed at tourists. Genji would get a kick out of it. They should have exchanged numbers. Jesse could have sent him a picture.

In the airport bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror in that special airport bathroom lighting that makes everything look grey, washed out and tired, Jesse gets hit by a crushing wave of sadness. He's trying not to think about - anything. About the words - it was supposed to change things. About other words. Virgin. Mine.

Neither of those words are true now.

Jesse puts the t-shirt on. He throws his old shirt on the garbage. He thumbs the phone on and checks the contacts list. There’s only one name in the address book: Genji.

Jesse takes a picture of himself and that silly anime shirt in the bathroom mirror and sends it.

Forty-five minutes later, he boards his flight. Thirty minutes after that, the plane takes off.

Jesse closes his eyes. One week in Hanamura. He's still alive, but irrevocably changed.

Notes:

thesis: the way the fluorescent lights take everything from you - standing alone in the airport bathroom, nothing left but this lousy t-shirt; to be reshaped by love is a form of violence.

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the-lincyclopedia · 3 years

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Fic writer questions I never get asked

Thanks for the tag, @khashanakalashtar! This is an interesting list!

What date did you make your AO3 profile? What date did you post your first fic?

I joined AO3 on February 5, 2018. Seriously. I was FFN-only for so long. I posted my first fics on AO3 the day I joined. My first fics ever to hit the internet, however, were published on July 13, 2011, which is when I got my FFN account.

Do you cross-post your work?

Yeah, still. When I first got my AO3 account, I posted a bunch of things that were already on my FFN account, and these days I put basically everything on both. I like that FFN gives a pretty accurate and nearly complete timeline of my fanworks, which is the main reason I’m still posting there. Nothing I’ve posted there in the past three years has gotten much engagement, and I know the site is dying.

What’s your fic with the most comment threads? The most bookmarks? Are the top 5 of those categories basically the same, and basically the same as the top 5 kudos?

Top 5 by comment threads:

Face the Future with You (Check Please)

Man Oh Man, You’re My Best Friend (Check Please)

It’s Always You (Check Please)

Love in the Time of Influenza (Carry On)

I Love You, All Right? (Check Please)

Top 5 by bookmarks:

Love in the Time of Influenza (Carry On)

The Aftermath of Angelic Assumptions (Good Omens)

Man Oh Man, You’re My Best Friend (Check Please)

Nightmares (Carry On)

Christmas Planning (Carry On)

Top 5 by kudos:

Love in the Time of Influenza (Carry On)

Face the Future with You (Check Please)

Nightmares (Carry On)

The Aftermath of Angelic Assumptions (Good Omens)

Christmas Planning (Carry On)

So basically the Check Please fandom comments more and the Carry On fandom is more into bookmarks and kudos, and there’s more of a correlation between kudos and bookmarks than between either of those and comments.

What’s the word count of your longest fic or series?

“The Jumper Chronicles,” my longest fic on FFN, is 111,223 words. I abandoned it in 2015 and I really would not recommend it. On AO3, my longest fic is “who could ask to be unbroken (or be brave again)” at 14,772 words. It’s part of my longest series on AO3: “Samwell Men’s Harmonies” at 29,921 words.

What’s your most underrated fic?

MOST underrated? I have 132 fics on AO3, so there are a lot of potential answers. I guess I’ll pick my work with literally the fewest kudos: it’s a charming little rhyming poem about Harry Potter called “The Willow May Whomp You.” It has two kudos, fewer than 70 hits, no bookmarks, and no comments. I was so proud of it when I finished it, and AO3 really did not care.

Does your early work contain any writing sins?

I had heard that not breaking up your dialogue was bad (which it’s not? Who told me this? Why did I believe them? Ugh), and I thought that adding adverbs to dialogue tags constituted breaking up your dialogue. So I had lots of unnecessary beats and adverbs and internal monologue mixed up in what otherwise might have been passable dialogue scenes. (I don’t remember whether this came up a ton in my fics and I don’t feel like looking, but I remember it pretty clearly in the original stuff I was working on back then.)

Have you ever had a work podficced?

Yes! I requested it for Fandom Trumps Hate, though, so I don’t know if it counts, exactly. It’s not like someone read my work and approached me about podding it. Anyway, my Yuri on Ice fic “When and If” has a podfic version.

Have you posted any podfics? Fanvids? Fanart?

I was going to say no, and then I remembered that back in, like, 2009, I tried to make a couple Romione fanvids, one to Taylor Swift’s “You Belong with Me” and one to “I’m Not That Girl” from Wicked. Unfortunately for everyone involved, I didn’t have a clue how to pull bits of video from a movie (still don’t, actually), so they were basically slideshows. I’ve long since taken them down from YouTube and the computer I made them on has long since died, so I can’t prove any of this to you, but . . . uh, yeah. That happened.

Are there any trends in your favorite ships?

I feel like there have been, like, eras of my shipping. When I first started shipping (i.e. before I realized I’m queer), it was basically “girl I can project on” shipped with “literally whoever her canon love interest is, regardless of anything about him” (Romione, Percabeth). Then it was “asshole guy” shipped with “other guy who interfaces between the asshole guy and the rest of the world” (Johnlock, Otayuri to a lesser extent). I feel like it’s becoming “broken person whose coping mechanism is meanness” shipped with “broken person whose coping mechanism is sunshine” (Zimbits, maybe Snowbaz). This is pretty similar to the asshole x interface-with-world, but the relationship is a little more mutual and balanced, and the mean one has a better excuse for being mean.

Do you have fandoms you’ve written a lot for? Fandoms you’ve only written a one-off for?

Fandoms I’ve written a lot for: Check Please, Carry On, Harry Potter, Sherlock, Lizzie Bennet Diaries, and Yuri on Ice. (I’m defining “a lot” as at least five fics, and please note that I’ve got a 30k Lizzie Bennet Diaries fic that’s only on FFN because I really don’t like the ending.)

Fandoms I’ve only written one-offs for: Discworld, Turtles All the Way Down, Maleficent, the Chronicles of Narnia, Paper Towns, Six of Crows, Hoot, the Odyssey, Song of the Lioness, and Downton Abbey. (There are multiple other fandoms with two fics each.)

What fandom got you into fandom?

Harry Potter. I’d been writing next gen fics for like two years when a school acquaintance shared an FFN link to a Marauders fic on Google Buzz and I was hooked.

Do you have a strategy for summaries?

I try to describe the premise/first part of the plot, and I add notes that might be relevant (i.e., major trigger warnings or other things that might put people off). I don’t use quotes, either from the story or from anywhere else.

Do you use beta readers? For what? Do you have a go-to beta?

Occasionally for plot/general “is this good?” type feedback, or if they’re mandatory for an event, I guess. (I’m doing my first bang, so that’s a new thing for me.) I don’t feel the need to use a beta for spelling, grammar, or punctuation since I’m a semi-professional copyeditor. These days I do read most things to my QPP over the phone before publishing them. That’s usually more of a cheer-reading situation than a beta situation, though.

I tag @doggernaut @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @birlcholtz @cricketnationrise and anyone else who wants to play!

#mine #tag game #fanfiction #about me

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maribatshipper · 3 years

Text

Jiminette String Part 3

I’M BACK BABY! I know you’ve been waiting for this, here it is, everyone!

Part 1 Part 2

Adrien looks at his fingers, seeing strings on his fingers, confused about them.

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just the news! A new Akuma, going by the name, “Soulfinder” is walking through Paris, making everyone see Soulmate strings. Oh, it seems he has an announcement to Paris.”

Adrien looks towards the TV to see the supervillain smirking at the Camera near the Lourve.

“People of Paris, I am Soulfinder. I’ve been called crazy for years, insane because I saw that some people just aren’t meant to be together. They said I was just trying to break up all the good couples, but now you all get to see who your soulmates are! Let me explain the strings. Thumbs are like the pointer, but the thumb is your soul sibling. Those that are too close to be friends, but are not romantic. Pointers are strictly platonic. They can move to the middle finger, which is Soul enemies. The ring finger is romantic, and pinkie is the soul parent or child. It depends on your age. But be warned, if you grab your romantic soulmate string and you aren’t in the same place as them, something weird could happen. It could be you lose sight in one eye and so does your soulmate, but your soulmates would be seeing from your sightless eye. You could switch bodies with your soulmate. It’s random. Enjoy knowing who your soulmate is!” Soulfinder smiles.

Adrien looks at his finger where Plagg’s ring is residing, seeing a dark blue string on his finger.

“What do you think you’re doing, Adrien? You need to go out there and help Ladybug take down the villain!” Plagg exclaims.

Adrien protests, “But I could finally prove that Ladybug and I are soulmates!”

Plagg growls, “Didn’t you hear the Akuma? There are side effects! You could swap bodies with your soulmate, which will drive both you and them insane and you won’t be able to help Ladybug! You could lose sight in one eye, making it extremely hard to fight!”

Adrien frowns, “It��s a risk I have to take.” reaching for his string.

“Adrien, NO!”

***

Kagami frowns, quite confused at this turn of events. She ignores her romantic string, quickly realising that isn’t important, and grabs her thumb string, seeing Marinette in her mind's eye after she grabs it. But what surprises her is seeing Marinette transform into Multimouse, which Kagami approves of Ladybug’s choice, but then drops the string in shock at something else.

“What are you doing, Kagami?” Longg asks.

Kagami frowns, “I don’t care who I belong with. I care for Marinette. We need to help Ladybug. Longg, bring the storm!”

Kagami transforms into Ryuko, only to look at her hands and see her thumb and pointer strings haven’t disappeared from her sight. She looks up to see where her thumb is leading and follows it.

***

Marinette hides in an alleyway and frowns, “We have to save Liam!”

Tikki nods, “Just say the words, Marinette!”

“Tikki, Spots on!” Marinette exclaims, transforming.

The suit appears to have been upgraded, getting more armour around the chest area, on her legs and shoulders. (I’m horrible at describing this. I just want her to have a better suit.) Ladybug then looks at her hand to realise that the pointer and thumb strings haven’t disappeared. She ignores that because she can ask Liam once he’s been de-akumatised. She throws her yoyo and swings away, looking for Soulfinder.

***

Claire and Jim jump out of a Shadow portal onto a roof. They see Soulfinder walking away from the Lourve.

“How can we do this?” Claire asks.

Jim exclaims, “Wait, look!”

Ladybug lands in front of them, quite surprised.

“How’d you get up here?” She asks.

Jim sighs, “That’s not important right now, Ladybug. What is important is that we can help!”

Ladybug pulls them out of Soulfinder’s field of vision and asks, “How can you help?”

Claire grabs Ladybug’s shoulder and answers, “I use shadow magic. I can make portals quite easily and quickly and can move shadows. Literally.”

“I’m gonna need more than your word for that.” Ladybug frowns.

Claire puts her hand to her left, opening a portal to a few feet away and sticks her hand in, causing it to come out the other side. Ladybug’s eyes widen.

“We can help!” Claire frowns.

Ladybug puts her hand to her chin in thought.

“You can’t help like this. If Hawk Moth new about your power, he’d try and take it from you, either by kidnapping or some other way. But- Of course!” Ladybug snaps her fingers. “You stay right here. I’ll be back.”

Ladybug swings away, leaving the two on the rooftop.

“Do you think we should’ve told her what weapons we prefer?” Jim asks.

Claire shrugs, “Probably.”

***

Ladybug jumps into her room and detransforms, walking over to the Miracle Box she’s hidden underneath her pillow.

“Are you sure about this, Marinette?” Tikki asks.

Marinette nods, “Trust me, Tikki. We can trust them. They offered to help, and if Hawk Moth assumes Claire’s power is from a Miraculous, she’d be so much safer than if he knew the truth.”

She opens the Miracle Box and looks at the Miraculous inside, reaching towards it, trying to figure out which to use this time.

“Of course!” Marinette exclaims as she grabs two.

She quickly transforms and runs back, hoping they’re still there. On her way, she bumps into Ryuko.

“Ladybug, do you know where the akuma is?” Ryuko asks.

Ladybug nods, “It’s in a chain bracelet. We’ll probably need some help, though.”

Ryuko nods, “I trust you to pick worthy holders. But, Ladybug, after the battle, I need to talk to you.”

***

Downstairs, Sabine and Tom look at their ring-fingers to find they are attached to each other, and they are relieved.

“At least we were meant to be together, Tom.” Sabine smiles.

Tom replies, “I couldn’t have asked for a better person to be my soulmate.”

“He’s such a sweetheart. I’m glad we’re soulmates.”

“She can kick anyone’s butt. That’s what I fell in love with.”

(I am so sorry, I had to put this in.)

***

Claire and Jim watch as Soulfinder looks at people’s worried faces as he passes by them.

“How can we turn him back to Liam?” Jim frowns.

“We can help with that.” Ladybug smiles.

The two teenagers turn to Ladybug to see Ryuko with her. She swipes her yoyo, causing it to open and a glowing white light appearing inside. Ladybug puts her hand in, pulling out a box. She holds it towards Jim.

“Jim Lake Jr, this is the Miraculous of the Tiger, which grants the power of the hunt. You will use it for the greater good. Once the mission is completed, you will return the Miraculous to me. Can I trust you, Jim?” Ladybug asks.

Jim nods, “Of course you can.”

He picks up the box and opens it, causing a small glowing orb to fly around him, giving him deja vu. When the light dies down, a small tiger-like creature appears.

“Hello, young cub, I am Roaar! I’m your kwami for today. All you have to say it Roaar, time to hunt!” Roaar smiles.

Jim smiles as he puts on the Panjas bracelet, “Roaar, time to hunt!”

Roaar goes into the Panjas bracelet. Instead of the usual feeling of Armour surrounding him, he feels fabric forming on his skin, including on his face. When it’s finished, Jim stands with a bit of dark purple in his hair, a mask with black and purple stripes on it, and a purple bodysuit with black stripes, and a tail attached to his back. Claws protrude from his fingers and two swords lay on his back. Ladybug’s face almost turns as red as her mask seeing how attractive he is. She quickly pulls out another box and holds it to Claire.

“Claire Nunez, this is the Miraculous of the Horse, which grants the power of teleportation. You will use it for the greater good. Once the job is done, you will return the miraculous to me. Can I trust you?” Ladybug asks.

Claire smirks, “Yep. Not that I needed it.”

Ladybug explains, “Yes, but Hawk Moth won’t know that. He’ll just assume you’re old enough to make more than one portal.”

Claire opens the box to reveal glasses. Another glowing orb appears, and it flies around Claire. As the light dissipates, a little horse kwami appears.

“Oh, hello. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” The kwami asks.

“Claire Nunez.” Claire answers.

The kwami asks, “Are you glorious and famous?”

Ladybug rolls her eyes and goes to say something when Claire answers, “I’m the daughter of a Councilwoman back in Arcadia, so I’m a little famous. What do I have to do?”

“All you have to say is, “Kaalki, full gallop!” Kaalki smiles.

Claire puts on the glasses and smirks, “Kaalki, full gallop!”

Kaalki goes into the glasses, and Claire transforms. Her white patch in her hair grows, covering all her hair, which has grown and is pulled into a high ponytail. A horseshoe appears on her waist. (If anyone can do fanart, I would love that, please. I can’t figure out how to describe her transformation.)

“You have a gaggletack?” Jim asks.

Ladybug asks, “What? It’s just a magical horseshoe. Like my yoyo. Oh, and what are your names?”

A/N: I’m baaaaack! Damn, you’ve been waiting a while, haven’t you? Admittedly, not as long as for other fics, but gah! Oh, this was fun to write. I had to make a nod towards the Gaggletacks because come on! Oh, and I have no clue for names for the heroes. I mean, Claire’s Spanish, so we can give her a Spanish name, and she can suggest something for Jim! Please, though, I need your opinions and FANART! I am terrible at drawing, and editing pictures, so I need YOURS! Please! I’m begging on my knees.

Oh, and Adrien’s soulmate, can anyone guess who it is? Dark blue because the character I picked out of nowhere seems to where that the most. Seriously, she seems like she doesn’t have any flavour in her closet. Just stripes. I apologise for giving you such heartache. And, what should happen to Adrien when he grabs the string? Blind in one eye, soulmate teleports into his room, swap bodies, what do you think should happen? I do have a plan, but if I’m given a better idea, I might do it.

Tagging: @itspetitfantomestuff @belleyells

#Jiminette #Jimari #Trollhunters #Miraculous Ladybug #This was a short chapter #itspetitfantomestuff #belleyells

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a-hundred-jewels · 3 years

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cruel summer ch 12: i have these lucid dreams

Ao3 Wattpad

Summary: sabrina starr, pegasuses, and oh no! the fourth wall broke! do we have a carpenter in the audience?

Word Count: 9000 ish

Tags: Rachel Elizabeth Dare/Jane Penderwick, Rosalind Penderwick/Tommy Geiger, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jane Penderwick, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Rosalind Penderwick, Skye Penderwick, Chiron (Percy Jackson), Martin Penderwick, Elizabeth "Batty" Penderwick, Elizabeth Penderwick (senior), Iantha Aaronson-Penderwick, Ben Aaronson-Penderwick, Nico di Angelo, Will Solace, Annabeth Chase, Jeffrey Tifton-McGrath, Percy Jackson, Demeter (Percy Jackson), Apollo (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Camp Half-Blood AU, Demigods, demeter!elizabeth penderwick, demeter!rosalind (second generation), demeter!batty (second generation), apollo!alec mcgrath, apollo!jeffrey (second generation), demeter!jane (second generation), demeter!skye (second generation), all of that's in no particular order, main focus is on jane because i love her and she's so so fun to write, tomsalind is there (and stuff will happen - i can't really say what, it will really be eventful though), yes of course there's solangelo, takes place right before Penderwicks In Spring, After Trials of Apollo, more tags to come??, Minor Swearing

Notes and Full Chapter below cut:

Hello everyone and welcome back! I'll admit, this is a little later today than I'd been planning to post (was hoping to get an early start), but hey! If the Puppet History season 4 finale can be late, then so can I!

First off, a massive massive thank you to waterbottle_stickers for being the best beta reader ever. This chapter would be a mess without you. Also, if you haven't already, please check out their enola holmes fic wherever you stray, i follow it's truly wonderful.

If you've been following me on tumblr, then you'll know that, in addition to reblogging an alarming quantity of good omens fanart, I've been making some plans for fics this month. The original plan from back in august was to post every day of the month, but... ahhh.... I just don't work that fast lmao. I'll have to be content with just posting a fair amount this month. Happy october! Anyway, stay tuned.

On this fine day, we've got two lovely QUEER fanfic recommendations that I'm very excited to share. Up first is one from the tumblr blog izzielizzie (which you should all absolutely check out! especially if you're into the one of us is lying fandom!). it centers around the skye/melissa pairing and their senior prom, which Skye is said to have only gone to last minute, and also wearing a lab coat, in a passage of the penderwicks at last. featuring some oblivious lesbians and also jane. once again a massive thanks to izzielizzie, as this fic is one of my favourites!. click here to take a look! (also keep an eye on her blog in general bc her penderwicks fics are awesome!)

The second fanfic is also one I'm very fond of, as it focuses on the siblinghood of skye and jane, which is one of my favourite topics on earth. check out rolling down the ancient high street by hanchewie/ramblemadlyon (tumblr and ao3 respectively) for the sibling antics of aroace skye and bisexual jane when the latter visits the former at her college in california! and, if you like it, ramblemadlyon has two other penderwicks fics from the past couple days that look fantastic as well, and that I look forward to reading.

This chapter is dedicated to my therapist, since I've decided this will be the month of oddly specific dedications. thank you for telling me to stop referring to cruel summer as my "trash baby" and help me recognize the true worth that it holds in my life.

Disclaimer: not my characters, you know the drill. Jeanne Birdsall and Rick Riordan are lucky ducks indeed. chapter title is (obviously) from "lucid dreams" by Juice WRLD.

FROM THE POV OF JANE PENDERWICK

The woods loomed around me, seeming as tall as buildings as they invited me in further. I took another step, the sharp pain of a pinecone digging into my foot barely registered in my mind. I kept walking. A crack sounded throughout the air, and, behind me, a tree splintered round its base and fell down, only inches away from crushing me dead, and completely blocking the path out.

Frightened, I began to run, looking for a way out of the forest. But no matter which way I went, there were only trees in front of me. Where was the path? Where was the grassy hill I had walked down to get in here in the first place. Had I even walked down that hill to begin with? Now that I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I remembered coming here. I wasn’t sure I remembered waking up this morning, or going to bed last night, or anything besides existing in the forest. Who was I? What was I doing here? How could I get out?

Panicking, I stood in the middle of a clearing, looking frantically at the trees around me, trying to find something familiar. Nothing. I was exhausted. How long had I been here? An hour? A day? A lifetime? I collapsed at the base of a tree, sobbing as I tried to remember. Something. Anything.

Then, a voice echoed around me. “Welcome,” it said, and my mind went black.

I bolt upright in bed, a scream halfway out of my throat. I clamp it back, not wanting to wake my cabinmates. Thin light whimpers through the window--enough for me to see my white-knuckle grip on the sheets, but not enough to pass as daylight.

What time is it?

Our cell phones don’t really work here--that was one of the first things Miranda told us when we arrived, and Batty’s been gleefully lording it over us that her Mp3 player will still play music and, like, function, while our smart phones recline sadly in our duffel bags. That being said, I don’t feel quite brave enough to get out of my bed just yet and tiptoe over to the big analog clock that Rio bought at a pawn shop in Colorado. Maybe my phone will at least show the time.

I reach under my bed and fumble for my duffel, hooking my pinky through the zipper loop and yanking it out onto my floor. My phone’s in the front pocket, buried under two pairs of headphones, several gum wrappers, and some strawberry leaves (?????). A piece of gum peels off the screen as I disentangle my phone, and I mentally chide my past self for being so messy.

My phone does not turn on. Big clock it is.

I tiptoe across the cold tile and peer around the tree.

5:45 .

Jesus Pagan Christ.

It’s too early to wake anyone up (as I think this, Batty lets out a snore to rival any crabby Tyrannosaurus Rex), so I wrap a blanket around myself like a criminally attractive burrito, and creep out onto the porch, with my notebook and pen tucked into my shirt.

As long as I live, I will never get tired of summer mornings. There’s something deeply lovely about the soft light of the still-sleepy, pink lemonade sun, the quiet anticipation of the cool air, damp from dew and preparing for the upcoming heat. At home in Cameron, Skye’s woken me up many an early morning to go for a run or do soccer drills or for a grueling “Seven Minute Workout Except You Don’t Follow The Rules And Torture Your Sister by Making It Actually A Forty-Nine Minute Workout.” (But it’s okay, I’m not bitter). But, as delightful as those experiences have all been, I don’t think Skye really gets it. The beauty of the summer morning is not what it can do for your workout schedule, but rather in its gentle softening of an otherwise boiling day. It is to be appreciated in the way that I am now, sitting curled up on this frighteningly creaky porch (I mean, seriously, who built this?) and calling up the Sabrina Starr section of my brain to try and write away the residual panic from my nightmare.

Sabrina sighed as the plane took off. She wasn’t sure if she should have followed the voice in her head telling her to come here. Saying it out loud--even just thinking it--made it sound ridiculous. A dream, a voice in her mind. Barely more than a whim.

Worse than that, Sabrina wasn’t even sure where this whim was taking her. On a napkin in her pocket, she’d scrawled everything she remembered about the dream from the night before. The dark sky, lit only with spiderwebs of lightning, the shadowy figure huddled on a beach and soaked through with rain. The voice crying for help.

And a name. Aeaea.

After she’d woken up, Sabrina had looked up Aeaea, too tired to fully connect why the name felt familiar. Her heart had sunk further after reading the Wikipedia entry, and a breath of hopelessness had left her lips. According to the internet, Aeaea was not a real place. It had been the island prison of Circe. Fiction wasn’t new to Sabrina, and neither was mythology (she recalled an adventure spent with a ghost called Rainbow from a few years back).

Fictional places, though, were another matter. How could she get somewhere if she didn’t know where she was going? Was she trusting her gut with too much this time?

Sabrina folded up the napkin and put it back in her pocket. There was no point in worrying about that now. She’d looked at enough maps to make a guess at where Aeaea might be if it was real. When she got there, she could get more information. Sabrina Starr had survived this long in her career of rescues and whims. She could survive one more adventure. Worst case scenario, she said to herself, I spend a few days running around for nothing and have to brush up on my Greek.

She repeated it to herself like a promise. Worst case scenario, worst case scenario… Eventually, tired out from all her anxieties, and from trying desperately not to worry about what would come next, Sabrina fell asleep.

FROM THE POV OF RACHEL ELIZABETH DARE

“Okay, I give up. Tell me what’s wrong.” Annabeth’s voice startles me away from my plate of eggs, which I had been pushing around with a fork. Anxiety bubbles in my throat, just as it had been since I woke up, and food just doesn’t sound like a good idea.

“I--what?”

Annabeth waves her hand impatiently. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and I don’t think you’ve looked up once. Also you’re always hungry in the mornings, so unless you, like, ate an entire cow before I got here, this ,” she gestures to my uneaten eggs, “is unusual behaviour.”

I give her a look. Sometimes, I get the feeling that Annabeth exists as a part of multiple different dimensions at once, like she’s having four other conversations that I can’t hear, and is still ten steps ahead of me in the one I’m actually a part of.

Or maybe I’m just easy to read.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I don’t want to talk about it. “I’m fine.” I’m terrified.

Annabeth sighs. “Is this about the prophecy?”

“No,” I spear another piece of egg, and don’t eat it. “Maybe. Yes.” I feel like going back to my cave and staying there for the rest of my life. Waiting with a book and some paints for the prophecy to get bored and go away. Maybe I’d take Jane with me, or Nico, for some company. That sounds nice.

My plate is pulled away from me as I aim my fork again. “I can’t pay attention when you do that,” Annabeth huffs. I think I wouldn’t invite her to stay in my cave. She’s too on the nose when I want to mope. Then again, she says the same about me.

“Fine,” I turn and face her. “Let’s talk feelings.” Connor Stoll, who had been making his way towards our table, abruptly turns around and walks the other way. I should get Chiron to hire a therapist. Gods know we need it.

Further proving my point, Annabeth’s eyes widen a little, before she remembers it is I who will be spilling. (I make a point to corner her later. It’s a routine we have). “Wow. You broke fast.”

I nod. “I’m tired and you’re annoying.” (False. We both know it. Another routine). “Like you said, I’m nervous about the prophecy.”

Annabeth nods. “And?”

I frown. “What do you mean, and ? There’s no and.”

Annabeth frowns back at me. A mirror, a mime, an annoyance. The nerve to look disappointed in me. “I thought you were spilling, Red.”

I roll my head back and study the roof of the pavilion, which Annabeth designed, and slowly lean my head down to stare at the table. I really don’t want to have this conversation. I go along anyways. “I’m worried about Jane.”

Annabeth leans back, triumphant. “Ah, yes. Your girlfriend.”

Maybe if I try reeeeeeeally hard, I can activate the Oracle of Delphi and freak Annabeth out enough to make her go away. “ Not my girlfriend. You know that.”

“You called Percy my boyfriend for weeks before we actually officially decided.”

I wave my hand dissmissively. “That’s different, you guys were dancing around each other for like three years. You needed a bit of a push. Jane and I kissed once! Over a week ago! And nothing came of it.” We actually haven’t really talked about it. We’re in this sort of in-between zone where we spend a ton of time together, but don’t have a label for it. Honestly, it’s been nice.

Annabeth grins, apparently reading my thoughts. “You’ve been eating lunch with the Demeter cabin, like, every other day. I saw you doing archery together yesterday. Both of you were awful at it, but you stayed there for hours. I’ve never seen you focus on something that long outside of your paintings.”

I stare at the ceiling again. Maybe Annabeth designed it so that a single square foot of rock might fall down onto my head and relieve me from this conversation. “Yes, fine, we spend a lot of time together. But that doesn’t make us a couple, and has nothing to do with what I’m actually worried about!” I can see in her face that Annabeth is more serious now, and is about to fully listen to me, when Percy and Malcolm show up, sliding into the seats across from us, and clanging several plates of pancakes down onto the table in front of them.

“Made them ourselves! Wanna share?” Percy gives Annabeth heart eyes and a kiss on the cheek when she folds a large blue pancake into thirds and bites it like a burrito. I roll my eyes at them because they are a horrifying and disgusting couple and also I kind of want to be them when I grow up. Malcolm ignores them, instead turning to me. “Were you talking about Jane?” he asks, pushing wire rimmed glasses up his nose.

I frown. “Sort of. Why?”

He shrugs, sheepish. “You know. Just, uh, just wondering.”

I narrow my eyes at him, then Percy, who tears himself away from looking at Annabeth to sigh dramatically. “Malcolm wants to ask out Jane’s sister. You know, the blond one.”

I snort. “ Skye? Seriously?”

Malcolm looks vaguely offended. “What’s so weird about that?”

“Sorry, it’s not weird.” I reach over the table to pat him on the shoulder with my fork. “Perfectly normal teenage hormones.” He glares at me and I smile sweetly back. “I just can’t imagine Skye going out with anyone, that’s all.”

Malcolm stares down at his pancake, disappointed. “Oh. You sure?”

I nod, feeling a little more normal with my friends and less doom-related breakfast conversation. My eggs are past the threshold of “warm and appetizing” but I take a bite anyway. “Pretty sure. Jane told me that she’s aroace and, based on past occurrences, there’s a seventy percent chance she’ll punch anyone who asks her out. Anyway, why the interest? I didn’t know you guys talked.”

Malcolm shrugs. “We don’t, really. She just seems cool.”

Percy pipes in, “He’s been practically obsessed with her since she won that soccer game against the Nike kids and made them cry.”

I nod approvingly. “Well, Malcolm, at least we know you have good taste.”

Annabeth pats him on the head, ignoring his complaints that her hand is covered in blue maple syrup. “Better luck next time, brother of mine.”

Piper and Leo join us next, contributing an alarming volume of grapes and a single hardboiled egg to the breakfast display. Leo grabs a pancake and wraps it around some grapes, before taking a big bite. “I hear you’re discussing Malcolm’s romantic failures,” he says around the world’s worst breakfast burrito. Piper gasps in mock offense, then swallows the unpeeled hardboiled egg whole, like a snake. (This is a regular morning routine. She’s trying to work up to being a sword swallower, since her dad did it in a movie once and she thought it looked like fun). “ Malcolm, why didn’t you come to me? I could have given you a verdict within five minutes!”

“I wanted advice on whether I should ask out that Heaphestus boy two weeks ago and you told me to fuck off.”

Piper pouts at him. “That’s on you, you caught me at a bad time.”

Annabeth holds up a pancake with the air of a respected royal and we turn to her. “As delightful as this is, Rachel and I were initially talking about her romantic prospects and also her worries and fears, and I feel that we should get back to that before she slinks off and avoids the rest of the conversation.”

I glare at her. “Why would you bring this away from the very nice conversation we were having about everyone else’s problems? Do you hate me?” Annabeth rolls her eyes. “No, dumbass, I’m just not letting you walk away from a potential breakthrough. Now, where were we? You were saying that you’re worried about Jane but it has nothing whatsoever to do with your relationship, or lack thereof.”

I give a long suffering sigh, and try to communicate telepathically with Piper that she needs to Save Me Now, but she’s looking at me in interest with her chin resting in her hands, her long fingers adorned with rings sent to her from her Mortal girlfriend, Shel, who bought them at a vintage punk store. The traitor. Defeated, I turn back to Annabeth.

“It’s just that, whatever ends up happening with this prophecy, I don’t want it to fuck her up, in the way the quests have sometimes done to us. Like, we’re used to this by now, but it hasn’t been a smooth road. I don’t exactly like going on quests, and at first I was really worried at the prospect of being included in a prophecy, since that’s fairly abnormal, but Jane was only made aware of her heritage a couple months ago! What if this turns out like Silena or Beckendorf or-or Jason, and the prophecy destroys her, and it’s all my fault because I’m the one who pulled her into all this?”

Everyone tenses up at the mention of Jason, but they continue to look at me with a mixture of concern and love that makes something soften inside of me. For the hundredth time, I think of how lucky I am to have these people who love me unconditionally. Even if they really, really need therapy.

“I know that I didn’t plan any of this, but we’re both tied in now, especially since both Chiron and I had the prophetic dream and I actually gave the prophecy that day in the woods, and, well, this isn’t her world yet. She’s only got a little bit of ichor in her, and she grew up knowing nothing of any of this. In a way, I did too, and I have no ichor, but I had clear sight. For me, it was ineffable, but she could technically leave any time, if it weren’t for the prophecy. She can leave, and I feel like it’s up to me to make sure that doesn’t change.”

“Oh, Rachel.” Annabeth reaches her arms out to me and I let myself be pulled into an embrace. “Jane’s going to be okay. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sabrina stood in line at the boat rental hut, her arms crossed and a frown plastered on her face. It had not been a successful afternoon. For hours, she’d been searching the coastal towns near where her plane landed, looking for some trace of Aeaea, or anything else she’d seen in her dream. She was used to working with dregs. It was normal for her to have to squint a little at the evidence, have to shuffle things together around big holes of “Maybe,” like she was working a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

But this was something else.

Sabrina had read about places where mythology shaped the culture. Places where the tourist draws were events that had supposedly happened thousands of years ago, or creatures that only existed in grainy photographs and people’s imaginations. Hell, she’d met the Loch Ness monster. Was it insane for her to have assumed she’d be able to find the same kind of thing here? All her training and years of experience had told her that, if you sniff around long enough, you’ll find a conspiracy theorist or a slightly off-the-rails guidebook.

So far, though, Sabrina had found nothing. Absolutely nothing. She hunted around, searching up library catalogs, checking every store on the street. “Aeaea,” “Circe,” even “the Odyssey.”

Nothing.

The line edged along slowly, and Sabrina ran her hands up and down her arms. The air was chilly from its proximity to the cold sea water. There were three people in front of her now. She just had to wait a little longer, then she would have a boat and be able to explore these waters herself.

Something was wrong with this place. Something was wrong with all of these places. And Sabrina was going to figure out what.

Later, Jane and I are taking our time walking to the pegasus stables to watch the riding lesson that Rosalind has reluctantly agreed to let Batty take (provided that Percy, who’s teaching today, doesn’t let her fly high enough that she’ll die if she falls off, and that Batty wears all of the necessary protective gear). Jane looks lovely, wearing a sunshine-y yellow bandana that sets off her dark curls and warm sepia skin. She has on her Camp Half-Blood shirt again, and a short green skirt, and all of it should clash horribly, but it doesn’t.

We’ve decided to cut through the strawberry fields, and I swallow a sun-warmed strawberry while Jane tells me about the dream she had last night. I think back to my conversation with Annabeth this morning when she tells me of the dark woods and the feeling of drowning, the memory warping and the echoing voice. At some point we sit down in a patch of grass, a simple circle amidst strawberry plants with a couple logs where the campers and satyrs take their breaks when they work here. Jane finishes her story and we sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, only broken by the grunts of annoyance Jane makes while trying to get her plant powers to activate again. She’s been doing that a lot.

“Well that sucks,” I say finally. “Have you been having other dreams like it?”

Jane shrugs, the neon orange fabric of her shirt wrinkling on her shoulders. “One or two, I think. Last night’s was the first one I really remembered. ” She smiles out of the corner of her mouth. “I hardly ever remember my dreams. It used to upset me. I thought I was losing potential writing material.”

I laugh. It’s such a Jane thing to think, that I can’t help it. She goes quiet, like she’s reminiscing, and I picture a tiny version of Jane, sitting crossed-legged on her summer quilt, writing. I look at her now, scrunched up nose and big brown eyes. Oh gods, she must have been an adorable child.

“My mother used to say that my imagination was the eighth wonder of the world,” Jane says. She’s looking down the hill at the cabins, plant powers temporarily forgotten, and I remember her telling me about her mother, the first Elizabeth Penderwick, who came here and was a daughter of Demeter and loved opera. The Penderwick siblings’ beloved mother who died so young.

I move closer to Jane on the log. “I can understand why she’d say that.”

Jane smiles again, a little sad this time, a little absent, but full to the brim with love.

“Bet you she’s in Elysium,” I say softly. I explained the Underworld to Jane a couple weeks ago, and she’d gotten this same absent look on her face, that I now know means she’s thinking about her mother. Jane nods, now, then turns to me. “Could we talk about something else?” Her voice is quiet, her eyes a little shiny.

“Course,” I say. “Shall I regale you with tales of dimwittery at this camp in the years past?” I told her last week about the time some Hermes kids tried to order pizza to the camp, accidently causing Chiron to think we were under attack. Jane had nearly fallen off the bench laughing.

She grins now, but shakes her head. “Tell me what it’s like being an Oracle.” I give her a look. She’s asked me before and I never really know what to say. When I give prophecies, it’s like I black out. I’m taken over by another entity who shares my body. (“Like that lady in Suicide Squad ,” Leo had said when I tried to explain it to him once, but I’d refused to be compared to such a gods-fucking-awful movie). So, in a way, I don’t know what it’s like to be the Oracle.

As if reading my thoughts, Jane shakes her head. “Not that part. I’ve seen you all green and smokey, and I know you can’t feel it. I mean the other stuff. How did you know it was you? What did you have to do to become the Oracle? That kind of thing.” I relax a little. Jane’s asked me all sorts of weird questions about Greek mythology and the gods recently. She calls it “research for her book,” but sometimes I think she’s just nosy. It’s cute.

Jane shrugs and looks off into the distance. If you tilt your head a little you can kind of see the stables from here. We have fifteen more minutes to get there, according to my watch. I decide to take it easy. “Delphi is this weird ethereal spirit,” Jane continues, “but there’s also just everyday, Oracle you, who likes paint and denim and bagels.” At that, I laugh. “I actually don’t like bagels that much. I’m just late to breakfast so often that they’re usually the only things available.”

Jane pouts at me and plays with the bracelet tied around my wrist--the one she gave me. “You know what I mean! You know all this weird shit about me because my siblings don’t shut up at lunch, and I know stuff about you, like the denim thing, which I still think is funny by the way. But you’re also the freaking Oracle! Your dormant self lies waiting!” I laugh at her, and she rolls her eyes, but I see the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Rachel, that’s very cool!”

I give in. “Honestly, there’s not much to say, that’s why I don’t talk about it.” I pause. “Well no, it’s that a lot of the stuff beyond the obvious is actually sort of creepy and weird, and not in a good way. There’s stuff I try not to think about, is what I mean.”

The edge of her yellow bandana sticks up as Jane tilts her head at me. “That makes sense. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I shake my head. “No, it feels okay right now.” I mean it. Now that I’ve gotten into the swing of it, I do want to talk about it. Still, a small sigh escapes me. “I like being the Oracle, because that’s what brought me to a place where I feel like I belong and I have people who love me. It’s nice to know that I’m fulfilling my purpose in life.”

Jane pulls her knees up to her chest. “But?”

“But I also get lonely.” It comes out in a rush. “There are other oracles, but I didn’t know about any of them until the Apollo thing happened, and even then, they’re all supernatural beings--I know, I know, but not in the way I am. It’s not the same. Also, there are all these weird rules. Like I have to stay an unmarried virgin my whole life.”

“That’s fucked,” Jane says softly.

“I know! Chiron won’t even tell me why, just that it’s ‘the rules’” I let out an annoyed huff. “And, like, it’s not even that the idea itself bothers me. That’s pretty much what I was planning to do with my life anyway.”

“Same.”

“But it’s the principle of the thing!” I flick a strand of hair out of my face, offhandedly noticing that the tip of my pinky finger is slightly green. I ignore it. It’s not important. “Just because I don’t want to have sex or get married doesn’t mean it’s a fair rule to impose on me! Besides, why is it always the women in these things whose identities are tied up in who they do or don’t fuck? Last I checked, Grover didn’t have to sign an ‘I shalt not fornicate’ contract when he became Lord of the Wild!”

“Exactly!” Jane raises her hands and shouts up to the sky. “Don’t you fuckers realize we’re more than that?”

“The Hunters of Artemis, too!” I’m a jack-in-the-box, and something’s winding me up. “Thalia and Reyna send me letters all the time, and they seem really happy! Which is great!” I pause to emphasize the greatness of their happiness. My pinky is completely green, now. “But, they also had to make a stupid ‘ode of chastity,’ like I did!”

“Are you kidding me?” Jane’s hair flips as she turns to me. “I thought Artemis was one of the good ones!”

My voice lowers to a husky rumble, and I stare into the distance towards you, the reader. “In a broken system, there are no good ones. Abolish the police.” I clear my throat and my voice turns back to normal. “Sorry, zoned out for a second.” My green pinky has begun to vibrate.

“Happens to the best of us,” Jane’s voice is light and nonchalant. “And yeah, I know. Pretty much all of the gods have skeletons sitting on their shoulders, but it just seems out of character for her. I thought all of Artemis’s groups were supposed to be safe havens, not oppressive structures in their own right.”

I frown. “Yeah you’re right, that is weird. I’d never thought of it much beyond the gods having weird rules, but I wonder if something bigger is at play. The gods might be fucked up in the way that regular people are, and are undoubtedly responsible for all sorts of crap. But then there's more personal things, like the ‘chastity vows’ the Hunters and I had to take, and the fact that Nico was initially outed by Eros, and the weird unexplained eye condition that Piper had during some of her quests that made her eyes a bunch of bright, Eurocentric colors, rather than their natural brown. All sorts of other stuff, too.”

“Wow!” Jane says, sitting up straight on the grass. Her hand moves from where it was resting in her lap to cover her heart. “It’s almost like a bunch of genuinely good and inspiring material, such as including prominent queer people and characters of color in fun children’s fantasy, as well as having an immortal group of warrior women who support each other and are free from the gaze of men, was taken into the hands of a cis white man armed with unchecked misogyny and a fair amount of white Twitter feminism, both of which really showed when he tried to create an inclusive and empowering book series for children! Like yeah, it had its moments, and definitely some good characters, but overall, a lack of meaningful research in certain areas really made it fall flat!” Once again, I stare through the bindings of URLs and internet coding, now joined by Jane as we lock eyes with you, the reader. This time, we hold eye contact for nearly a minute, giving you time to read and process the long tangent spat out by this fanfic’s author, who, if we’re being honest, has gone just a tad off the rails right now. Finally, Jane and I look away from you, and resume our roles as fictional characters, still shaking off that strange cloud that comes with staring into the soul of those who give you life.

“Ugh, what’s going on with me today?” Jane groans at the same time I mutter, “What’s Twitter?” We turn to each other, blinking in the sunlight, then grin. This is normal. We’re fine. Jane looks up at the sky again. “I wonder if the gods are watching us. Maybe we should make them think we suck so they’ll leave you alone.”

I laugh as she sticks her tongue out, grinning wickedly at a nearby cloud. “Better yet, make them think we’re too powerful to be messed with,” I say. Jane sees me watching her and opens her mouth, sucking the cloud in between her teeth. The sky seems bluer in the space where it had been, and Jane’s eyes glitter with mirth as she swallows. “Mmm, tastes like sugar.” I giggle, feeling a small shiver on the top of my head. When I peer up, I see another cloud has floated over to me. I open my own mouth, and take it in, just as Jane did hers. “Sugar, yes. But there’s a touch of blood, too,” I say. Jane nods sagely. “What were we talking about?”

“The inherent misogyny in much of Greek mythology and the world of Camp Half-Blood in general.”

Jane nods again. “Right. A very important topic. It makes it weird when I’m writing sometimes. You know, cause I want to bring in Circe and Zeus and Apollo and all these fascinating characters, but there’s just so much bad stuff tied up with them that comes up when I research.” She looks down at our feet, which are standing in the midst of a strawberry patch. We seem to have been walking, crushing sweet summer strawberries as we go, which is odd because I don’t remember getting up. “You know Rachel, I’m feeling a bit strange.”

I look at her, and see an odd blankness in her warm brown eyes. “Now that you mention it, Jane, so am I.”

“My thoughts and words are my own,” Jane says, “But there’s something up with my body. I can’t really feel it.”

“I agree, I’ve honestly gone a bit numb.” I try to glance down at my fingers, wondering idly if they’ve gotten any more green, but find that my neck won’t bend.

Jane’s eyebrows furrow. “Yet, at the same time, I feel as though I could do anything. Grow another grass blade. Grow a flower. Grow a tree. Bend the world to my will if I wanted to.”

“Or is it the world bending me to its will.” I grin at my own philosophical point, but find that the smile won’t go away. Pretty fucking inconvenient, since the next thing I was going to bring up was part of the whole serious misogyny conversation. I decide to go for it anyway. “And I’m not the only one with weird rules!” Jane nods, as if this is a perfectly normal segway, and the only extraneous thought that floats through my mind as we find ourselves walking down a hill is how unfair it is that she still has control over her neck and I don’t. “Remember when I told you about the Hunters of Artemis?”

“Oh yeah! Your friends Reyna and Thalia, right?”

“Yeah, them! They send me letters sometimes, and seem really happy, which is great.” I pause, meaning to add emphasis, when I’m hit with a great sensation of deja-vu. “Wait a second, we already talked about this, didn’t we?” I try to remember, but something in my mind is rapidly melting. I cannot find it. I cannot find anything.

“Jane?” My voice quivers, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh gods, please let this be a dream. For a moment, I try to convince myself that it’s the Oracle of Delphi taking over, just like she did the other day and generally does a couple times a year. But I know that I’m lying. This is not what that feels like. “Jane, where are you?” I can barely move my mouth to say the words. I can feel nothing but the frozen fear of paralysis, of lost control. When I open my eyes, this other thing in my body has brought me to the edge of the forest. “Jane? Jane?” She could be right beside me, unable to speak, and I wouldn’t know because I can’t turn my head, can’t move my eyes, can barely even hear right now.

It’s okay, something says.

“Jane?” It’s not her voice. It’s no one’s voice.

It’s okay. You’re home.

With every cut the wooden oars made through the choppy ocean water, Sabrina knew she was getting closer. She could feel it in her bones, in her brain, a little voice that whispered in her ear. It had been three hours. Her body was worn down, energy levels dipping dangerously low, when she felt something scrape the bottom of her boat.

A rock.

Frantically, she peered through the fog that had begun to surround her boat a mile ago. The island. Had she finally made it?

As if answering her call, a peel of thunder rang out, and Sabrina’s boat began to fill with rain that pounded down from the sky. The storm from her dream. She rowed even faster, then, fear sparking a renewed strength in her tired muscles.

Just as Sabrina was about to reach the shore, a massive wave crashed over her, and her boat capsized. She came back up, sputtering, holding her sopping wet bag above her head. Another wave swept against Sabrina’s face, and she found herself spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. Finally, she washed up on the shore, heaving breaths raking through her lungs.

Sabrina blinked, pushing herself up onto her elbows. It was real. She was here.

She had made it.

FROM THE POV OF ROSALIND PENDERWICK

It’s been a pleasant day so far. Breakfast with my siblings and some of the Demeter cabin (though Jane did seem a bit absent-minded). Miranda, Florien, and Rio convinced me to practice some plant magic with them for a couple hours and I built up to growing a small sunflower. Lunch (again with Jane seeming distracted, though Rachel ate with us this time, which appeared to help). Then, Skye and Jeffrey disappeared with some of the older campers (supposedly for a regular game of soccer, but the unsettling gleam in their eyes had me doubting that was all there was too it), Jane and Rachel went to take a walk in the strawberry fields, and Batty and I were left to prepare for a pegasus riding lesson. If it had been up to Batty, the latter could have easily taken up the entire afternoon, but changing into durable pants and finding a bandana can only take so long.

After a somewhat restless hour, during which I grew three peonies and Batty rhapsodized about the stable of unicorns that another demigod camp apparently has, Batty and I arrive at the stable. We’re ten minutes early, and she’s been talking a mile a minute the whole time, not stopping from before. I swear I now know as much about pegasuses as she does. According to Rachel, the teacher today is Percy, her friend, who’s very responsible “when he puts his mind to it.” I wasn’t sure how to tell her that’s actually not very comforting, but Batty looked so excited and I figured there will be plenty of other people there, so. Why not. She’s been spending so much time there anyway.

Needless to say, I very much regret my decision now.

The stables are modest, made of wood and painted green, and I’ve been there several times by now. There’s a long line of stalls visible when we first walk in, but Batty skips straight to the far end, where a massive pegasus the color of a carrot pokes its head over the door and nuzzles Batty’s hair. She looks up at me with a smile that could melt anyone’s heart, and pats the horse on the nose. “Rosy, this is Queen Lotus Flower. Percy said we have a impenetrable bond.”

I look at the two of them with a questioning gaze. How can they both have the exact same puppy-dog eyes? I swear to god. The gods. All of them. “Batty, sweetheart. That horse is like ten feet tall.”

She nods enthusiastically. “I know, she’s so much taller than any other horse I’ve seen. Percy says she has the biggest wingspan of any horse at camp.”

I nod, slowly, wondering why my sister picked the biggest pegasus to fall in love with. At that moment, Percy pushes the door open. “Hey Batty! Ready for your lesson?” Batty leaves her post by Queen Lotus Flower to wrap her arms around my waist and nod. I look Percy over. He’s a few inches taller than me, with brown skin and curly hair. A beaded camp necklace, orange tshirt, and jeans. Weird arm tattoo aside, he’s one of the most normal-looking people at camp. I’ve only met him a couple times before, but, my nerves over Batty flying around on massive horses aside, I do trust him. Rachel seems to have a good taste in friends. Also, Batty likes him, and she’s still shy around a good number of Skye and Jane’s friends back in Cameron.

For the next few minutes, I watch as Percy instructs Batty on buckling Queen Lotus Flower’s giant saddle and looping the bridle over her nose. Not wavering a bit from the “lesson” aspect of all this, he steps back to let her show what she’s already learned from hanging around the stables so often, only stooping in to guide her when she gets confused. As the minutes tick by, more people show up for the lesson: three other students, and a good sized crowd of people who just like watching the pegasuses. By then, I’m seated on the grass outside the stables, soaking in the blistering sun and watching as Percy (seated atop a wiry black pegasus who Batty pointed out as Blackjack) darts around the large dusty enclosure, making final preparations for the lesson.

Skye and Jeffrey show up then, and sit on either side of me. I want to ask them where Jane and Rachel are, but they’re talking non-stop about a game they just played in the woods with some of the other campers, only switching the subject when Percy and Blackjack return and they begin discussing whether or not it should be scientifically possible for a horse to fly.

Just as Batty and Queen Lotus Flower begin a gentle trot around the enclosure, I feel a tap on my shoulder, and hear the familiar sound of Tommy’s chuckle. “She’s got a weird knack for that,” he says. I nod, grinning.

It’s been good with us. We’ve had breakfast together a few times, even played a game of basketball one afternoon. Our conversations aren’t the same as they used to be, and there’s a sense of newness that feels cold and strange every so often. But it’s good. It feels right. At least for now, this feels like where we’re supposed to be.

As Percy starts demonstrating how to take flight, I look around again. Jane and Rachel still aren’t here. They promised to come. (“For moral support!” Jane had said. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Rachel had added with a smile). I try to push it out of my head. This lesson is a big deal. Batty’s going to be flying.

She leans forward on Queen Lotus Flower’s neck.

They begin to run, moving together like a single being.

Just as they burst into the air, Batty’s euphoric smile lighting up the sky, Katie grabs my shoulders from behind. I shush her so I can lean forward and watch Batty silhouetted against the pegasus’s wide orange wings.

“Rosalind. Rosalind, guys. ” Something about the panic in Katie’s voice makes me turn around. Her usually tied back hair is loose and her clothes rumpled, giving the impression that she was dragged out of bed for this. (Some part of my brain distantly remembers her saying she was going to take a nap). Skye and Jeffrey turn around, too.

“What, what’s happening?” I reach out my hands, trying to calm her as she collapses into a squat, breathing heavily.

“Billie… found me in the cabin… had been looking for you guys… been running all over the camp… lucky I remembered about the riding lesson…”

Jeffrey leans over and puts his hands on her shoulders. She stares down at the dirt while her breathing levels.

“Katie, what are you saying? Why were you and Billie looking for us?”

She looks up, and I see that her forehead is drawn into well-worn creases of worry. “Jane and Rachel have gone into the woods.”

Something was wrong. Sabrina crouched on the wet sand, straining to see through the heavy rain. In her dream there had definitely been someone else on the island. She remembered the hunched figure, the sound of sobs leaking through the rain.

But she’d circled the shore at least twice by now, and there was nobody to be found. “Am I late or something?” she wondered aloud. Somehow, she’d gotten that dream It felt like it had been sent to her. Why did it show a person when there was no one?

Sabrina sighed and began to traipse inland, tucking a knife in her pocket. It wasn’t a big island, and she might as well find some shelter aside from her boat, which was now overturned somewhere on the beach. Circe lived here, didn’t she? There must be some sort of roof, especially if this kind of weather was standard.

Or maybe this was just a random island and there was no Aeaea and Sabrina’s dream had just been the unhinged work of her unconscious mind.

There was a small grassy hill set aside from the sand, which Sabrina crawled up with the determination of a dying warrior. Something was pushing her back. An invisible force, a last crumb of survival instinct, plain old fatigue, she wasn’t sure. But something wanted her out of here, and it pushed back harder and harder as she climbed.

She let out a cry of frustration, clawing at the ground, at the air, at whatever this goddamn thing was, and found a renewed burst of strength that pulled her to the top of the hill. Once there, the force that pushed back ebbed a little, like it was giving up. Sabrina let herself relax, and simply took in the view for a moment.

The hill she lay on top of gave way to a deep valley, sprawling and green. In one corner, there was a cluster of trees that looked healthy and comfortable, despite being on a random Greek island in the middle of the ocean. A modest garden lay next to it, somehow appearing unaffected by the rain, and a narrow river wound around the whole scene.

There was also a house.

Sabrina wasn’t sure what she might have expected from the lair of an infamous Greek enchantress, but it wasn’t this.

She hauled herself up on the hill and started down, rushing through the rain onto a wide wooden porch. There was a large stone vat of something dark and crumbly, with a heavy looking staff of sorts leaning against it. The door to the house was short, and Sabrina heard it scrape on the floor when she pushed it open.

The scene awaiting her was surprisingly cozy when she stepped inside. There was a fire in the hearth and rows upon rows of little viles arranged on a set of shelves beside it. A broom leaned against the wall. Sabrina looked around, noting the way that the rain didn’t make any sound as it thrashed against the roof and window, and the almost drug-like stupor that threatened to take over her brain, whispering that everything was fine, she was safe, nothing bad could happen to her.

Sabrina had encountered hypnosis before, and it only ever made her more jittery.

There was an open hatch in the floor with stairs that lead into darkness. She followed them down, feeling the air grow cooler with every step. Sabrina was quiet, taking tiny steps on her toes, and wincing when one of the stairs creaked. She didn’t know what was down there, and she didn’t want to find out the hard way. But there were no arrows flying up from the space below, no sounds of footsteps or slashes of swords.

Sabrina stepped onto a dirt floor and let herself exhale, shuffling along until her toe hit something hard. Only seasoned reflexes made her reach for the knife in her pocket instead of crying out in fear. She knelt down and squinted in the darkness, trying to see what she’d hit.

A leg.

She frowned, shaking it until she heard a low growl. “Stop that.” She stopped.

“Who are you?” Sabrina leaned closer. If they hadn’t killed her yet she was probably safe.

Instead of answering, they reached out a hand. Sabrina could see a gold ring on the thumb that glinted in a little sliver of light that had crept down from the room above. “Pull me up,” the figure said. “I’ve been paralyzed by the witch.”

Helping the stranger sit turned out to be no simple feat. They were tall and muscular, wearing a cape and a heavy metal chest plate. “The witch?” she questioned, propping them up against one of the cellar’s dirt walls. Her eyes were beginning to adust to the dark, and she could just make out their sharp chin sticking out as their head lolled back.

The figure made a noise. “The witch, the sorceress, the woman. Whatever you want to call her. I figure she sent you down too?” They snorted. “Good luck. I told Zeus not to sent mortals, but does he ever listen? You’re gonna die.”

Sabrina tried to piece together what she could from all this. The witch must be Circe, unless she’d wound up on an entirely different island. And if Circe was going around paralyzing people, then something must be going on. She must be hiding something. As for the person in front of her, Sabrina wasn’t sure who they were. By the way they talked about Zeus, and casually said “mortals,” she’d guess some sort of god? As if that narrowed it down. She’d have to be careful.

“Why did she paralyze you?”

Another weird gutteral noise. “She didn’t like my offer. It’s not the first time this has happened.”

She was growing impatient. Why’d he have to be so vague? “What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why he always sends me. I don’t think he trusts me. He’d rather me stay her paralysed in the basement of a witch than come back home.”

Sabrina let out an exasperated sigh. This wasn’t working and she needed answers. A whole coast of people with mythology-shaped holes in their memories awaited her. “You’re going to need to be a little more specific. I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

The figure sounded confused. “What do you mean? Don’t you know who I am?”

She leaned forward and inspected them in the darkness. “No. No I don’t.”

They slid their eyes down to her face. “I am the god Apollo. I came here for Circe and she did this to me.”

“What? Why?”

The stairs creaked behind Sabrina and she felt a long nail drag up her back. “I just want to be left alone,” said a voice as deep and powerful as the smell of red wine. “You don’t mind, do you?” Before Sabrina could grab her knife and turn around, before she could even scream, strong arms had surrounded her shoulders and a hand was clamping a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. Shock made her breath in, sharply, and she smelled the sweetness of sleeping drugs.

A heartbeat, a brief struggle, and Sabrina Starr was gone.

#cruel summer fic #cameron writes #the penderwicks #penderwicks #camp half blood #camp half-blood #rachel elizabeth dare #jane penderwick #rosalind penderwick

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imaginethathaikyuu · 3 years

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How did I find your blog? I was looking for soft Kuroo content on google. And your soft birthday hc’s for him came up. And that’s also how I found tumblr

What was the first story of yours that I read? That Kuroo piece ^

Roughly, how long have I been following this blog? Well I found that piece shortly after it was posted so…. Around the beginning of December 2019 I think. Got a tumblr a few months later and you were the first person I followed (had you in my bookmarks bar before that! (still have you in my bookmarks bar and when I share my screen in classes there are occasionally questions. I ignore them))

What’s something I’ve noticed about you personality wise? You’re really clever and funny. But you’re also sweet. But because you’re clever you have no hesitation in setting up and enforcing your boundaries, and I really admire that strength and confidence.

Have we ever interacted, either by PM, ask, or in the comments? What was my perception of you? YES!!! PM, SOOOOO many asks, comments, and you sent me an ask. And reblogged it. And I cried. A lot. My perception: you’re lovely and I want to h*ld your h*nd ….please.

What’s my favorite story of yours? Oh how to choose. Firstly, I’m a nb, biracial, bisexual. Honey, I’ve never made a choice in my life. But let’s try here. Anything you’ve written for Tsukki. Literally all of it is gold. Fight me. I was going to write “especially [piece title]” but I LITERALLY CANNOT CHOOSE ONE. Your Bokuto nightmare piece. Your Kuroo angsty fight. Your Tendou dealing with S/O with parents who yell piece. Your Kinktobers. Your Futakuchi and Mattsun pieces. And your Terushima pieces. Ugh. I CANNOT CHOOSE. OH AND YOUR STREAMER KENMA!!!!!! OKay just… all of it. I can’t choose. I tried, and I failed, and I’m willing to admit failure.

What’s a story I’d love to see you write? I don’t want to say this… because it hurts me… but I just KNOW you’d write brilliant angst. Some of my fav pieces of yours are pained beginnings with happy endings. That fight with Tsukki after a bad day at work. The pieces I mentioned above (nightmare pieces and fighting pieces and angsty home life ha.. ha.ha.ha.). That Oikawa one where the reader wakes up in bed without him and thinks he left. You write these gorgeous atmospheres and descriptive, visceral feelings, and if you chose to use it for evil…. You could get evil shit done. You’re SO powerful. So I want to read it… but also…. I don’t. I’d love to see you write ABO like you mentioned a while back or just see you explore a cutesy soulmate AU or something. I think you’d be really good at writing an AU where you hear what the other person’s listening too. I feel like you’d be so good at making me feel something for someone who was in another city. (think this would be cute with Tsukki cos he’s headphones boy, OR terushima because I like the dynamic of someone flirty, who clearly cares about looks, falling for someone he can’t see) ANYWAY….

Favorite pairing you write for?/fav reader insert? Tsukishima x reader. It’s my fav self-ship. (but also Mattsun, Bokuto, Oikawa, Tanaka, and Akaashi because you write them SO WELL!!!!)

Have any of your stories helped me through a hard time? Of course. Your self-harm piece came at a time I needed it. Iwaizumi’s in particular saved my life. But also your Tendou dealing with S/O parents who fight… came right when I needed it. Also starting college… was hard.. And reading and rereading your fluff really pulled me through it.

Have any of your stories hit closer to home? YES (see above).

Do I genuinely like your blog, it’s aesthetic or posts? It’s overall feel? It’s content? Yes. The aesthetic is, ngl, a wee bit basic. But I kinda love that. And the feel? It feels like home. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Your blog is my safe space. So, yes, I love. It’s content? YES. OF COURSE. Your personality probably could have kept me here even if your content was kinda shit, but I follow you RELIGIOUSLY because of your content. So yes. I adore.

Is English my first language? Kinda??? I grew up in a trilingual household so I kinda learned three languages at the same time while growing up. But no, I don’t need to translate it in my head. Because English was one of the three.

Anything I want to share? Yes. Please keep being kind to yourself, caring for your mental health, enforcing your boundaries, loving Akaashi, and just generally being you. You’re so lovely as you are, and I hope you continue grow, but never change. Also I’m sorry about all your work stuff…. It literally makes me feel sick. And I hope you find a job where that’s not tolerated, or that your work finds a better way of protecting it’s employees. I know you know this, but none of it is your fault. I just hope things improve. AND I love you… a lot. And I’m so proud of you hitting 9K and you deserve so many more followers because your pieces are just... GORGEOUS. I can’t wait until I’m at Barnes and Noble in a few years and I can pick up a hardback copy of your debut novel. I’m so excited to say “I knew Em Akaashi (which is your legal name as far as I’m concerned) before she was so popular among the masses.”

so ive been trying to figure out the correct and worthy way to reply to this ask since the moment i got it......because its so fucking sweet and kind and amazing and pure and perfect and i just dont know how to use WORDS to explain the way it makes me feel so.......i will just reply in bullet points in regards to every question u answered to make it a lil easier :D

- the fact that u found my blog on google ....... like this may be odd and a very specific thing but before i made this blog i always hoped that 1 day my fanfic would pop up in google searches bc thats ALWAYS how i found fics when i was reading them religiously and i felt so much ENVY!!!!! LIKE I WANTED TO BE THERE I WANTED MY FICS TO B POPULAR ENOUGH TO POP UP ON GOOGLE.....that may sound very selfish but its true......so thats just very cool to me... :]

- u’ve been here for so long omg 🥺🥺🥺🥺 if anyone in ur classes ever asks jus promo my blog like its nbd

- thats so sweet what 🥺🥺🥺 i try my best to advocate for myself and be confident for myself.....ive spent far too much of my time being silently uncomfortable because i was afraid of pushing someone’s buttons seeming rude.....but NO MORE!!!! i know what upsets me, i know my triggers, i know what i dislike experiencing, and im never gonna let myself be anxious or uncomfortable for someone else’s sake, esp if theyre being rude 2 me. i would say its less strength and confidence and moreso me attempting to take control of my anxiety in the places i can (aka on the Internet) bc i am SICK OF ANXIETY ATTACKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- BBY no dont CRY!!!! im racking my brain trying to think of who u are i wanna know so bad so i can thank u personally for being the kindest person in the world n so i can send u more asks >:(........MY HAND IS URS TO HOLD!!!!! dont tell akaashi tho

- OMG my TSUKKI pieces.....hes so hard to write why ;-; thank u so much im so glad u enjoy my works<3333

- NOT ANGST NOT LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!! pained beginnings to happy endings are my specialty.....IMAGINE me writing a sad ending like i CANT!!!!!!!!! ive only done it a few times and it is so Difficult.....YALL ARE SO LUCKY IM NOT EVIL!!!!!! ive had this idea for an angsty akaashi fic that i think about and write in my head every night before falling asleep and it Hurts and i wanna write it but i also can’t make myself :D ABO would be very fun but i genuinely do not know how to explore the concept while making it feel like it’s Written By Me.....u know what i mean? same with soulmate aus, i really dislike writing them because theyre just boring to me like they all feel the same everything’s been done for them.....which is FINE!!! but i write enough cliche stuff as it is HAHA, a long distance type soulmate au could be fun and interesting but ldr’s trigger me bc of a past relationship so </3 but hey maybe someone else could use the idea!!!!!

- gotta love tsukishima <3

- im rlly glad my writing could be there for you friend, one of the biggest reasons i write fanfic (and write the kind of fics i write) is bc i know firsthand how much reading sweet stories abt ur comfort characters can help u through the shittiest times - i just wanna offer ppl some support and happy feelings and love cuz sometimes fanfic is the only time we can find those things (and theres nothing shameful abt that either if anyone bullies u for reading fanfic i will fight them)

- I KNOW MY LAYOUT IS LAZY AND BASIC AS FUCK AND THAT IS BECAUSE I DO NOT GIVE A SHIT LMAOOOO so im glad u think its ok...... like i dont have the patience to create a fancy ass layout that actually works are u KIDDING ME??????? I COULD LITERALLY NEVER plus i kinda like that its just the basic kinda ugly boring default layout like it makes it simple and easy and i feel like it brings focus to the only thing on this blog that i care about which is my writing, i rlly only care about the content here and not aesthetics jdbljdabsdk that blue background will be there til i Die......i adore u more btw

- WHOA trilingual what the hell ur so cool tell me more

- you have my word, friend, that i will continue to do all of that so long as you do the same. take care of yourself, be kind to yourself - i know u can do it, ur so kind to others and u deserve to be kind to urself, too so this is the part that genuinely brought me to tears because *sappy dumb shit ahead* ok look ever since i can remember the one and only thing ive wanted to do with my life is become an author ...... dreams of book covers with my name written on them and words in pages written by me and fanart of my characters and going into my local bookstore n seeing my book there....these thoughts all haunt my fucking brain because i want it SO BAD!!!!!!!! so bad that it makes me CRY!!!!!!!! ive never wanted something more and just!!!!!!!!!!!! idk how much u meant that part but holy fuck!!!!!! i hope so bad that one day i can send u a free copy of my book as a thank u for being the person u are. u have all my love friend, every last bit of it <333333333

#ily<3 #long post

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rpbetter · 3 years

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someone i rp with keeps sharing hcs about my own muses that don't fit with what i believe and every time i say i don't agree with that, that my hc about that situation is "whatever", they get kinda sulky, but its usually over small things like 'your muse has no fashion sense' and not big stuff (which i did shut down the second time they did bc it almost triggered me) so i don't know how to address the pattern without sounding like a bitch

Oh, no...I'm sorry to hear that, Anon! That is an uncomfortable situation right there!

I'm going to go ahead and preface the bad part here - if they're sulky about you correcting them like you've said, there is a high chance you're going to sound like a bitch to them. No matter what you do, I mean. No matter the reality of how politely you've addressed it, if they're viewing this in a negative light already, that's unlikely to change. They want to keep doing what they're doing, do not see the problem with it, and apparently, don't care how uncomfortable it is for you. Unfortunately probable that shutting them down is not going to be received well.

Just be aware that, while I'm going to try to combat that specifically in this suggestion, it is possible that it's going to happen anyway. Know that addressing it is the right choice regardless! The way you're feeling is not okay, it needs to be addressed, and preferably before they do make you so uncomfortable and frustrated that you stop caring about how you come off to them. In the end, the variable in how one is perceived is important, and that variable is always the person on the other end and their particular attitude, biases, and so forth. At some point, you have to say that you approached it reasonably, maturely, and politely...the rest is up to them, out of your hands.

What I'm saying is that if they want to be pissed off at you and take it the wrong way? You did your best, you're not being a bitch, and you have a right to have an issue with this behavior of theirs. If they freak out about it, they're someone you're better off losing.

Alright, so, since it's expressly part of the concern you have that you don't want to sound bitchy, let's try to concentrate on that!

A good way to subvert that idea is to try to make it clear how this is making you feel. Make this the basis of why it is a problem. Remain positive sounding but honest about it.

So, let's say, you want to say something like, "it really pisses me off when you make stupid headcanons about my character, you're making me so fucking uncomfortable with this, stop." True, but not positive. Likely to make them defensive and to hurt their feelings (as it's also possible that they're doing this because they want to be really into your character and you, despite all the full irony of clearly not knowing jack about your character).

Instead, try something like this:

"Hey! I need to talk to you about something." If they're not online currently, consider adding a respectful, "It's important, so, I'm going to just leave it for you to respond to whenever you have time. Hope that's alright, I'm not trying to stress you out or anything!"

- Then, you can proceed to the problem.

"I really appreciate that you are so into my muse that you want to create headcanons for them, that's a nice thought. It's a problem for me, though. I don't want this to come off the wrong way, which is why I haven't said much about this before. I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that it was something I was comfortable with, I was just worried about hurting your feelings."

- Even if you don't entirely feel this way, you're not lying...this was a concern, you didn't want to come off hateful to them, a thing undoubtedly making you even more uncomfortable, putting you in a worse position. By phrasing it in a way like this, you're heading off ideas about being unappreciative (of something you didn't want lol I know, but people have weird ideas) and callous. Instead, expressing concern for how they feel and appreciation that they're this interested in your muse and being a part of your creativity - we just want them to keep it to the threads, and, hopefully, they're not also into godmoding.

"It is really uncomfortable for me, though. This is my muse, I'm pretty invested in them, and I don't want other people writing their headcanons. They've been inaccurate before, and at least once, I did have to say something to you because it was close to triggering for me. It's not always that serious, but it can be offensive in some of the ways these headcanons are inaccurate. Those are important parts of my muse, no matter how small or silly seeming they are. It's a little hurtful, and I'm not going to lie, makes me a bit upset to think that you don't care when I've tried to talk to you about this before."

- Alright, you've told them how you feel, but were not hateful about it. Now, give them the desired outcome and more honesty, avoid coming off as giving them an ultimatum - even if you are. Because you absolutely are, just politely.

"Anyway, I appreciate having you as a writing partner and am happy that you are interested in my muse, but I can't feel this uncomfortable all the time. I think maybe we just weren't addressing it as directly as we should have been? Sorry again if I wasn't clear enough or anything. Could you please stop writing these headcanons? If there is a headcanon topic you are interested in, I would love to write it, just let me know next time and I'll do that! We can create things together that way, and in what we're writing together. Otherwise, I really do need to be the one doing the development on my muse to feel comfortable. I hope you understand!"

- You've said a couple of times politely that you need them to stop this, if it doesn't stop, they'll have to go, while reiterating this is personal comfort problem for you. You appreciate what they're trying to do here, but it's got to stop. There is an acceptable alternative that has been offered in having them send you a topic for a HC instead, as well as a reminder that you are involved in creating something together in your interactions.

Just, you know, make it sound like you, not me! Take those points and write them out in your own way, use it for inspiration as to how to discuss this.

Now, either they're going to stop...or they're not. Them being kind of "whatever" about you having an issue with this is concerning. As in, I think they're likely to not stop it. However, you've at least laid down the problem, offered solutions, and told them it's not a situation you're willing to continue dealing with. So, if/when they do it again, you can feel a bit better about either dropping them or messaging them with a, "hey, we've talked about this, it isn't cool. If you do this again, that's it. I'll have to unfollow." They've made their choice, you're not the one in the wrong here.

Total honesty, Anon? I'd be annoyed enough to drop them at this point lol so you already have more patience than I do!

Yeah, they're not unlikely to feel you're being "controlling," but that's outrageous. Look, it's your muse. That means your muse to create and/or develop as you, and only you, see fit. Other muns and muses can/do/should contribute to our characters' development, but they don't do it by overstepping like this mun is. They do it with conversations you have together about the muses and by writing with you, not by writing your muse for you.

I think, sometimes, muns feel strangely entitled to a muse because we're so used to picking up the fiction of others and running with it (canon muses and universes, fic, fanart, etc.). Don't ask me why anyone would think it was appropriate to rewrite what you've either picked up in this way or created entirely yourself lol it's just an observance. I know I've experienced it on muses canon and OC alike, and there is this attitude that I don't want to share or something? Okay, when that original fiction is published, if you want to RP as my OC, go for it. Alright, if you want to write this canon your way, no one's stopping you, but this is the way I'm writing them.

Nothing about that is unreasonable! Even if it is a canon, that's still your unique take on them, it isn't okay to do this. The only time it's alright to make a HC for someone else's muse is when you've come to them and asked if something discussed in jest or just casually about the thread (maybe an event we didn't see play out, as an example) can be HCed by you. If something like that happens, and they accept happily? Great! Totally acceptable and normal thing that happens in RP!

This is...not.

Again, I'm really sorry you're experiencing this! I wish you the best of luck, it's a tricky situation, and it doesn't sound like they're a particularly caring person. More like they have a real self-interest problem going on.

Hope for the best, expect something less than that, but don't let it impact your tone when addressing it. If they get irrationally upset at you for politely asking them, yet another time, to stop doing this, get rid of them, Anon. No one deserves infinite chances, and you deserve to enjoy your RP!

#answered #anonymous #rp problems #rp advice #rp help #mun interaction #headcanons #boundaries #queued

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purplerose244 · 3 years

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Irrational - Chapter 7: Our world

There it is, the final chapter of my collection for the @spacecampweek!

It was really fun working on these prompts and I love writing about my math dorks! Thank you all for reading and for all the people who made material for this week, your work is amazing!!

For this free day the fic is inspired by the FaeAU created by @akozuheiwa! 🥰 Seamus and Steve are human princes and brothers, Aja and Krel are also loyalty but fae, the two races are at war at each other while love blossoms in between 💕💕 Jim is a chef assistant and Douxie is a human with magic that was taken in by the fae when he was abandoned as a child.

Here’s ako’s beautiful fanart about it! 😍😍 This is a Space Camp of course, with Aja/Jim/Steve along with it! It got pretty long... I had fun! 😂

Enjoy!! 💙💙💙

Summary: Humans and fae had been at war since forever, they hated each other, it was a fact. Yet his love, their love alone made reality extremely questionable, to the point Seamus didn't feel guilty about his choice anymore. He wasn't going to be miserable for eternity. Today, he was going to get his own happiness.

Read it on the AO3

His lungs were on fire, he had never run this much in his entire life. The forest seemed to be getting bigger around him, it widened his horizon, it blocked his feet from proceeding. It seemed to be doing everything in order to prevent him to go forward. His boots were dripping with dirt, the adherence was far beyond compromised at this point, it was a miracle that he hadn’t slipped a single time. Powerful voices were behind his back, getting further and further away. Swords meeting, shouts of war, everything turning into a mess of fire and hate because of him.

Only because his heart wanted to believe in this, in him, in them. Seamus would have been a liar if he had said the thought that this was a mistake hadn’t crossed his mind. Despite everything, despite honor and regret and all in between, there was only a desire of piece into his mind.

That possibility of joy resided only across that border.

Gosh, he had been there a million times now, but the trip had never felt longer. It stretched to infinity into his mind, between all that he was leaving behind and all the people he was never going to see again. He couldn’t shake away Steve’s strained smile for a single moment, as he gestured him to move forward while he dealt with their father’s guards. His own brother had given him the chance to escape, despite all the consequences coming along with it. This kingdom was ruled by a merciless ruler, that knew of power and greatness but not of people and kindness. The two of them had been born into this place, taught to always prioritize the bigger picture as in the outcome was always going to make up for the losses. It had occurred time later, too much time later perhaps, that an uncaring soul made sacrifices so much easier.

This was the proof. The fact that prince Seamus was being chased by the same soldiers that for years had been by his side, providing his protection and safety for his empire to come, showed just the level of hypocrisy of this world, where the moment someone was to do differently it was like calling upon himself a death wish.

His boot caught a massive root, the blonde tripped over mud, feeling it between his fingers. He gritted his teeth, struggling to get up, almost slipping again then proceeding.

Faster, faster, the border was still far.

He needed to get there. He needed to get to him, he-

His own scream was faster than the pain. His body couldn’t take it, after a life freed from physical pain and suffering. He was weak. His breath caught up when he found himself face into the ground again, his leg pulsing like mad. Steps were getting closer, fast and agile, and it filled his heart with dread. Seamus looked, up, recognizing immediately crest of the mole of this kingdom, granted only to the royal soldiers of the guard. It hurt madly that it belonged to a friend.

“L-Logan…” The archer narrowed his eyes, another arrow prepared. Despite the look of a warrior, his forehead was dripping with sweat. He wasn’t completely gone yet, Seamus had to believe that. “P-please, don’t do this to me! You know what he will do to me!”

Logan pressed his lips together, his hold clenching around his weapon.

“You called this upon yourself, you know that.”

“You don’t understand!”

“You’re right, I don’t. Because you were supposed to become king after him and make things better.” His voice was overflowing with bitterness. “You were supposed to solve everything!”

“I thought so too, then I realized it… I won’t be the one to make the difference.”

“Why are you saying this??” Tears were born on him, as they had been held back until now. “We used to dream about that, thinking that as soon as you were to take the throne, everything was going to turn out for the better! You are older than Steve, it was the natural course! You were going to help the kingdom, you were going to help me and my mother! But that was a lie, wasn’t it??” He closed his eyes, drops falling through his cheeks. “The king told me about your escape, how you are going to give out info to save your own skin so the fae will have mercy on your soul! You’ve gone too far, and as a soldier and a friend… I have to stop you.”

Seamus gritted his teeth, slowly lowering his eyes onto the wound. The arrow hadn’t gone deep, it had most likely struck a sensible point. Logan had been practicing his aim for years, stating that he could do a lot even when no one was looking, even when no one cared. If someone else had given him the entire speech his father had been poisoning the realm with, the blonde would have not cared.

This was not the case, so he grabbed the arrow and extracted before he could think of not doing it, letting out a strangled noise. The archer’s eyes widened. Seamus glared.

“What info would I give to the fae? That we are at war with each other? They know.” It hurt madly, but not as much as realizing that his friend had been turned against him because of his dad. Again. “They have their own problems, the only thing we have in common seems to be the awful monarchy currently in control, and you are the proof. At least I know Steve is still as stubborn as ever and has people that cares about him, enough not to let him make mistakes.”

The archer kept staring at him, as if he didn’t know him anymore, as they had been knowing each other of years without actually knowing a thing. Maybe that was true.

“You… you’re lying. You’re a prince, you hold informatio-”

“If I was any other person they would kill me at sight, you idiot!” His ankle was bleeding, he pressed his arm against it. Seeing his immaculate white sleeve turning red made him feel sick, and oddly relieved as well. “I am not going directly to them, I am not that stupid! I have no fighting experience, I am no diplomat, how would I even face them to be a snitch anyway? I am not betraying, I am running away!” Oh. Wow. He had never felt this good at screaming before. He was really going for it, he was escaping this cursed world.

Logan was agape, staring at him like he had passed away in front of him. His hands were trembling, the weapon was lowered slowly. A frown arrived, a welcomed one, because it always meant that he was thinking. At last, his friend was actually thinking.

“… that’s not what your father said.” Ah, he stopped calling him king. Good sign.

“You’re surprised that he can lie?” Seamus sighed, gritting his teeth at the burning of the wound. “I’m going to a secret place, protected by pixies. It is still at the board, but I will not betray.”

“But… why? Why are you running away?” He got closer to him, kneeling, taking out a cloth of some sort. He wrapped it around his wound, something he probably had experience with Steve. “I know that he’s very hard on you, in a way that wouldn’t be allowed if he wasn’t this powerful, but you’ve always put up with it. No matter how much it hurt.” He wasn’t that lost then. “Perhaps not in the name of your future, but you still kept yourself together for years. Why is it different now?” This, this was the perfect question.

With his pulsing leg, with his father’s guards on his traces to bring him back to that prison, with one of his oldest friend questioning him, Seamus smiled.

“I didn’t think there was a better choice. Something better… someone better.”

The forest was shaken by a blow of wind. Logan was staring at him in disbelief. For a moment, it almost felt like they were back in the gardens of the castle, laying down, blabbering about secrets and the future. The smile that appeared onto his friend was just like back then.

“Smart choice, as expected.” He put a hand over his bandaged wound. “… I’m sorry.”

Perhaps this world hadn’t taken away everything from him yet.

Then, when that minuscule moment of silence cleared up between them, the gallop of a horse grew steadily close. Seamus’ blood turned cold. The heavy, intimidating march of that mount, he would have recognized it everywhere. Bred for battle… no, bred in order to instill fear into the opponent, the realization that there was nowhere to run. The end had been determined the moment that march had stopped. Seamus had always been on the other side of that sword, assisting by his father’s side terrorized out of his mind but comforted by his own loyalty to the winning kingdom. How many years he had stalled this moment, knowing that he was only human and could only take this much? It was such a meaningless thought right now, as the horse finished his march right there.

His father got off, the thud reverberated. He was in full armor, that fancy suit as to appear mightier and better than anyone else. Those piercing blue eyes that Seamus had inherited were deadly and merciless, even more than usual, as they fell onto his offspring.

An exasperated sight left his throat.

“I wish I could say I am surprised by your behavior, son. Alas, I knew you were not meant for greatness, not you nor your brother. I cannot believe my own blood is such a disappointment!” He unsheathed the sword in a lazy gesture, almost as he didn’t have time to deal with this mess. With him. Like that was new. “Prince Seamus, you have been declared to be a traitor for the realm of Arcadia. You will be sentenced tomorrow at dawn. Guard Logan, bring him here.”

“No.”

Wow, if Seamus hadn’t been this scared for his life, he would have laughed out loud at his father’s shocked expression. Someone finally denying him something to his face, priceless.

“What?” And dangerous, so very dangerous. The archer glared.

“You lied to me, you told me the prince was a traitor but he did nothing of the sort! This was all in order to get rid of him, was it not??” He sounded so angry, furious: the carefree soldier that liked to flirt with the staff of the castle just to make them smile was unrecognizable right now. His father wasn’t moving. It felt even more terrifying. “I will not turn against him again, my loyalty resides in him and his brother. Consider me a traitor instead, ‘your highness’, because if you attack Seamus then I am your enemy.” He immediately took one of his arrows, pointing it.

Seamus couldn’t look away. Nothing but pride was filling his heart, hope and joy at seeing that there were more loyal people than he thought. Yet this wasn’t how it was supposed to go, he was the one risking everything, he and Steve for what they wanted. Not him, not their friend.

The king huffed, raising his sword.

“I will not judge such a will to die. Prepare yourself!”

“I always am. Stay behind him, Seamus.” He knew he couldn’t win at all, but he was there to do everything in order to help him out. He had never been more grateful for it. “Seamus, what are you…?” For this exact reason, he couldn’t do anything else.

The blonde smiled at him, a hand on his shoulder, focusing on the image of the castle.

“Thank you… and sorry.” Logan didn’t have time to scream before he disappeared.

Right after that, in the usual blue smoke that always came with his spells, Seamus found himself with his hands in the mud for the third time. This was bad, the teleportation had been more draining than he had thought. He was insanely proud of actually performing it right, hoping only that Logan was going to be rightfully teleported into the castle and not on a tree or something. He had never had this much control over his powers, Douxie’s lessons had definitely helped. Knowing his own value, his goal, and the people he really cared about and cared about him back was a huge motivation as well.

Once again, seeing his father this baffled, out of control, would have been his biggest satisfaction if only he wasn’t there to fight for his life and for his happiness. When the mystical smoke cleared up, an expression of pure horror contorted his grumpy face.

“You dare use magic?! You freak! How dare you bring such shame to our family! I will not associate with one of your kind, not now, not ever! You’re a disgrace!!”

Seamus actually snorted, stretching his arms. He had a bit energy left. It was going to have to do.

“You do know I’m not five anymore, right? I stopped caring about your approval ages ago.”

“You dare try to act tough in my presence?”

“I don’t have to show you anything. You know, I used to think my powers were actually something to be ashamed of, something that was going to get me killed.” He closed his eyes for a moment. The forest was chanting in a low tune, it was nothing like the side where the fae resided. There everything was overflowing with energy and life. “It turned out, keeping my real self hidden, that was what was really killing me, so slowly I didn’t even realize it.” He looked up, his father was still holding the sword in that mighty way that was only meant as a show. What a fool, Seamus knew that he had never struck a foe in his entire life. He was a commander, he was of big built and that helped, but he was no warrior. Just like himself. “So today… today I come to life, at last.”

He must had taken a bit of his brother’s love for dramatic speeches, he was the one who always did that whenever he had to train. It was also a great way to gain some time, while magic operated by tying around his father’s boots. It was petty, it was extremely childish, and Steve would have been so proud of him… hoping he was going to come out of this unscathed.

His father roared at him, trying to charge. With that, he was falling, making this the highlight of Seamus’ life. The might rock that was this man, the highest place he had aspired to be at for the longest time, was falling down into the mud.

The blonde turned away right in that moment, running, forcing his bad leg.

“SEAMUS!!!” His father’s thundering voice echoed through the entire forest.

When he was a child, his mother used to read him stories. It was around the time where Seamus had chosen knowledge while Steve had picked up a sword, drastically changing how their father wanted them to be raised as. Their education had become different, the time spent together as well, almost as they belonged to two different worlds. Their mother had been the reason why they had never drifted apart. Her books were about heroes, knights, princes and princesses, legends and history all mixed together until they disappeared. The most beautiful ones where the one with long descriptions, because his mother had the loveliest voice, calm and peaceful, that had the power to materialize the place into his mind and into his heart.

Perhaps before jumping into this risky decision Seamus would have liked to ask her, if she was the reason why he had never been like other humans, why he could feel magic while others couldn’t. Despite that doubt forever into his mind, all he could think right now was how much he wanted to tell her about this freedom, this feeling of determination. How running wildly like this felt like he was part of those stories, part of his own at last.

As the forest opened up a little more around him, and he pushed his leg to the limit while it was screaming in agony, he noticed the little details. The edges of the leaves, the shades onto the trunks, the blades of grass, they were all turning slightly blue. The feeling around was changing too.

“When the forest will start to turn into the color of the sky, you will know you are close.”

“If you have no ill intent as I know, the Glade will let you in.”

“We will meet there so please, make it out alive. Please.”

Seamus smiled, his eyes pinching. He could make it. He was going to make it.

Then it came, again the devastating galloping behind his back. His body froze, for two seconds, then he was turning around with his hands out. He didn’t have enough magic to fully defend himself now, he had started to learn new tricks quite late according to Douxie. He wanted to learn more, he was going to learn a lot more. He forced his concentration and his hands caught fire. It was flickering, he was gritting his teeth like mad to keep it lightened. As soon as the face of the animal appeared, running like mad towards him, he threw both hits towards its legs. The house neighed painfully, arching its back and then falling onto the ground.

His father had his hand raised before that, a moment before he was to fall from the horse. Seamus screamed again, whimpering with anger as he caught sight of the dagger into his side. It had his crest on it, carved along the handle, almost as a reminder that he was never going to forget that pain, this feeling of inferiority coming from his own family. His frustration wanted to take it out, his rationality blocked him right on time.

He held himself up, as his father was doing the same with eyes bloodshot.

“You will not escape me, you hear me?? You are a freak, a dark spot on my family’s honor, and I will not let you leave for anyone else to know!!” He was holding the sword like he wanted to beat him up with it, he really had never followed a proper formation. He wanted to make others fear him, but his superiority made him feel like he was beyond peasants’ training.

Seamus wasn’t surprised. He was frustrated, mad, because he was so close and he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He couldn’t give up now, no, never.

He took the deepest breath. Nature was still by his side. He smiled.

“Scared than I might actually be a threat?”

“I knew you were a mistake, I knew you were nothing but a nuisance!”

“Oh spare me that, you never needed a reason to despise me, it had always come awfully naturally to you! At least I didn’t go through the same punishments Steve had during his own training, something you never even went through yourself.” He was most likely worsening his situation, but he didn’t care anymore. He had lived a life being as careful as possible trying not to anger him, because he thought that there was never going to be anything worse than not have his approval. It turned out there never was in the first place. “You want to kill me? Try. I will not go down easy.”

His father was breathing heavily, his nostrils were wide and fuming. His entire face was red, his sword was shaking into his sword out of madness alone. He was the embodiment of his worst nightmares from when he was a kid. Now, all his thoughts were on those beautiful blue eyes popping out of the dark, his arrogant laugh from whenever he was right.

Seamus raised his hand. No branch came up. He fought back the tears because he didn’t want this, he wasn’t going to end it like this. He had never wanted something this badly before.

The king started to march towards him. Every step felt like the tick of a clock.

This wasn’t the end.

This couldn’t be the end.

“You are not getting out of his forest alive. You are not strong enough to defeat me.” He was right, but Seamus was never going to admit it. He tightened his fists, hoping, praying that he could do something. The familiar feeling of hopelessness was starting to burn from his stomach. “I will erase you, just like I will erase every single scam that contaminates this realm! And as soon as it will be done, we will finally take over the rest of the kingdom from those dirty fae!!” This man was the real illness, the poison that was making the entire realm sick to its roots. He wished he didn’t care only to hope he was going to implode with his own sick ideals, but that wasn’t reality. He was going to bring everything with him. Seamus couldn’t stop him. “I have been waiting my entire life for it, and if you think you can stop me then- What is this?!?”

Oh. Would you look at that.

The prince wished that, at this critical moment, he was to acquire some superior magical powers in order to defeat this man once and for all. It would have definitely made up for all of his frustration, plus telling this tale would have been nicer. Alas, this was his story but not a legend, it would have not been fair, especially for such an inexperienced wizard like him. Then again, he didn’t have to be the main hero of the situation. He could take being a supporting character.

One that knew extremely well about that instrument that was playing in the air, carved from the fallen horn of a dragon and enchanted by Douxie himself, so that whenever a certain brother of his was in need of help it was going to be heard from everyone, everywhere. That meant that he was okay. That meant that Logan was okay and had warned him just in time.

Seamus immediately grinned, feeling a huge weight falling down, while the king was looking around, even more fuming and even more confused.

“You know, I might not be able to stop you, so why don’t you take someone your own size? Or maybe…” Her timing was impeccable as always. The Queen-in-waiting of the fae arrived diving in between the crowns of the trees and struck her hit right as he was talking, disarming the clueless human. “… way stronger?” Her blonde hair was flowing into the wind, her blue armor was so shining it reflected nature itself. The king backed away, eyes falling onto the sword now on the ground, then onto his new opponent.

Aja landed in front of the prince, her rapier sharp and ready, her eyes completely focused.

“If that is the request, you have found your foe, your highness.” She looked definitely pissed, which was to be expected since Steve had only ever used the horn in dead or alive situations. Her intentions were probably to finish with him and move forward to her beloveds. “Although do not be mistaken, this is not a fight you are able to win. Perhaps you untrained and arrogant human might be able to take on a wizard while hurt and lacking energy to defend himself,” No filter, like everyone in her family. “But I have trained since I have memory in order to protect those I care about. My strength, my motivation, my ability, you are nothing in comparison.” Her determination was shining through. It made every single word count.

The king stumbled onto the ground to retrieve his sword, but from his eyes it was clear that he also knew what was going to happen to him. As soon as he was up, he ran towards his horse, still down lowly lamenting, and grabbed something from his bag.

Another horn. His face contorted into a horrific smile.

“You think you are the only one that can call help?? I will not lose to a lowlife like a fae, not with an army by my side!” He blew in, Seamus held his breath… nothing came out. “What-”

“You found my present, your majesty!” Perhaps he didn’t have as much of a joyful reaction as Aja at hearing that voice, but it definitely made him smile. “Since you’ve been throwing away all my freshly made bread for years because it’s hard or something, I thought that maybe I could throw away all my sourdough in the first place. I hope you’re proud.” Especially since, as soon as the chef assistant Jim appeared from the woods, he was bringing along his brother, while holding an arm around his neck for support. “The useless stick together I guess?”

Steve was red from laughing, shaking his head.

“This was so petty, I taught you well!” He kissed him on the cheek, making him blush very vividly, then he turned to their father. “Can’t call your friends for dinner? Too bad, dad!”

He was okay. He was snappy, cocky, and arrogant. His brother was okay.

It took maybe two seconds for Aja to let out a joyful scream, take flight and immediately launch herself over the two, managing to hug them without tackling them. Steve snickered even louder without moving, his arm wasn’t probably at its best right now. Jim grinned widely, placing his free hand over her back, whispering something that made her giggle even more. Seamus didn’t dare to move, not to tempt his bad leg, not to ruin a moment that was definitely not his. As soon as he crossed his brother’s brown eyes and got the biggest smile, he knew that it was fine. The both of them, they were going to be fine.

The king was roaring like an animal, pushing his fingers inside the horn to free it from the sticky substance. He backed away, staring with disgust at the three of them. Aja was immediately in front of her beloveds, rapier out, daring him with the eyes.

“You are not going to win, human king. Surrender if you may.”

“Never! My guards will arrive anyway, it is only a matter of time!”

“They’ll find a sad old man on his own butt after being beaten up, then.” Steve snickered, turning to Seamus. “What are you waiting for, an invitation? Go get him, come on!”

Ah, that was why it hadn’t felt real before, their goodbye at the castle.

“Steve…”

“I’m not kidding Seam, come on.” Despite his conditions he extracted his sword, pointing it at his own dad while Jim was relentlessly supporting his weight. “I found my own happiness, all the good stuff mom always told us about. Time for you to do the same.” They had talked about this, that they could had gone together, as brothers. But unlike Seamus, Steve had more to hold on to, he had Jim and his life, and Aja was ready to fight alongside him.

He really found a nice place to be in. Seamus nodded, looking at the fae and the assistant chef.

“Look after him. He can be a lot.” A murmured ‘Look who’s talking’ made him laugh. Jim nodded vividly, keeping himself up like an actual warrior.

“He’s worth all of it. Have a good life, my prince.

“Of course, until the very end.” Aja smiled at him. “And you… make him happy.”

That was a promise. Seamus started to run right there, trying to make as much distance as he could from himself and that place. One last peak made him see his father one last time, red and fuming like a baby, the armor dirty and covered in dirt and mud, with his fingers covered in sourdough. This wasn’t an honorable man, this was barely a man to begin with. His entire mind was contorted and was probably never going to come back to his senses. The prince didn’t care anymore, and it was the best he had ever felt in his entire life.

The forest widened some more in front of him, this time he knew he wasn’t far. When a different horn was played in the air his breath hitched, that prank was of course only gonna get them so far. He knew they were going to do it though. Aja wanted to unify their kingdoms, she wanted to do what Seamus’ parents and her own had never been able to. It was going to take a lot of time, but if anyone had the patience and the enthusiasm, it was her.

She was the hero of the story. He was there to accomplish his own victory.

One of his legs gave up on him. Fourth time today, he was beyond annoyed. His side wasn’t collaborating, the dagger was still there. Seamus bit his lip, looking at his hand. It was going to hurt, but he needed to keep going. He really hoped he could do this much.

He focused all he had left inside over the palm, frustration, anger, despair, and soon it started to emit heat. Nowhere near his usual flames, but it was enough. He took a deep breath, held onto the handle of the dagger and pulled it out. He screamed. Then he lifted his shirt and put his boiling hand over the wound. He screamed again, louder, forcing his palm to stay where he was. Tears streamed through his cheeks. The magic left him even more tired, the pain was shocking him awake. It lasted nothing and forever. He looked down. It stopped bleeding. It was most likely going to scar, but he didn’t care. As long as he was alive.

It took even too much time to get up again. He couldn’t be sure that there weren’t any guards on their own chasing after him. He picked up the pace, he was doing better. It still hurt like mad, and he was exhausted, but he wasn’t going to pass out in a place like this, not right now. The land was getting even bluer around him, the leaves, the branches, even the ground he was stepping onto. The air was fresh but not cold, comfortably cool over his skin.

Then he noticed it, because it was like a mirror in the middle of the woods. It traced the celestial vegetation all around, and the image of a human who looked like he had been to war. Seamus swallowed, getting closer, feeling fresh air coming from it somehow.

He raised his hand, expecting a portal.

It was a wall.

His eyes widened. He pressed some more, feeling resistance, like it was a legit mirror, and he was stupidly think there was something on the other side.

“No… no, please!” He put both hands, pushing forward. “I have to get in, please!!” He felt so weak, so weak and pathetic. He could see it all. His smile, his eyes. His sharpness, his way of being, him existing. Everything was so close and it wasn’t fair. “Open! Open for me! I command you!!” His voice seemed to bound against the surface. His reflection started to cry. His cheeks felt wet. “Please… please, I have to be there…” He let his tired body lean against the surface, it wasn’t flat, but it was there. “I have to… I want to…” He had been fought for so long against his own father and now… he didn’t care. For revenge, his own pride hurt, how he could had said to him the worst ever conceived. He didn’t care. He just needed to go. “… I need to see him.”

It felt like a push towards the right direction. In reality, the resistance had disappeared, and he had fallen forward. Somehow his very trembling legs had managed to save him from just another ridiculous fall today, although he felt absolutely no strength inside of them. It was like oscillating onto two sticks. He was up by will, a pinch of pain, and a lot of despair that had almost disappeared the moment he had opened his eyes.

When he did, it was bright. There was a completely different forest in front of him, of a green so bright it looked like a sun. He could smell lots of flowers, the air was almost unnaturally fresh, the ground he was on was so tender it was almost pillowy.

He stepped forward. A purple flower moved, a pink one and an orange one as well. Perhaps it should had occurred him that those didn’t fly, but he was at his limit.

“Ah, human! How did he get in??”

“No Mary, look! It’s the human prince!”

“Oh no, are you okay? Quick, let’s get Douxie!”

Before he could even think to make sense of how those plants talked, even though someone with magic like him wasn’t even supposed to be surprised, the world started to spin. Everything was misty and unfocused, his sight was getting extremely nitid and unnaturally unfocused in sequence. He moved another step, seeing another flower on the ground, a red one. This time even his tired brain noticed that his arrow wound was open and dropping.

The dizziness came altogether.

“Hey, you made it! I thought my lovelies were just playing with me, you were so quick- Oh, you look terrible!” Ah, that direct calming voice he recognized. Even in the fog Douxie’s blue hair were easy to notice. “Hang on, you’re gonna be okay, you hear me? It will be okay!”

Something happened after that, he didn’t remember what. Only that it had probably been his fifth fall, the only one he had allowed himself to do willingly. Douxie must had grabbed him before touching the ground, because he had abandoned himself to unconsciousness without a single pain in his mind. He had lost sensibility to his leg, he was so exhausted he couldn’t feel a thing. All he perceived was a shifting of place, then a sudden humidity around him, of a mineral kind, not unpleasant. More flowery scents arrived, while his body still refused to cooperate. It felt so nice. It felt so nice to finally rest, but he didn’t want to. Not yet. Not yet.

He had hold onto lucidity with all he had left, for a time he was not aware of. Then, at some point, he had felt someone holding his hand, and a drop falling onto his palm.

“You will be fine, my love. I am here now.”

It could had been a dream, a pain induced hallucination. His mind and heart didn’t think so.

***

When consciousness came back Seamus still had his eyes closed. He pondered if it was actually a good idea waking up, because despite his mind still being a little fuzzy, he was sure he was in a pretty bad condition, and it didn’t sound appealing to feel all that. Then it occurred him where he was, what had happened, and nothing was going to make him fall asleep again.

He opened his eyes, seeing the ceiling of a cavern. It shined of little sparkling minerals all over, making the rock look like a glowing blue mosaic. There was the sound of water from a far, a little waterfall perhaps, for the rest it was plain nature. It felt like the quietest place of the world, but all the doubts hurrying into his mind made it chaos in any case. Slowly, hoping into self-healing powers he never had and most likely was never going to have, he got up on a sitting position. Huh, it didn’t hurt… at all, actually.

Looking down, he found himself without his shirt, with his side showing a nasty scar. His pants had cuts everywhere, from the forest and the people, but his leg felt mostly okay.

Overall, he looked pretty good. He took a deep breath, and the smell made him gasp.

“Peonies…” They were nothing like the ones his mother had cultivated in their garden, they were glowing and changing color constantly, from red to yellow then green blue purple and over again. He had been laying down on a bed made of those. “Huh, I knew they symbolized good health, didn’t know on which extent.” This place was truly magical. He could feel his own soul regenerating. He touched a flower while focusing, it raised a little growing a leaf. He smiled.

Then he turned, and his heart skipped a beat. There was another bed station right next to him. An empty cloth lied down, a bag made of leaves, and a few books piled.

Seamus stayed frozen, looking helplessly. Then he grinned, jumping onto his feet and running.

As he had suspected, the cavern was situated close to a little waterfall. There was a pond of the most crystalline water he had ever seen in his life, reflecting the trees that were still sheltering from the sun. There was a game of reflections into the water, shining through colors and different shades. Beautiful, but nothing in comparison of the most gorgeous fae in the world.

Krel was kneeling next to the pond, filling in a little vase with water. His hair was covered in the light shapes that the trees were reflecting all over. His eyes were low and a little gloomy, following the stream of water that was filling the container. His clothes were a little messed up like his, meaning his own trip had probably been quite difficult as well. He was there, he was right there at last, keeping his promise no matter what. He got up right at that moment, sighing a lonely breath before turning back towards the cavern.

When their eyes met, it was like a calling. Their own way of communicating, because they had been both taught to repress everything in order to meet expectations, yet it was too much having each other to contain what they had.

The fae prince carelessly let go of the vase. His eyes teared up as he immediately went flying towards him. Seamus beamed at him, opening his arms right on time to take in the hug.

They made it. They were here together. They actually made it.

“Do not scare like me again, ever again!” How he had missed this voice, how much he had longed for this moment. It felt like all the rush and the pain had been already worth it. “You have promised me your life and I have promised you mine, you won’t get out of our agreement this easily!” He was pressing his wet eyes onto his shoulder, almost clawing his back closer to him. “I… I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” His voice dropped, getting more silent.

Seamus shook his head, reaching for his shoulders to gently push him away. Gosh, they were so slim, he was so fragile, especially in comparison to his sister. They were both vulnerable, not made for the battle, carrying too much on their backs. Meant for something else.

They looked at each other again. His tears were brushing the glowing marks on his face. The blonde wiped them away with his thumb.

“You didn’t hurt me, fat- well, the king did.” This wasn’t about him. “You saved me, Krel.”

“You saved me. From living a life as a merciless monster, unable to understand that there are no good fae and bad humans.” He embraced him again, hiding his head in the crook of his shoulder. “You gave me reality, something that might not be easy to obtain for the other fae. Me and Aja are lucky enough to have found people that opened our eyes.” It had been a reciprocating situation, they had both realized many things about each other’s worlds. The mention of those people sent a shiver through his back, there was no way Krel hadn’t noticed. “The son of the human duke had sent a messenger, apparently he had befriended a dwarf. It has a particular name, at least three vocals in it, sounds quite painful. Anyway, he said that they are all fine.”

“… for now.” Krel nodded. They parted, still holding hands. Seamus smiled sadly. “Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy. All we can do is hold on to it.” He knew they were on the same page, he had never trusted anything more. The fae was glowing. He looked wonderful. “It was a big step this one. We can focus on this for now, right?” This was nowhere near over. Their kingdoms were still divided, their worlds were still apart, there was much to be done.

Even so, looking at how his eyes lightened up at him, smiling like it was the best future he could had asked for, it felt easier to hope for the better.

“It sounds good.” He stepped closer. “I love you, Seamus.”

Seamus grinned, brushing their noses together.

“I love you too, Krel.” His mind, his body, his heart, they all moved forward.

He had learned so much about himself and his world from this person, every important part reconnected to him and him only. There was a longing, a connection, and whenever they kissed it felt like reaching out for that bond to hold onto it, to feel how good it was. He had always smelled like wild flowers, today it mixed with cut grass and effort. Krel laced his hands around his neck and Seamus knew what was to happen, holding onto him immediately. He had never told him, but whenever the fae prince was particularly lost into the moment, he started to float, bringing him along. It was a magical experience that was only theirs.

The blonde liked to think that this was meant to be. That they had built it together, slowly and steadily, with patience and effort, but that their meeting had been played out perfectly by destiny. He wondered if that would have been the same in every other universe, if their lives were to play in another context, with them as completely different people.

Perhaps so. He wanted to think so. No matter the place, as long as it was the two of them, that was where they were supposed to be.

Their world.

#space camp #space camp week #toa space camp #kreamus #toa kreamus #krel x seamus #krel tarron #seamus johnson #toa #tales of arcadia #3below #toa 3below #toa fic #toa fanfiction #fic #fanfiction

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geometricalien · 4 years

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oh dear i'm super duper late but I have a lot of questions about your wips!! I wanna know more about sick Akashi, nekoma pirate crew, BoKuroo/BokuAka midsommer, Pining + Jacket, The truth burns and destroys, feeling good, Punk Noya, Strawberry Blonde, sunspot and the merman au!!! Thanks babe <333

Hi Vee!!! This is it, I spent wayyyyy too long on this, I think my finger is cramping from typing. But thank you for asking, I love sharing my ideas, sorry if it’s incorherent.

This is super long so it’s under the cut, saving people room

Sick Akashi

So, it’s based off of a line prompt “I’d like it if you’d stay” and as the title suggests, 3rd year Akashi gets sick, sorry Vee it’s not fatal, Furihata comes to Rakuzan to check on his friend after he doesn’t answer his phone. The entire premise is Akashi works himself sick with his various responsibilities he takes on as “perfectionist who can’t show any cracks at all”. I don’t want Bokushi Akashi showing up so it’s minus the mental break elements. (also technically in canon terms it's after they have merged so yeah) I feel like they deserve a cute little “nurse” the other from a sickness ficlet. And… maybe… sick Akashi confesses…….. It’s almost a writing challenge for me because Akashi has a more polite sophisticated way of thinking and speaking, so cough yep

The rest are Haikyuu aus so buckle in

NEKOMA PIRATE CREW

Admittedly this is more loose, less of a solid idea. It’s Yaku centric, and how he went from a merchant from his grandfather’s company searching for lost merchandise and became the first mate who keeps track of the ship's finances and keeps their captain Kuroo on track. Other things of note, he meets Kuroo first as a pirate on another ship who stole his merchandise, Kenma is a sea witch (is that science or magic? That's always the question), and about halfway through the adventure they get Lev on board as a new member. So yeah! Kinda a fetch quest but on of my favorite fanfics is legitimately a fetch quest so it's okay fjdkaljf

BoKuroo/BokuAka Midsommer

This is based off of a fanart by desdelasombra my friend Shayla showed it to me and we threw this idea around together, we really don’t want to write it but it's also spectacular. So it's the movie Midsommar, right? Bokuto is a “gatherer” bringing his friends to come join in his village’s rituals. But we didn’t want anyone to die (except for Kenma sorry he’s dead as the substitute for the main character’s sister), so a grieving Kuroo comes with his boyfriend Bokuto, joined by their friends the smart studious and jaded Oikawa and bright bubbly Hinata. Obviously the three react badly to the first ritual and Bokuto doesn’t understand because for him it’s always been a joyful experience and he wanted to share it with his friends. A Lot of things happen, but most important is Akaashi and Kuroo dancing under the may pole together. BokuAka was in the past when Bokuto was home so part of this is them coming together as poly and escaping the final scene of the movie. Again this is very painful but that art is beautiful and the world is better for it being created

Pining + Jacket (KuroLev)

Again this is a line prompt about lending a jacket because it’s cold and it had so much potential for pining and who is the most pining bastard that I know? LEV and Shayla told me about KuroLev and somehow this happened. It’s currently going to be a sequence of drabbles of Lev pining after Kuroo, what else could you ask for? Uh? Lev confessing to Kuroo and them going out??? Sorry I can’t hear you over the exquisite angst and pain of one sided love that I want to explore

The truth burns and destroys

GOOD CHOICE, I began this on saturday night and it has earned a very special place in my heart. Sometimes I fear that my writing is like a lazy pool, sure it's nice and easy and smooth but there isn’t an intensity or raw emotions, BUT THIS this accomplishes what I want. And I’m really glad, its metaphor and imagery heavy but it really captures their emotions and thoughts without it sounding like I’m a 7th grader writing my first fanfiction glances to my abandoned wips from that time. Okay, Vee, I am a glutton for punishment and angst and I choose to pursue cheating fics. But specifically where and how they build the relationship up again after finding out. So, I was reading a KageHina cheating fic and how the character’s reacted felt off somehow so at midnight I wrote this snippet to fullfill my craving, you know what they say the best fanfiction is self indulgence. Here is a short excerpt,

He wants to brush this aside and continue their lives. He wants to wake up next to Tobio and still be seen the same way. He doesn't want anything to change.

Tobio is his favorite book. He has read it time and time again. Highlighting, underlining, cherishing. So Shouyou is able to read the silent begging in his eyes. The right clenched fist.

"Shouyou," a deafening pause "What is this?"

Please lie to me.

…

It stretches on. The eternity of silence. They sit together holding on to the last hope they have. Shouyou memorizes those beautiful hands, each crease and bump. Hands that helped shape him become who he is and that reached out unwaveringly.

Tobio sighs a world ending sigh.

Shouyou was the one who created their world, it's only fitting that Tobio is the one who destroys it.

In summary I like angst, I want to feel something

Feeling good

AAA, okay uh, This is a BokuAka pop star au. Akaashi sings “feeling good” at a big charity event hosted by Akashi (... yes I am AkaFuri trash and I can and will sneak them in anything and everything I write) while he is singing he walks down a big staircase remembering moments in his relationship with Bokuto, how much they have grown and how much he loves him. I love the concept! But I tried to write smut in the beginning of it and OOF THATS A NO. I actually have the majority of it written but I do want to add more emotions and thoughts (the lazy pool writing) and make it Ao3 friendly because I have all of the lyrics for feeling good in it as “post signs” for what he sings and that’s against their rules. 1 major aspect of this fic is it's all leading up to the point where Akaashi says “I love you” for the first time to Bokuto after finishing the song, on stage, in front of everyone and on every screen broadcasting it.

Punk Noya

I have a love for feral boys, especially feral alternative punk boys (and girls and humans) so this whole idea is that Noya goes to another school for high school, embraces more punk aethsetics, and on the first day of the preliminary tournaments he hears the rumors about a high schooler in a gang, getting up to nasty things, and he decides to confront them. He finds Asahi, rants him out and leaves. The plot then follows canon, at the winter tournament Karasuno faces Dateko, Karasuno loses even more badly because Noya isn’t there. Asahi quits volleyball, BUT Asahi and Noya run into each other at the store and talk leading to friendship which leads to romance. Idk man, I want more punk haikyuu characters, it gives me life. Alt Yamaguchi is my favorite but onwards we go

Strawberry Blonde

!!!! So this is Mitski’s song and to give a vague idea this is a pining Kageyama fic where he tries to pull away from Hinata and that back fires. (I do have more to say but I’ve been typing this for over an hour and I’m getting really tired fjkdaljl) There is one paragraph that I love, so here it is! Kageyama and Hinata are practicing by themselves outside of school and they are playing pepper (its a volleyball warm up practice routine where you partner up with someone pass, set, and spike the ball to each other sesquentially) Hinata goes to spike the ball and for a moment Kageyama sees it,

They are at nationals and they made it to finals. The crowds are screaming, but everything except the court is thrown into shadows. They are at match point of the final set. Everything is at peak intensity and at the center is him. Flying in the air. Orange hair waving with the momentum. His loud take off echoing in the gym. Arm poised for the kill. Eyes sparking with ferocity and passion as he aims. And finally, tipping the world over is the loud slap of his hand, sending the ball to the far side of the court-

This was actually going to be finished and posted in time for Haikyuu season 4 coming out and the manga wrapping up.... clearly I failed my goal fjdaklfj

Sunspot

You don’t know this about me but I love royalty aus, and this is BokuAka Prince Akaashi and Knight Bokuto. This was a short snippet of this grand idea I have for them where they run away from Akaashi’s inherited destiny together. It has potential to be really wide and expansive with the differnet teams as different kingdoms (AGAIN ILLUSION OF CHOICE, that fic really influences me doesn’t it fjdskalj) But this was a short glance at Akaashi taking a break from studying and watching Bokuto and the other knights practice duel. The title comes from the fact that Bokuto is a sunspot in Akaashi’s life, and his day is substantially better basking in his golden shining light.

Merman au

I’m so glad you asked about this and its technically the one I’ve written the most for since it's actually the one I posted on my haikyuu writing side blog. But brief recap, long term it’s a BokuAka little mermaid au but instead of a sea witch it’s an underwater deity who makes “wishes” (it's a deal) with every royal who is born. And Akaashi has a lot of siblings: Ushijima, Oikawa, Suga, Terushima, and Hinata, and its in that order. So I have information on every sibling’s deal, what they wish for, what they give for it, what happens to them in the future, romantically and otherwise. But, this is the one I haven’t updated in over a year, I am working on it!! I’m currently on Koushi’s (suga’s) wish/deal, its just taking forever. If you want to learn more about it I’ll link it in parts 1 2 3 4

BUT I will work on Suga’s part and then Terushima’s and then to the meat of the idea with Akaashi.

If you have made it this far, thanks, you are cool as always. My brain and fingers is ded.

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that-damn-girl · 4 years

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New Nicknames

(Oneshot)

Pairing: Stucky (Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers) (MCU)

Second part of my collection of oneshots/drabbles for Stucky in the same universe in chronological order - His. Could be read as a STAND ALONE drabble since ‘His’ is NOT a series.

Type: Fluff, cuddling.

Words: 1250+

Summary: Steve comforts Bucky as they give nicknames to each other.

Warning: Ignore any sad endings in 'Avengers: Endgame'.

A/N: This is my submission for @writingsoftheloser 's 1.5K Writing Challenge. Congratulations honey, and thank you for letting me participate! My prompt was 'Lady's mantle - Comfort'. I am so sorry I asked for an extension of 2 days and posted this nearly 2 weeks later. Hope you like it.

A/N[2]: I heartily thank @mysiepereira for letting me use their fanart (below, NOT MINE) for this fic. Please go checkout their account which has multiple such cute artworks. Tell me if they don't melt your heart.

Life had become beautiful for Bucky with Steve by his side as not only his best friend but also a loving boyfriend. It was a promotion he knew he'd remain grateful for the rest of his life.

Steve was sketching in his notebook on his bed, his legs crossed in front of him, under the slanting rays of the sun through his window when Bucky knocked and entered his room, closing the door quietly behind him.

Smiling gleefully at his secret lovely boyfriend - he loved calling him that, Steve put his notebook down and sat up straighter as Bucky neared his side of the bed. Clutching Steve's face, Bucky leaned down to kiss Steve's pink lips softly at first, but when Steve grabbed his butt and pulled him nearer, the kiss was anything but that.

Bucky parted with a peck to Steve's nose and forehead before making Steve lay on the bed, "Hey Buck, what are you doing?"

Bucky didn't answer until he climbed Steve halfway through, "Hey Stevie, your pecs are my new pillow." He placed his head down on Steve's voluminous left pec and hugged him close.

Like a golden retriever, Steve barked out a laugh, "Guess I'd have to sign up as your human pillow now, huh?"

Bucky smiled, "The best." He pecked his pecs before resuming his position. He listened to Steve's heartbeat, calming himself down.

It had been difficult hiding their relationship from the team. Though they had admitted it to themselves, it had been difficult just thinking about being open to others about something which despite being legal was considered scandalous in the eyes of many still.

They weren't ashamed of themselves. Why should they be anyway? But it wasn't easy to overcome the fear of society instilled in their brains from back in the day about same sex relationships.

The team hadn't suspected anything as of yet. Ever since the "bliped" had returned, Bucky and Steve were practically joined at the hip. Sometimes Sam and Nat would be an addition too. They had anyways spent most of their time together before the start of their relationship. Once they were together, the team didn't even bat an eye at them always hanging out together, which made it much more easier for the pair of super soldiers helplessly in love. It was ordinary for the team and the staff. For them, pure bliss.

Behind closed doors, they'd find their solace in either Bucky's or Steve's room. For them, any place would work, really. They just needed to be in the company of each other to make a mundane moment magical. Somedays tough, it was a necessity.

Even with the help of the generous Wakandans and all the others who helped him recover after being free from HYDRA, Bucky couldn't revert back to his old self in the blink of an eye. Getting all those things he wasn't subjected to for decades - the freedom, the love, it overwhelmed him.

He still had trouble speaking and voicing his opinions, no matter how small or big they were. Everytime he thought of saying something, he unconsciously expected to be punished for speaking out of turn. Somedays, he had trouble forming words to express himself. Not that he didn't know vocabulary, but he couldn't translate his feelings into words.

Never having been taken away the basic right of speech before, Steve couldn't fully understand the reality of the torture Bucky had gone through if he were to be honest. But he tried. He had promised himself that he'd try to be there for Bucky, to support him, comfort him, be there for him anyway he could, anyway Bucky wanted or needed him. He would be the sun or the moon if the need be.

Because it was Bucky.

His Bucky.

He'd be damned if he let his lovely boyfriend let down ever again.

"How are you feeling, Buck?" Steve asked like a mother would to their child. He rubbed soft circles on Bucky's back.

Bucky wanted to say he was fine, but he wasn't. That day he woke up feeling not as good as usual. Steve had made Bucky promise to voice out whatever whenever he wanted without any hesitation, so he said, "Down."

"Thank you," Steve kissed the top of his head and pulled the both of them under his blanket. Steve understood it was hard for Bucky to say how he felt. To encourage it, he always thanked Bucky for not shutting him out and communicating with him even when he might not want to talk to anyone.

"You?" Bucky asked him. Grinning, he said, "As good as a human pillow could feel." Bucky chuckled.

"You remember that day we were training those agents?" Steve asked, combing Bucky's hair through his fingers. He hummed in response.

"I saw a few of those dames fawn endlessly over you, specially when they got a look of your backside. Some lads too. Made me so jealous."

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, afraid Steve would become insecure, "Of me?"

"No," Steve replied, "of those who got to admire your beauty while I couldn't."

Bucky sheepishly grinned at Steve, "Oh, is that so?"

Steve hummed, "Everybody wants to have a look at my beautiful boyfriend."

Bucky laughed, "I like that."

Steve thought for a second, "What, 'beautiful boyfriend'?"

"Yeah. I - uh, I love it when you call me your boyfriend in general, and that has a nice ring to it. I like it." Bucky said, hiding his face in Steve's chest.

Steve grinned impossibly wide, "My beautiful boyfriend, Bucky." He wrapped his arms around the metal armed marshmallow who melted atop him.

"What would you like me to call you, handsome hunk?" Bucky asked in a teasing tone.

Steve chuckled, pausing for a second, "I don't know if you'll be okay with it..."

"You don't gotta worry about that, Stevie. It could be anything as long as you are mine." Bucky reassured him, absent mindedly drawing patterns on Steve's chest.

"Uh..." Steve began, unsure how to bring it up.

Bucky whispered, "Anything, Stevie."

Taking a deep breath, Steve continued without much confidence, "You - uh, remember what you called the girls you used to date back in the day?"

Taking a moment, he said, "I think I remember," Bucky lifted his head to look up at the love of his life, "doll."

Bucky would never forget how fast Steve changed colour, "Yeah, that..." He tried looking elsewhere, embarrassment clouding his demeanor.

Bucky was having none of that. He reached out to bring Steve's face towards himself and kissed him slowly, biting his lip gently at the end, "I'd loved to call you that." He hugged Steve tighter this time as he lay on top of him, "My doll."

Steve was thankful Bucky didn't face him this time, since he swore his face must have become as red as the henly Bucky wore.

Laying on top of him, Bucky felt Steve's heartbeat quicken when he called him that. He snuggled further into his chest, relishing the love and warmth he received.

Yeah, life had become very, very beautiful for the beautiful boyfriend and his doll.

~~~

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thenafics · 4 years

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Evil Author Day -- 2020

I saw this going around and I both wanted to feel included and have several WIPs that are probably not going to see the light of day for a long time. Most of these have titles already because I am incapable of writing a fic without having a title first~~~

1. Trouble in the Henhouse- AKA Red Hood joins the Suicide Squad

Amanda Waller thinks she might have made a mistake with the newest member to her team. She’s let the fox into the hen house, except her hens are insane criminals and her fox is a bat who also happens to be an insane criminal. The metaphor starts to deteriorate quickly, but the point remains, this choice might have been the worst one she’s made in a good long while. He is an accident waiting to happen and one of the most deadly assets she has ever managed to get her hands on. He doesn’t kill for money, like Deadshot, or hunger, like Croc, or even some deranged showmanship, like Harley does or Joker’s Daughter did. He kills when he thinks it’s right, because he thinks the target deserves it and that is the most terrifying thing to find in a highly trained killer she’s putting onto a team with a lot of the same type of people he has a habit of offing. Whoops.

2. Ghosts of our Better Natures

Tim can tell the instant that Scarecrow’s formula really starts to kick in. He sees the way Jason’s body language shifts, his muscles pulling his limbs in tighter, in spite of the restraints holding him down. Judging from the smirk just visible on Scarecrow’s sack-cloth face, he notices too. “Is my new formula finally kicking in?” His high, grating voice overlays over the sounds of Jason’s harsh breathing. “Looks like the big, bad drug lord has a bit of a tolerance. I doubt I’ll even need to use half as much on your little friend over there.” Scarecrow gestures broadly at Tim where he’s tied up against the wall and then claps his hands with fake glee. “I know what we’ll do! We’ll use all of the extra I’m saving on him for you!” Jason wrenches at his restraints, eyes wild behind his domino mask, but he remains uncharacteristically silent. He looks over at Tim and another wave of panic seems to crash over him. His struggles increase in strength to the point where Tim can hear the groaning of the rusty bolts holding Jason down.

3. Rafters for Roustabouts- JayRoy based on a piece of fanart I saw and can no longer find

Roy remembers when Jason was just a skinny little twig of a thing trailing after Nightwing with his spindly limbs and closed off smiles. The first time they’d met, Jason had looked up at him and blushed so hard that Roy was a little worried he might pass out from all the blood rushing to his head. Jason was in the Tower pretty infrequently, but any time he was there, Roy could be sure to find him either abandoning Dick for Donna (who he had immediately latched onto, like a baby bird imprinting on what it thinks is its mother) or acting as Roy’s shadow. Roy could often tell when Jason was visiting well before Dick told him because of the glimpses of inky black hair he would catch out of the corner of his eye. Eventually Roy got tired of waiting for Jason to stop being so shy. “Hey, Jason, I know you’ve got that whole stealth thing going for you, but it’s much easier to make friends if you just talk to people.” There was a muted thump and a little yelp as Jason fell down from the rafter he’d been perched on. Roy made his way over to him and crouched down to look more closely at Jason. The younger boy was blushing furiously and had his hands pressed firmly over his eyes, almost as if he thought if he couldn’t see Roy, Roy might not see him. Roy let out a little huff of laughter. “You’re just a little shy, aren’t you Jaybird?” Jason just burrowed further into his hands and seemed ready to just wait until Roy left so that he could tend to his bruised pride and tailbone.

4. Chapter 2 of Release of Liability- My very self indulgent Dresden Files fusion au that nobody asked for or wanted. *Knowledge of the Dresden Files universe up to like, book one/two is v. helpful*

Wayne manor is steeped in the type of magic that can make a place a living thing. This is the home of one of the most powerful wizards in America and has been the home of an incredibly powerful magical family for centuries. There’s history in these walls beyond what the outside world will ever know. All of the wall fixtures are old fashioned gas lamps retrofitted with lightbulbs. It’s a darker paint job and some cobwebs away from being the house from the Addam’s family.

Bruce Wayne himself leads me further into the house and to what I assume must be his office. An older man appears almost the exact moment we sit down and offers tea in a clipped British accent. He disappears as silently as he appeared and rematerializes just moments later carrying a tray laden with tea and those fancy little sandwiches they always show on the BBC. Wayne thanks him and dismisses him with a soft “Thank you,” before the man is gone again.

“So, Mr.Dresden, I hear you’re good at finding lost things.”

“I tend to be. Though I have to wonder what use a practitioner of your caliber could have for my services. With all of Gotham at your disposal.”

“The situation requires a somewhat delicate approach.” I can’t help but snort in response. Delicate and I go together like oil and water. I am not who anyone should call for delicate, subtle, or any synonyms of that ilk. Wayne gives a wry smile and little laugh of his own.

“I misspoke. Not delicate, detached. I am well known to Gotham. You are not. I’ve heard wildcard is somewhat your area of expertise.”

“I’m not going to take offense at that because it’s true. What’s missing?”

Bruce Wayne fixes me with a paralyzing gaze and speaks two words that let me know this is going to be one of those cases that sticks with me.

“My son.”

Bruce Wayne is famous for several things in the magical community. His childhood trauma of witnessing his parents’ murder would make a YA author weep and left him the sole heir to one of America’s most notable magical lineages. That alone made him a Name, capital letter intended, in the world of the mystical. He also worked hard to actually become one of the most influential wizards in America and run Gotham with an iron fist. The most notable thing about Bruce Wayne however, is not either of those. It is his incredible and almost suspicious number of extremely powerful adopted children. A disturbing number of which share his jet black hair and blue eyes. I hope it’s just a weird narcissistic rich person thing.

He is well known to be very protective of his bevy of apprentices. To the point where he’d actually knocked out another wizard with a vicious right hook for making an untoward comment about his eldest son. It was a glorious day and I am thankful to have been within enough distance of the scene to see it go down. I am also thankful to have been far enough away that his fury didn’t turn to me. If something has happened to one of his beloved children, I have no doubts that Mr. Wayne will do whatever is necessary to save them. After the death of his second apprentice he’d practically torn apart the world at its seams in his grief.

5. Windows for Bricks-

“I’m here to pick up Damian. I guess I’m one of his emergency contacts and the lady on the phone said to sign in here before I could take him home.” Jason says to the nurse by the front of the sterile smelling room.

“Oh, are you,” she looks down at her computer screen “Jason Head?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Jason shifts uncomfortably.

“And you are his … “

“Brother. Same mom.”

“I see. We get Damian in here a lot so I see the resemblance. You have the same eyes”

6. Dialogue Snippet- Dick and Steph on the topic of ass envy

“He’s just jealous of my ass.”

“Yeah, no.”

“What do you mean no?” Dick sounds affronted.

“Have you seen his ass?,” Steph gestures expansively in the shape of an ass. A woman at the next table over glares. “Jay has no reason to be jealous Dick.”

“What.”

“And those thighs… unf.” The lady the next table over glares harder at the noise Steph makes.

“Ohmygod,” Dick buries his head in his hands. “Please stop.”

“What? I'm just saying, he's got no reason to be jealous when the dude is bammin slammin bootylicious”

“I'm pretending I don't know you. Can Tim take you back already?”

“Fine. But take a peek next time you and your ass feel so high and mighty”

7. Innocence for Sinners- JayDick prawn. I wrote this at the request of a friend. Very much not what I usually write, kind of nervous about posting it

*warning for Mature rating*

When he thinks about it, of course it makes sense to Dick that Jason is a virgin. He died before he’d even turned eighteen and spent a few years after that being either brain dead or criminally insane. It was really only in the past three or so years that Jason could be counted among the semi-rational members of the population and he had been so busy during that time span that there was no earthly way he had done anything. Still, Dick couldn’t help but be a little surprised when Jason pushes away from their kiss, while Dick’s hand rubs gentle circles over his crotch, and gasps out “No one’s ever touched me like that before.”

Dick pauses and pulls back fully, his weight between Jason’s spread legs still pinning the younger man to the bed.

“What do you mean Jason?,” he asks, seeking verbal confirmation for his suspicions. Jason blushes prettily and turns his head to one side, as if to escape the weight of Dick’s eyes. Dick reaches out and turns Jason’s face back towards him. His eyes trace the delicate flush that brings out the freckles across the bridge of Jason’s nose and blown out pupils in sea green eyes.

“Jason, are you a virgin?Am I going to be your first?” Jason blushes even further at the questions and nods mutely. Dick feels a rush of possessiveness pass through him at the idea of brash, rebellious, Jason being his. It only makes sense, after all, Jason had spent years wearing Dick’s colors and a month or so trying on the Nightwing suit for size. Of course Jason should be his in some other way. Dick leans back forward and kisses up Jason’s neck, ending up right by his ear.

“I’m going to ruin you for anybody else, little wing.” Jason shudders and lets out a soft moan as Dick scrapes his teeth against his neck in punctuation.

“Please,” Jason breathes out. Dick growls quietly and surges up to kiss Jason. He weaves his fingers through the curls of Jason’s hair and pulls slightly. Immediately, Jason gasps into Dick’s mouth and arches his back up off the bed. Dick chuckles and pulls harder. He is rewarded with a moan and a shudder from Jason.

“You like that Jaybird? When I pull your hair?” Dick laughs against Jason’s mouth when Jason nods with downcast eyes. “Let’s find out what else you like.”

Dick leaves one hand in Jason’s hair and worms the other up under Jason’s shirt, brushing over the hard lines of muscle and scar tissue. He thumbs over one of Jason’s nipples gently and feels a slight shudder run through Jason’s body. Taking that as a positive sign, he rolls it between his index finger and thumb. Jason gasps and tosses his head back, breaking the kiss.

“Dick,” he gasps out, “That feels so, ah, good.” Dick smirks and rolls the nipple again “Aaaaaaah.” Dick pulls his other hand from Jason’s hair and starts using it to push Jason’s shirt up while he brings his mouth down to Jason’s stomach, kissing over the places where his hands had traced over.

“Wait, Dick!,” Jason calls out, panting for breath. Dick looks up at Jason’s flushed face. “I… I have a lot of scars there. Some of them might not be ones that you want to see…” Jason trails off towards the end of his sentence and avoids eye contact with Dick until Dick uses his free hand to gently pull Jason to face him. Dick can see in this flustered and blushing Jason the same boy who had been so shyly admiring of him all those years ago. This shy virginal Jason is far more little red riding hood than the big bad wolf that the Red Hood pretends to be.

“I want all of you Jason. All of you.” Dick says softly. He gently pulls the shirt all the way off of Jason, manipulating the younger man’s arms so that he can remove it. Once the shirt is off, he kisses up Jason’s chest to the top of the Y-shaped scar that stretches from collarbone to collarbone and bisects his body from mid-chest to belly button. Dick mouths gently across the raised tissue and grinds his hips down against Jason’s. Jason can only gasp wordlessly in response as Dick uses his right hand to trace down and past the long tail of the scar to the top of Jason’s jeans. He pops the button and undoes the fly with one hand. When he starts to shimmy Jason’s jeans and boxers down, Jason lifts his hips and practically whines. Dick slides down Jason’s body and sits up in order to pull the pants off all the way before settling himself back between his legs.

“Your thighs are gorgeous.” Dick doesn’t even try to hold back a moan at all the exposed skin before him, some spots criss-crossed with thin lines left from slashes and stab wounds or spotted with starbursts from gunshots. He takes a moment to appreciate the way Jason’s waist cuts in and then flares out to almost feminine hips and thick, muscular thighs. Dick slides his hands under the small of Jason’s back and inches them down to the top of Jason’s ass.

“Really? You like them?” Jason asks, blushing.

“Babe, I love them. It should be against the law for you to wear pants. It’s practically a crime to keep all this hidden under your jeans.” Dick kneads at the soft flesh of Jason’s ass.

“Says the one who’s all covered up,” Jason gasps out. There’s Dick’s Jason, blushing and innocent, but still talking back.

“Let’s fix that then,” Dick chuckles and slowly removes his hands, giving one last squeeze on his way. Dick peels off his t-shirt, deliberately twisting his body and putting on a show for Jason who watches with rapt attention. Dick smiles softly at the awestruck look on Jason’s face before making quick work of the clasps on his pants and shimmying out of them completely. Dick bends down and starts to kiss up Jason’s left leg, starting at his calves and working up to his thighs. Once he gets to the sensitive skin on Jason’s inner thighs, he takes his time pressing open mouthed kisses to the skin there. Dick scrapes his teeth against the skin as he pulls away from a kiss about halfway up Jason’s thigh and feels the strong muscles underneath tremble. Smirking, he repeats the action and looks up to watch Jason. The younger vigilante is struggling to hold his composure, but Dick wants to watch him fall apart completely. So he lowers his mouth back down to Jason’s thighs and bites down. At that, Jason arches off the bed hard and lets out the loudest moan Dick has heard from him so far.

8. Runneth Over and all that Jazz- incomplete work for day 7 of Omega Jason Todd Week -Lactation kink au heavily inspired by @whumpbby and @daemoninwhiteround2 and all their stuff. A little R rated

If it weren’t for his chest, Jason would be nearly impossible to recognise as an omega. He’s taller and more muscular than most omegas so with his deep voice, no one would ever guess. If it weren’t for his body’s absolute betrayal. Jason, like pretty much all adult omegas, produces milk. It’s meant to help reinforce pack bonds and keep pups adopted into a pack fed. That’s not the problem, that part of it is manageable with absorbent pads in shirts and semi-regular use of a breast pump. It sucks, but it’s not the problem. The problem is that Jason’s pack bonds are weak, so his body will let down and start producing milk on a hair trigger. He’s peak fertile age and tangentially part of a mostly alpha pack, but not bonded well enough to balance his hormones, so his body has decided to try and tempt his pack into bonds with milk.

It’s a nuisance. He hears Bruce’s voice on the radio and a little dribble of milk escapes. Dick and Tim get into an argument and he can feel his breasts swelling with more milk. Cass gets injured and he ends up having to sneak off to change his shirt when she cuddles up to him for comfort. He saw Damian cry once and that was enough to get him leaking like a fountain and avoiding the bats for a few days. He knows at least one of them can probably smell the milk on him, but they have the good graces not to mention it so long as he doesn’t.

So Jason distances himself from the pack. He figures if he doesn’t see them, his body won’t decide to go into hormone overdrive. Except it just ends up compounding the problem. More time away from the pack means even weaker pack bonds, which ends up kicking his hormones into even higher gear than they would have been. Soon, Jason’s having to empty his milk every day, then twice a day, then eventually he has to break in the middle of patrol to empty his breasts so they aren’t incredibly sore as he’s flipping around rooftops. He switches from plain absorbent undershirts to nursing undershirts in all black so that if he leaks it won’t show. It’s gotten way out of hand but the only way to fix it is to either break his pack bonds entirely, which might make it worse, or go to the pack and suffer through some potentially very embarrassing bonding.

He shudders at the thought of his pack finally drinking from him. The vulnerability it would bring stirs up something like panic in his stomach mixed equally with want. Letting them know that he can be manipulated just because of a biological response would put him at a huge disadvantage. If they knew he could be made to let down and go into a pheromone drenched haze with some carefully chosen vocalizations they could use it to their advantage when Jason inevitably pisses one of them off. Still, something has to be done, his chest hurts so much that when he got hit there on patrol, he almost blacked out.

He decides to go to Tim first. The slightly younger man is the easiest for Jason to get along with, and despite his tendency for general sneakery, he has enough respect for what Jason does that he probably won’t use it against him too much. It’s a risk, but the potential for relief from the pain of his swollen nipples and frequent breast pump use are enough to take it. Tim is practical and doesn’t seem like the type to get physically aggressive. Even if he does, his small stature means that Jason should be able to escape. Hopefully he won’t be weird about it. Fingers crossed.

Jason knocks on the door of Tim’s apartment, about an hour before patrol typically starts. Tim answers the door looking sleep deprived as always with a mug of coffee in one hand. Jason gives him a sheepish smile and a half hearted wave, after which Tim gestures him into the apartment, one eyebrow raised in question. He shuts and locks the door behind him.

“Hi Jason. It’s been awhile. What are you doing here?” Just the sound of Tim’s voice is making his chest swell a little.

“Can’t I just come visit?”

“Of course you can, you know I like your company. You just usually … don’t. So… ”

Tim pins Jason in place with his calculating stare as he waits for a response. The silence is incredibly awkward for Jason because every second that passes he can feel the slight swelling inch closer and closer to potential leakage. He finally breaks when he feels a small dribble of milk start to leak from one nipple.

“I need your help.”

“A case?”

“No… “ Jason trails off, still unsure.

“Are you okay Jason?” Tim sets his coffee down and sits next to Jason on the couch. Their arms brush and Jason fucking gushes. If Tim couldn’t smell the milk on him before, he sure as hell can now if the way he sniffs the air is any indication.

“What’s wrong Jay? Why are you, umm, … “

“Leaking?”

Tim nods, nostrils flaring as a blush steals across his face.

“I’m letting down at the drop of a hat right now. I’m overproducing so much that I have to stop in the middle of patrols to pump. It hurts real bad.” Jason couldn't stop the whine from leaking into his tone if he tried. Tim unconsciously responds with a swell of alpha scent. The pheromones set Jason off again and he gasps as he involuntarily lets even more milk escape.

“Jason,” Tim’s voice is practically a whisper. “How can I help?” Jason takes a moment to steady himself under the force of Tim’s gaze, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see his reaction to the answer.

“ I need you to drink enough to solidify our pack bond.”

Tim makes an interested little noise in the back of his throat and places one delicate hand over Jason’s on his lap. He gives a gentle squeeze

“Are you making enough to do it in one go?”

“Were you even paying attention? Yes. I’m producing enough for the whole pack.”

“Why me? If you go off pack hierarchy aren’t you supposed to go to Bruce? Even if you don’t trust Bruce, you could have gone to Dick or Barbara.”

“If you’re not willing, I won’t pressure you.” Jason’s voice is flat as he starts to stand, but he’s stopped by Tim’s suddenly much stronger grip pulling him back to the couch.

“I never said that. I just want to know why you chose me before I potentially upset pack structure.”

“ ‘M more comfortable,” Jason mumbles, avoiding eye contact. “Dick’s too clingy and Babs still thinks I’m crazy most of the time. You’re … nice to me. Helpful.”

“You’re nice to me too Jason. We take care of each other.”

An unfamiliar throaty purr starts up in the back of Jason’s throat as Tim gently presses his shoulders back into the couch. He pushes up Jason’s shirt, making sure to be extra careful right around the chest area. An accidental brush from the back of his hand as he pulls the shirt off causes a whimper to interrupt Jason’s purring. Tim shushes him gently as he sets the shirt to the side in a crumpled ball. Jason glares at him until Tim sighs and folds the shirt semi-neatly. He rearranges himself until he’s draped halfway over Jason’s lap, face centimeters from touching Jason’s chest. Tim stares unashamedly at the plump flesh where he can see the wetness where milk has already escaped.

#thenafics #thenawrites #writing prompt #wip #wips #Jason Todd #Tim Drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Stephanie Brown #Damian Wayne #alternate universe #dresden files #harry dresden #roy harper #batfam #evil author day #evil author day 2020

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