#or yknow what this can also be that one fic

[littlestuffstohide]

AA Fic Rec

I've sunk on AA so bad. I have such a long list. Almost 100 on my bookmarks. Here is my attempt to organize my bookmark list. I know I created a list before But this is better. I'll start of with my general AA WrightWorth List fic recommendation I've bookmarked since I sunk into this rabbit hole. Buckle your seats because this post is going to be reaaaally loooong. I tried to clean it as much as possible. So if you guys are looking for some AA WrightWorth treasure trove, this is it. I'm sure there are some I've read and missed. I will update my list as much as possible. My summary is literally bare to none and just my spoilers and hints what I love about it so mmmuuuch!

all there is - by sunsmasher. Narumitsu oneshot - A mix of bad Krisnix and goodness Narumitsu.

Summary: Phoenix and Kristoph during the seven year gap, Phoenix and Miles after it.

love most definitely requited - by The_Eclectic_Bookworm

Summary: cute hananaki au that of course involves confession in an unexpected way.

Pressure - by ApprenticeofDoyle

Summary: A different view/ canondivergent AA with the Feys. My ALL-time favorite AA fic of all times. AA with dash fam on Feys/Wright. It also has some great wrightworth pinning. And you will love the flow of wrightworth. There are still a lot of feels on this. It would be a crime not to read this. There is, like 4 parts on this. This one is complete. Read it! Here's the link for Pressurverse series.

if i woke up (next to you) - by ApprenticeofDoyle

Summary: Post Engarde Trial based on Pressureverse post Engarde Trial if that make sense. An canon divergent on pressure fic.

miles edgeworth's terrible, no-good, very bad week - by ApprenticeofDoyle

Summary: AAI but with Phoenix. Everything with Phoenix on AAI. Like I love it for many reasons. The WrightWorth is there but this is juuuuust so good. I'm low-key hoping for part 2 to have Phoenix altho that's least likely to happen. I juuuuust want Phoenix interacting with uncle Ray yknow!

a lie like a litany, cold and reformed - by fictitiousregrets

Summary: Where Miles bluffs about being engaged, gets engaged, gets married, and realizes they're in love and married. One of my favorite rom coms of all times. Really Wrightworth insanity.

Happier Than I Deserve - by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)

Summary: Pride and Prejudice representing Miles and Phoenix. Need I say more? This is going to be one marathon of wrightworth. Binge yourself on this monster fic. And really worth it to read.

where the heart is - by chameleonwrites

Summary: How Phoenix's home charmed Miles? Spanning from childhood until they move together, Real cute. I love for any Miles POV.

Trust Issues - by chameleonwrites

Summary: Phoenix sees plane tickets. Cue the angst. Wrightworth trying to make you cry.

The Catch-up Game - by theacegrace

Summary: Post AA6 Phoenix character study. Real good fic that's utterly sweet. It had lovely moments to angst moments, great confession to some wright family antics. A sin not to read. Never fails to tear me from the confessions?

Childswap - by theacegrace

Summary: WrightWorth switching children for a day. Real cutiiie fic! This never fails to put smiles on my face.

reading between the lines - by The_Eclectic_Bookworm

Summary: Another tearjerker. It starts tearing you to pieces then sweetening you with the fluff. And the last chapter is worth all the angst! A roller coaster fic. Basically Miles spanning from the horror of Manfred to Phoenix to great Franzy and Miles sibling love and back to Phoenix! Spanning the first 3 games.

Legal Partners - by Miggy

Summary: Oh boy. Another monster fic that's just so worth it. Fluffy and ansty and fluffy. A betting game between Klavier and Miles on who can show their? defense attorney how much they appreciate them as a legal partner. Quoting Phoenix in this fic a pissing contest between the two of them. Has some Kpollo but really more of Wrightworth goodiness. Anyone who hasn't t read this is a crime.

It Would Feel So Good To Make You Mine - by hi_its_ellis and lowbatteryhealth

Summary: Love is War but WrightWorth style. Literally flirting contest, knowing all the rules without talking and just driving the entire LA crazy while they both wait for the other to confess. My all time favorite WrightWorth rom com insanity. I don't feel bad at all. It will make you laugh so much.

A Fool for You - by bluemoodblue

Summary: Engaged but at the same time did we get married 4 months before the wedding? And it's not Vegas! This is just so romcom and just so good and sweet. I won't say anymore!

The PlayWright - by WingSongHalo

Summary: Miles visits a local theater where he meets a very intriguing actor who seems so much like someone. Really, really good. This is just one of my favorite WrightWorth fics.

time goes by so slowly (and time can do so much) - by ohallows

Summary: AU AA magical universe Miles being a caseworker featuring Phoenix! Phoenix director of orphanage of magical pips. Really good!

Out of Order - by canolacrush

Summary: Falling in love backwards Phoenix style. Phoenix is sooo seduced that he runs from his husband who suddenly looks 100x hotter.

Chicago Noël by canolacrush

Summary: Mafia Miles and Baker Phoenix. This is also ooone monster fic. It's adorable and lovely in so Many levels. You will love the switch in roles for Miles and Phoenix. One of my fave fics! Forgot to tag this. I'm sorrry!

Earning it - by thebigeish

Summary: WrightWorth except Miles is his sugardaddy. It just hits me in a cute way.

all the ways to love - by hi_its_ellis

Summary: where Phoenix has his gay awakening and he figured it out late? Some internal homophobia. Really close to my heart.

Written - by Limey

Summary: Where Phoenix finds Edgeworth's fanfic.

The Opposing Counsel's Proposal - by the acegrace

Summary: Where WrightWorth tries to propose to each other with mix results. Really funny and you will love every second of foolishness of these two competitive dorks.

The Defense’s Proposal, Post Facto - by Kantayra

Summary: Where WrightWorth decided to get married during lunch because the paperwork drove them nuts. They pretend to try to be convinced but we all know how eager they both are.

The Perenial Pursuits - byDeiRyuu

Summary: Larry misunderstanding that whenever anything Phoenix related happens, Miles is the speed dial.

justice vs state - by sinkburrito

Summary: Apollo running errands for Phoenix and Miles over an envelope. Apollo at the same time being oblivious. Poor Pollo. Basically WrightWorth involving Apollo for their feud.

Sick of Leaving - by Jodalyn

Summary: WrightWorth sickfic. Miles POV. You would want to read this. It's adorable! Just wants to make you hug their sweetness.

they'll never love you like I can - by Jodalyn

Summary: Chief!Miles College Phoenix. Time Shenanigans. Miles meeting Phoenix. I'm so weark to Chief Miles meeting Baby College Feenie.

despite everything, it's still you - by orphan_account

Summary: AA novelization with analysis on how Phoenix and Miles view each other. There are a few aspects in this fic I could never forget which is just my favorite thing. Read it. You will love it. Spanning from childhood through Post AA6 I think.

Myths We Don’t Believe In - by hi_its_ellis

Summary: Cue Chief Prosecutor invites current BF and his not really exBF in the same room, in the morgue. Miles did this to himself. Sorry for langworth Miles. And Miles lost any braincells he had. Cue Jealous Miles.

Anytime, Anywhere, Again - by hi_its_ellis

Summary: Part two of Mythes We Don't Believe In. This is literally Phoenix roasting Miles on his decision. I love this one.

(confetti) (smile) (heart) - by lvl99arsene

Summary: Just Phoenix FINALLY upgrading his phone. This was just so cute and Phoenix being a menace! Feat Sugar Daddy Miles.

Change in Perspective - by chameleonwrites

Summary: Maya and Franziska having a betting contest on which brother is pinning for the other. Feat. Miles being the biggest victim of this spectacle. All betting fics are sooo fun. This is also one you shouldn't miss. Just feel sorry of Miles as the victim.

Phoenix von Karma - by Otoshigo

Summary: Canon Divergent AU where Phoenix had been declared all dead until He comes back with no memories and as a Prosecutor. One of my all time fave. If you want a german speaking Phoenix, read this! I love this for many reasons. Sadly, expect no Apollo or Trucy on this.

i can bring you to bathe in the river - by oredatte

Summary: on of my fave AUs. My fave trope for WrightWorth. To adopt Trucy, our lovable pair gets (platonically) legally married, moving in together, co-adopting an eight-year-old, and keeping it all a secret.

Of Haircuts, Pocketwatch Chains, Other Uninteresting and Undesireable Things, and Generic Wholecloth Christmas Magic - by ribbontype

Summary: Back to romcom WrightWorth gift-giving competition. One of my favorite fics due to how said men drive each other nuts.

Fixer Upper - by poodlepunk

Summary: Miles getting Phoenix's help to renovate his house. Renovating houses is just my guilty pleasure in fics. Domestic WrightWorth.

Tomorrow - by marttyyriroskis

Summary: From 7 Year gap through Spirit of Justice. There is so much angst here. Also cue the fluff and drama on AA4. You will love the way the writer handled the mess capcom made. I just love this fic due to some special moments. You will not regret reading this monster fic. Prepare all the tissues!

where are you going? (i've been looking everywhere for you) - by whackamacka

Summary: Kimi no Na Wa except WrightWorth style? This is it! Setting is between 3-1 to 3-4. feat BratFeen.

abracadabra! - by ohallows

Summary: Kay and Trucy shenanigans making WrightWorth dads panic. ahahah.

now i don't hate california after all - by ohallows

Summary: Kay and Trucy gossiping and plotting. Kay and Trucy are literally born to be sisters.

parallelogram - by zombiekittiez

Summary: A cute but nicer BratFeen Fic. Canon divergent au featuring Defense Attorney Miles and theater major Phoenix. It's Miles who Dahlia meets instead.

ticking time bomb in their chests - by harmony

Summary: Timetravel fic just so Phoenix finally gets the realization he needs. We all love time travel fics!

The lies we tell ourselves - by Danypooh80

Summary: A retelling of AA except of a surprise OC in this fic. I melt for this fic for all the time. You will love every second of this!

Everything Changes - by Danypooh80

Summary: More of a Edgeworth-Wright family fic? Direct sequel of The lies we tell ourselves. A must read for part 1. Just expounding on the first fic with so much fluff you will melt with the fluff!

Turnabout Ideals - by felicia_angel

Summary: AA but a magical AU? It's full of feels. Way too many Phoenix angst. This is part 1 of 6 Currently. Part 5 is my fave! Read all to understand the universe. Nulls and Voids series - series link!

Set Sail and Cannonballed - by Almod

Summary: WrightWorth navigating the beginnings of their relationship in their very busy life. Something about this fic hits me with how much I love it!

The "B" in Butz stands for "Bondage" - by JajaLala

Summary: Larry wants to learn bondage. Miles runs away, Phoenix appreciates the art. I love this for hilarious reasons.

bear trap - by ghostcatamount

Summary: feat Omega Phoenix. Were it not Phoenix, this would just be creepy about his pre-heat. SInce this is our fave Phoenix, he is just not so subtle and Miles being the oblivious Alpha is such a treat!

by the book - by zombiekittiez

Summary: Drunk Miles barging in at book clubs to confess. Miles being drunk is always a treat.

Rise from the Ashes, again and again - by theinkhiddenwithin

Summary: Romantic fairy tale featuring fated paired Miles and Phoenix. This is it!

Happy Accident - by Jodalyn

Summary: Phoenix had a rough day except Miles bought the wrong paint but Phoenix turns it around by changing his canvas.

we sleep and set fires - by fictitiousregrets

Summary: Dreamsharing WrightWorth. This is one beautiful incption like fic.

a crow's trial - by Charrelous

Summary: role reversal au featuring defense attorney Miles and Prosecutor Phoenix. one of my fave aus. Also my guilty pleasure tropes.

Through Time and Space - by Northernflicker

Summary: time traveler Phoenix and immortal Miles? You will love this, spanning through different eras of history.

Should be Pretty Mundane - by KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)

Summary: Phoenix makes a discovery about himself that he is so embarrassed about. And Miles, of course, figures it out.

One step at a time - by OuterWilde (foreveraugust)

Summary: Post AAJ. Phoenix plans to reinstate himself as a lawyer and confess to Miles. Real cute lovely fic! Phoenix also being oblivious about how good he is as a lawyer.

take it like a man - by tudoo

Summary: Literally Phoenix is dramatic about suit shopping. Spanning 2 decade events. I love how dramatic Phoenix is and how endearing Mia and Miles are here.

co-signed - by tudoo

Summary: WrightWorth goes house hunting until angst ensues. Reaaaally adorable with a splash of angst.

Shear Luck - by TopazEstrella

Summary: Legit Pianist Phoenix and Barber Miles. The post-apocalyptic barbershop AU that no one asked for but we all secretly needed.

it's only love - by Jodalyn

Summary: Miles and Phoenix marriage through the eyes of Gregory Edgeworth. Makes you tear up!

Phoenix is Out of the Loop - by Living_Death

Summary: Miles decides to take up knitting until it drove Phoenix nuts! It's sooo adorable. There's literally a knitting club plus Apollo and Miles.

Change of Heart - by actual_goblin

Summary: Miles had an operation and Franziska and Maya happened.

Eavesdropping - by SapphireWine

Summary: Miles asleep and eavesdropping on Maya and Phoenix post Engarde trial. Quick and short but we just love how comfy Miles is in using Phoenix as a pillow.

Maybe In Time (you'll want to be mine) - by YourAverageBystander

Summary: Time loop shenanigans. aka: Phoenix's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, 2,400 hour day. What something Phoenix picked up on is my fave part of this!

where there is a flame (someone's bound to get burned) - by Samioli

Summary: Love lessons by Phoenix. It's good but these two constipated lawyers are pinning while having these sessions. Cue the angst.

An Anniversary Like Any Other - by Kantayra

Summary: Married WrightWorth just banter through anniversaries til they reach their old age.

Drunk on Kisses - by Zhuletta

Summary: Miles 5 + 1 drunk on kisses and he admits it on the last one. Real cute and adorable!

Turnabout Dishwasher - by zuzsenpai

Summary: Trucy asking Miles to keep an eye on her dad while on a trip around the world. Very dialogue AA style. You will love it! literally 3 fics in 1 fic if that makes sense. Turnabout Exchange Chapters are other pairings basically. There are a lot of pairings in this fic!

Texts & Turnabouts - by YanagiKana

Summary: explored AA love. really lovely shots. While WrightWorth here being my favorite, there are other tons to love here.

the bookstore at the corner of 14th and fen - by kbots

Summary: feat bookstore owner Miles and Single dad Miles. Reaaaallly fluffy and adorable on so many levels. Artist Phoenix creeps up. Extra Cute Trucy is here!

New to the Neighborhood - by paxton1976

Summary: Literally Phoenix and Miles being neighbors except the noise drove Miles nuts. Composer/Pianist Phoenix. AA but without the crazy drama? Very domestic life!

Seeing Is Believing - by paxton1976

Summary: Miles gets new glasses and he finds Phoenix 100x beautiful. Miles realizing how he also loves Phoenix and also somewhat obsesses on Phoenix too.

The Wooing of Phoenix Wright - by crayoncompanion

Summary: We've seen lots of fics Phoenix chasing after Miles. This is where the opposite happens. It's literally the title. Expect some angst tho. And some tear jerker moments but worth every tissue. You will love it!

The Art of Seduction: Is for People Less Attractive than Miles Edgeworth - by crayoncompanion

Summary: feat Sexy/hot Miles dropping all the hints for Phoenix to make a move but he sort of waves it off and acts ignorant about it? This is sooo funny on so many levels. It never failed to crack me up.

Love, Lust, and Libraries - by crayoncompanion

Summary: library au. It's soo good feat Miles and Phoenix clashing so muuuuch before they get each other. How can library AUs not be fun?

[drivestraight]

good morning val drivestraight I have a question for you... can you sell me on lestappen. I follow you for general attitude swag and don't really follow many max blogs (I actually found your blog after that omega George fic lol) but I feel like you of all people could make the greatest ship primer. mostly I'm not very into it bc I feel like the shared history part of it gets overblown by fandom compared to other ships, and they're friendly enough these days that I can't get hatesex vibes form it + Max comes across as really well adjusted and kind of an homeboy. so I'm like what's the hook? what do you like? what's YOUR platonic perfect idea of lestappen? I want to follow u down this road 

omg what an honor...

this isn't much of a ship primer but mostly about me talking about why i like them if that's okay <3

i agree that we overplay their shared history, but it also provides a really nice backdrop for everything they are now. they've always been in each other's lives but in a peripheral sense. and it's that sort of distanced familiarity that is compelling to me. also the potential for intense physicality despite their inability to communicate like normal people. that's the hook to me: they are in each other's orbit but they never have been close. but then you get to the racing: and when it comes to the racing, they've really given some great battles. and that alone isn't enough. it's like - combined with who they are off the track: childhood rivals turned awkward work friends, the fact that they can race that hard and that they respect one another so much is just. so good. sometimes it feels like they can predict each other's moves. like silverstone/austria 19 (yes, mentioned to hell) and bahrain/saudi 22, the w2w there went crazy. and once again, this with everything else: that they have this one place and this one medium for them to communicate at such a high level, and are just so awkward everything else is very good. lewis and seb who have said in the past that max goes over the limit too much, while charles has always said with max, it's always on the limit and never above. obviously things might change if they ever get into a real title fight against one another, but i think they have such great foundations that it will be compelling no matter what. also they've lowkey like stood the test of time: look at how people characterized them in 2019 and how they characterize them today. they've changed so much and their relationship has changed so much but still, both of them are at two top teams, they have found each other again in f1.

also aesthetically, the red/blue of it all is really nice. and just like. They look good together. yknow

they also like. say crazy things about each other sometimes. "i will remember it all my life" / "i know max very very well" / etc. etc.

my perfect platonic idea of lestappen Is Not one where they're best friends and where max is his number 1 defender - because he is not, as many people would have you believe (everyone clipping moments from cooldown rooms and quotes from interviews are putting it out of context and putting words in max's mouth and twisting things weirdly), and because that's frankly so uncompelling and kind of pathetic to think that charles needs max to praise him/defend him for him to have any worth as a racer etc. etc. i could go on about this for ages but i won't. tldr max doesn't care enough to do that.

IN FIC my favorite lestappen is basically: an awkward lestappen who like each other so much and can't actually communicate it properly in any way that isn't physical. but maybe the physicality and the shared history and the racing can be enough.

[greenlaut]

they’re in love your honor

[lavenoon]

Asterisms (~5.6K)

*An asterism is an observed pattern or group of stars in the sky. Asterisms can be any identified pattern or group of stars, and therefore are a more general concept than the 88 formally defined constellations.

Bloodstain Fool by @naffeclipse, og detective au by sunnys-aesthetic

menace4menace one-shots in order: Falling into Orbit, Conjunction, [You are here]

A bit of a disclaimer/ context: There is another drabble that will be referenced in this one, but I wrote it as a vent when I was in a very bad spot mentally and never cleaned it up, so it's now unfortunately in the "canon to the menace4menace storyline but too raw to share" limbo. You don't need to know the details to understand though (I hope). It does end with another sleepover, so that's where we start off here!

-

“So, are we friends now?” 

You take another bite from your breakfast apple, legs crossed on the couch. Eclipse at his desk tenses, his shoulders rising, and the scratch of his pen coming to an abrupt halt. But he doesn’t turn back, doesn’t spare you his standard glare. 

After a moment, he continues writing, as if you never said anything. That’s just fine — you’re too stubborn to stop now. 

“Because comforting someone during a breakdown is kind of friend behavior.”

Impossibly, he tenses further. From the way his writing sounds he’ll soon tear through the paper and just start carving onto the desk. 

“You were talking nonsense and I simply corrected you. If you interpret that as comfort, that is not my problem.”

You hope he feels how scathing your disdain is through vibes alone as you direct a deadpan stare at his back.  

He probably doesn’t know what “vibes” are. 

“You invited me over too.” 

“And you owe me for that.” 

Fine, then. If he insists on framing it as more debt that he’ll hardly be able to collect you can let it go. Otherwise you’ll just back him into a corner of stubbornness, and something tells you he’s the type to double down. 

It does mean you spare him the mention of the blanket. A soft red throw currently protecting you from sticking to the leather of the couch. Eclipse refused to acknowledge its existence, much less elaborate on the reason for the new addition to his couch yesterday, and you weren’t in the mood to ask either. The afternoon was stressful enough. 

You sigh. 

“Okay, sure. You can start a little tally on the back of the I.O.U. note I already gave you.”

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders, and you almost want to sigh again. How exhausting to see everything as transactional. 

“No need. I remember.” 

The question about animatronic memory dies a quiet death on the tip of your tongue — at the last second you decide it’s not a good idea to imply doubt right now. Instead you take another bite from your apple, and chew. Hopefully you can drop this conversation after. It didn’t really go the way you wanted it to. 

Just to make sure it sticks you decide to change the topic entirely. 

“What are you writing?” 

There’s the softest huff as his shoulders drop further. The defeat is evident, and you press your lips together to keep a grin down. Friends or not, he’s learned his lesson about your stubbornness. 

You’ll get him on the friendship, too, sooner or later. 

“A report.” 

Oh, he wants to be like that. Fine. You’ll play.

“On what?” 

The pen stops for a moment, then continues.

“The latest bounty I apprehended.” 

“You have to write reports on that?” 

In a way, it makes sense — you just didn’t think about it before. But you’re no stranger to writing reports, and detailing the events of how a certain bounty was caught seems reasonable. 

Eclipse turns to look at you for the first time, and his expression is about as tired as an animatronic could manage to look. 

“Yes. It’s not like the movies.” 

You take another bite from your apple as you keep up the eye contact, and then he turns back. Seems like your silence was enough of a concession for him. 

Leaning back against the couch, you’re just thinking that you don’t miss writing reports one bit. 

“Reports suck. My condolences.” 

Eclipse doesn’t stop writing to look back, but you do hear the soft static sound of a laugh. 

“Speaking from experience?”

You chuckle softly, matching him. Writing reports and bills - the worst part of your chosen career. 

“Yup.” 

He hums. 

“Is that why you haven’t made any efforts to work again?” 

Well, not quite — looking for work hasn’t been on your list of priorities without the immediate pressure of paying for your lodging. An oversight, you’ll admit, given that you can’t rely on your boarded room forever. But without any credentials, without your degree or even an ID you don’t really know where to start, hypothetically. 

Besides, even if you wanted to, you know that research has to go through a few more necessary steps before you can consider picking up your former work again.

So you shrug, even though he can’t see.

“Eh, mostly I don’t think my job field exists yet. Caring about kids with learning disabilities was a pretty recent development even in my time.” 

This time, the pause feels heavier than before. 

“... You worked with children?” 

You have no idea how to read his tone. Not angry, you don’t think, but there’s something that you just cannot make sense of. It sparks something defensive in you, even though you can’t tell if it’s judgement coloring his voice. You chose your job for a reason, and you know it’s a good one.

“Yeah, I mean. No one gave a fuck about my problems in school growing up. I didn’t want that for other kids.” 

“Hm.” 

That’s… It’s not acknowledgement, but it’s also not a rebuke. You don’t know what to make of it. 

You’ll poke the bear just one more time. 

“You don’t like children?” 

That poke went through. Eclipse carefully sets his pen down, and turns his head your way. Just his head - it’s unsettling, and you flinch at the suddenness. You wonder if that was exactly his intention when he narrows his darkened eyes at you. 

“Continue this line of questioning and you’ll find that I absolutely will kick you out.” 

There isn’t a hint of humor in his voice, nor even a crumb of softness. This time you decide not to bet on that being a bluff. Not with those eyes. You shrink back, hunched on the couch and pondering the nearly finished apple in your hand. Eclipse turns back, you think. You only hear the click of his neck and then the scratch of his pen again. 

The lump in your throat grows at the renewed tension that you don’t know how to alleviate. Maybe just a straightforward approach — you did push him too far. 

“I’m sorry, I won’t ask again. I just care about them.”

This time, the scratch of his pen only stutters, but doesn’t stop. You’ll take that as progress, even if his tone is still hard.

“You got to be a child.” 

You think back to your childhood, and the responsibilities you had to take on much too early. A huff of air escapes as a sigh before you can stop it. There’s nothing you really process as you stare off into space. The smile you manage twitches pathetically before you let it fall again. 

“I guess, for a while.”

Still longer than Eclipse got to be one though, to be fair. 

This time you sigh on purpose, and extract yourself from the blanket. Folding it is a bit hard with only one free hand available, but you at least don’t leave it as a scrunched up mess. You ramble on a bit, just to put out any metaphorical fires you might have set. 

“I’m filing this away as another thing I shouldn’t ask about. I won’t pry, and I get that you probably have complicated feelings about it. I have my own, different ones. We can both be justified. I’ll drop it now. Gonna wash up a bit.” 

Without giving him any opportunity to reply you slink into the kitchen, disposing of the apple core before escaping further into the bathroom. 

Not a lot you can do in here without your toiletries, and you don’t think Eclipse has a habit of expecting human visitors, much less preparing for their needs. The blanket already was a surprise, after all. You’ll just have to deal with a bit of discomfort until you make it back to your room. 

Maybe Eclipse is right. You are awfully curious, and there are a lot of lines you don’t know you’re crossing until you’ve waltzed right over them. He has every right to set those boundaries, and maybe you could learn a little tact. At least you can try. After the unexpected kindness he showed you, no matter how much he denies it, you really do owe him that. 

For now you’ll just not mention kids again, and definitely change the topic once you’re back out. 

Carefully you reemerge, and assess the situation from the entrance to the living room. Eclipse is still writing his report, focused and quiet, but his shoulders are relaxed. Well, as much as you’ve ever seen him relaxed. There is of course the pure physical difference — maybe he doesn’t have to relax as much as humans do to really feel the effect. 

You’ve seen him tense for sure. More often than not, which only exacerbates the thought that he doesn’t know how to truly relax. 

Not that you do, either. It’s not rest if you feel guilty for resting, occupying your thoughts with more anxiety, and that’s unfortunately what you keep doing, again and again. 

Yesterday, in the park — that was the latest botched attempt to relax for once. And that didn’t do jack shit for your mind until Eclipse came by and poked you until you spilled it all. Kinder than he gives himself credit for, but just as blunt as you needed. Hard to argue that self deprecation is deserved with nearly ten foot of all that glaring down at you and calling you out on your bullshit. 

Not that he did in so many words, but his threats were convincing in the moment. Now you’re just left wondering.

Apparently you stare just a little too long. 

“What?”

The question is curt and somewhat grumpy — the familiar grumpy, and thus leagues better than the hostile tone from before. 

You don’t think. It’s a bad habit. 

“Could you throw me?” 

Eclipse straightens in his chair, pausing his writing again. You don’t know what to make of that, even with his pointed follow up. 

“Excuse you?”

Any other person might agree that you’ve made some very unwise decisions, and this is barrelling towards yet another added to the ever growing tally. However, you’re you, and as long as he doesn’t sound outright hostile you don’t see the harm in elaborating.

“Yesterday, you said you’d throw me in the pond if I don’t shut up. I’m not asking you to, just if you actually could.” 

You watch as he sets the pen down, this time turning on the chair to face you. His stare is so deadpan, you’ll need a graveyard for kitchenware stat. Slowly, and without looking away he rises.

That doesn’t bode well for you. On instinct you wave your hands through the air, though you don’t have much hope.

“I said you don’t need to prove it!” 

While Eclipse is deceptively calm in his approach, you’re not oblivious enough to believe him. You duck, not quite a crouch, but you’re keyed up already. Your options are limited and you don’t have time to think - and then he’s past the coffee table, and you make a break for it down the hallway. 

Hearing him laugh definitely isn’t reassuring. 

You’re just reaching for the bathroom door when his hands wrap around your middle, and you screech. Or laugh, you aren’t quite sure. Unceremoniously you’re whipped back, your safe haven back out of reach. Eclipse lets go only for a moment, and only to turn you into a position facing him. 

That grin is not reassuring. It might be the happiest you’ve seen him yet. 

Before you can even begin to process that contradiction his hands are on you again, and then you’re up. 

You blink. Rare enough you get to look him in the eyes on face level. 

“Does this answer your question?” 

And still he sounds so happy. In a strange way, it makes sense. Maybe. If you think about it — a playful, if extremely short chase that lets him show off how big and scary he is, without any of the risks his job usually involves. It’s not even like he’s holding you particularly tightly. The pressure from his hold is mostly under your arms, and that’s gravity from dangling, not him grabbing too hard.

Just as you think about it, his fingers loosen around you even more. Just a hint, and you are still held securely, but a noticeable change. Before, he felt bad about the bruises he left on accident, and now he’s trying to adjust? Is that it? 

And yet, all that combined with his unbearably smug attitude. 

You suppress a grin, just barely, and decide to deflect. This morning has had enough realizations and tense conversations. 

“... Do I even weigh anything to you?” 

The bubble of happiness bursts, and he narrows his eyes again with a scoff. Seamlessly he turns, back towards the living room, and just for a moment you brush your fingers against the ceiling. Also rare enough you get to do that, even in places that aren’t housing a ridiculously tall animatronic. 

He ducks under the doorway, and for a second you hope to touch ground again. None of that. 

“At worst you’re a burden on my mind.” 

The dissonance between the way he’s still holding you and the venom in his voice is too great, so you promptly decide to disregard the latter. Actions over words, or something. And sure, there are nicer ways to tell someone you think about them a lot, but this is the guy who doesn’t believe in friendship. 

You pat his shoulder, and close your eyes for posterity. 

“I’m flattered. You should have said ‘No, it’s like holding a couple of grapes.’” 

When you open your eyes again you’re met with a narrow-eyed glare, radiating suspicion. Also, you have to look up again. If you weigh so little to him, the only explanation is that he wants to be taller. You file that hypothesis away for another time, when you have access to walls to climb on.

For now, Eclipse has caught onto the fact that you continue sprinkling memes into your conversations.

“I’m not saying that.” 

He dips you a little lower, and then many things happen at once. Air breezing past you, and his hands no longer holding you up — but you’re not just falling. 

No, the bastard did throw you. 

The springs of the couch creak as you land on it butt first, and your back hits the armrest at an angle.

“Oof.” 

Unaffected by your suffering, Eclipse brushes past you to settle back at his desk. 

“Now let me finish my report, or I’m kicking you out.”

His shoulders are lower, again. You smile.

Then, with a soft chuckle, you right yourself, twisting to face him even as he doesn’t face you. 

“Actually, can we do it the other way round? I wanna ask one more thing -”

Before you get to finish he’s already turning back, eyes narrow in warning. You throw your hands up placatingly and continue without pause.

“Nothing about you, stop looking at me like that. After that I’ll leave and you have the entire rest of this beautiful day to engage in boring as fuck work stuff.” 

Because he did remind you of that issue creeping closer and closer, and you have not the slightest idea how to go about fixing it before it all goes south. 

For a sigh, he slumps. A bit theatrically, you want to say, especially when he starts rubbing his forehead in exasperation, too — well, notably, the little swirl, just above his eye. Reminds you of when you did the same, just gentler.

“I feel like that will be a welcome reprieve after your exciting presence.” 

Right, back to the conversation. You click your tongue and flutter your eyelashes innocently. 

“Ahw, you just keep flattering me.” 

If you ever decide to measure how narrow his eyes go, you’d need to pinch your fingers together, and he’d definitely take offense. You’re tempted all the more. 

“Ask your question before I change my mind, you menace.” 

So he doesn’t mind the question. Could have said so in a few more words, but you’ll take it. After another little dig — you have your dignity to defend. You straighten and level your own haughty scowl at him. 

“Says the guy who just threw me on the couch.” 

His hand still set on the table tightens into a fist.

“Star.”

Right, the question. You lean back, bouncing slightly on the couch. 

“Fine, fine. Where could I work? Without any proof of my existence or education?” 

Right now, you’re boarding for free, but your conscience is starting to weigh on you. As ideal as it is, that’s not how things work, and you’ll need a source of income if you don’t want to be dependent on other people’s goodwill. 

Eclipse’s expression sours, and his shoulders droop with an overly exaggerated sigh. 

“I suppose it’s in my favor too if you get some faked documents. I’ll just need some additional information.” 

He really just jumped past a few steps you didn’t expect to be that easy of a hurdle. Then again, his legs are a lot longer, sure it’s easier for him. You can roll with that. 

There is no way you’re going to bring your name into this though. If you already get to reinvent yourself… 

Or, even better - 

“Sure. Can I have the last name Smith?” 

“Smith?” 

The suspicion is palpable, though he doesn’t seem to get the joke. That’s no problem, you’ll gladly help him out. No ulterior motives at all. 

“Yeah! Like the ‘I’m here undercover so I’m picking the most obvious fake name ever’ name.” 

His expression tells you everything you need to know about what he thinks of that idea. 

You smile, and remain silent. The proof that you can shut up. And if the timing just so happens to also make it prove that you can be a menace even without opening your mouth, well, that’s between you and your steadily growing grin. The moment stretches as Eclipse’s eyes narrow further, and his next sigh bursts with frustrated static as he turns away.

“Why did I ever think you just being quiet would be enough?” 

Mumbling to himself he rummages through a drawer, and you sit up on your knees to catch a glimpse of loose pens and papers and paperclips. 

“Silence is golden, after all. I didn’t have to say anything to annoy you.” 

Words are one thing, actions another. You take the notepad and pencil he holds out to you, and settle back on the couch.

“You’re a walking headache. And here I thought I was immune.”

“You keep saying that, and yet you keep inviting me back. I don’t think I’m that bad, or you’re a masochist.”

Oh, oh and you thought you knew his bad glares. But this one is just a tad too disbelieving — did you really have the audacity to say that? — and rather than doing the proper self preserving thing and apologize, or something, you just snort. 

Eclipse has had enough of you. 

“Just write down the information you want. If it’s ridiculous, I’m not getting it. If anything’s missing, I’m making up the least flattering filler possible.” 

Again he turns back, and you dutifully write down all the info he could need. Your desired name (including the Smith), age, and height - and then stop at the gender. After a moment of deliberation you doodle a little mischievous cat face and carry on. You think your birth town already exists, so you note it down too. What else, what else… 

For a minute or two, the room is silent except for the scratch of two pens. 

Once you’re done (at least as done as you can be without knowing what information exactly is necessary) you stand up, dusting yourself off just to stall for time. By the time you step next to Eclipse at the desk and hold out the notepad again he too has put down his pen. You shake the pad once before he takes it. 

“All done.” 

“Good. Now get out of here.” 

He stashes the pencil back in the drawer, but the notepad he leaves on the desk. Doesn’t even spare you a last glance before he picks up his pen again. There’s no fight to be won here, so you just snort and step away. Overstaying your welcome is not something you’re particularly interested in, and you’ve already teetered the edge for a while now.

Except you stop at the entrance to the living room, one hand on the doorframe. There’s a lot left unsaid, both because you’re embarrassed still about your little breakdown, and because Eclipse is about as emotionally aware as a rock and pricklier than a cactus. But if you’re leaving now anyway… 

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you turn back. Eclipse is still writing. 

“Hey, Eclipse?” 

“Yes?” 

He draws out the sound, clearly annoyed. Woe is him, you haven’t actually left his apartment yet. 

“Thank you, again.” 

Just like any time before, he stiffens at the expression of gratitude. At least he doesn’t notice your smile in response, given that you manage to suppress the amused huff. 

You’re undeterred. 

“You’re a better person than you give yourself credit for. Though if I may recommend a different succulent to emulate, aloe would be a much more pleasant alternative.” 

He turns on his chair after just a moment of processing your barb, a growl already building up. But before he catches you with his glare you’re laughing, and dipping into the hallway. 

“See you soon!” 

“Don’t you dare!” 

But for all his posturing, he doesn’t chase you again — doesn’t chase you out. After just demonstrating how easy it would be for him, that speaks volumes. 

Oh, you’ll definitely see him again soon. Life would be much too boring otherwise.

—

It’s a few days before you see Eclipse again, and by pure chance, too. For once, you’re out and about with a purpose, and seeing a bounty hunter isn’t it. 

No one will fault you for a detour, though. 

Especially not when you see that he’s talking to someone - a man, wearing nondescript worker’s clothes, and not the kind of work Eclipse engages in. No, this is someone your eyes would simply pass over in a vintage photograph of a street scene, or some sort of group shot. 

So Mr. No Friends has other reasons to communicate with people — and you’re just dying to know about what. 

Your current position puts you at Eclipse’s back, and that’s where you prefer to be for now. Means he won’t see you until it’s too late, and you’re already close enough to listen in. So you step closer, carefully and quietly, though you make no secret out of your curiosity. With your eyes on Eclipse you creep closer, arms crossed behind your back. You lean forward just slightly, like that will put you closer to the conversation. 

And then you get spotted. 

“I saw him last around — Sorry, who’s your friend?” 

Your automatic smile stiffens as you drop your gaze to the speaker. Those narrow eyes are nothing compared to what Eclipse will look like when he sees you’ve been eavesdropping.

“My -” 

Eclipse turns, a wide eyed glare finding you quickly. Think of the devil. Rage simmers just below the surface, and you remember the last time you announced yourself as his friend. Your smile twitches, and you direct a wave at Eclipse’s not-friend. An informant, maybe? That would fit into his broody bounty hunter reputation. 

The impulsive part of your brain supplies a feathery Eclipse as a chicken-puddle as he clucks offendedly, and you decide to talk before you start laughing. 

“Oh, no, I just owe him.” 

Somehow, you feel like his glare is worse now. 

Maybe-Informant scowls, then turns back to Eclipse. 

“You’re branching out, huh? Anyways, I last saw him lurking around the industrial area, hiding out in different warehouses. Lots of people on his tail these days, might be a hassle finding him in that maze.” 

Definitely an informant then. Your curiosity is officially sated, even at the cost of Eclipse once again being mad at you. 

“I’ll find him. Keep an eye out.” 

He turns so suddenly that you end up taking a step back, to no avail. His hand wraps around your upper arm, though the grip isn’t tight — but his fingertips touch. Just so, and no tighter, and then he’s dragging you after him. 

For a second, you contemplate making a show of it. Back of the hand to your forehead, pretend despair at being dragged away. You decide against it, because you don’t actually want to make Eclipse’s reputation worse, and you also remember why he started helping you out in the first place. 

So instead, you opt for a wave. It reaches nothing but air. You don’t even see the informant anymore, and don’t get the chance to look around either before Eclipse drags you off into an alley. 

At least he starts talking before you get to voice your comment about risqué behavior during daylight hours. You’re in deep enough trouble as is.

“What are you doing here?” 

You shrug, the motion pulling his hand up before he lets go of your arm. Not that he looks any happier, but also not like you aren’t used to that by now. You’ve seen him really angry, and this isn’t it. 

“Job hunting.”

Nonchalant as the response is, his reaction is the opposite. You’re pretty sure you see his eyelid twitch. 

“Job - I haven’t even gotten you your papers yet!”

Alright, maybe you’re just a little impatient. Indignance pulls up your shoulders again, and you pace down the alleyway to gesture at nothing. 

“I know, but I got bored! So I came up with a story that will keep most people from asking questions - saying you left Germany as fast as possible at the cost of documentation is apparently very easy to believe. We’re not exactly popular. Now everyone pities me instead of focusing on the everything else, which does play into my hand.” 

Eclipse stays and watches you, deceptively calm where you are restless. You trail to a stop and look at him, trying to gauge his reaction. 

It comes out almost impressed.

“... You’re more devious than I thought.” 

Uh oh, can’t give him standards. You wave off the questionable compliment and step closer again, even if it means you have crane up your neck higher. The distance between your faces is big enough even if you don’t stand half an alley away.

“Don’t give me too much credit. I didn’t think of that lie any sooner, and I had to prepare contingency plans for multiple possible lines of questioning before I felt safe enough to even attempt telling it to anyone.” 

A static rumble of a sigh as he briefly hides his eyes behind a hand. 

“This is who I…” 

Wait, what? You barely understand the mumble before he trails off, but immediately perk up.

“You what?” 

But just as quickly he drops his hand, instead glaring down at you. 

“Nothing. Did you have to prepare the other lie too?” 

He’s lost you. 

“What lie?” 

You’re not exactly in the habit of lying, don’t even enjoy this one you came up with. 

There’s a twitch to his expression, and when he elaborates, his voice is strained. Considering he’s technically always gritting his teeth this is the first time he sounds like it too. 

“That you ‘just’ owe me.” 

Oh.

You blink. 

Break eye contact to look down. 

Hide the manic grin growing on your face. 

He’s mad because you denied being his friend. 

That’s the only explanation that makes sense to you, the only reason he’d be mad about this. At some point within the past few weeks he’s changed his mind from being allergic to friends to wanting to be yours. Sure, he hasn’t admitted it in so many words. He doesn’t need to. Not with this reaction — and that glare earlier that now makes sense, too. 

Maybe he hasn’t even realized it himself.

“Don’t come up with a lie now.”

Oh, stars, if he gets any grumpier about this you absolutely will lose it.

“I’m not. I’m trying not to laugh.” 

“What?”

You look back up. The grin is undeniable, and your cheeks are starting to hurt. 

Eclipse does not look amused.

“You’re mad because I affirmed your broody loner reputation? I assumed that’s what you want, but I’ll gladly call you my bestie next time.”

He physically flinches back. This look you know, and remember well despite only having seen it once - disgust. But you no longer believe you’re a very squishy bug to him. You really, really want to laugh. 

“Do not insinuate we are friends.” 

“Why is it an issue then if I ‘just’ owe you?” 

“That’s -” 

You watch him struggle for a moment, shoulders a tense line as he breaks eye contact to scowl off into space. But only for a moment. After all, there’s giving him time to sort out his thoughts, and torturing him by putting him on the spot. 

… Though you’re probably doing that already. All the more reason to intercept. 

“You want to be friends.” 

Now if only you could reign in the smugness radiating off of you.

Eclipse meanwhile looks terribly offended. 

“I do not.”

He’s a better liar than you are, but unfortunately for him, he already gave himself away. You chuckle softly, and lean back against the dingy brick wall behind you to cross your arms. The satisfaction still drips from your tone.

"Wasch mir den Pelz, aber mach mich nicht nass." 

His eyes narrow. The tone may be undeniable, but still he doesn’t know what exactly you said, and it only irritates him more. You should talk German to him more often. 

When you don’t elaborate after a moment, he growls.

"What?" 

Your cheeks really hurt now. 

"Wash my fur but don't make me wet. I prefer it over 'you can't have your cake and eat it' because I have it to eat it." 

The glare drops into something resigned. He’s gotten used to your bullshit then, and is already tired of it. To be fair, you are doing it on purpose, at least partially. Or maybe more accurately, you are simply embracing being a natural menace. 

Eclipse grumbles. Somehow, the sound reminds you of a pissed off cat. 

"So now you're insulting me in German." 

You close your eyes, though that does nothing to diminish your grin. With a chiding waggle of your finger you continue. 

"No, I described the situation. If you interpreted that as an insult that's not my problem." 

Oh, yeah, you love being a menace. A glimpse back up shows Eclipse’s hands balled into fists and his eyes closed — maybe counting to ten in his head. You hear it’s supposed to calm you down. You wonder if it works. 

His eyes are golden and blazing when he narrows them at you again.

"I detest you." 

And you’re much too elated to take him seriously. 

"You want to be my friend." 

Still allergic to the word, his shoulders rise in defense. If he narrows his eyes any further, they’ll be closed. 

"I experienced a momentary lapse in judgement. I'm cured now." 

And yet, he hasn’t left. Is “shit-eating grin” an expression yet? 

It takes enormous effort to tamper it down into something good natured, and shrug innocently. Bat your eyes just to really sell the act. 

"Sure. Whenever you want another sleepover just hit me up." 

Eclipse’s expression jerks. You drop your gaze to watch his hands, and catch them on the tail-end of unfurling. Instead, he crosses them, and apparently decides to just ignore your offer.

“I have work to do. And you, little Star, want to get out of this part of town.” 

You click your tongue and lift one hand up to your heart, fluttering your lashes in adoration.

“Ahw, you care about me!”

There’s that lemon face you love!

“Leave before I lose the rest of my sanity!” 

He’s all coiled tension, ready to go off as he extracts one arm to point towards the main road. If you tease him any more, he might just start steaming like a cartoon. … Probably less than ideal as an animatronic. 

Better to call it a day here. Placatingly you wave your hands, though you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes with your words.

“Yes, yes. You take your non-breather breather.” 

Rather than acknowledge your parting comment he just turns, walking further down the alley. There are other little backstreets, so maybe he plans on leaving that way. 

Your cue to go then, too. You’ll take the main road, not because he told you, but because even you have enough self preservation skills to realize that traversing an unfamiliar network of seedy alleys in the late afternoon rapidly turning evening is a bad idea. 

But still you hesitate at the crossroads. You didn’t really say goodbye, and somehow that doesn’t sit right with you. Though getting mushy on Eclipse is probably worse than being a menace, so you turn for one last tease.

The narrow walls carry your voice, and all the delight in it too.

“Bye, bestie!” 

You laugh at his frustrated roar from deeper in the alley, and dip around the corner. There, gave him enough to chew on. 

Let him stew in those thoughts. 

[introspectivememories]

excerpts from my months old wip "think i'll miss you forever (like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky)"

[j-esbian]

i’m so tired of the popular writing style lately. i feel like it’s mostly sci-fi/fantasy and stuff that’s adjacent to it. yes marvel movies are the big example but other things are not excepted from this bc it’s permeated the genre so deeply

they’re written like they’re a half-comedy, and there’s a quippy one-liner on every page. doesn’t that get exhausting??

[jutsuuu]

girl help I’m experiencing

[ilyuu]

what if i write an apocalypse au what then?

[mitchmotch]

I'm so interested in your Anastasia au! will you tell us more?

yes of course i will! @revalito and i are genuinely so elated that so many people like the au HEHJKSDHJKS i will always want to talk about it trust

i don't know if there was something specific you wanted me to talk about, so i'll just talk about their time in the cloud recesses when they were younger =]

as i said before in my tags, wwx found lwj sitting outside the gentian cottage waiting for his mom and that's how they first met--he brought him a blanket and something warm to drink and offered to sit next to him. after that wwx would find lwj every now and then and hang around a bit but not for long. that does.. imply that his parents died sooner but well. HEJDSJKSD we figured one of the servants was his dad's close friend that agreed to babysit wwx for a while before they died, so now at least wwx has someone that was considered family (and that can tell him about his parents)

wwx didn't actually start working as a servant until he got older and that's when he was really allowed to interact with lwj. silly little comments turned into prompts to speak more and eventually, they'd have "conversations" (lwj would listen, wwx would talk) as wwx did what he had to. one day lwj asked wwx if he would be allowed to be a personal assistant on a quick task he had to do outside of the cloud recesses, and of course that's allowed. and that's the loophole they found to spend more time together =]

lxc knows about lwj's crush. he could read it on him easily HEJKSDJK i'd like to think one time wwx was called in to serve something to them, and as he did he made some comment to lwj. lwj acknowledged him with a small uptick of his lips and lxc was just ⁉️⁉️⁉️ HEHKJDHJKDHDJK he starts making excuses for wwx to go see lwj. the first time he asks a servant to call for wwx bc he needed something delivered to his brother it started a rumor within the servants immediately. this is where the teasing among them began HEHJKSDJKSDK lxc is the main reason why eventually wwx is the main servant/one of the only servants for lwj

wwx starts learning about cultivation in his free time--and we'd like to think the gusulan sect would set aside a teacher for willing servants on their breaks--but he never attends any actual classes. it isn't until they accept guest disciples when they're around 15/16 that he even entertains the idea. he probably makes a side comment to lwj, like "ah, guest disciples… it would have been nice to attend a class or two.." and lwj is immediately like i'm on it. he talks to lqr to attend the classes and ofc here lan qiren doesn't Need lwj to be a good example to wwx like he does in the novel, but we think lqr would still want to show him off HEHJKSJKSD also, lxc is probably like "it would be nice if wangji had more friends =] perhaps if we have wwx in there (someone he is already comfortable with) he would be more willing?" and that seals the deal HEJKSDHJKSD wwx is invited to his classes to be a "personal servant" to keep up appearances, but he is there to learn.

of course some other people there aren't to keen on the idea of having a servant in the class with them, so this time when lqr calls on wwx, it's not to test him, it's to prove his worth. he knows wwx and lwj are friends so in his head, his justification is that disciples are offending wwx -> they're offending lwj -> lwj is his nephew -> they are offending lqr too. ofc. HEHJKDSJKSDK lwj defends wwx in his own ways.

nie huaisang is the first to go up to wwx to chat and they become good friends, and since wwx is friends with lwj, nhs becomes friends with him too. it's a funny dynamic but lwj inwardly thinks it's nice.

thank you sm for asking! <3

[mishapen-dear]

I read that same fic earlier and I just straight up muted the person so their works don't show up for me anymore lmao

there was also another one like that posted yesterday because the person was mad at something qBad did a couple of days ago while not at all in his right mind and amnesiac, it was odd (not shitting on the person just confused and slightly concerned)

yeah there’s. a lot of misconceptions around qbad rn lmao. It’s one of the reasons Im so obnoxious about him, tbh, so that it’s not JUST the negativity that gets spread. He’s a really good target for the hate rn, because he has a smaller fanbase and his pvp playstyle + lore lead him to all that antagonizing during purgatory, and that gets vented out into fics.

It’s genuinely really interesting, the dichotomy that seems to exist between tumblr and twitter regarding him. Ive heard nothing but slander about bbh from twitter (again, he is not faking his illness, that is a lie), but he’s got a solid enough foothold on tumblr that ive seen more hate towards the fans that the cc, here. which makes sense, given how we take over the tag almost ever day when he logs on. genuine o7 to people who find that obnoxious but thats one of the reasons i overtag so much, for blocking purposes.

anyway i think all the bbh mischaracterization means that we just need to write about him more >:D please this is a call for more bbh centric fics from people who do not hate him/know a little bit about his lore. blease he’s such a fun pov to write i promise

[set-phasers-to-whump]

Day 3: Creation Prompt - Stitches & Bandages

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi everyone! here's my first fic for the month :) i imagine this as ot3 (or pre ot3) and it takes place a year or two after the movie. also i cannot decide whether i like this or hate it, i was traveling for most of the day so it's like, a little messy lol.

Illya is sitting on the edge of an exam table in a Viennese hospital, his ridiculously long legs nevertheless not touching the floor. He looks calm, if a bit annoyed, but beneath this Napoleon can see how tense he is. 

He doesn’t blame Illya. Hell, he’s tense, too. And from the way Gaby’s tapping her foot, that makes three of them. 

They don’t do hospitals. They do stitches in hotel bathrooms and, if it’s serious enough, get checked over by UNCLE doctors when their mission is complete. 

But not this time. Because this time, there had been several witnesses to the incident, including a cab driver who had absolutely insisted upon giving the three of them a ride to the nearest hospital, free of charge. 

It had fit their cover, Napoleon has to admit. Three Americans on vacation in the Austrian capital are not exactly the type of people to refuse medical help from a kind stranger. 

It had all been rather stupid, he reflects, as the three of them wait for a nurse to arrive. They’d been browsing in a high-end jewelry store, establishing their cover as a trio of wealthy American cousins out to see the sights of Europe. Napoleon and Illya had played the parts of dutiful (if bored) older relatives to Gaby, who’d dragged them through the store, pointing out every single item that caught her eye (or, rather, the eye of the young, extravagant wedding planner she was meant to be).

It’d been crowded, stuffy. Napoleon had been sweating through his light shirt, silently hoping for time to speed up. He and Illya had been bent over a counter at Gaby’s insistence, peering with feigned feigned interest at a frankly ridiculous-looking necklace when, from Napoleon’s perspective, Illya had suddenly decided to smash through the glass jewelry case with his head. 

Of course, this had turned out to not be the case. Illya, it seemed, had merely been a distraction - while everyone else in the store had been caught off guard, two men who had been browsing through the wedding rings had begun smashing the other jewelry cases, and suddenly the store had found itself in the middle of a robbery. 

It was clearly an amateur job, and it had ended very quickly - evidently, the robbers hadn’t planned on the glass cases being alarmed. They’d run off quite quickly after their initial smashings, strings of pearls and diamonds jumbled together in their hands, and that had been that. 

Illya had been fine, really. His forehead had collided with a metal edge and the cut had bled profusely - in fact, is still bleeding beneath the towel he’s pressing to it - and various shards of glass had cut up his face and hands, but nothing major. No concussion, nothing broken. Just blood. 

Blood had been more than enough to worry everyone else in the store, which was when the cab driver - incredibly kind fellow, really - had insisted upon offering his services. And so the three of them had climbed reluctantly into a car far too small for four grown adults, and they’d been taken to the hospital, free of charge. 

And it wasn’t like they could’ve left then, either. The cab driver had stayed parked in front of the entrance until they’d gone inside, giving them a cheerful wave farewell before going off to find another fare.

And now they’re here. The nurse arrives at last and immediately gets down to business, examining Illya’s face and then asking him whether he has ever had stitches before. 

Illya nods in the affirmative, and the nurse asks whether he’d been awake. 

Napoleon answers for him: “He was unconscious. Had his appendix out when we were in college.” This is not technically true, but Illya does have a scar in roughly the right location. It’s from a bullet, not a surgeon’s knife, but it’s not like the nurse is going to check. 

“Excuse me, but I was asking your…”

“Cousin,” Napoleon fills in. “And you won’t get much out of him. He’s mute.”

“Oh,” the nurse replies, looking between the two of them. “But he can hear?”

Napoleon nods. Illya had been given this aspect of his cover the second Waverly had heard his attempt at an American accent. Napoleon had teased him relentlessly for a day or two - turns out even the KGB’s best has an Achilles’ heel. 

It’s actually come in handy, though. The three of them have learned, quite quickly, that Illya’s total silence makes people more likely to speak in his presence about things they perhaps shouldn’t speak about. He’s gathered some valuable intel this way, but at the moment is experiencing no particular advantage. 

“I have to warn you, this will be much different. You will be numb, but awake.” 

Illya nods against the cloth still pressed to his forehead. Napoleon imagines he’d like to say something like, just do it and stop talking, but he’s trapped as the nurse rattles on. 

Eventually, though, he does get on with it. Napoleon and Gaby are shooed away from the table and have to watch from a corner as the nurse wipes away the bright red blood and then pushes a needle of anesthetic into Illya’s forehead. Gaby stiffens slightly. Napoleon can guess how she feels. There is something very different about this. About watching someone else, someone unknown, have this kind of access to their partner. 

“Can you feel this?” the nurse asks, poking at Illya’s forehead. When Illya shakes his head no, the nurse moves in with a needle and thread. 

At least, Napoleon thinks, these medical supplies are completely sterile. They’re not from an ancient first-aid kit found in the basement of a safehouse, not from the emergency sewing kit they’d stolen from a woman’s purse that once. Illya is in good hands, Napoleon tells himself. It’s fine. 

Except it’s not fine. It’s not them. He sees the tension in Illya’s shoulders and knows that if it was him doing the stitching, Illya would be more relaxed. He watches Illya stiffen as the nurse ties off the thread and knows that Gaby would’ve been there to squeeze his hand and distract him from that most unpleasant sensation. 

The nurse finishes with the needle and thread, applies an antibiotic cream, pastes a bandage over the fresh stitches. And then he grabs a cotton ball and rubbing alcohol and starts cleaning and bandaging the little cuts on Illya’s face and hands, the ones that have already stopped bleeding, and Napoleon actually feels something in his chest tighten. 

He should be doing this. It should be him tilting Illya’s face gently up towards himself, one of the only times that their relative heights are reversed. It should be him deftly but gently wiping away the blood, giving Illya the care that they both know he doesn’t need. And it should be Gaby’s fingers on Illya’s hands, scraping blood from under his nails and holding his hands so, so lightly because they both know he won’t pull away. 

But it's not.

The nurse finishes with Illya. “Come back in a week, and I will remove these. In the meantime, keep everything clean, and you should be fine.”

And just like that, they’re standing outside of the hospital and simultaneously realizing that there is no obvious method of getting back to their hotel. And then they’re crammed into another cab that’s too small for four fully-grown adults. And then they’re back in their hotel and they’ve all got separate rooms but Gaby and Napoleon hadn’t even hesitated before inviting themselves directly into Illya’s room. 

Illya…doesn’t mind. Napoleon had kind of expected him to mind. He’d expected Illya to say I am fine, I am hurt worse than this all of the time. 

But he’s quiet, like he’s still playing his role even though it’s just the three of them now. He’s pliant. He lets them check him over, their fingers ghosting over bandages he’d usually have ripped off by now. 

When they’ve satisfied themselves, somewhat reluctantly, with the nurse’s job, both Napoleon and Gaby join Illya’s silence. They’re sitting together on the couch, Napoleon and Gaby bracketing Illya between them, and by silent communication they both move closer, until they’re all three tangled together, a mess of limbs that shouldn’t be as comfortable as it is. 

“Thank you,” Illya says softly, after a very long time. 

Napoleon doesn’t feel that they deserve his thanks. Not for this. Not for today. Not when all that they did was stand there. 

“Why?” he whispers back, half afraid of the answer. 

Illya shrugs, a movement Napoleon feels rather than sees. “You are here,” he says, like that’s all that matters in the world. 

And maybe it is. 

thanks for reading!! hope you liked it, love u all <3

[svtskneecaps]

literally it's 3am where i live and i'm on mobile but FUCK IT i haven't posted any actual writing in like a YEAR on this blog whose description include the words "I WRITE" and i can't tell if i'm even going anywhere with this so fuck it under the cut is the prospective absolute mess of the first chapter of the flipo family time loop fic. (for clarity, flipo family as in slime, mariana, and juanaflippa) this covers loop 0, aka the relevant parts of canon. words: 1630

parts of it i popped off with and other parts i hate; up to you to identify them. also the italics and other formatting got erased when i copy pasted and i'm re-adding all of it by hand so if i missed a spot, no i didn't. if i missed an accent on a letter in spanish that was a typo, if i missed a ¡ or ¿ that may have been on purpose.

oh and for obvious reasons, content warning for mentions and mild descriptions of child death and child murder. no blood, and most of it is a three word mention; i'd say the brief paragraph beginning "Tilín didn't scream" is most of the reason this warning exists.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

He’d been hoping for a bright, sunny day to start their vacation, but was sorely disappointed. The portal had apparently taken them pretty far, since they’d gone from noon to night time. Talk about jetlag. They hadn’t even been on a plane.

“What happened to the other guys?” he wondered aloud as he stepped onto the platform.

“Yeah no clue,” Phil said, scanning the empty station. “Thought they’d meet us here.”

“Guys!” one of the Spanish speakers--Vegetta, he’d said, when they’d all met up at the first station--called, from a lectern at the wall. “There is a book!”

They crowded around as he read the instructions aloud--something about pressure plates, Slime wasn’t paying that close of attention. He was a little more preoccupied with making sure it only felt like his brain was dripping out of his ears. That would be kind of embarrassing.

Which was not to say that he wasn’t enjoying the constant onslaught of people talking over each other using words he may or may not understand. In fact, it was the opposite; he was frankly thriving in the absolute chaos that kicked back up around him as a timer appeared in the wrist communicators they’d been provided along with their tickets.

“Como se dice ‘we are going to die now’?” He giggled, chasing Phil and Fit to one end of the station.

“¡Vamos a morir!” shouted Spiderman, echoed seconds later by the black bear in the collared shirt.

Giddy over the high of attempting to use his high school foreign language for the first time maybe ever, Slime absolutely didn’t contribute much to solving the puzzle, and before long the sound of the timer ticking down was accompanied by a loud buzzing alarm.

“It’s been an honor!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. “It’s been an honor!”

The bear ran past them again, shouting, “I’m going to die!” in English this time.

“Adiós amigos!” Slime yelled.

The countdown ended.

And then his communicator buzzed, and there was a video playing on the screen, showing a cartoonish yellow duck in front of a blurry beach stock photo. He skimmed it absently--some generic welcoming message and another side quest for them--distracted by Maximus audibly losing his shit laughing across the station.

“Come on, I’m trying to take a vacation, I gotta work now?” Fit complained. “This is ridiculous.”

Slime wanted to jump on that bit, but the message cut off with coordinates marred by static and the noise of the emergency weather alert system and he lost his train of thought completely.

“I got the English book!” Spreen called, holding it with two fingers like it had personally offended him.

“English leader,” Vegetta said, seeming to find that amusing.

“English leader.” Spreen laughed and flicked the book away. Slime stepped back but somehow it still nailed him in the chest.

“Guess I’m reading then,” he said cheerfully.

“In Spanish?” Maximus said.

“Um.”

Vegetta called something, backing across the plaza with the book open in his hands. Phil backed up to the wall.

“Here,” Phil instructed, “we’ll read it here.”

“Okay okay.” He flicked it open. “So we have to get water wheel planks--”

Their peace lasted a grand total of thirty seconds as voices suddenly began shouting, overlapping in chaotic chorus.

“What is that?” Fit demanded.

“Is that coming from the other side?” Phil stared up at the top of the wall.

“This is the thinnest thick wall I’ve ever seen,” Slime said, giddy laughter bubbling out of him again. “Is this thing made out of pencil shavings? If I sneeze on it, is there gonna be a hole?”

“Nevermind, we’ll read it over here.” Phil dragged them away again, but the Spanish speakers were dispersing into the trees.

“Forget the book,” Fit said, “follow them!”

(In the end it was explosives that took the wall down, which in hindsight was a precursor to how a not insignificant portion of time on the island was spent. The first day, however, it was just funny, much like everything else.)

(That was to say, the first first day.)

The communicator had indicated that today there was something special planned, so he made an extra effort to wake up.

“Morning Jaiden!” he called to his upstairs neighbor.

“Hi Charlie!” He could hear her farming through the wall. “Glad you woke up on time!”

“Well you know, you know, El Backflipo couldn’t miss it,” he joked, sifting through his backpack. “Got any spare food? I’ll trade you uno backflipo.”

“I have so much toast, come here and get some, free of charge.”

With a quick backflip and some toast to start the day, he popped open the map.

“There’s a lot of people down the wall,” he noted, their green dots so clustered they formed one. “Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah sure.” Jaiden tossed some seeds into a chest. “Do you know what this event’s gonna be?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted cheerfully.

She laughed. “Yeah, me neither. I guess there’s an egg involved, but that’s all I know.”

He dug around in his backpack for a paraglider, nodding along. “Yeah, yeah, un huevo, I get you.” Shuffling the landmine from Vegetta to one side, he yanked out his glider and threw himself out her window. “Let’s go!”

(nothing like getting struck by lightning to wake a guy up in the morning)

Slime fiddled with the communicator as he waited for the line of people to get through the ticket machine; he already had his own, a nice B for Backflipo. The new live translations still boggled his mind. He had to fight the urge to chant weird shit under his breath, just to see what the bubbles would say.

He paid a little extra attention when Mariana walked up to the machine. That guy seemed cool. They’d done that pequeño dormir together on day one, and he had a good sense of humor. Egg parenting would probably be funny.

He was thrilled to see the B for Backflipo on the ticket Mariana stepped away with, even if Mariana was decidedly less so. This was gonna be good.

(it was, and it wasn’t)

So, Mariana wasn’t exactly the coparent of dreams. Then again, Slime was pretty sure Mariana could say the same about him. In fact he was pretty sure Mariana had said the same, but in Spanish, when he wasn’t checking the translation.

It was great. They thought they’d killed a child immediately and then decided to fake their own child’s death to get away with it, and then confessed their sins to a bilingual angel and built a farm and then he buried himself beneath an improvised cross and went into a coma until his sins were forgiven, or something, except his sins weren’t forgiven in time to save his own child’s life.

And then Juanaflippa was dead. Dead at Mariana’s hand.

His bitch wife killed their daughter.

(Everything went faster, after that.)

Slime wanted to kill him.

Slime wanted to kill him for killing their fucking daughter, but of course, Mariana couldn’t even be bothered to be around to take care of her alive, never mind to pay for his crimes when she died by his hand!

(in a better world, his rage started and ended there. in a better world, the anger fizzled out with the lack of a target.

this was not that world)

There couldn’t be an Egg Event with no eggs.

If he killed them all, it would bring her back.

(in a worse world, he succeeded. in a worse world, the Egg Event ended there.

this was not that world)

They held a trial.

If he won, it would bring her back.

(in another world, he didn’t convince them. in another world, they left his daughter in Hell.

this was not that world)

Tilín was still before she hit the ground.

Tilín didn’t scream. Maybe they didn’t have time. It happened so fast. He was sure it happened fast. Almost too fast. But everything went so fast, now, even though Flippa was back. Yet, time slowed down for this, like a rubberneck driving past a highway accident, watching him desperately trying to shock their heart back into motion.

“YOU KILL MY BEST FRIENDS,” Flippa wrote. He begged her to understand. She wrote, “i can’t believe it.”

She wrote, “I HATE YOU.”

(in a better world, the error would have been caught in April instead of July.

this was not that world)

His daughter fell to his bitch wife’s sword. The same way. The next day.

They’d only just gotten her back. And Mariana killed her again.

He only left eggxile for the funeral. She wouldn’t stay dead, but he had to be there.

Time went even faster after that. He was Gegg, or maybe Gegg was him, or maybe Gegg was Gegg, or maybe. . . ?

He went back to eggxile.

He wasn’t leaving without them. Tilín. Juanaflippa. He would do whatever was necessary. He would pray to any higher power. Lil J still owed him a goddamn favor, but the guy wouldn’t pick up his calls. Maybe if he put more shit in the shrine; angels liked shiny shit, didn’t they? He went back to the mine, where the gasses swirled in his head. He built the shrine. He mined. He built the shrine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

“This is where I sit, this is where my bitch wife sits, and this is where my daughter sits, if I had one!”

He’d said that before. No he hadn’t. Yes he had.

No, he just needed to clear his head.

Charlie Slimecicle went back to the mine.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

[psychoticwillgraham]

I’ve literally unintentionally made myself nauseous and sick by worrying about tomorrow. I didn’t realize it until I stood up and my whole body was shaking and I could taste the bile in my throat and felt like I was gonna vomit every time I breathed. so, while I have power, im gonna get over my weird second hand embarrassment about looking at hugh’s filmography and go through it and pick the ones that either sound fun and campy or the ones that sound like utter shit and compile a poll on here so yall can help me decide

[jankwritten]

hey. hey.

what if i posted the first chapter of hockey au today

[barnabybrainrot]

—-

[luvsavos]

pain is temporary shara brainrot is eternal