#someone else could play it better thing just on loop and like i practiced for hours everyday for almost two months and now we’re cut the

[nevertrustablueberry]

so they just cut the band from our show the day before opening wtf

[littledata]

I know you’re probably working on those prompts, but I, too, just ended up on North Sea tiktok, and if you have time, I’m curious what Ava’s reaction to that particular algorithmic destination would be. Because like, Bea’s the most capable person ever, but those waves are Very Big, and why isn’t everyone tethered to the boat at all times??

(From the on that dizzy edge universe. An example video if anyone would like context.)

For a long time, Ava's TikTok experience was predictable. It mostly went: hot girl biting her lip, hot girl playing guitar, hot dude baking a cake, weirdly mesmerising crafting video, drama about people she'd never met, hot person kissing another hot person.

The number of straight-up thirst traps has been on the decline recently though - mostly because Ava just has to turn her head and Bea will be changing her shirt or using a hammer or standing perfectly still, all of which is a lot hotter than any video she's ever seen. In its infinite wisdom though, The Algorithm has seen her scrolling past those videos and decided it needs to fill the void with something else.

That thing, apparently, is North Sea TikTok.

They're lying in bed when it happens for the first time. Beatrice had spent the first few weeks after she came home insisting they should try to maintain separate bedrooms, move their relationship along at an orderly and appropriate pace, but she pretty quickly gave in to the allure of spooning and her bedroom defaulted to being both of theirs.

Now, before they go to sleep, they often end up lying side by side while Beatrice reads one of her insane books about lesbian necromancers or whatever and Ava scrolls TikTok or reads fanfiction about hot people falling in love in coffee shops and stuff. It makes her feel mature and settled and safe in a way that's sometimes so exciting she has to take Bea's book out of her hands and make out with her about it.

Anyway, so they're doing that (lying in bed, not making out) when it shows up on her for you page. It starts with the weird, slow sea shanty, then there's the huge waves, and then someone is getting slammed in the face with the fucking ocean.

Ava lets it loop. Then she lets it loop again. Then she taps on the suggested search north sea tiktok and she's presented with a thousand more videos exactly like the first. People falling overboard and huge waves crashing over ships and and and -

"Bea." Ava taps her arm insistently.

Bea looks up from her book without much concern - she doesn't use TikTok but she does submit to being shown Ava's curated favourites. Also, she's wearing glasses and she looks super cute.

No, Ava, don't get distracted.

"Bea," she repeats and holds her phone up to her face.

Beatrice watches with a scrutinising gaze. When the video finishes, she says, "They really shouldn't be filming in those situations, it's distracting them from proper safety precautions."

Ava stares at her. "That's all you have to say? They could have died."

"Possibly," Beatrice agrees. "Once someone falls overboard it's very difficult to recover them, although certainly not impossible. And it depends a lot on the kind of ship. I assume someone wouldn't post a video where someone died though."

Although Beatrice's naivety about what people are willing to post on the internet is adorable, Ava's mind is stuck somewhere in between the words overboard and impossible. Even Beatrice, careful and capable as she is, couldn't keep herself from being swept off her feet by some of those waves. Ava can picture her so vividly, disappearing under the surface.

"You're not making me feel better about this."

"Oh." Beatrice blinks in surprise as if she has only just realised that they aren't having a purely practical discussion. She puts her book carefully down on the nightstand. "I'm not sure what to say. I can't lie to you and pretend it isn't dangerous. Those are cherry-picked clips showing the worst though, it isn't always like that."

Which, yeah, okay, Ava already knew it was dangerous. For all the months that Beatrice is away she lives with the low-level, prickling anxiety that the next call she gets will be telling her Bea is hurt, or worse. It's different seeing it though, seeing how quick it is, how powerful -

"How often are you in the north sea?" she asks, as if that's the only problem with it.

Beatrice winces, "Well, it depends. The contracts I work - " She explains something complicated and lengthy about shipping and demand and the company she works for and Ava thinks she's the most interesting person in the world but this stuff is, also, a little bit boring and she's still pretty busy picturing her girlfriend's imminent death.

She needs to send these videos to Camila. If there's anyone she can rely on to overreact with her, it's Camila.

"Ava," Beatrice says, seeing that she's lost her. She tugs Ava's phone gently from her hands and puts it down next to her book. Then she wraps one arm around Ava's shoulders and the other around her waist and pulls her in close.

Ava has always loved being hugged by Bea, even before they got together - she's strong and solid and lets Ava hold on for as long as she needs to. (Also, she smells fucking amazing, like, all the time).

It wasn't until they started dating that she realised Beatrice had been holding something of herself back though, not letting herself relax entirely whenever they touched. Now, it's as if her whole body sinks into it, like some tension evaporates the moment Ava's arms are around her.

Ava pushes her face into Beatrice's chest and inhales, lets herself hide there in the fabric of her shirt for a moment. It's dark and warm and hard to worry about anything.

"I promise I do everything I possibly can to come home safe to you," Beatrice says into her ear, "I'm sorry I can't give you any more reassurance than that."

"Okay," Ava says, voice muffled against Beatrice's chest. It's not enough but it has to be enough. This is Bea's job, the thing she loves more than anything else, and Ava won't ever touch the sanctity of that. "I'm still going to worry about you."

"I know." Beatrice presses a kiss into her hair and pulls back, "I worry about you too though, when I'm gone."

Ava rolls her eyes, "The most dangerous thing that could happen to me is Lilith finally snapping and turning on everyone she loves."

"So fairly likely then?" Beatrice asks.

Ava snorts, "Like a 90% chance."

They settle themselves to go to sleep, lying down fully and adjusting the pillows and blankets. That's another thing Ava learned recently: Beatrice - her big, tough sailor - likes being the little spoon. She won't admit to that, obviously, but she sighs contentedly whenever Ava wraps her arms around her from behind.

So when Beatrice reaches up to switch the lamp off, Ava does just that, presses herself against Bea's back. She listens to Beatrice's breathing become slow and even, and she clings on.

[rainba]

I wanna start a blog and you are really inspirational do you have any advice for people making their first blog?:3

(I got a tip for you, and it's pink..../ref)

Awwwe, that’s sweet of you to say! (´｡• ω •｡`) ♡ I do have a little bit of advice for people making their first-time blog!

I would say, to start out with, you should have maaaybe a general play as to what you wanna post? Like, do you want to make just fanfiction? OC content? Etc? You could have a couple of posts planned in a row, and then post them slowly. And if you wanna have a few people notice your stuff, I would say post something as a “hook” of sorts! ( ´ ▽ ` ) I also try to have my posts be a little bit colorful, just so they stand out more... But that's just a me thing.

If you wanna make a blog about one of your OCs, I would say to think about your OCs biggest, most important trait(s), and then really focus on them. After you get the main point in, then you can slowly branch out from there, fleshing out your characters. (≧◡≦) ♡

Like, for me, I think I ended up doing that unintentionally with Kairos– I really focused on how silly and pathetic he is in the fic with him getting naughty with a pillow. (Which… I can’t believe that it has over 1,500 notes?? Silly cute goth/emo boy fucking a pillow might be my magnum opus. Can’t even complain or anything, I actually still like it, hehe ( ´ ꒳ ` ).)

But this is all just general advice–! I’m not even sure if any of it is good advice, really, it’s just something I think I’ve noticed/how I feel.

For advice that I'm confident in, though, here’s a few points!

I’m someone who always feels deeply insecure every time I’m about to post. Like… “Is it good enough? Did I mistype anything? Does the picture look okay enough?” Every time I make something, I find myself stuck in this constant loop of rechecking everything, hoping that I might catch something that’s off. Sometimes I just stare at a piece I’ve made, and I just really don’t like it that much and wanna delete it. My, um... My mouse is forever edging that "post" button. So, here’s my advice on how I’ve been dealing with these kinds of feelings!

“It’s not that serious.” 

Just go ahead and post whatever you want! It doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be the best thing you’ve ever made. It’s all for fun at the end of the day– it’s really not that serious.

“Just go ahead and post it! The sooner I get this out of the way, the sooner I can work on something else that might be even better!”

After I’ve read over something a couple of times, I usually have to forcefully stop and tell myself that. ^^;;;; The piece you’re making right now might not be perfect, it might not ever be, so… Why fight with it? Writing or drawing anything is good practice, so you can just call it that! Just call it a practice piece, the steppingstone for the next greater thing you’re gonna make. Who knows, when you post a piece, you might eventually come to find that you actually really like it, and you were just fooling yourself as you were editing. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

“Someone out there might really like what I make, so I should share it!”

I swear, for as long as I can remember, I’ve always been a sucker for yanderes. There’s just something about them that has always spoken to my soft, gothic heart… (o˘◡˘o) But, uh, finding good yandere content has always been a struggle!!

For all these years I’ve been hunting for good content, and I hadn’t really found any until the past 2-3 years. But it wasn’t through big, official content or anything– all of my favorite yandere stuff has been created by small little people on the internet. I’m so very thankful that so many talented people have come around and shared their works!! Without it, I feel like I would still be a lost soul, painfully searching through a barren desert, trying to find ‘water’ known as dark romance content of anime boys… wahh. ( ´ ▿ ` )

So, how does that tangent relate to you and your blog? Think of it like this: your blog could be the water in someone’s desert. Your OCs could be everything that somebody is hoping for! Your writing could be the reason why someone excitedly turns on their phone and checks Tumblr every day! There’s no need to be afraid or nervous about posting. Just post what you love– if you love it, then that means somebody out there is going to love it too. 

One of my favorite parts about this blog is sharing what I love with other people who love the same things. Every comment, every reblog with the silly tags, every ask, etc... It all keeps me really motivated. I'm super glad that I'm able to make fellow yandere-lovers happy!! It's an honor!

☆*:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:*☆

(Also, I just really love seeing people make stuff. Creativity is such a beautiful thing to me. A little more on a serious note... I really despise AI art and AI writing. Seeing the joy of creation being slowly dampened and taken away is really disheartening- so I will always encourage people to make and post genuine stuff, no matter what! Please, put your love and your heart out there, simply to spite AI. ~~~)

TLDR: go ahead and post! Just do it!

(Also... Help... What are you referencing? 😭)

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Heya! I sent in a matchup request before but I kinda rambled off in it (and I think I was on anon too-) so imma try again and be less ramble-y 😅

For Hazbin Hotel please!

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

Gender/Pronouns: She/They AFAB

Sexuality: Asexual, questioning-aromantic who would date men/masc

Age: 25

Appearance: 5'11 White Australian with pale as fuck skin, blue eyes with dark bags under them, half my head is shaved the other half long, currently dyed red hair but it changes once it washes out and I get bored of my natural blonde. Slightly chubby belly with average breasts I wanna remove completely 👍

MBTI: INFP-T

Mental Additives: I have autism, clinical depression, clinical anxiety, PTSD and lowkey a hypochondriac.

Personality: I'm told I'm open-minded and easy to get along with. I am also a completely open book who talks about 98% of things I have been through; including trauma and random factoids I have learnt.

I smile all the time, even when crying I find myself smiling sometimes. All I want is for the people I care about to be happy; and I don't always include myself in that list but I've been getting better at doing so!

I don't have a job but I am slowly looking. I think I've just gotten used to not having a job or going to school? It's boring and mind numbing, but the last job I had gave me anxiety attacks. Doesn't help I have no ambitions in life. Except for whatever hyperfixation I'm on!

Yet I also verbally yet playfully threaten violence on friends, but if need be I can't ever throw a punch. I diffuse situations with words and pacifist action (like leaving). But I will use my height and build to be threatening to protect a friend, despite knowing that I can't defend myself. I also break into tears if I feel like I said the wrong thing to a friend or family member. I'm not as scary as I sometimes look or act.

Imma list off words that remind me of my personality since idk how else to explain myself: Helpful, imaginative, leisurely, loyal, protective, self-critical, absentminded, touch-starved, irritable (prob the anxiety talking hopefully), unable to flirt or recognise flirting, quirky, anxioussss!, logical thinker.

Likes: True crime, reading/writing fanfic, my cat, my five birds, my two fish!, I want reptile pets, random facts, the cold (jumper weather), playing all types of video games, watching YouTube, thunderstorms, chocolate, soft drinks, my lil brother, my OC that I shape into whatever fixation I'm on!

Dislikes: Having writers block, drinking alcohol, smelling cigarettes/weed, being called lazy, being compared to others, the heat (remove my skin), drinking water, my lil brother (when he's in mean mode), racists, terfs, literally all dumbasses who think they're better than everyone, routines.

Hi, I love you! I hope you enjoy this! I want everyone to know that this bean is an amazing Mutual, and you should all check them out! Okay, okay, now to the show!

~~~~~ MATCHUPS ~~~~~

HAZBIN HOTEL

Alastor

~~~~~ HEADCANONS ~~~~~

Alastor really doesn't care for people in general. If you aren't one of the few he deems good enough, stay out of his way.

That's why he was thrown for a loop when you came along. Is someone so kind and genuine not being scared of him? Who do you think you are?

Alastor is very protective, and though it may take ages to realize he has feelings, he will firmly defend and protect you.

When you and Niffty are hanging out, he feels so proud and almost giddy, an emotion he only feels when murdering normally.

When you fought the Angels, he was in awe of you. Though you needed training from Vaggie, you were fierce and ready to do whatever you could to save your friends.

The first time he snapped at you, he felt horrible, and when you started crying, he was practically a dead man, times two. He spent weeks trying to apologize and make it up to you.

He isn't big on touching or affection, but he shows you he cares in his own way. He is always opening the door for you, cooking for you, and taking you to special events or places.

He supports all your hobbies and interests and even tries to help you find new things to enjoy. This way, when he is busy doing whatever he has to, you are entertained until he returns.

He loves just having lazy days with you in the Radio Tower. There, he can work on his master plans, and you can do whatever to your heart's content.

When he finally accepts he has stronger feelings for you than his regular crew of Mimzy, Rosie, and Niffty, he asks the girls what's happening to him.

They collectively help him confess to you, and when they find out that you two are a lot more similar than they thought, they are thrilled for you two now that you guys have found your person.

If you ever mention physical touch or intimacy with him, he will allow it, but only if you are comfortable with it. Do not force yourself to think it's the right thing to do unless you 100% want it to.

~~~~~ BLURB ~~~~~

You had been working with Niffty on a surprise for Alastor. He had been working hard to take down the Vees and especially hard to piss off Vox after a particularly vile comment he made about you. Niffty was out collecting the materials while you were researching how to make a cape, crown, and scepter. Once everything was rounded up and ready to go, you two got down to some serious work. Building your masterpiece for Alastor was moving along well, and you two couldn't wait to see his face.

Sneaking up to Alastors room, you set up the creation. While you were busy making it look perfect, Niffty distracted Alastor. However, Alastor knew that something was off as soon as you weren't downstairs ready to greet him. Making his way to your location, Niffty did her best to stall the tall man, but it was too late. Luckily, just before the door opened, you had set up the display. You remembered before the battle against the Angels that Niffty had dubbed Alastor 'King Roach'. Alastor was a king in your eyes, so you wanted to show him how you honestly thought of him.

There before Alastor stood a mannequin with a deep red cape adorned with blackthorns, a crown made of black cardboard and gold glitter glue, and lastly, a scepter made out of a large stick and one of Lucifer's rubber ducks that looked like Alastor. The man couldn't help but laugh at the creation in pure enjoyment. As he walked over to start putting on the new outfit, Niffty crawled up your shoulder and perched there waiting. Once King Alastor was officially crowned, he bent down and asked, "May I kiss you, my love?" You nodded gently, and all that was heard after the kiss was a 'blegh' sound from the tiny woman perched on your head.

~~~~~ EXTRA ~~~~~

(You had been sitting in the Radio Tower for hours and were ready for fun. However, Alastor was still trying to work.)

Y/N: Can we please do something else, Alastor?

Alastor: Dear, you are always more than welcome to do whatever you please. The most powerful demon lord is your partner.

Y/N: Noooo, Alastor, I wanna do something with you.

Alastor: Hmmmm, is that so, like what?

Y/N: uh uh uh....damn it! You can't put me on the spot like that, Alasor.

Alastor: Alright, alright, come on, let's go to Rosies for some tea and a break.

Y/N: Hell yeah! Field trip!

[juni-ravenhall]

sso vs the concept of good gameplay. yeah its another fucking book length post >:3

thoughts from someone with a brain full of what good game design means and tons of years of studying and analysing that topic etc, bc of game design being one of my main interests.

basically the major thing i want to say about the hollow woods update aside from "yay forest kinda pretty :)" is that most of it doesn't really consist of what i would call gameplay. this is ofc something u can argue back and forth that im also open to, bc respectful analytical discussion is healthy.

the firefly stuff id personally call something more like "satisfaction play" than gameplay (idk if there's a widespread term that anyone else made up already). there is zero challenge to gathering fireflies - it's on the level of poking a glitter slime simulation app. it might feel satisfying to collect them, but there is no practised skill needed, no thinking or planning or anything. so i don't consider this "gameplay", but "satisfaction play" in itself isn't a bad thing, either. it's not that "gameplay" would be inherently better than "satisfaction play" in every case.

the puzzles are gameplay, i think - not very challenging gameplay (the answers are right there as soon as the puzzle is presented), but it *is* arguably gameplay, since we do call puzzle-solving "gameplay" in general. there is some argument there to be made about what a "puzzle" really means, and what is a simple "request and task" rather than a "puzzle", or what "knowing a real life fact" (what is 180 degrees?) versus "having to figure something out using information available inside the game" might mean for how we view what is or isn't a puzzle. but that's not specific to sso at all (a question for tons of various "puzzles" as seen in tons of various games).

there's nothing wrong in itself with satisfaction play, or with easy puzzles. sometimes that's exactly what an audience wants. but sso has a bigger issue, in that the main gameplay until now has been races (or courses, tracks, but let's say races) and that those races are not especially well designed. that there is very little of really challenging, fun, satisfying, rewarding gameplay in sso - in the terms of what people usually expect from videogames (of the gameplay-based type, not satisfaction play-based).

don't jump to conclusions here, but: i often make a comparison to mariokart, a game with a primary race mechanic. i used to play mariokart a lot because it was just really fun. it was fun alone or with friends or strangers, and it was fun to try to beat my best score, and it was fun to explore different ways of beating the same track. when you design a game, you have to think really heavily about: is the core gameplay loop fun? what makes people want to play this? to *re*play this? does it feel satisfying and exciting? is it better or at the same level as its competitors? what kind of things appeal to the target audience? and so on.

somehow sso has never felt like mariokart (except that one rainbow race, obvs), and i don't mean that sso could just "copy mariokart", this isnt the point. what i do mean is that there has to be a way to make your racing mechanic (if it is a primary mechanic of your game!) actually fun, engaging and challenging in the right way - the good game design way, not the clunky, frustrating and broken way. (yes, i know the engine is spaghetti garbage. no, i don't think that's a get-out-of-jail-free card for every problem that sse has.)

they made some progress with this when they added a completely out-of-place, more challenging race in one of the more recent story quests (i forget exactly when that was, but the race was in hollow woods). the problem then was that within the context of sso and what they have taught the players about their game, this race was thrown at us with no preparation for its challenges, which is bad game design. you want to introduce your player to different challenges and allow them to practice and learn, which didn't happen when we jump from "races with basically no skill needed to pass" to "a race with new things happening everywhere you need to react to while also successfully following a new path" out of nowhere. the intent was good - more challenging and exciting, dramatic races - the execution wasn't great.

they also made some progress with this when they revamped a few of the champs. the revamps aren't perfect, but they're good, and it was a good step towards improving core gameplay mechanics, that not only are genuinely enjoyable to many players but also *fit into the theme of the game* (as in, beating others at horse sports is a common theme within the equestrian theme). (i'm personally in shock that we don't have more champs across the map since all of these years, and that they aren't better already, since it's one of the most "regular videogame quality" content this game has and it shouldve been relatively easy to add more as well as maintaining and improving what was there).

so, back to the new valedale stuff.... sort of. there have been some puzzles in sso before, and some random gameplay (the click timing of searching for gold). the stuff we've had before: it's usually very basic puzzles and random gameplay, partially on behalf of that - for a long time - there doesn't seem to have been that much resources put into fighting with the engine to create new things that weren't in the code before, and partially because of a view held by some people at the company that games for young girls don't need to have any actual well-designed challenging gameplay, and that it's better to make it ridiculously easy so that nobody ever really loses or gets stuck on anything. you don't have to practice to beat any of the races - you might have to practice to get a top score or win a champ, but none of those are required for progress. similarly, there wasn't any real challenge that i remember to the absolute majority of non-racing quests, either. you might have to hit a thing with the right timing once in a while, but it's always easy (other games do this too - see QTE in certain AAA games!), or you might have to remember a number or a word for a minute and answer a question or type in a code correctly.

more or less everytime that there were puzzles in sso, they held your hand through it - whether you wanted to or not. the same is true for the rune puzzles, which have their solution blatantly in front of you as soon as they load. there is no changing actual difficulty level to make it more fitting to the player (which doesn't necessarily have to be a literal level setting - it can come organically, such as giving extra explanations, or slowing a timer down, after a player has failed a task 3 times, etc). yes, you can make the rune puzzles more complex in some sense - a bigger grid, or choosing the type of moves you are worse at - but the solution is always right in front of you, regardless. they hold your hand whether you like it or not, by the type of puzzle that they introduced.

races in sso have a "gold, silver or bronze" system, but we don't actually see that the races have been correctly playtested to properly reflect what a time worthy of each medal should be, and we also don't really gain anything from reaching any medal. i never feel a thing about getting this or that medal, because they mean nothing. it might be a good thing that we're never asked in a quest to "complete this race with a gold medal" or "complete this race under a certain time" or "complete this jumping course with no faults", since that could lock some players out of completing quests (while this is the case for most other games, there is also an important discussion happening around accessibility in game completion).

there are ways to make the medals in races matter, feel accurate, and feel rewarding. there are ways to make races more challenging or more interesting without just being more clunky or frustrating. there are ways to do that while keeping them more or less grounded in reality, and ways to do that while incorporating non-realistic elements that are fun and feel fitting (remembering that this is a game with magic and fantasy from the start). they could have added faults to jumping courses forever ago, they could have added dressage forever ago, and improved on gameplay like pole bending and barrel racing, and so on, and all while allowing players at all skill levels to still complete tasks and complete races, but also allowing players to challenge themselves for rewards.

if the core gameplay - around races and championships, around horse care, horse bonding and horse training - or around magic and protecting what's dear, or around rescue missions with the rangers, or tons of other stuff i can think up that would fit this game - if that stuff felt like actually well designed gameplay, something fun, not frustrating and buggy, challenging in the right ways and rewarding. if all that was done well, then adding some "satisfaction play" with fireflies or some simple puzzles with blatant solutions wouldn't be as easy to criticise.

the closest thing we got to challenging gameplay that you can really clearly *lose* at - that there is a risk and a skill involved - were some of the druid training missions. they still suffered from some clunky frustrations and non-ideal design decisions, but it was an attempt at more regular gameplay (among the non-racing gameplay). comparing the new gameplay in valedale to the druid training, you can see that the risk of failure has gone down a lot or been removed completely, rather than being built upon any more. they also didn't continue to update druid training in any way afaik or to build upon that foundation for other gameplay. (i'm open to that druid training may have been too difficult for a small subset of players, and that's a valid discussion. but i also think it was optional?)

i don't have a really nice tidy thought to end this with, and im really sleepy rn and going to bed. but the overall point is that if sso had other, well-designed and well-functioning gameplay that felt satisfying and rewarding for players, the flaws of the new valedale stuff would be less glaring. as things are, the lack of challenge and the lack of fun gameplay are really glaring problems with it, as well as the lack of reasonable rewards. (it makes very little sense that you have to purchase the items you unlock, but this is the same company that charged whatever x starcoins it was for those recoloured balloon pets, so.)

[mad-c1oud]

probably a dumb question, but I'm working on a charlie and etoiles fic and i was wondering if i could get some advice on writing them? (or just writing in general)

the current plot of the fic is essentially that etoiles was a tiny (abt 7 centimeters) person but used technology to make himself human sized, until the tech fails and he shrinks again, while charlie is also tiny and he finds and helps etoiles. it has a modern world/political backdrop in a world where tinies and humans live together

repeat after me: THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A DUMB QUESTION!!!!!!

ALSO AHHHH THE SILLIES!!!! So glad to see someone else writing :333

I’m gonna try to give some advice but take everything I say with a grain of salt. I’m just a lil dude with no formal training or “practice”. Idk how I do what I do tbh

All advice under the cut so I don’t take up anyones dashboards!!

For characters, esp mcyt, I’ve found that comilation vids on YouTube are a really great resource!! Heres one I like for Étoiles: X

There’s also this amazing masterpost from echotunes with tons of mcyters AND the eggs: materpost here

Don’t always trust my depiction of characters since I myself am not immune to the oocification of them at times. Plus, my guys get shaped by the narratives I’ve forced them into for several chapters so they are not exactly like their cc or q counterparts. But the beauty of fanfiction is that I can play dolls however I please!

One thing I didn’t do in the beginning that I try to watch now is vocabulary for certain characters. For Étoiles, English is his second or even third language. There are certain words native English speakers use that he probably wouldn’t, same for phrases or sentence structure. Earlier, I wrote him a little too… neat and clean with his words. Even his internal monologue was off bc of that. Here’s an example I remember from fingers-

Og: “Please, treat yourself with the same kindness that you afford others.”

Edited: “Please, treat yourself with the same kindness you give others.”

Even now that sounds stilted, I would probably change it to: “Slime, give yourself some… understanding. Be nice to you just like you are nice to everyone else.”

He wouldn’t casually use the word “afford” like I might, and his English might be a little more jilted or awkward. Though don’t always make that assumption- Étoiles is fluent, just consider how learning a new language affects how you use it compared to a native speaker. I still slip up and definitely say things he wouldn’t but I’m learning as I go too!

I wish I had better resources for Charlie but I’ve been watching him for so long now that his character is easier for me, thought I’m not perfect.

When writing starcicle- the biggest thing to note this that they both love their bits. Someone said they get into a recursive feedback loop until one of them dies or logs off and it’s true. They goof off and Charlie flirts with Étoiles, which is sometimes reciprocated jokingly. I wish I had a video of all their interactions, they’re just so good. But yeah they feed off each others silly while having genuinely nice moments like when Étoiles complimented Charlie’s ability to make people smile and the election dinner. I use their separate personalities and the few interactions they’ve had to build on and expand their relationship in fanfics. Kind of like an informed understanding??? Idk it’s fanfiction. You can write them however you please tbh. I wanted my progression in immi to seem a little more natural but it’s still not exactly them and that’s okay! I’m just here to have fun and so should you!!

As for writing in general- dig through related tags on tumblr!! There are some great resources on tumblr and buried in peoples blogs. Look to see if people are tagging posts for personal sorting and then stalk their blog to see what else they find useful haha. I do it all the time… I wish I had a masterpost for this but sadly not yet. I’m trying to build my own tag for references but it’s slow going. Just yesterday I saw a great text ref for writing fight scenes on tiktok so you’ll keep finding new resources all the time. Start your own collection of posts and resources since there is no gigantic one available.

I will say a few things: outlines, no matter how do you them, are great. Jumping off of that- when creating a world like you are, write down all your rules and world building first so as you write, you can reference it and make sure you are staying within the guidelines of the world you created. I do this for hybrids like Charlie so I don’t say one thing and change it a few chapters later.

-Never fully delete anything you write unless it’s minor edits. Remove it from the doc sure, but save it somewhere else. You never know where it might work better.

-Read. Read others work, read books, read articles, read anything creative. I think the only way I can write the way I do is bc I’ve spent the last 10 or so years obsessively reading lmao. I was not a good writing when I tried back in 2011, and I’m still learning now, but just reading so much other material really helped I think. Don’t stay in your own bubble.

-Write for yourself first. You can write to share with others but always write for you too. It’s easy to get caught up in needing “approval” or validation, I do too, but love what you make as well.

-read your work aloud to yourself. This is great for proofreading and also awkward sentence structure/placement.

-when you want something to happen, don’t just flippantly make it happen. That’s how you get ooc moments and actions. Want something to happen and then look at your characters, understand where they need to be in order for that thing to occur. Not just in a physical sense but also a character sense. You can bypass this by letting the audience know if there’s an established dynamic already so you don’t have to build one, but you still need text to support and uplift it.

I have a lot of thoughts and ideas on writing but also I’m not always right. Like I said, look at other creative work, look at other resources. Practice!!! I’m practicing too still

Sorry if this was too brief or too long haha, I wanted to answer the ask properly but nit be too long winded.

Good luck on the fic!!!!! Cant wait to read if you decide to post it, but also take your time. Don’t rush

Cheers!!

[oboy-me]

Hi! This is my first ever ask on one of these blogs, and I hope you’re still open to them at some point. But If you could get around to doing maybe a Possessive Levi x M!MC nsfw imagine, I think that might be pretty sweet. Like a soft-ish yandere scenario.

Hello anon, I'm honored that you chose to send me this ask! And just for you, I've done a little bit more than just an imagine; this one's gonna be a whole drabble! I may have ended up getting a little carried away with the length, but I wanted to make up for how long I've been gone, too. 💖

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▸▸ It was supposed to be his day with you; you two set aside some time to go check out a local arcade cabinet that had just been installed. When Mammon and Beelzebub show up to take you away from him though, he's in ruins. He's left to seethe, but this time alone gives him an idea...

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It just wasn't fair.

He knew you better than everyone else. He knew your favourite things to watch, your favourite things to eat, your favourite haunts, the little intricacies and quirks of your habits. He could recite from heart the episodes you love the most.

So why was it Mammon who got to touch you so intimately, and with such easily?

Fingers tipped with a deep blue nail polish dug deep into one of his plain pillows, knees drawn up tighter towards his chest to feel the compression of gryphons down on his body. Those honey-violet eyes of his stared at his D.D.D, missed message notifications practically staring him back down in turn.

It had only been a couple hours earlier. You were hanging out with Leviathan at a local arcade, invited by the Avatar of Envy to check out a cabinet that had just been installed that morning. It was all going so well, he felt so high on your smiles and laughter, he felt like he was actually able to make you happy. Then Mammon swooped in with Beelzebub at his back; they stole your attention away swiftly and firmly, and wouldn't give you a chance to decline before they dragged you off to do some stupid outing of theirs.

The memory played on loop made his blood boil hot, his chest tightening until it was a white-hot knot all throughout. It wasn't fair at all that they got to trample all over his day out with you, and that Mammon felt so bold as to slide his hand around your waist like he owned you. What was so special about Mammon — or the others for that matter — that let them be so close to you so effortlessly? Was it because he was some filthy shut-in otaku that you only hung out with to pity? … No. He wanted to have more faith in you than that.

Before he ended up spiraling again, he needed to watch something. Anything. His favourite anime streaming site had just announced an exclusive show premiering on their service solely, maybe he'd turn that on and just let himself get lost in a fantasy world where he didn't have to think about how deeply his heart ached for you, for your smile, and most of all, for your love.

The show he chose started off interestingly enough, being about a young man serving as the main protagonist, whose pet hog protected him as they traveled in search of answers to an old riddle; Levi loved to try and solve those types of plots before anything was confirmed or denied by the studio itself. As the episodes progressed though he took notice of one of the other protagonists — a rather reserved girl who seemed to very methodically work to charm the main character and kept the other love interests at bay out of a wicked sense of jealousy and possessiveness. Leviathan hadn't even realized how far he was leaned in as the episodes continued on to show this "yandere"-type girl cunningly maneuvering to curry favor with the male lead through both subtle and obvious shows of affection — all of her efforts culminating in a kabedon that won the young man's heart over in one fell swoop.

The girl… She was someone he could see himself being. Like her, he was viciously envious and upset that others were encroaching on the man he loved so dearly, and like her, he would do anything to earn the favor of that very same boyfriend. Though unlike her, he wasn't nearly as cunning or charismatic to pull off such clever stunts — but he was, if nothing else, very determined. Maybe he wasn't charismatic, but if he practiced and said the right things, you might be won over all the same.

So he planted a text message for you to read; a request to come to his room when you had the chance. Now that he'd asked you, there was no going back. He'd have to steel himself and make the move, just like in that anime — he had to channel that girl's bravery and charisma, her desire to win over the love of her life. So he waited and practiced the words he wanted to say over and over in his mind, out loud to nail the tone he wanted, eyes almost fixated on his D.D.D until he saw your message;

[ Okay, I'll be over in a moment. ]

This was it. This was his only chance; he rushed out of his seat and stood near the door poised and ready, he could only tell that it had swung open from seeing it with his own two eyes. If you said anything, he couldn't hear it over his heart drumming so loudly in his ears that he could not even hear his own shaky breathing. You had not even gotten past the door when he had closed the gap between you two, using his body to push you back, one hand of his reaching out to anchor down on the wall he'd backed you up against. In the same rush of movement his tail had lashed forth from hiding, snapped out in a way that would push the door shut with a flourish.

He had moved to kabedon you, just as he saw in the anime… and you had to admit, he had some fluid movement when doing so — enough so that it brought a rosy tint to your cheeks as you were surprised to see him being so bold.

"Y/N!" He gasped out, his face a bright scarlet as he fought the urge to crumple. You could see in the way his arms shook and his body trembled that he was fighting that desire to give up, to concede his defeat, to withdraw into himself and forget about what happened. Yet he didn't. Through a breath that was unsteady yet fighting so desperately to sound grounded and firm, he started to speak again.

"Y/N… I can't stand it any more… Seeing how Mammon handled you… I… I won't let that happen again! You… You're mine, you know that?!"

You froze at that, eyes widening at the spluttering declaration; this was a side of Levi you knew existed, but never had you heard him say it in such a firm, almost desperate manner.

"You… You be… belong to…" Then it was Levi's turn to stop mid-sentence, his chest practically seized up and unable to muster the courage to speak further. It was that familiar gaze of regret and shame in his eyes when he felt he had pushed too far, asked too much of you. His head sunk low, shoulders slouched for a moment, but on instinct you had reached out to grasp his chin, to raise his face right back up. It elicited a gasp out of the demon, his orange-violet eyes fixed upon your own now as his mind raced with questions — and desires.

"… To me…" Leviathan finally breathed out after a moment of tightness in his throat. His entire expression had melted with those two words into a mixture of rising passion and awe. Awe at you, his boyfriend, being so kind, so willing to go along with his outburst. It was such a strong wave of emotion that he had not even realized you pulled him closer for a kiss until your sweet lips had pressed to his own; when you had done this, there was no stopping the floodgates that opened in his mind. You were so close, so vulnerable, so very much his, and he wanted people to know it. He wanted his brothers to respect the fact that you were his, you were his handsome boyfriend, you were not to be claimed by anyone else.

Without thinking, his hands shot forward to grasp at your shirt and pull you in, breathless little gasps breaking the kiss before he lunged right back in for more. You encouraged him with how you wrapped your arms around his neck, gave him the subtle clues that you were willing to give yourself to him and fulfill those desires so clearly writ large in every action he took. You were relishing in this just as much as he was, and it led to you both having leaned in to one another until bodies were pressed flush and you could feel a noticeable throb against your belly. Leviathan's fantasies had been stewing in his mind for so long now, and in the heat of this moment threatened to boil over and completely consume any rational thought he had.

You smiled against his lips and decided to try and test just how sensitive he really was by smoothing one of your hands down the Avatar of Envy's back, down past his waist, to give his posterior a nice little squeeze. You expected the sharp inhaled gasp, but you weren't ready to hear the shuddering moan that wracked his chest, the sound like melting honey in your ears. It almost sounded as if he begged you for something, so you tried for another, almost kneading grope — and this time his whole body responded by rolling against yours, head thrown back and tail suddenly lashed upwards uncontrollably.

"Please!" Leviathan would gasp out, hands tensed on your shirt. "Please, do that again…! I want more… Please… Y/N…" The gasps he gave were choked, but more from how much pleasure was coursing through his veins, hazing his vision and his thoughts. You could tell he was lost in the moment, not a single care in the world for if he "deserved" such amazing sensations. You wanted to treat him for being so forward — he waited so patiently for you, he made his thoughts so clear to you, he only wanted you. Yet as you went for his belt you were stopped by a shaky hand, though Leviathan was quick to quell any concerns you had.

"Be... Before you do," the demon exhaled, his eyes shifting to watch your expression. "Can... Can I... nibble your neck...? Ju-Just a little..."

The question surprised you a little bit, yet you couldn't help but find it so endearing; here he was moments ago demanding that you were his, and now he was asking permission to claim a little bit of you. With a warm smile you gave him that permission, and found he only hesitated for a moment before he leaned in and pressed nervous lips and sharp canines to your neck. Leviathan's actions felt so gentle despite his explosive display of emotions, as if he were worshipping you, revering your body as something sacred despite the overwhelming need building in his chest.

The first nip was experimental, testing the waters against your skin. The second found more purchase near the artery in your neck, a gasp drawn against your throat as Leviathan froze and took it all in — the rapid rush of blood just inches below his lips was because of him. It was for him that your heart beat like so.

"I love you..." Leviathan would breathe out before taking another bite a little further down. "I love you... I love you so much..." A few more marks were left trailing down to your collarbone, but then he pulled away; the expression on his face could only be described as utterly consumed by lust, eyes soft and hazy and glistening in the light, lips parted with an awe-struck smile, scarlet spreading from his cheeks to his ears.

"Okay... I'm ready now," the demon would utter as he moved your hand back to his belt, a stuttering murmur escaping at the anticipation alone. "I... I wanted to leave those there... because I wanted others to know... Know that I'm the only one who gets to see you like this... who gets to be pampered like this... who... who..." His brain skipped a bit and he shuddered out a moan when white-hot flashes of pleasure washed over his nerves at the thought of what he would say next settled in.

"... Please don't be too gentle with me... I... I want all of you, Y/N... I've waited so long for this... to t-take you in like this... I, um... I've practiced a little for you... W-well a lot for you... I want to make you happy... in every single way... I want to be the only one wh-who can meet those needs... Okay?"

Leviathan was so wholly devoted to you, to your desires, and in a rush of courage brought on by all the positive reinforcement you had been giving he laid it all bare for you to take in. Despite letting you take the lead and be the one to dominate, you felt as though he was still actively feeding your own passion with the way he breathlessly uttered his affections for you from a chest gripped wholly by undying love.

You spared no time removing those layers of clothes from his body as you kept him pinned to the wall, your fingers deftly working to ease his entrance and prepare him. Your own dripping length was freed only when he was ready, and he squirmed and cried out in undiluted ecstasy when he finally got to feel you filling him up. The Avatar of Envy was so sensitive, so easy to react, you had to be careful not to overload him in the heat of the moment, but as soon as you started getting a rhythm going with your hips, a curious detail caught your eye.

As you fucked him there on that wall, his eyes were fixed upon the marks he left on your throat — as though he were admiring them, how they painted your pretty skin a bluish-red, how they announced so loud and proud who you chose to get so intimate with. He had even coiled his tail around your waist a couple times over, as if denying the chance to make any distance — he did not want you to stop, not for anything in the world.

"Y/N... Y/N..." Your name was a mantra on his tongue, spoken so sweetly, so desperately. Interlaced between each instance of your name was confessions of love, though mostly inaudible from how he mewled and moaned and cried out with each movement you made.

It did not take long at all for him to reach his climax, thick ropes of cum painting your shirt as his tail squeezed you gently and his body jerked and tensed from the sheer force of the release sending waves across his body. Yet he wouldn't let you stop, riding that climax through his tears and drooling just to see you to yours — only then did he slow down, mouth hung agape with a smile at the corners of his lips, eyes barely able to stay open.

"Thanks..." he exhaled after he was able to catch his breath, his voice so light and full of joy. He saw the confused look on your face and after a moment of processing it, realized he needed to continue. "F-for choosing me. For letting me be the one to experience this... It makes me so happy..."

The demon's arms would be thrown around your neck after he said that, his head lowered to nestle up against the marks he had left previously. It was so hard to believe that his little tactic worked, and that he had even gotten to enjoy the highs of personal intimacy with you for it too.

"Don't go doing this with anyone else, okay? Just... Just me. I don't want anyone else being able to see how beautiful you are covered in sweat like this..." After he mewled his reminder out on airy breaths, you felt him squirm on you a bit, still excited for more — still so pent up and ready for more. It was cute, you mused with a smile.

It was typical for Leviathan to go hours without messaging anyone, but when people caught on that you and him both had gone radio silent ever since you got back to the House of Lamentation earlier than everyone else, they couldn't help but wonder if you had stolen Levi away — though Asmodeus couldn't stop giggling to himself when he caught a very familiar scent wafting off of you both later.

And there we are! I hope I did your request justice dear anon; I got very, very excited to write this, so I made it a lot longer than I should have. Oops! But I hope I captured the essence of a soft but still possessive/obsessive Levi for you!

And to all who were waiting so patiently, hello! I'm back, so sorry for the wait!! 💖

[northlt03]

Wish I were Heather

I wrote this on the train with Heather by Conan Gray playing on a loop. Listen to Heather while you read it for a better experience. Sirius’ baby brother. Would James always know him as that? Just his best mate’s brother? Even at eleven, Regulus wanted more. Regulus heard about him before he met him. The sun. The one pulling Sirius towards him, into his orbit. He would admit he was jealous back then, very jealous. The only thing that mattered to him at ten, was that this random posh kid at Hogwarts was stealing his brother. And to someone Sirius meant the world to, it was quite infuriating. Sirius would come back home spreading tales of the “marauders”, as they called themselves. (Regulus thought it was quite stupid). The pranks they pulled, the mischief they got up to, the stories James told him. Sirius, the star, was completely and utterly bewitched. It was always- James said this, James did that, James laughed at this joke, James- Ten year old Regulus had enough of this James Fleamont Potter. James who could do no wrong in Sirius’ eyes. He even tried to tell his parents to get Sirius mentally evaluated. So at eleven, when he boarded the Hogwarts express, he was intent on having James as his arch nemesis. There's a certain dramatic flair that comes from being born a “Black” and being eleven year old. So to him, at that time, it made perfect sense that he would hate this boy forever. When Sirius dragged him to their carriage for the first time, Regulus scoffed at the tall lanky boy. But Sirius had shaken his head “That's Remus. James must not have got on yet” The boy that walked in after them made Regulus question everything. Words came up in his mind, words like - the sun, bright, sunshine, but also- brother stealer. At eleven, Regulus black fell for the sun. When he smiled, he showed off all his teeth. Some were crooked, but the force of the smile made the whole carriage light up. James Potter was all wide smiles and ruffled dark hair. He didn't have glasses then, just a twelve year old boy in a red jumper, bubbling with excitement. looking at him, Regulus could tell what drew Sirius in. James was the sun, there was no other explanation. Once you entered his orbit, it was hard to ever leave. Regulus tried, he tried so, so hard to hate him. In Hogwarts, he felt horribly lost and alone. He turned back to his hate for company. He tried to convince himself he hated James, absolutely loathed him. James, with his stupid smile and his stupid arm around Regulus’ brother. James with his elaborate pranks that inconvenienced everyone else and his practical jokes.  James with his loud laughter and warm presence. James with his extremely obvious crush on Lily Evans. Regulus hated him. He did. He really did. By second year, things got tense between the brothers. Only twelve, and Regulus felt more mature than his older brother. Only twelve and he wanted the world to end. Only twelve and he wanted the sun. It was James, of course. Regulus was convinced there was no one else, there would be no one else. For him, it would always be James Potter. Did he hate that part of himself? He did, for a while. Until Sirius snuck into his room during the summer break. His brother told him about Remus in such great detail, that Regulus asked Sirius if he liked Remus. It was easier after that. Their parents expected things from them- family duties, responsibilities that Sirius kept shirking as they got older. Of course they all fell on Regulus. But this story is about the sun, not the stars. Fourth year is when his attraction he called “love”, really turned into love. James grew fitter and better looking with every year. In his fifth year, he looked more mature, more sure of himself. He was still an annoying shit, making the slytherins suffer through all his plans, but Regulus couldn't help it. 3rd of December, Regulus was sitting in the astronomy tower, trying to forget the world existed, trying to live, not just survive. 3rd of December and James potter of all people walked into the astronomy tower. They sat in silence. 3rd of December, James offered his maroon sweater to Regulus. The younger Black had pulled a face and insulted him to his face. James didn't falter. He just smiled wider. 3rd of December and James Potter said the sweater looked better on Regulus anyways. Only if he knew how much Regulus liked him. The love inside him was so vast and deep, sometimes Regulus felt he would drown in it. 4th of December and Regulus stopped dead in his tracks. He was about to hand back the sweater, yes in front of everyone. He would've done that, if it wasn't for Lily Evans. James’ big brown eyes followed her as she walked into the great hall. He lit up, his smile widening, Lily leaving him breathless. So Regulus marched to the gryffindor table and slammed the sweater in front of James. Jealousy. There was no other word for it. It was ugly and dark and it made Regulus want to throw up. He settled for a sarcastic smile and walked away with his head held high. Sitting back down, ignoring the weird looks, Regulus looked back at James. Nothing had changed, absolutely nothing. James still looked at Lily as if she was his entire world. And Regulus was discarded from thought. Merely something you glance back at and frown because you forgot it existed. Lily was such a sight for sore eyes, even Regulus could see it. Fiery red hair and an even more fierce personality. Regulus had talked to her once or twice. He could tell why James liked her. She was brighter than a clear sky. Head held up high, bright green eyes, snarky retorts… she had James mesmerized. Regulus watched with a bitter taste in his mouth. Fifth year and Regulus was on the slytherin quidditch team. They played against the gryffindor, Regulus tried to ignore him, he did. In the end, Regulus caught the snitch. And even though Gryffindor had lost, James looked at him like he was the only star in the sky. If that's what it felt like to have the sun's undivided attention, Regulus wanted it all to himself, forever. He felt like he could conquer the earth, travel to Saturn and back, because of the way James looked at him. And then the players descended, James rushed towards someone in the stands. Red hair flowed as he embraced her. Regulus was off the ground before any of his friends. He brushed past the kissing couple. How could he be so stupid? How could he be so absolutely idiotic? How could he ever think, even for a second that James Potter liked him? James of all the people? Him? Why would he ever kiss Regulus? Regulus had nothing Lily did. He didn't have the red hair that drew James in, instead his black curls gathered near the base of his neck. He didn't have her green eyes, his were a dull gray, ever changing. He didn't have her snarky personality. He considered himself socially inept, awkward and plain old isolated. He wasn't even half as pretty. The next morning, Lily had walked in, bright as ever. A smile almost as wide as James’. The Gryffindors had lost, but it seemed like James was elated for a completely different reason. It had nothing to do with the match and everything to do with the maroon sweater Lily was wearing. He gave her his sweater. It was just polyester, but James liked her better. “Wish I were Lily” He admitted. His friends teased him about it endlessly. None of them knew how pathetically sad it was. It wasn't something to joke about. The boy Regulus had been in love with forever, would never love him back. The ache was physical, he could feel it in his chest. He was a boy with a universe of pain in his rib cage. Regulus wasn't a bitter person, contrary to popular belief. He was actually quite pleasant. He had hobbies, he liked to read and write. He liked the wind in his hair when he was on a broom, he liked the blood rushing in his ears when he played quidditch. But all of it seemed inconsequential in comparison to James Potter. The happy couple stood by the black lake, hand in hand. Regulus froze, there was no way to describe the thoughts running through his mind. James’ arm traveled upwards, he slung it around her shoulders. He wanted to pretend to be nonchalant. But there was no denying the way he seemed to shine brighter when she moved closer. Regulus shivered. They say jealousy is an ugly emotion. They’re right. There was nothing pretty about his jealousy. It was like a fire, all consuming. Regulus wondered briefly if James was a sun after all. Instead, he seemed like a collapsed star, a blackhole. Drawing everyone into his orbit, only to destroy them. But the only one destroyed because of James was Regulus. Maybe there was something wrong with him. Regulus would never be enough.  There's a particular sort of sadness that comes with never being good enough. Regulus was filled to the brim with it. He found himself pinpointing all his faults in the mirror. His hair was untidy sometimes. His glare could be mistaken for hostility. His skin had red bumps and freckles mixed on the canvas of his cheeks, spanning across his nose like they were making constellations. How could he hate Lily? None of it was her fault. She was an accomplished witch by herself. James had nothing to do with that. She was top of the class, a favorite of the teachers. She was such an angel. “But then again, I wish she were gone” They made fun of him for that as well. But he couldn't explain the heartache to anyone else. It was a hollow sort of feeling. Everything in his life was falling apart, add James to mix and Regulus wanted to die. Some stories have happy endings. Regulus supposed this one would too if it was a story in a children's book. The star got the sun and they lived happily ever after. But that's not what happened. James Potter stripped away any semblance of joy Regulus had and he did it all unknowingly. First he took Sirius, then he took Regulus’ heart. He never did return any of the two. Maybe in another universe James would have liked him back. Maybe in another universe they kissed on the astronomy tower, Regulus in James’ sweater. Maybe in every universe except this one, because Regulus was born to die, he was born for misery. Instead of a happy ending, he died all alone. Only eighteen, having suffered so much. He died alone in a cave, thinking he had a chance of defeating the dark lord. Maybe in another universe, because in this one he was destined to be a side character. Mentioned twice, forgotten just as quickly. James died soon after. Even though Regulus tried and failed to bring down the dark lord. James died with a wife and a son. James died with Lily Potter and Regulus was alone, all alone. Maybe in another universe. Maybe in another universe James kissed Regulus instead.

[fanficfanattic]

🌹🌹🌹

Three beautiful red roses for meeeee?

🌹

Roy/Jamie, S1, Roy goes to Keeley for advice on handling Tartt but he doesn’t ignore her advice like Ted did:

Back in the locker room after practice, Jamie hasn’t even changed out of his kit or thought about showering. Just goes straight to Roy and asked if he’d been good enough.

“No.” Jamie’s face starts to fall but Roy keeps talking. “You’re going to have to work for it, Tartt. You aren’t afraid of hard work, so I’m not worried that you’ll get there.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah Captain.” And since Jamie didn’t whine or bitch or moan, Roy decides to give him a treat. That will also test how honest Keeley was truly being with him.

“You can have my fingers in your mouth for two minutes. Consider it incentive for tomorrow.” Roy didn’t move his hands, though, and Jamie was as good at reading his intentions in that moment as he was at reading opponents on the pitch. He gracefully sunk to his knees, angled himself lower, and took Roy’s first and middle finger into his mouth from below them.

The instant look of serenity on his face confirmed Keeley had maybe even undersold how effective this would be. Tartt’s gentle humming buzzed against the skin of his finger. Making him think this was going to be a much better experience than he thought it might be even just the night before.

He hadn’t used his watch, so he wasn’t sure how long had passed. But right when he was ready to pull away because surely two minutes had passed, Tartt pulled himself away. But he was cheeky enough to then rest his forehead on Roy’s hip while he took deep, steadying breaths.

Then, like a bubble popping, Roy tuned in and realized that the room was filled with feverish whispering gossip.

“Oi! What did I say earlier? You make shit harder, you answer to me.” And the room went back to as close to normal as they could make it.

🌹

Gen fic, S1, family curse story. Georgie and Simon come down as fast as they can to help with caretaking (so Georgie can snuggle her little boy as much as possible while he’s little again):

“Oh, that boy! The only one here born yesterday is you, isn’t that right poppet,” she singsongs at the baby Jamie in her arms.

Then the smile slid off her face as she looked between Ted and Beard. She was visibly deliberating before deciding who to start with.

“Coach Lasso. Jamie told me you have a son of your own, dontcha?” Her tone was carefully neutral which was an alarm bell given how much warmth and playfulness she’d spoken with to her family. Still, he stood up straight and smiled friendly at her.

“I do, yes, Henry. He’s 8 years old and Jamie was very kind to him during his visit.” His tone didn’t change at any point during his response, just as bright at the beginning as the end. Despite the fact he felt the conversation was already fraught.

“Of course he were. Jamie loves kids, always goes out of his way to make them feel like they’re special,” she replied firmly. It was an immutable fact so far as she was concerned. “He’d never take his frustrations with someone else out on a child.”

“Of course not, you’re right.” She raised her eyebrows high at that before cocking her head to the side. He really had no idea how to talk to her, she realized. And it seemed like today had really thrown him for a loop. Like others, he was apparently one of those people who thought they knew her son just from how he played.

Few things made her angrier.

“I’m going to be honest, Coach Lasso. You don’t much strike me as a person who appreciates conflict. Me? I don’t much either but I don’t run away from it. And that seems like your go-to move from what I’ve observed.

So it’s hard to want to show you respect already. But I also don’t much have use for men what abandon their families. And I’m sure you think your reasons are compelling, but from where I’m standing there is no way in hell they could be.

There isn’t a thing on this earth that would take me halfway across it away from me Jamie.”

🌹

From nothing solid yet:

The thing is. The thing is, and it’s not fair, he knows. But the thing is that Jamie has spent a dozen years dreading his phone’s screen notifying him of a text from “dad”. So now, even though his dad had graduated from rehab to a sober house, that knee-jerk dread still hasn’t faded.

It feels unfair to his dad. And it is definitely unfair that if he isn’t in a completely solid frame of mind when a text comes in, that it can send him spiraling faster than he can sprint.

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The cabin PARTIES: Emilio, Regan, and Jade SUMMARY: Not wanting to be alone, Regan invites Emilio over purely for an "investigation" into the human simulation program. The Sims aren't so happy to see them. Jade shouldn't have pirated.

UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE. 

Every time Regan returned from work and called for Jade (not like a child), her whole body filled with dread, relief only pouring out once a familiar voice chimed back. There wasn’t one today. The cabin was empty. It wasn’t a surprise; Jade said she’d be out later than usual tonight, and the sun hadn’t even set. Regan couldn’t object. Jade was out there saving lives and protecting death – doing the things Regan herself should have been returning to. Maybe Jade could help enough people, touch enough lives, for the both of them. So how selfish was she, that she wanted Jade here right now? 

But, oh, there were plenty of things Regan could do that weren’t pining (pathetic, childish, leanbh). Such as… there was the simple act of reaching out to the ham child, to Elias, to Wynne. To check on them. To be a doctor and a friend. She thought she could do that, as she stared down at the screen of Jade’s laptop. She thought she could do a lot of things. In the end, the one thing she had managed to do came too late. 

Not that, then. Something else. The human simulation program. Regan managed to keep herself occupied for about thirty minutes before each creak of wood sounded sinister and shadows gleamed with tar. She just needed to keep her mind busy; so she flicked through tabs instead: new clothes, a tab that now played Teenage Dream she couldn’t stop, a Candy Crush forum where an obscene username asked about anonymously sending lives, and a search about wigs which was likely intended to be wings. Finally she landed on Emilio’s page. Another slayer. Yes. She could ask him things that might have made Jade coil up in defense (or strike with venom at the monsters). That was useful. But… it could also be done online. Her lungs felt tight. When had she last breathed? 

She had to do it. Regan told Emilio to come. And Emilio… well, he existed. And other than when he’d tried to extort her, he was trustworthy enough. It was possible he already knew about this place, given Jade was staying here and the two of them were close (but not that kind of close… anymore). Oh, but it had nothing to do with needing someone else present, because… right, yes, there was a case! So it was about the case, obviously. The human simulation case that Regan let herself believe wasn’t utter nonsense. Like she didn’t already know practically everything there was to know about the human digestive tract, or how long a human could live before starving to death.

Time was slippery and she had no idea how long she’d been waiting, zooming from tab to tab. Most of her efforts were spent on trying to get the music to stop playing. It didn’t work. The song looped incessantly. Fortunately she eventually heard the knock on the door, which had to be Emilio. No one else came out here, and Jade had a key.

Regan glanced at the laptop, feeling strange about leaving it (like it would do something in her absence) but she got the door. Indeed, Emilio was there. “Hello. You found this place. In the woods. Good.” Some part of her still objected to anyone entering the cabin, given what used to be here, what used to happen here, but she moved out of the way to let him in, because his company was better than no one. “Uh, Jade and I have been staying here. Before you start looking, she isn’t here. She told me she was going to be out later than usual. You know, the… slaying. How is that going, by the way? For you? How often do you acquire contusions on your lip?” Probably more often than Jade. She had to be more skilled, and Emilio didn’t exactly move quickly. 

“Right, the simulations. The reason you’re here.” Regan gestured to Jade’s laptop, still blaring Katy Perry. “I… suppose I should show you, right?” The real question was, should she tell him ahead of time who was being simulated?

—

The wounds he’d earned from the brambles were healed now, though not without leaving a few new scars in their wake. Emilio could barely pick them out among the rest of the scars that marred his body, his skin an endless canvas of encounters that left him bleeding. The small bits of raised skin didn’t bother him now, didn’t really represent a thing he gave a second thought to at all. Instead, his mind kept going back to the corpse they’d left behind in those tunnels to rot. He’d given his client her husband’s personal items the moment he no longer looked like he might keel over from blood loss, had pressed the wedding ring into her palm and handed over the wallet and dog tags just to prove who it had belonged to. And she’d cried, and she’d fallen apart, and he’d stood there because Emilio never knew what to do when a stranger’s world was ending even if he’d seen it happen a thousand times. 

It was this part of the experience that he knew would remain with him, this part that would haunt him long after the brambles were forgotten entirely. That woman’s quiet sobs, her pleas of why, please, I don’t understand, echoed in his mind beside the sound of her husband’s body crumbling as it was crushed by the snake-like creature that Emilio and Wyatt had scarcely escaped themselves. Even now, sitting on the sofa in Axis, it was a ghost no exorcism could chase away. 

But a distraction might give him a break from it.

His phone pinged with a new message, and Emilio had never been a social man but he practically dove for it all the same. He wanted something to take his mind off things, something to make him forget that Nora was desolate and Wynne was broken and Teddy had been through something awful at the hands of their own family. A message, whatever it said, could offer at least a few seconds of something else to think of.

Seeing that the message was from Kavanagh left him with… mixed emotions. 

He wasn’t angry at her. He’d tried to be, tried more than once now to point the ever-present fire in his chest in her direction, but it was harder than it should have been. Maybe it was because Jade was happy she was here, or the fact that her return brought Nora and Wynne back, too (even if her departure had been what made them go to begin with). Or maybe he was still too goddamn tired to be angry in any sort of way that mattered. Regardless, the feeling he got seeing her name on the cracked screen of his phone wasn’t rage, even if he didn’t know what else to call it.

He read the message, made sense of it in his mind. She wanted him to come over to discuss a case, and it took him a moment to remember what he was working on for her. Right. The ‘humans need to eat every twenty minutes’ thing. It seemed like a case far less likely to end with Emilio in an underground tunnel feeding a man’s body to a giant snake, so he figured it was a good case to work on. Gathering a few essentials (knife, stake, holy water, flask, earplugs), he moved to grab his shoes from by the door. Perro trotted behind him, stopping to sit by the couch and tilt his head.

“You’re in charge,” Emilio told the dog. “Please eat Gabagool.” 

And then, he was off to Regan’s cabin. He’d never actually been there before, and that was another reason why accepting her invitation felt like a good idea. He’d be lying if he said no part of him was curious about what it might look like. He glanced around as he hopped off his motorcycle, observing the outside for a moment before he made his way to the door. He could snoop around the grounds any time. It was the interior he really wanted to know more about.

Faintly, he heard a song playing from behind the closed door. He wouldn’t have recognized it, even if he could hear it more clearly, but he was a little surprised that Kavanagh was the sort of person to listen to music when she was home alone. Rapping his knuckles against the door, he waited until she pulled it open to step inside. 

“I’m good at finding places. In the woods and out of them,” he replied absently, already busy glancing around. Sparse, which wasn’t a surprise. What was a little surprising, though… “You don’t even have a couch.” Why had she been so worked up about his couch if she didn’t even have one? Was that hypocritical of her? Emilio almost felt offended. He almost missed her next question, brow furrowing as he looked back to her. He might as well have missed it, with just how little he understood what she was asking “What?” She probably wasn’t going to explain in a way that made sense. She never did.

The simulations. “They’re on a computer?” It was entirely possible that Emilio didn’t understand this case. He wouldn’t say as much, of course; much of his career was a ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ type thing. He knew he was bad with computers… but Kavanagh might have been worse. He let this feed into his confidence as he nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, “show me the computer. Turn off the music, though. It’s — hard to think.”

—

Emilio surveyed the space as any half-decent PI would, and Regan had a feeling she knew what he was looking around for: anything weird. The things Kaden walked right by, under the cover of the blindfold Regan had insisted upon. The things Regan had deposited into a casket buried about 4 feet underground half a mile from here. “You’re not going to find anything strange. Like I said, Jade is normally here, too.” Although… Jade couldn’t be described as typical in any sense, a thought that made Regan’s heart dance to the music (if it was actually cardiac arrest, it could just take her now). The weapons that had previously lined the walls had been moved, but she figured that would have been the usual for Emilio. “Is it a problem that I don’t have a couch? There is a table. There are two chairs. You can sit on one of them – the chairs, not the table. Couches are indulgent. I guess you can tell me about the contusions later.” She had also recently asked Jade for help picking a new couch out. Banshees could never be self-indulgent, but as a human, perhaps she deserved comfortable buttocks.

“Where else would a simulation be?” She lifted a brow at Emilio, but waved him over to the laptop as the chorus of Teenage Dream made the table vibrate. “The only way I know how to get the music to stop is by breaking the computer. And I have been trying very, very hard not to do that. It’s Jade’s.” Never mind that she could grab several new MacBooks from work. They didn’t have the simulation on them, and Jade was happy enough with her phone most of the time. “So you’re just going to have to speak up. “

The simulations were never really at peace. Most of the time, when Regan ended up in the program, the tiny humans paced around, listless. They ate a lot. They engaged in bladder (which was actually just urinating – why didn’t the meter simply say that?). Sometimes, they decided to dance in a little line, but their movement was vaguely threatening, like a gnashing worm. Elias liked fire. He spent hours a day bent over the small stove, watching the flame, not cooking anything. Wynne, meanwhile, stood by the pool. That was more true to life. (No, she wouldn’t think about the lake right now, focus on the program.) There used to be a small, simulated dog that ran around. Regan saw the tail-end of it drowning in the pool. Truly the tail-end. Wynne had been nearby at the time. Then there was the ham child, who went about her days with a knife in each hand. She had a whetstone as the centerpiece in her bedroom and was up all night sharpening the blades. The Emilio simulation was somewhat of a conspiracy theorist type, it seemed. He was typically seen in the office, pinning minute pieces of newspaper clippings up on a board with even smaller tacks and string. Finally, there was the Regan simulation. She hadn’t recognized her at first. At some point, tiny Regan had stopped following tiny Jade around, and instead spent all of her time staring up at the screen as if it were a sunset. 

“Here they are,” Regan announced, gesturing expectantly toward an empty, simulated house, with not a single light on.

—

Not going to find anything strange, she said, as if the cabin’s very existence wasn’t strange. The idea of Regan Kavanagh living somewhere was strange, though it shouldn’t have been. Everyone needed a place to sleep at night. Emilio just tended to imagine Regan… sleeping in the morgue, or something. He thought he’d have been less surprised if her home had a wall of metal cadaver drawers than he was by it looking relatively normal. “Jade is not normal, either,” he hummed. There were parts of Jade he understood — the hunter parts, mostly — but most of her was just as confusing as Regan. That was probably why they fit together so well. Two people who didn’t quite fit in to what they were born into — banshee and slayer — but couldn’t find a solid place in humanity, either. “It’s not a problem. It’s just — Did you steal mine? Is that why you made such a thing about it?” His eyes narrowed as he looked to the bedroom door, as if trying to see through the wood and decide if his old couch had been moved inside to obstruct it from view. He’d much rather talk about that than… whatever contusions Regan was asking him about. 

“I don’t know anything about simulations,” he replied dryly, the last word sticking to the roof of his mouth as he tried to work out the syllables. It wasn’t a word he used in English often enough to be practiced in its pronunciation, though he didn’t think Kavanagh would mention it. “Can you at least make it quieter?” The song was annoying. It was loud, and he didn’t really understand the point the singer was trying to get at. He’d rather listen to Regan — something that spoke volumes about just how little he enjoyed the music. But… it was what it was, he guessed. If there was no way to turn it off without breaking the laptop, and if the people Regan wanted him to look into lived inside the laptop, he’d just have to find a way to cope with it.

Gritting his teeth against the bone-rattling volume of the very repetitive song, Emilio leaned over the laptop to inspect the screen. There was a house there, and it looked… nice. Cartoonish and a little off, maybe, but nice enough that it would have fetched a pretty penny in the real world. Emilio scanned the darkened rooms of it, brow furrowing. There were no people — simulation or otherwise — that he could make out. Subtly, he glanced towards Regan from the corner of his eye. Had she imagined it, somehow? Had she spent hours staring at this empty, animated house and built up a world of people within it who needed to eat every twenty-four minutes and gave her something to do? Maybe the music had gotten to her.

Movement on the screen pulled his mind away from the thought, and he looked back to the big, empty home. There was one person on screen now, and it was a little bit of a relief. He wasn’t sure he’d have known how to navigate a banshee-flavored mental breakdown. He squinted at the lone figure, who was waving frantically at them through the monitor. Dark, curly hair in a familiar style, clothes he didn’t quite understand, sharp eyes staring up… “Is that supposed to be Jade?” It looked like her, but only mostly. It was a two-dimensional version, not quite right. Something about it made him uneasy. “This is weird. What you’re doing here. Do you… hang out with this when she isn’t home?” Tiny, two-dimensional, Jade was yelling now, voice rising up beneath the still-blaring music.

“Fricka frack! Fazool plopsy! Choo waga choo choo!” 

Emilio glanced at Regan. “What’s it saying?” She must have known.

—

Emilio was looking at her with the same sideways glance she’d earned so many times over in her life – from everyone other than her family and Jade, really. There was always a question behind the look: what is wrong with you? When she’d come to Wicked��s Rest, she told herself it didn’t matter. She was a banshee, fae, and she couldn’t expect humans to understand her manner of thinking (which she ought to be proud of). Now it once more felt like being kicked out of the sandbox for burying dead birds. Regan’s sharpened awareness of the look became a frown. “What? Don’t judge me. Her nights are long. She barely sleeps. This is better than stealing couches – which I did not do.” He seemed to think she made this. Regan’s voice cut above the music. “I didn’t make her! She did not come from me. Jade made the Jade simulation.” But would Regan have otherwise made one? Before herself, yes. “I’m aware the program is weird, which is why you’re–” Her stomach groaned at the encroaching lie and she swallowed it. And also because she noticed what the small version of Jade was doing.

Jade looked straight up at the monitor, her hands waving like something was wrong. This was not the real Jade, not even close, but the tugging on Regan’s aorta was real. Something was amiss in Cadaverville (she had renamed the town; Jade was encouraging her creativity).

Regan was starting to understand some of the simulation language, with a little help from Jade (her real one). “It means… she says this when there’s something between her and the Regan simulation. Oh, there is a Regan simulation, by the way.” She wouldn’t mention the Emilio one if she could avoid it. Also, she still didn’t see any of them. The only time she could remember their little house being empty was when the simulations gathered in the yard and dug a bunch of symbols into the lawn together. The tiny Jade really did look terrified, though. There were a lot of white pixels in her eyes right now. “What is it? What’s wrong? Where is everyone?” It would be better for everyone if Emilio pretended she was asking him.

She wanted to keep the Jade simulation in view, but she knew investigation took precedence. Regan leaned forward against the table, moving the view around the neighborhood to see where the simulations might have scattered. Not at the park. Or the neighbor’s house the ham child and Emilio had ransacked. 

Regan scoured the town inch by inch, frantically, trying to understand. As she scrolled and clicked away with one hand, something brushed against her other, some bug that had squeezed itself under the door. And then it bit her. No. That was not only pain. That was heat. “Wabadebadoo!” A small voice declared, in sync with the music. “Ow.” She pulled away, seeing an angry red patch of skin on the top of her thumb. And, there right next to it, was the Elias simulation, flaming torch in hand, the fire also burning behind his tiny eyes. A pencil-thin trail of smoke reached her nose. Confusion could be an excellent analgesic for pain. Regan lowered herself, kneeling, eyes level with the table – and the miniaturized Elias, which was likely another trick of the tar that had coated her neurons no more gently than it had her grandmother. “Hell…o? Sul sul?”

—

Emilio narrowed his eyes at Regan’s insistence that she hadn’t stolen his couch, eyes darting to the closed door again. He’d investigate it to be sure, he figured, just as soon as he helped her figure out… whatever needed figuring out with the computer. In all honesty, Emilio wasn’t sure what she’d called him over to look into. Her computer people were being strange, but it seemed to Emilio that they were meant to be strange. Was there any way to have a group of two-dimensional humans existing within a screen without making it weird? He had his doubts. 

Still… the Jade simulation looked distressed. And it didn’t look very much like Jade, even if Jade had made it (which Emilio wouldn’t argue with, since making a simulation of herself was precisely something Jade would do), there was still a strange tugging in his chest at the sight of some strange version of his friend in such a state. He imagined it was worse for Regan, who was… Okay, she was definitely talking to the computer. Emilio cast another glance in her direction, wondering at what point it might become necessary to consult about the banshee’s well-being with someone else. If he told Jade her whatever-they-were had lost it, would that be enough to ease his guilty conscience? 

(Probably not. His conscience was always a guilty one, no matter what steps he took to repair it.)

He hummed as she translated the simulation’s strange gibberish. They must have been speaking Irish, then. He wondered if that was a default option within the simulation, or if Jade had somehow added it herself. “I don’t see anything in her way,” he said, leaning in a little closer to the screen. He also didn’t see a Regan simulation. “Maybe she’s looking for you. Uh, the… small, computer version of you. Try to find you. Her. It.” This was a headache.

He watched as Regan scrolled around on the screen. A house near the one where Computer Jade and Computer Regan evidently lived seemed to be in shambles, and Emilio wondered if that might be a clue. He was about to ask when a strange voice spoke up with a strange, possibly Irish, word.

Turning towards the sound, Emilio found himself taking a wide step away from the computer and attempting to come to terms with the sight that greeted him. It looked similar to the Jade on the screen — an almost, not-quite person. Smaller than it should have been. Roughly the size, in fact, of the small Jade on the screen. And it was holding a blowtorch. Of course it was holding a blowtorch. Emilio squinted at it a moment. “What the fuck? Is that — Is that supposed to be Elias?” It had the stupid hair, the beard. He’d never seen Elias standing at just a few inches tall and waving around a miniaturized blowtorch, but he figured this was probably what he’d look like. 

Emilio turned towards Regan, who offered some sort of Irish greeting. “What the fuck!” He repeated, because that seemed an important question to ask. “What is going —” 

“Boobasnot!” A small voice yelled from the table. Emilio looked down, eyes growing impossibly wider at the sight of a tiny, dark-haired figure waving around a blade that was only a little larger than a sewing needle. 

“Did you make a computer person of m— Of the ham kid?” He turned back to Regan, trying to catch up. 

“Boobasnot!” Computer Nora said again, more empathetic. She leapt off the table towards him, needle-sword waving. “Boobasnot! Boobasnot! Boobasnot!” 

“I don’t —” Emilio started to take a step back, but fear prickled the back of his neck as he realized doing so would end with Computer Nora falling to the floor. For someone her size, it would be a long fall. He took a step forward instead, trying to catch her. “I don’t speak — fuck,”  the needle sword stabbed into his hand, more like a bee sting than anything genuinely painful. “I don’t speak Irish! Kavanagh, what the fuck is going on? What’s —” 

More small voices joined the fray. 

“Renato! Renato!” A tiny Wynne screamed like a war-cry. 

“Wabadebadoo!” Elias joined in.

“Boobasnot!” Nora added. 

“Veena fredishay!” He turned towards the last voice.

“Is that supposed to be me? What the fuck!”

—

Despite being under two inches tall, the simulations of Elias, Wynne, and the ham child were not stymied by their size. They charged, shouting in the simulation language – mostly words Regan didn’t know. Did Emilio– hold on. “You think this is Gaelige?” Her grandmother would have stripped his skin from his muscles at the insult. And then Regan’s, for not saying more to defend the language. But Emilio was too distracted anyway – by the simulations and his own swearing (it did improve Teenage Dream). She couldn’t exactly blame him. This was new territory for her, too. “They’re not usually out here!” Regan clarified, because she thought that needed clarification. “Yes, that’s the ham child. I couldn’t– I didn’t– I wasn’t sure how to–” Regan winced as the ham child jumped blade first into Emilio’s hand – followed by the Emilio simulation latching on with a thumb tack. But while the child’s tiny eyes also seared Regan with pure hatred, Emilio only seemed interested in attacking… Emilio. “You recognize that one? I was accurate, then. You were my first simulation. I needed practice before attempting the others. I could not get them wrong.” 

But this wasn’t what she’d been aiming for either. The Elias simulation was on a rampage. He hopped around, spraying fire everywhere with his little blowtorch. He himself lit up when he saw the photos Jade gave to Regan across the table – Jade, nude with the skeleton. “Wabadebadoo!” He shot fire toward it. “Hey! Not that! Don’t– not that.” She snatched the photo away, and tried to avoid any look Emilio was shooting at her. So what if this was her idea of decoration? What photos could be better? (Other than the ones of her ulcers, which were on equal footing – but they were in a box she’d packed up from the morgue.) Regan raised her palms, trying to pacify the tiny Elias, but his fury burned hot. She did not have to ask what she had done to him to deserve this.

Her gaze sank to the laptop, because she did not want to see the mess that she had created. “I’ll, um – must be something in the air, or – I’ll figure this out.” Wynne smacked her arm with a pool net. “Renato! Renato!” Regan’s stomach lurched with the kind of guilt that rolled on its back. “Or… perhaps we should just ignore them. They are not doing anything that–” That was not owed. At least where Regan was concerned. Emilio’s consciousness was probably equally as heavy, even though it shouldn’t have been. “Here, I’ll ask Jade about it.” Jade. Jade would know what to do. The real one wasn’t present, so they would need to settle for the next best thing. Regan hunched over the laptop again, scanning for a familiar red shirt and head of dark, silky hair. Katy Perry made her want to shake the gan úsáid machine around until it stopped, but she couldn’t do that to Jade. Uh, either of them. The small Jade didn’t go far; she was pacing like the actual Jade (endearing). 

Regan couldn’t hold the question back– “Did you let them out?” The tiny Jade gaped, offended, and Regan immediately regretted asking. “No. Alright. You tried to stop them?” The Jade simulation nodded eagerly. “Delco webney, yibs!” she yelled. “Then what do we do? I will not hurt them.” Again. Regan glanced down at the small ham child, who thrusted the needle-like blade into her arm now and drew a thin line of blood. It didn’t hurt. Regan deserved to have it hurt. She had sliced the child’s arm open, hadn’t she? The Jade simulation started wiggling around. “Oh feebee lay!” she cried. “Dancing?” Regan guessed, then she fired off more attempts. “Worms?” Tiny Jade held her stomach. “Tapeworms?” Had Jade installed a tapeworm modification for her? That was thoughtful; she always knew what parasite Regan wanted to see. 

Oh, it was the hunger meter, now a vivid red. Was Emilio seeing this? It was why he was here (no, it wasn’t). But the Jade simulation stayed, despite her mechanical drive to eat. “She has to eat,” Regan announced, but Emilio was busy dealing with the actual emergency at hand. “I said, she has to eat.” Regan clutched the photos tightly. The Wynne simulation smacked her again. The ham child got another cut in before leaping back to Emilio, out for blood. He didn’t seem to want to cause the simulations any harm, either. Couldn’t they just finish cutting her open, already? She would expose her own muscle for them if they wished. They could slice those, too, and immobilize her. She had done the same to others, to them.

Elias pranced with steps the length of his body, and Regan figured he’d be gunning for her again, and didn’t make an effort to move, only keep the photos away. But he was aiming the torch at the corner of the laptop. Katy Perry skipped, the chorus quivering. It was Jade’s and Jade was on there. The simulation Jade. But still– “Elias! Stop it! Mise ina ionad!” Too loud, too high. The small crack that followed her shout had only been across the camera, not the screen. Regan placed her hand – the one not safeguarding the titillating photos – between Elias and the computer. If her palm burned, she couldn’t feel it. “I know. I get it, alright? I know why you’re doing this. You are entitled.” But she didn’t know how this was happening. How was this possible? She would return to that question every night for the next several months. 

“Jadosi, za woka genava,” Elias said, staring at the flame against Regan’s skin. And, oh, she could feel heat radiating up to her fingers now. She might not care very much, but Jade wouldn’t like a new injury there, of all places. Regan closed her eyes; she couldn’t bear to watch as she gave the tiny Elias a quick flick, flinging him across the table. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I never wanted for you to be hurt, for my grandmother to do that, I didn’t mean–” She got a glimpse of her hand when her eyes opened. Ugly. Not a doctor’s clean, steady hand. What did it matter? “I’m sorry I hurt you. Again. Again. I did it again. Shite doctor I am.” Her butt hit the chair and she sank.

The simulations were fast, traversing the table (and Emilio) more quickly than any proportional human could. They also seemed fascinated with the corner of the room, gazes seeking it out periodically. A jab into Emilio’s skin, an impossible leap to his neck. The ham child seemed intent on slitting it. It was as if a flea could kill a dog. And Regan just kept looking to the laptop, where the Jade simulation stood, wiggling around, stomach rumbling. “Plerg majah bliff?” She asked, a little passive aggressively. Regan knew that one. “Yes… dag dag.” Regan huffed, looking slowly over to a struggling Emilio. She asked him, now. “Can you get them off?” But Regan wasn’t exactly moving to help. Her mental status felt torn away like wet paper around her soggy heart. Months ago she would have trapped the simulations under a cup and placed them on a dissection tray awaiting further study. (She would have sacrificed them with acetone in a jar first – she would not vivisect them. So it would have been acceptable.) But she only sat stock still as the small Wynne purpled her arm a little more with each whack of the pool net and Elias scrambled back into a charge.

—

“No, I think it’s Irish,” he snapped, irritation building as the tiny Nora continued its (her?) plight to end his life with a glorified sewing needle. The tiny pricks on his skin didn’t hurt much, though a few went deep enough to draw small droplets of blood. Taking the long way home should give it enough time to heal fully and spare him trying to explain the source of the blood to Teddy, who would probably find the entire ordeal hilarious. “Well they’re out now!” He yelled, still trying to fend off the small Nora without hurting her. And that was stupid. He knew that was stupid. This wasn’t Nora, even if it looked a little like her. (Not completely, though; parts were still wrong, still not-quite-human. It was a funhouse mirror version of the kid, something just close enough to feel guilty about hurting.) He glared as the small version of himself climbed up onto his boot. This one, Emilio felt no guilt about punting towards the wall. “You used me as practice? You were fine with getting me wrong?” Why was he offended by that? 

Regan chastised the tiny Elias for something, and Emilio turned instinctively to see what she was trying to prevent. He was just quick enough to catch a glimpse of the photo she was pulling away from the small creature, blinking as it was hidden from his view. “You — I don’t have time to think about this.” Any other day, he would comment on Regan displaying naked photos of her girlfriend in her living room, but today? He was a little busy trying to keep tiny Wynne from clawing his leg to pieces. Or… scratching him in a way that was slightly uncomfortable, really. None of the attacks were particularly effective. 

When Regan announced she was going to ask Jade for advice, there was a brief moment of relief. Emilio assumed, perhaps somewhat stupidly, that Jade had just pulled in the driveway. Perhaps Regan had heard her bike in a way Emilio hadn’t, his last experience with a banshee that wasn’t her leaving him with a faint, ever-present ringing in his ears that made some sounds harder to hear. He nodded, glancing towards the door and waiting, expectantly, for it to open.

It didn’t.

Instead, Regan kneeled down to look at the computer, where the small, two-dimensional Jade still paced on the screen. And of course. Of course she meant she was going to ask the small Jade. Why had Emilio assumed anything different? Why had he let himself believe that Regan would have a real solution instead of one that involved talking to a computer screen. Tiny Emilio returned from the journey normal-sized Emilio’s kick had sent him on, spewing more strings of nonsense syllables. Regan spoke to the tiny Jade in the computer. Emilio wondered if he could convince Teddy and the kids to move somewhere very far away.

“She lives in a computer,” Emilio pointed out. “I have no idea how to feed her. She could come out here and help us, maybe.” He shot the computer — and the computerized Jade — a sharp look, though he wasn’t sure the smaller version of his friend had eyes for anyone but Regan in this moment. He wondered if this Jade knew him at all, or if her loyalties lie more with the tiny Emilio attempting to climb his leg. Why was Regan so sure she could trust this Jade, anyway? For all they knew, she was the mastermind behind this.

The smaller versions of their friends that existed outside the computer screen seemed to be enjoying their time leaping between Emilio and Regan, intent on somehow ending both with their tiny hands. Elias had his flamethrower at the ready. Wynne seemed to prefer using their hands. Nora’s needle sword got a lot of mileage. Emilio had somehow acquired a thumbtack. (Resourceful. He almost respected it.) Elias went for the computer, and Regan’s resulting screech was just enough to crack part of it and leave Emilio pulling his face into a frown. He didn’t think a banshee scream was what they needed right now.

Regan was busy with tiny Elias, who Emilio saw fly across the room from the corner of his eye. Tiny Nora leaped for his throat, and while the needle sword wasn’t a huge threat, he didn’t think it would be a great idea to let her stick it into his jugular. He stumbled back, knocking into the table. The computer was jostled, lifting from the wood and slamming back into it and causing the crack Regan’s scream had created to grow just a little. On the speakers, the song skipped. “Re-regrets, reg-rets, reg-ets, re-re-re,” the voice crooned, and Emilio glared at the screen briefly before plucking tiny Nora off his throat by the leg and holding her upside down at arm’s length. With his other hand, he grabbed the sword between two fingers and yanked it from her surprisingly strong grip. 

When he glanced back to the screen, tiny Jade was gone. For a moment, Emilio wondered if she was going to join the fray, too (on which side?), but he was quickly distracted by Regan’s request for assistance. Grunting, he shoved tiny Nora into the inside pocket of his jacket and zipped it closed, then moved over to Regan, where the rest of the small crew of miniaturized people seemed to have gathered. He reached a hand for tiny Wynne, closing them into his fist and grimacing when they began thrashing against his palm. “Can you — help me out a little here? I have two hands. There are more than two of these things. I could use — ow, what the fuck?” He opened his hand instinctively, tiny Wynne falling out as he brought his palm up to his face. “I think they bit me! Wynne would never bite me.”

—

“Gaelige is Irish!” Regan shouted, more exasperated with Emilio than the tiny simulations attacking them. Now the crack reached the top of the laptop’s screen. The music looped, or at least the lyrics did. Regan was also more panicked about the laptop than being hurt. “Cinniúint, Jade trusted me with the laptop and we are breaking it.” Mostly her, but she wasn’t going to be the one to point that out. “And be nice to the Jade simulation. She’s sensitive. And trying to help us. Or, uh, she was. Now she’s eating.” Maybe Regan could swap in a new laptop without Jade noticing. Van could help her move all of Jade’s things (if Van was willing to be of any help to Jade) and– “Ow!” The tiny version of Wynne dropped the pool net in favor of clawing into the meat of Regan’s shoulder. She did nothing to stop them, but the spot Wynne chose was radiating pain. They seemed to grow bored with her lack of response and hopped over to Emilio. 

The Elias simulation looked up, his tiny eyes landing somewhere over Regan’s shoulder. Hm. Had he been looking that way before? It had been hard to tell since he needed to look up at Regan anyway, but they all seemed to be checking in with that corner. Emilio was struggling with the small versions of the ham child and Wynne, and Regan probably should have helped, but what could she do? She would not hurt them. If anything, they deserved to keep jabbing into her. She stayed seated in front of the computer, where the Jade simulation had abandoned her to eat something, and took the hits. Maybe Emilio deserved this a little, too. He was supposed to keep the ham child here, in Wicked’s Rest, but she slipped through his fingers just as adeptly as this small version did. She didn’t miss that Emilio seemed to be avoiding harming them, too.

Regan grit her teeth against the small torch scorching her arm. That hurt. Fire was fire, regardless of the size of the flame, and she could feel it there. “Can you finish already? Uh…” What was the word? “Araganda?” She asked. The Elias simulation gave a cheery reply of “bum bum!”. Regan’s eyes were wet when she blinked; was it the pain, or the guilt? “We should have protected them. But I did not. So why should I be protected from them? They will tire eventually,” though she wasn’t at all confident of that. Regan finally lifted her arm, careful not to swipe Elias away again. This time, when he looked to the corner, Regan followed the path of his eyes.

There was a tiny figure, like a plastic toy, on top of the fridge. Regan squinted, reluctantly pushing her heavy body up from the chair to get a better look. And… it had something it was waving around, like a conductor with a baton. White hair. Wait a moment. Regan realized two things simultaneously – one, that was not a baton, it was a scalpel; and two, the Regan simulation was the one holding it. Of course she had a scalpel. Regan had to give the small version of herself the doctor profession (but she, the big version, gave all of that up; she did).

“Emilio, up there, do you see–” The tiny Regan catapulted herself across the room – even without wings – landing scalpel-first on the crown of Regan’s head. Regan hissed at the small blade slicing into her, blood soaking the roots of her hair. Katy Perry blared UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE over and over and over again. “Get her off of me!” Regan screeched as the simulation stabbed her again. A small section of her hair trickled down her cheek, chopped off. “Get her off!” UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE UNTIL WE DIE. 

So maybe she should have been more proactive in helping Emilio. The laptop made a crackling noise and the screen flickered. She could feel the small being on her head freeze in tandem. Elias, back on the table, fell over, before getting to his feet again in a daze.

There, between all of Katy Perry’s UNTIL WE DIEs, was a tiny, frantic voice. The Jade simulation was doing jumping jacks in front of the screen, waving her half-eaten burger and fries around. “Regan! Gerb woof em! WooHoo!” Regan whipped toward the screen. Was she asking for– “I can’t right now! I’m busy. You can see that, yes?” A bloodstained white hair fell over her nose. “And you’re not the right, um–” She didn’t want to hurt this small Jade’s feelings, but she could think of several logistical issues and one huge emotional (an uncomfortable word) one. But the Regan simulation popped out of her hair and shouted back toward the computer. “WooHoo?” She seemed to consider it. “Ooh be ga…”

Regan seized the opportunity and raked the tiny simulation from her hair, cupping it in her hands. It still had the scalpel. Her fingers were quickly reminded, and she dropped the tiny Regan on the table. She looked over her shoulder, fury in her eyes, but her attention was drawn back to the proportionally-similar Jade. She pointed her tiny scalpel at Regan, then Emilio. “Dooby zession. Geelfrob?”

—

“How the fuck would I know that?” Frustration was beginning to blind him a little, anger burning so hot that there was little room for anything outside of it. He got like this, sometimes. He’d like to pretend that it was a new thing, like to claim that the anger piggybacked on the grief that had been drowning him for the last few years, but he knew that wasn’t true. He’d always had his own special brand of rage gripping his heart, always known the feeling of its fingers wrapped tightly around that useless hunk of flesh inside his chest. Emilio had been angry all his life. He used to think it made him useful, but right now, it wasn’t doing much for him. Maybe if these small people had looked like anyone else, maybe if the guilt didn’t outweigh the anger, maybe… 

There were too many maybes to hold onto. His hands were full, and he’d much rather drop the endless possibilities that wouldn’t help them now than he would the tiny, raging creatures that looked a little too much like people he loved. He shot Regan another look, content to use that anger in his chest to argue with her if he couldn’t use it for anything else. “I am not breaking anything!” He wasn’t sure that was strictly true, but he was nothing if not stubborn. “What does she need to eat for? Her friends are killing us, and she stops for a snack? The real Jade would not do this.” The real Jade, he thought, would probably be a lot better in this situation than either of them were. At least she had a better idea of what these things were. She’d probably dealt with this a thousand times before, Emilio thought. She’d know exactly what to type into the computer to make it stop. Emilio cast another look to the door, wishing she’d walk through it even if he’d never admit to the thought. 

He could tell that Regan didn’t want to hurt these small creatures any more than he did. There was so much hesitation in the way she fought them off, so much restraint. If she wanted to, he thought, she could probably shatter every one of them with a scream. If he wanted to, he could slice them all in half with one of his blades. But the very thought of doing so made his chest clench, and he could only nod at Regan’s words. We should have protected them. He thought of Nora, the way she looked when she finally showed up at Axis again. He thought of Wynne, the quiet timbre of their voice as they stood beside his motorcycle and recounted that drive to the airport. He thought of Elias, and the way Emilio had come so close to telling Wynne to grab Nora and leave him there when he’d thought it was clear that Regan had no intention of leaving herself and Elias had no intention of leaving without her. Shouldn’t he have done more? Wasn’t this a karmic thing? 

The wriggling from his pocket stopped abruptly, a small scream-like sound erupting from behind the zipper. Emilio stilled, breath catching in his throat. His hand shot to the zipper, ripping it open with such force that the fabric tore. Reaching into his pocket with a trembling hand, he removed the small Nora, who had… evidently found one of his knives. She was still, eyes closed. On the ground, the small Emilio and the small Wynne erupted into dramatic tears. Guilt clawed at the normal-sized Emilio’s throat as he held the small, still form. “No, no, no,” he muttered, the skipping lyrics of the song providing a morbid backtrack for the realization. 

Regan was yelling, was pointing to the fridge, and it took Emilio a moment to pull his gaze away from Nora to see — Regan. A different, smaller Regan. With a scalpel. Emilio had just enough time to think that this Regan might be capable of fixing the small Nora before the creature launched itself into the hair of its larger counterpart, attempting to either stab her in the head or give her a worse haircut than the one she was currently sporting. 

Scrambling over to the pair of Regans, Emilio set the small Nora on the table and pointed desperately towards her, trying to make eye contact with the smaller Regan. “You — Fix her!” He ordered, gesturing empathetically. Small Regan seemed a little more interested in small Jade’s talk of… whatever WooHoo was. Desperation dug sharp nails into his legs… wait. No, that wasn’t desperation after all. That was the small Emilio, evidently seeking revenge as he used his thumbtack to assist him in climbing up the leg of his larger counterpart. 

He got up to Emilio’s knee before the larger hunter took action, reaching down and plucking the small version of himself off his pantleg and lifting it up by its arm. The anger burning in his chest alongside the confused grief of small Nora’s still form found a new, convenient target in this miniaturized version of himself, and he grit his teeth as he glared into his own furious, beady eyes. Rearing back, he tossed the small Emilio hard into the air…

Right into the cracked computer screen.

The force of it knocked the computer back a little more, the crack on the screen growing. Tiny Regan was pointing a scalpel at him and saying something that evidently wasn’t Irish. From the computer’s speaker, the song continued to skip. Heart stops, heart stops, heart stops. On the screen, tiny Jade was screaming something. 

“How do we — stop this?” Emilio looked desperately at the tiny Jade, searching her face for answers.

—

Regan barely kept in a screech as the tiny version of herself jabbed the scalpel into her head again. When it got tired, it lept off and dragged the weapon – sorry, instrument – in a vertical line across Regan’s cheek. It was deep enough for her to feel and taste blood in her mouth, and she couldn’t help but screech. And what was Emilio saying? Something. But her head throbbed and Katy Perry finally sounded halfway good, and when she stumbled forward her shoes slid on something slick covering the floor. Regan caught the edge of the table for balance (barely – part of her had expected some help from her wings). The floor was smeared in pale yellow. And it smelled like – “Bananas.” Emilio must have pushed things off the table. Just as the thought occurred to her, a tiny, incomprehensible battlecry was howled from across the room, and white powder made fireworks in the air. Wynne found the flour.

Regan never should have started observing this program. Her eyes landed on the hamchild simulation, flat on the table, Emilio gesturing angrily, as the small Emilio slammed the thumb tack into his hand, over and over and over again. “What’s– what is going on?” Blood dripped from her mouth. All she knew was she was apparently supposed to fix something. It was true Hamstring wasn’t breathing, but… none of them breathed, right? She couldn’t feel any death nearby. Regan’s understanding of human simulation anatomy was not up to par with her expertise in actual humans. Regan attempted a quick check in with the small Jade, but the tiny Emilio had been flung in the very center of the screen, blocking communication. The music was improved once again though.

Couldn’t everything just stay still for a minute? Regan needed to think. Her cheek seared with pain. And because, fine, perhaps she’d punished herself enough today. Regan pulled the Regan simulation off her head and tossed her flat on the table, more harshly than she’d intended. “Sorry…” But Wynne and Elias had gathered around the Hamchild, and even Emilio (the small one) pulled himself up and limped over to where his pseudo-child’s tiny body rested.

That left small Regan. Dragging herself back toward the big version of herself (also known as regular Regan, or, Regan), hatred in her eyes. Regan pointed past the simulation. “Do you see over there? The hamchild is hurt. Don’t you care? Is that not what you do? Tend to others?” Still, she clawed forward, leaving tiny pits in the wooden table. “I don’t know how to help her. You do, though. You’re a doctor, and you have never stopped being a doctor. Why don’t you turn around and help. Help her! You have the opportunity. You can help her. She doesn’t have to go through this. You can fix it. Heal her.” But the Regan simulation was singularly focused on Regan. She had reached her tiny scalpel. 

A voice came from an unexpected direction, warped and warbled through the dying laptop’s speakers. The Jade simulation. Looking straight at the Regan simulation, as if nothing else mattered. The small Jade shouted again. “O mee pooba!”

And now, the Regan simulation froze. “Pooba?”

“O mee pooba!” Jade repeated.

This felt like a strangely intimate moment. But the Regan simulation had been quelled. It approached the laptop and stared lovingly at the Jade simulation. For now. So Regan turned to the others, all clustered together. Then to Emilio, assuring him. “I know how to help…” It wasn’t a lie. It would feel like one to the simulations, though, who stood vigil around Hamstring. It gave Regan some time to act.

They didn’t have any glass bowls, which was for the best, but it did mean they wouldn’t be able to see what the simulations were doing underneath. Safety before snooping (always close, however). Regan snatched the big, metal popcorn bowl and with one swift swoop, trapped the simulations underneath – the injured Hamchild, little Emilio, and the righteous Wynne and Elias who probably deserved to get more swipes in. Regan didn’t have it in her to separate the Regan simulation from the Jade one. And they were both fine now, right? She panted and looked up at Emilio. When she tried to ask if it was over now, her lungs twisted it into something she should have been able to control.

Regan tried to catch her breath; she was making the table vibrate and the walls tremble. She would not bring down Jade’s cabin. She would not. And Emilio was here. This shouldn’t have been difficult. It should have been nothing. But Regan huffed with effort, her hand white-knuckled on top of the bowl. She had this. She had this, alright? A leanbh would not have this. Regan practically gagged on the sound that had been steadily pushing upward. But she had her teeth trapping it and could swallow it down, and –

The door was opening.

A small screech escaped out and, just like that, Katy Perry was silenced, replaced by the mechanical sounds of Jade’s laptop exploding.

—

It was supposed to be a long shift. That was what Jade told Regan, at least. She intended to be out there till the crack of dawn, walking around the headstones and mausoleums of Eluria trying to awaken that feeling of… you know, having a meaningful life purpose that was a little dormant at the moment. But how was she supposed to do any of that when she forgot her bag of stakes at home? (This was a first, actually. Like her own conscience sabotaging her) (And nope, she didn’t wanna dwell on what it meant, thank you). Good thing she realized before she was already in the thick of it, and she managed to turn her bike around to return home. Home as in… the place Regan happened to live in. (Cause they had already discussed the cabin didn’t feel particularly cozy for either of them).

Like every other time, she parked Roxie at the head of the trail, cause no way she was getting the wheels into the filthy forest floor, and continued the (very annoying) trek by foot. She had to wonder if this was all a sign that maybe tonight wasn’t the ideal night for slaying after all. What if it was a stay in, ‘watch’ a movie and ‘cuddle’ kind of night? Regan did have that look in her eyes that said she didn’t want Jade to go, but like… her duty, right? The D was already so limp, Regan couldn’t always come first. (There was a joke in there, but she was too dignified to make it) (Right, so dignified).

After minutes of walking alone in the woods, her head everywhere but the path ahead, Jade saw the cabin come into view. And despite the tiring journey to get there, this part she totally enjoyed. The anticipation fluttering in her belly at the thought of seeing Regan again (it had been like, an hour at most, but it still hit the same). Maybe she’d gone to bed already, maybe she was up playing the Sims, or sorting out her turtleneck collection, or reading up on worm societies and their organizational systems. Whatever she was up to had to be fun, right? Cause… wait, why was some distorted version of music reaching her ears the closer she got? Was Regan throwing a party without her? 

And actually? Whatever was going on inside the cabin sounded like one big ruckus, not so much a celebration. There was some shouting, a male voice coming in, which Jade would’ve identified as familiar if she wasn’t suddenly freaking out. Cause… Regan had been alone in the middle of the woods. In a cabin that seemed to be broken into pretty easily (remember the banshees?). Her pace quickened, jogging up the doorsteps, plucking one of the knives from her belt, just in time to hear a small screech come out of Regan’s mouth. Oh no. She burst through the door, adrenaline peaking as she expected to find some sort of altercation. But what Jade barged into was in fact…

More like, something of a cartoon scene. 

Fear vanished, replaced by confusion and a wave of relief that made Jade a little light headed. Geez, she totally had to get a grip on herself. Since when did she feel fear like that? She’d leave the introspection for later (or like, maybe never) cause there were things going on that needed her attention. Her laptop was on the table, well, parts of it more like, but it smelled like it had burned. Plus the screen was gone gone. Exploded. And then there was obviously Regan, her hair all messy (hot, to be fair), holding onto the popcorn bowl, joined by… Emilio. Oh, sweet! Emilio was here. (Wait… He knew where they lived?) 

And she wasn’t even gonna get into the suspicious looking mush on the floor or the flour everywhere cause…She was totally sure she heard Regan vocalize (that was what she was trying to call it, what about it?), so why was that? What were the two doing that was so scary, what had Regan losing control of her lungs? “I thought you didn’t like banana bread,” surprisingly, it was Emilio she addressed first, shooting a look at him, tone all accusatory. So he finally had come around Regan’s baking brilliance, it seemed. 

All she got in return was two pairs of eyes looking back at her, positively shook. Okay, what on earth? Then she glanced at the popcorn bowl they were both holding onto again. And the math absolutely mathed for her. This was their little secret hangout, wasn’t it? Adorbs. Why would they hide this from her!? “Ooooh, is it movie night for you guys? My bad, I forgot my stakes, that’s why I came back.” She put her knife back on the sheath and she approached them. Super mindful not to step into the squashed bananas. And actually, change of plans! Why not leave the slaying for later or, tomorrow even! Having two people she loved in one room was so rare these days, why not make the most of it? 

Regan and Emilio were still acting a little sus, though. “What’s going on, why do you look like you saw a giant worm?” she looked at Emilio specifically, cause she knew Regan was already navigating her mixed feelings after her adventure in Terramoist. She glanced again at what remained of the laptop. Pretty much nothing but plastic, except a few keys (the a, the g and the y, specifically). They might have been watching recipes, since apparently Emilio had some talent for baking too. Was this the reason they looked upset? Pft. “No biggie. It was pretty old anyway, all those viruses made it a little stubborn sometimes, it was time to go.” She shrugged. Maybe Regan could get her a MacBook with her Apple influence.  

Speaking of, she gravitated towards Regan, obviously, as it usually went. And wow, she did not wanna let go of that bowl, did she? Jade reached for it, gently brushing Regan’s fingers. “Come on, baby, I can clean this mess later,” she pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before the two minute mark, as stipulated. She waited, slowly coaxing the bowl out of Regan’s hands, noticing the weird looks being exchanged over her head (but like, most things happened over her head, technically). Why were they acting like they were expecting something inside? The bananas and the flour where definitely elsewhere. She flipped the bowl, holding it to her chest, swearing she almost heard Emilio gasp. Weirdo. She flashed a wide smile at them. “So, are we doing it in the bedroom as usual? I don’t think Emilio will fit in the bed,” he totally would’ve, but she didn’t think Emilio would wanna be there if they got sidetracked. (They would get sidetracked). “We can bring one of the chairs. Alright, so? Let’s move it. I’ll make the popcorn,” she waved her hands, shooing them away from the kitchen. And what movie did Regan and Emilio even had in common? Well, she was about to find out.   

—

It was absolute chaos. The tiny versions of himself, Elias, and Wynne all gathered around the tiny version of Nora, while Regan’s smaller doppelganger seemed intent on ending her life. Emilio had a hard time focusing on it, eyes stuck on a thing that wasn’t Nora but looked like her, sprawled out on the table. There was no blood, but it was clear that she was dead or dying. The group crowded around her threw their heads back in dramatic sobs, large tears flying through the air but disappearing before they hit the table. Emilio felt stupid for the burning in the back of his throat, the way his chest ached. 

Regular-sized Regan was yelling at Smaller Regan to do something, but Smaller Regan seemed interested only in making herself the only Regan in the most inefficient way possible. Frustration built with the strange grief in Emilio’s chest, making him want to tear his damn hair out. Why wasn’t the small Regan doing anything? Small Jade, still within the cracked monitor, said something Emilio didn’t understand. Small Regan seemed to get it, though. She was at the screen in an instant, still not helping Small Nora but no longer attacking Regular-sized Regan, either. Maybe it was as good as things were going to get.

Emilio glanced back as Regan claimed she had an idea, expecting… a suture kit, or tape, or some method of repair. Instead, Regan returned with a bowl. Which she put over the small versions of everyone but herself, who remained a part from the group. Emilio couldn’t pretend not to understand it. It was probably too late for Small Nora, anyway, but Small Wynne could be protected by the bowl. Small Elias, too. He didn’t give much of a shit if Small Emilio was protected or not. 

Some of the chaos seemed to die down, but only momentarily. The music was still blaring and skipping, Small Jade and Small Regan were yelling nonsense back and forth, there were bananas on the floor. Regular-sized Regan opened her mouth, letting out an ear-splitting screech just as the door slammed open to reveal…

“Jade.” Relief flooded Emilio’s voice, because Jade would know what to do here. Regan mentioned that Jade used this thing, whatever it was for, pretty frequently. She’d probably know how to fix Nora and get the murderous little things back into the computer. “We are not making bread. Or watching movies. We are dealing with…” He trailed off, glancing to the bowl that both he and Regan were holding tightly on the table. Making an executive decision, he yanked the bowl upwards and gestured to what lie beneath. “How do we get them back inside the computer?”

There was a beat. It took him a moment to realize that there were no more cries of nonsense, or dramatic sobs of anguish. Blinking, he looked down to where the bowl had been, staring at the empty table. There was nothing there at all. No tiny Nora, still and flickering. No small Wynne, brandishing flour and a needle. No pint-sized Elias, with his obsession for flame. No pathetic Emilio, with his stupid thumbtack. He glanced over to the now smoking computer to find that Small Regan had vanished, too, and the screen was black and void of Jades. 

Less void of Jades was the kitchen, where the normal sized version was talking about movie nights and beds Emilio wouldn’t fit in. The detective found himself suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion, and he ran a hand over his face. He needed to go home and deal with the needle pricks, anyway. He turned his hand over to inspect them, but… those, too, had disappeared. A quick glance to the only remaining Regan in the room revealed that the scrapes her smaller self had left her with had similarly vanished. Even her hair, which had been sliced through, seemed to be back in place now, somehow. The only evidence that anything had occurred was the mess they’d made of the cabin and the broken computer, and one could hardly blame that one tiny doppelgangers without looking like they were pushing blame around.

Emilio sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. He looked to Regan, then to Jade, then to the computer. “You know what?” His gaze settled on Regan. “I think this is your job. You can tell her what happened. I’m going home.” He moved towards the door, narrowly avoiding ruining his dramatic exit with a slippery banana. 

Turning back to Regan one more time, he squinted. “You owe me $500.” 

Because this had definitely earned him more than his going rate. 

[thatwouldbee-enough]

😅🎢🎶🛠⛔🌞❌💲🧐🎃🦅👀🤗💞🤲😬⌛ anyfandom!

Ahhhh thank you so much for this! Sorry it took a while there were so many to answer <3

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

Anything from the very very early days of my AO3 account lol. They weren't bad but there's definitely so many things when I go back and read them where I would write things a lot differently now

🎢 Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Oh man. Interpreting wildest ride in two different ways here.

1 (craziest/most disturbing): Let Me Crawl Up Into Your Mind

2 (wild ride plot-wise): Fate and the Fall

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Yes!!! Some songs from recent writing playlists:

this is me trying by Taylor Swift

The Cause by Tommy Lefroy

Paul Revere by Noah Kahan

reckless driving by Lizzy McAlpine

Letter to an Old Poet by boygenius

Partners in Crime by FINNEAS

tolerate it by Taylor Swift

Colorado by Renee Rapp

You Could Start a Cult by Niall Horan w/Lizzy McAlpine

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

So many 😬

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

Honestly either early in the morning right after I wake up or middle of the night lmao. Middle of the night has given me some of my best writing for real but at what cost

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

I don't like to say never on any tropes because I think with the right idea any trope can be done well. Some things that I tend to stay away from are heavy mental health fix it style stories because 1) I don't feel qualified enough to write that well and 2) I don't find them super interesting usually. Exploring darker storylines is always more fun for me, or mayyyybe the occasional fluffy romance lol

💲 Would you ever open commissions?

For fanfiction based on someone else's intellectual property, no, because there are legal issues there. For writing in general maybe, but I don't see a huge market for that

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

Way too much time

🎃 Do you write fics for certain holidays? Which is your favorite holiday inspired fic?

Occasionally! Maybe Sleigh Bells Ring for a favorite. Most of the holiday pieces I've written have been very fluffy lol

🦅 Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants?

It's a mix. Usually seat of my pants, but if I have a lot of details worked out in my brain already then I'll outline

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

I have a TBOSAS piece that I'm working on where Coriolanus's punishment after cheating in the Games is to be sold as a sex worker (similar to how Finnick was in THG series) rather than being forced to enlist with the peacekeepers and he ends up with Strabo Plinth as a client.......

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

I cannot recommend enough just... doing it. Everyone worries so much about it not being good enough, but just like every other skill, you'll never get better without practice and just doing the damn thing over and over again.

Also read a lot. Read fanfic and actual books. You pick up a lot of things as a writer when you're reading other people's work. Sometimes you'll see certain ways of writing dialogue or inner monologues that you love and want to incorporate into your own writing. Sometimes you'll see things that pull you out of the story or don't flow well, and you'll learn that it's something you don't want to include in your writing. All of it is useful.

And MOST importantly, please please please learn how to properly format your dialogue 😭 (this is just a pet peeve of mine, but SO MANY fics don't have proper dialogue formatting)

ex: "This is the correct way to format a spoken sentence," she said sternly. "When you write a spoken sentence followed by a dialogue tag, the dialogue tag is PART of the sentence, so you should end the 'spoken sentence' with a comma, and then add the dialogue tag (starting with a lower case letter if it's not a proper noun), and then the sentence ends."

"This is correct too!" she exclaimed.

"This is also correct," she explained, "because the dialogue sentence hasn't ended, it was just interrupted. When dialogue is interrupted, but the sentence hasn't ended, the dialogue tag is surrounded by commas, indicating a whole, ongoing sentence."

INCORRECT EXAMPLES:

"This is not the correct way to format a spoken sentence." She said, crying a little bit on the inside.

"Neither is this!" She exclaimed.

"And neither is this." she sighed, rubbing at her temples as intentionally writing dialogue incorrectly began to trigger a headache.

💞 Who's your comfort character?

For Hamilton/Amrev, it's probably Hamilton. Sorry, basic bitch answer.

For TBOSAS it's Sejanus <3

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

A snippet from the TBOSAS AU with Coriolanus and Strabo Plinth that I mentioned above 🙈

But fighting? Fleeing? He thought back to the arena. The way his heart had pounded as he smashed at Bobbin until he laid unmoving on the ground.  He refused to let that sort of response control him again. He was better than base instincts. Especially here. This wasn’t life or death. All he had to do was play things smart, and he would come out on top again eventually.  And then everyone who ever tried to make him feel small would pay. 

😬 Which of your fics would you be most horrified for friends, family, or coworkers to stumble upon?

Literally any of the smut lmfao.

But specifically the Henry Laurens/Alexander Hamilton fucked up intern AU, Let Me Crawl Up Into Your Mind, and A Royal Affair are probably all up there for top contenders

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

Highly dependent on a lot of different variables (what I'm writing/whether it requires research/what else is going on in my life/level of motivation and focus/etc). Anywhere from a couple of hours to a month lmao

[thestorygenerater]

After playing Paper Mario TTYD I have come to a conclusion, the obviously good game is, in fact good.

But actual thoughts on it, it feels like a great beginner RPG and like a less “extreme” Mario and Luigi game.

The Mario and Luigi games are about timing and precision, you only have 2-3 normal moves with simple action commands and sometimes 2 lists of special moves that all have unique action commands that Mario and Luigi both have to do. You attack and defend with 2 buttons, A for Mario and B for Luigi, and you usually don’t use anything else except for Bros Attacks which might need the joystick. You also don’t just defend against an attack but dodge it entirely, your counterattacks are just your attacks against a moving enemy and I love it.

The Paper Mario game is more a blend of traditional RPGs and the Mario and Luigi game (from a modern perspective, I know they both originate from Super Mario RPG.) You attack with action commands and have to time things properly, you can even do stylish moves for cool points, but if you want to completely avoid an attack you have to hit a very specific timing window in order to do so. It doesn’t help that the timing is on a separate button so if you try to Superguard and miss, you take full damage unlike M&L in which you would have dodged but not counter or vice versa.

Your attacks all are different and use new actions commands which is cool, but there are so many and they are all different and precise at some times that it feels hard to practice one move when there is 50 other moves you have to practice. Plus Superguarding attacks are sometimes impossible since your partner tends to be behind you, if an attacker is targeting them then you can’t tell when to Superguard or sometimes just regular guard. (On a side note, partner attacks tend to use the same button unless stated otherwise so I keep pushing the wrong button out of habit, but that’s a personal thing.)

That’s not to say I didn’t like the game, I loved it! It’s up in my top 5 favourite RPG games, it’s just that while I was playing I really wish for a new Mario and Luigi game. The gameplay is so familiar but it punishes my muscle memory and the mini gameplay loops is the opposite of what I want to do. The story is amazing, Vivian was my favourite partner because burn is a good status to inflict for chip damage and she was the character that was tied to the main story the most. The music was amazing, the visuals were great, they made the world look unnatural, like it was artificially made nature, without making it creepy. All the partners are great, the story is intense, and it’s all really fun to play!

Funny story, I knew about the Pit of 100 Trials and how it worked since I played Super Paper Mario. So I was running through the pit as I was going through the main story, and right before the end game I decided to clear out the rest of the treasure before the boss. I got to floor 99 and was looking for the exit pipe before the boss, thought “Oh the next game in the series was Super Paper Mario, I also remember someone saying that the pit was called The Pit of 200 Trials somewhere so I probably have to go down one level, find the last treasure in a free room, then do it again.” AND THEN BONETAIL APPEARED!!!

This game has so much charm, not just the charm I got once that randomly doubled my experience from fighting magnus von grapple that skyrocketed me to over leveled for the rest of the run, even excluding the pit XP.

If you haven’t played this game, do it. It’s a great game that should be enjoyed. Now imagine if Nintendo didn’t make sticker star and TTYD Mario appeared in Paper Jam. Paper Mario could have a entirely separate playstyle from Mario and Luigi, his level ups could be different and he could use Bro Points for Badge Moves that work like the badge attacks in his own game. Mario and Luigi attack as a team who dodge while paper Mario attacks solo and guards (I am not going to act like I this theoretic game is better then what we got but maybe we could have gotten some in between? Like Paper Mario still having the copy block but Trio Moves are swapped for any Badge like system and Paper Mario guards instead of jumping?)

[authordanielleforrest]

Fated Mates of the Drakoan: Episode 23

Jess froze, terrified and uncertain of what to do. She felt like she’d gone from the frying pan to the fire, because while her first attacker had been bad, she wasn’t sure this one was any better.

She couldn’t see a lot from her position, just lots of scaled flesh and monstrous, blood-soaked claws. Its body pressed against her back, its massive limbs caging her in. Heat radiated from its body, making her sweat and making it hard to breathe. It felt oppressive, the entire situation impossible, and her mind shied away from the truth even though the evidence surrounded her.

But she couldn’t forget what had just happened. In fact, it ran on a constant loop in her head. One moment, she’d been convinced she was about to die—to be eaten alive, in fact—and the next, there’d been a massive beast tearing through the clearing. It was dark, and she’d had a hard time seeing it, but she was pretty sure it had eaten a couple of her attackers. Even now, it looked like the forest floor was soaked in their blood. She could feel it squishing between her fingers and soaking into her pants.

Jess bit her lip, trying to hold in a whimper. She wanted to cry, to scream, to wail against anything and everything until the world made sense again. This felt like the realm of horror stories and table top role-playing games, not real life. Monsters weren’t supposed to exist, and she wasn’t supposed to be here. She should have been at home, with friends. If the world hadn’t been falling apart, she would have probably been preparing for her next session DMing, maybe responding to comments on her social media to encourage engagement. The last place she should have been was here, surrounded by death and a hair’s-breadth away from it herself.  

But when is it gonna kill me?

That was the question. She was in a clearing, helpless and alone with a creature that had just killed every other living being in sight. And it hadn’t just killed for food. Bodies still littered the forest floor, and it didn’t seem to be making any moves to save them for later, so what was it doing?

She tried to turn her head, to get a better look, but it was pointless. She could only see ahead of her, which gave her an uninterrupted view of the massacre she’d just survived. Around her, the woods were eerily quiet, with only her pounding heart, his heavy breathing, and an odd repetitive thumping noise coming from behind her. There was nothing else. Even the wind seemed to have died down in deference to this monstrosity.

Time dragged on, and her instincts had her wanting to freeze, to stay perfectly still, maybe even to hold her breath. She had no idea what this thing wanted or why it hadn’t killed her yet. The anticipation was fraying her nerves raw. Tears welled in her eyes, and she couldn’t hold them back. They built and built, eventually spilling silently down her cheeks, chilling the skin there.

I’m gonna die.

It’s gonna remember I’m here and eat me.

I shouldn’t have come with them.

I should have stayed home.

Why did I agree to come with them?

She was so wrapped up in her own misery that she didn’t even notice anyone approaching until a deep growl rent the air, the monster’s chest vibrating against her back and practically shaking her out of her thoughts. She gasped, jerking her head up and around.

Is someone gonna save me?

Again, she was reminded of her limited field of vision when she searched desperately for what had set her monster off, getting eyefuls of leathery skin in almost every direction, but it didn’t matter. She spotted several people in front of her on the edge of the clearing and sighed a breath of relief.

She opened her mouth to call to them, but paused as fear made her question that course of action.

What if they’re not the good guys?

And maybe the beast forgot I was here?

Maybe calling out will cause it to eat me?

She chewed on her lip, wrestling with her choices, but then a familiar voice broke the silence. “Jess? Are you there?” It was Van.

Thank God.

“Yes,” she squeaked meekly.

His gaze immediately narrowed on her under the monster’s chest, causing another deep, rumbling growl to fill the clearing. He paused, taking a half step back, then lifted his gaze to her captor. “Davin. Can you understand me?”

Jess froze.

Wait.

Davin’s here?

But that didn’t make any sense. Surely, if Davin were here, he would have said something by now. He would have been trying to reassure her or stop this beast, right? He wouldn’t just be standing there, right?

The only answer to Van’s question was another growl.

He turned, gesturing for the others to leave.

Wait…

Come back!

Fear curdled her stomach as she watched most of her rescuers receding into the shadows with only Van remaining. Her mind scrambled for something to hold on to, something that would make their abandonment more palatable.  

Maybe they’re afraid of antagonizing the beast.

Maybe they’re just moving out of sight.

Maybe they’re hoping to flank the beast.

She took some comfort in that last idea, and the fact that Van was looking at her kindly, a strained smile on his face.

Then he turned his gaze once more to the monster above her, his voice now switching to another language, his native tongue, most likely.

Long tense moments followed, but after a while, she noticed that the growling had stopped and the tension in the beast above her had waned.  

“Okay, Jess,” Van said, finally turning his attention back to her. “The rest is on you.” He took in a deep breath and sighed. “I’m going to have to explain something that might be hard for you to believe, but I want to assure you that none of what I’m about to say is exaggerated.”

What the fuck is he talking about?

“How much do you know about Drakoans, mating specifically?”

Why is he asking me this?

Jess didn’t have an answer to that thought, and the only way she would know was by asking. But she didn’t want to speak more than she had to, not with the monster looming deathly close. She paused, her head tilting up to the chest above her, wondering how much she could say without setting it off. She turned back to Van, settling on a whisper. “He told me about biological mating, about the drugs some of you use to suppress it, that it’s based on scent, that it can cause you to lose control.”

He nodded and sighed. “That is all true, but it is not everything. It is true that we can lose control, fall to our baser animal instincts during a mating, especially early in a mating. But it’s more than just scenting a mate and losing control. Biological mating is a part of our evolution. It helped us survive as a species. It helped us perpetuate the species. Biological mating allows us to tap into a side of ourselves that is not fully within our control, a side not accepted in modern society.  

“Historically, it had its advantages. It allowed us to protect our mates and children. It allowed us to provide when resources were scarce. But it is also not within our control and during those times, the mate you knew is buried deep within the surface, almost impossible to reach.

“I need you to know that he would never hurt you, but also that he has only two drives right now: protect and provide. Nothing else matters to him, and until you can get through to him, he will remain this way.”

She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

He paused, his gaze darting up quickly before returning to her, his expression solemn.  

“The dragon hovering over you right now is Davin, your mate.”

[poweredbyunbridledrage]

Saturn Retrograde Reflections

Happy Saturn Retrograde, everyone.

While it has not been long since Saturn went into retrograde in Pisces, it's provided ample amount of lessons.

Having gone through what is probably my 2nd or 3rd brush with spirit attachment, the one that happened recently stands out the most. And I guess it's not just because it's freshly etched into my mind but also it was probably the most painful one by far (and one that could have been avoided) but it's also my family history and what I'm witnessing unfold in the (local) community at the moment.

And as I reflect more and further, everything kind of intertwines.

Regardless of whichever deity we work with or our practice, no one is all that untouchable or invincible (even if we are the most protected or warded person in the world).

I mean, after all, Achilles' downfall was brought on by his heel.

It makes humility all the more important.

Like the saying, "With great power comes great responsibility". We are responsible for all that we do, all that we decide to do and we should be taking accountability, holding ourselves accountable.

Yes, while magick is amoral, it doesn't mean that the people who wield the magick should lack morality (and maturity). And I'm not saying this to be holier than thou (I have my own shortfalls and this is merely a reflection thing).

Rather, what I opine is that for the most part, our own maturity, moral compass and sense of integrity/responsibility can/may affect our judgement or decision making; i.e are we doing something unethical because of the money but lack all ounce of accountability when it is needed? are we hexing/cursing people all because of minor inconveniences we could have brushed off? are we going practitioner to practitioner to mooch off of them or even steal their UPGs to make it our own or repackage someone else's product and market it as our own?

Accountability has also had its role to play.

Part of that could also be related to the people that we surround ourselves with, are they holding us accountable and checking us or are they enabling us? Or are we allowing others to check us or are we being defensive and are living in denial? Or better yet, are we holding ourselves accountable?

And especially with matters of magick where the road to psychosis is just a slippery slope that when we surround ourselves with enablers or we do not allow people to call us out and shoot them down when they say things we need to hear but we do not want to, it may be too late by the time realisation hits that we have fallen into psychosis.

To an extent, I feel that loops back to infallibility, how psychosis intertwines with it and how the lack of accountability further enables or worsens it.

Through my own family heritage a couple generations back (which I am not proud of - but is still a good learning curve), and as I witness practitioners I felt were solid when they first started fall into psychosis, the same behaviour, I have noticed, surfaces - "I am powerful and untouchable".

And when they do not allow people to check them or the people around them further enable or take no actions to hold them accountable, that ultimately becomes a recipe for disaster.

While it is merely only the beginning of Saturn Retrograde, I feel that these reflections have placed a larger emphasis on the need to stay grounded, stay humble, and allow myself to hold my own self accountable.

[perpetual-fool]

This is stupid. And evil, I'm sure.

I was letting my mind wander through a weird fantasy. I was imagining we did have some chance meeting, and then she dragged me off somewhere remote to kill me. And I try just going over everything again, trying to explain. No affective empathy and all that. But she doesn't believe a word I say anymore. And I knew she wouldn't, but might as well try, ya' know. I'm tied up sitting on the ground, she's about to shoot me. I say, "Despite everything, it was nice to see you again. I'm sorry I caused you trouble." Then she points her little .380 at my head, but hesitates. Not because of anything I said, just because killing is hard. I say, "Is it hard to pull the trigger when it's someone else too? If you're not ready we could just talk or something. It's not like I have anywhere to be." She lowers the gun but doesn't say anything. So I just continue and start talking about mundane things. I tell her how I ended up with fretless bass, how I feel mine needs some work, that I need to be able to play and sing for music to be engaging enough for me. All the while wandering down numerous tangents, like how 'Diary of Jane' sounds much better with all the instruments ripped out. But it's not like there's a point, so whatever. I tell her that I've heard singing while playing bass is incredibly hard, supposedly, but lack of ability has never been a serious roadblock for me. "Although I know you have some reason to think otherwise. Actually, maybe you could believe it: orchestra. I hadn't practiced at home since elementary school, but I was perpetually first chair. The problem is will, motivation. I just never had a reason to care ..before you." And then, for some reason, she decides she wants to see what I can do, and asks me to sing something. But I don't really have anything I've really learned, and it's kind of a big decision. Like, there are some songs that better showcase melody, and some rhythm, and some technique. And thematically, what would fit?

So I started thinking about that. I don't have a favorite song or anything. Of the ones I just like listening to, maybe 'Potions' or 'Weak and Powerless' would work, but they really don't showcase technique or melody very well. Alternatively, maybe Lost by Linkin Park, or Missing by Evanescence. But each of those is lacking what the other one has. And I don't really resonate well with any of these. Like, "though I'd die to know you love me, I'm all alone" resonates well enough, and I listened to it on loop in high school, but the rest of the song really doesn't fit my circumstances. Aside, maybe people who've lost their battles don't make music. But, whatever it is, it should be one of mine. show her what it's like.

(*ah, or One Thousand Apologies would be decent, but again, doesn’t really fit. It suits my range, but doesn’t really showcase vocal technique. And most significantly, lying would have defeated the purpose. I was full of shit but I never lied to her.)

I almost feel like that means something.

And I know all of this is far too generous. I would be so lucky if she just wanted vengeance. The real thing wouldn't make any sense. The complete disconnect stings so much more than if she understood and wanted to kill me. And it hurts so much knowing there's nothing I can ever do to make things right. Not like, having some kind of relationship again, just fixing whatever damage I've caused. But I'm a fucking freak and anything I could say would only make things worse.

(*and unrelated, I regret I was never able to find a non-Christian analogue to Demon Hunter. I like the heavy/melodic mix. I would have to be that myself, I guess.)

[luveline]

Hiii I literally love you and your writing especially your Eddie writing!!! Anywaysss, could I request a shy!reader where they and Eddie are dating but they kinda kept it on the down low but reader was having a bad day and was being all clingy and like everyone found out and the hellfire club was just like 😮

hi i love u ty for ur request! hope this okay ♥️ shy!fem!reader | 1k words

You know you shouldn’t go to his club. It’s not fair of you. Hellfire is one of his sacred nerd rituals. As soon as he sees you like this he’ll put it on pause, and you also know – one of the only things you do know about Dungeons and Dragons — that stopping in the middle of a game interrupts the flow.

Still. You’re feeling a little selfish and a lot strung out. Today has sucked and all you’ve done is wish he was there to make you feel better, so you walk down the hallway to the club room and stand at the door, trying to summon the courage to open it.

On the other side, Mike Wheeler catches a flash of your clothes through the small glass panel and frowns. He jabs Dustin Henderson hard in the side, earning a, “What the fuck, dude?” that Mike quickly shushes.

“There’s a girl outside,” he says.

Girls are… uncommon, at Hellfire.

Dustin leans forward to look around Mike’s torso and forgets to whisper. “Is she crying?”

Eddie looks up, annoyed at being interrupted by the newbies and about to delve into a speech on respecting your dungeon master when his gaze slides past them. He spots your torso, your hands pulled up to your chest, and he knows it’s you. From the curve of your arm alone.

He’s half standing when you knock.

The rest of the group gawp as he stands. Usually, Eddie would either ignore whoever it is or have someone else answer, and his sudden willingness is downright shocking.

He cracks the door open. He’s barely had time to take in your tear stained cheeks when you’re whispering apologies. “I’m really sorry,” you say quickly, pulling the sleeves of your soft cardigan down over your hands. “I needed to see you.”

“What happened?” he asks, trying for hushed like you but missing the mark.

Mike and Dustin make incredulous faces at each other, eyes squinted in confusion.

“Who the fuck is that?” Mike asks.

Lucas Sinclair grins from across the table. “Who do you think?”

“You know her?” Dustin questions. He sounds pissed to have been kept out of the loop.

“Nope,” Lucas says, elbows sliding over the crinkling paper of his character sheet as he pulls in his chair. “I’ve never seen her before in my life. But that’s definitely his girlfriend.”

A handful of laughs from around the table. “Yeah, right,” Gareth says.

Lucas leans in even closer, practically conspiratorial as he points to Eddie’s dirty-white sneakers. “Look, see how close they’re standing?” When nobody looks convinced, Lucas glares. “I know what I’m talking about!”

He really does. The toes of your shoes are a hair's-width from Eddie’s, face to the ground as you scrub your wet cheeks. Telling him about your bad day has made it somehow feel better and worse, and your breathing comes shallow.

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I know you’re playing your- um, your game.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder. The large majority of the group whip their faces back to their sheets, caught. He shoots a scowl at them all, though any annoyance slips away when he turns back to you. You look so sad.

Eddie doesn’t really think about it. He steps out into the hall and lets the door close behind him, arms wrapping around you placatingly. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s been a really shitty day,” you say hoarsely.

“I know,” he murmurs, rubbing your back. Your shoulders tremble under his palm. “You should’ve found me earlier.”

“I didn’t want to ruin your game.”

“You haven’t. They’re on break,” he promises.

It’s a total lie but he couldn't care less about the campaign, not when you’ve come unraveled. You nod into his chest and worm your shaking hand around his waist, squeezing so tightly it aches. His head tucks over yours like it was made to and he wills some stillness into you, perturbed by your shuddering. He hates when you get like this. You're so wound up you can’t calm yourself down.

Inside the club room, there’s a riot of whispering, some quieter than others.

Lucas sits back in his chair smugly. “Dude, you have a girlfriend. You shouldn’t be so surprised,” he says to Mike.

Mike peers through the glass door with a mild disgust. “Me and my girlfriend don’t do that.”

“That is not true.”

“We don’t-“

“No, they really don’t,” Dustin agrees. “They’re too busy trying to swallow each other.

Anyone who’d been listening starts to laugh, worse when Mike’s cheeks flare red and he flips them all the bird. The laughter quickly dies when the door opens and Eddie returns, his sad maybe-girlfriend trailing behind him.

“Someone get a chair for Y/N,” is all he says.

You look like you might burst into flames on the spot. Everyone’s eyes are on you. You hate it.

“Thank you,” you say, though you aren’t sure who you’re thanking as somebody passes you a chair. Eddie sits back in his ‘throne’ and you sit beside him, cheeks dry but eyes still red and face downtrodden.

Eddie leans back and rolls his eyes at the silence. “She’s my assistant for today's session,” he says concisely, before any of them think they have the right to ask.

Eddie can’t hold your hand and you don’t think you could survive it in front of so many people, but when the game starts back up and everyone is distracted he pushes his foot behind your calf and pulls your leg toward him. There’s a smile on his face as he orchestrates the next dungeon, his pen scratching down notes you don’t understand.

He rips a page from his notebook and passes it to you covertly.

You take it and let it lie against your thighs. When you read it, you struggle to suppress a giddy smile.

Prettiest assistant ever. Think she'll let me take her out tonight?

He likes his chances.