#sorry that this is late it was a little half finished and then i reworked the entire thing. but a bluejin for you my love <333 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

exololyunho · 1 year

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la air

masterlist

FoF masterlist

wc: 4.9k

Returning to Los Angeles is the last thing you want. It brings with it an old lover who doesn't seem to realize he's an old lover, a nervous wreck of an assistant, and horrible memories. But it also has your best friend, your favorite furry creature, sex talk, and some comfort in the form of drinking at noon. Plus a phone call and the promise of what's to come lifts your spirits.

warnings: anxiety talk, sex talk, hickies, reader falls, a lot of exposition, a dog, san is a menace

an: so this was previously posted but I'm reworking the series slightly to expand

The overwhelmingly warm air of Los Angeles sunk into you, almost immediately causing sweat to form on your brow. Despite the sudden heat, you pulled the hood of your purple sweatshirt down, focusing on following your assistant, Reed, to a sleek black SUV. All you wanted was to sleep.

“Y/n L/n!”

“Over here, Y/n!”

“Y/n! Why were you in South Korea?”

“Are you dating anyone, Y/n?”

The crowd of people around you were screaming, cameras flashing as a combination of airport security and bodyguards provided by the production company you were working with held them back.

You were nearly to the open door framed by two more guards when you went tumbling to the floor. One of the fans had managed to push past one of the security guards and had rammed into you. The backpack you had slung over one shoulder cushioned your fall slightly, but you landed flat on your ass. The guards standing at the car rushed forward. One hauled the screaming fan off of you while the other, one you were familiar with, helped you to your feet. Luca, the one who got you up, took the backpack from you and placed a hand on your lower back. He quickly pushed you into the car next to Reed, who looked super concerned.

You winced as you took a seat next to him. Luca gave you a worried look and placed your backpack on your lap. The door slammed and you let out a breath, slumping back in the seat as Reed fretted over you, buckling your seatbelt before taking the backpack from your lap and putting in securely between the two of you on the middle seat. The driver's side door opened followed by the passenger door. The guard who got the fan off you got behind the wheel while Luca clambered into the passenger seat in front of you. The car started and immediately took off for what you knew was going to be a long ride home.

“Y/n I’m so sorry, I should have stopped her. I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t fire me,” Reed looked like he was going to cry. He was always a nervous wreck in stressful situations.

“I’m not going to fire you, Reed,” you closed your eyes, digging into your jeans pocket, searching for the little treasure you knew was there.

“You should,” he was sniffling now.

“Reed, it’s the securities’ fault not yours,” Luca’s voice caused your eyes to open as you caught him staring at you, his brows pinched together. He’d been assigned to you every time you worked with this studio. He was handsome, tall and well muscled with blonde hair and blue eyes and sharp features. You’d shared more than a couple late nights during the filming of your very first movie with the studio that employed him and even more when you were finished, but those days were definitely behind you now. You have a boyfriend now. A secret one half way across the world, but a boyfriend still.

“He’s right, Reed. Don’t worry. Your job is safe and so am I,” you reached for Reed’s hand with one of yours while the other pulled your vape from your pocket. You squeezed his hand and took a long drag, tilting your head away from the other passengers to release the smoke. The high that hit you left you floaty and relaxed.

“I thought you quit?” Luca had one eyebrow raised as he was still turned in his seat to face you.

You shrugged. “Lots of stress lately.”

“Didn’t you just come from a 6 month vacation?”

Again you merely shrugged. Reed knew you were dating someone, but he didn’t know who and he was sworn to secrecy. Literally. Your manager had made him sign an NDA when he was hired, although, now that you knew Reed, you were certain he would be too scared of legal repercussions and losing you as a friend to reveal anything he shouldn’t.

Luca took that as his cue to drop the conversation. He turned to face the front, reaching for the radio. The volume wasn’t very high, but you immediately recognized the sound of Yunho’s voice crooning about loving someone, even though it was bad for him. Before his verse ended and the next member took over, you were sitting straighter in your seat.

“Change it,” you commanded, causing both Luca and the driver to look at you quickly. “Please,” Luca nodded once and switched to a different station. It was another song you were familiar with, but this one didn’t cause your heart to hurt.

It was a song you and your roommate and best friend Joanne always listened to when cleaning your home. Joanne had been living with you practically since you’d bought the house in Los Angeles. She was an English teacher at a nearby high school so it worked out well. She had a place to live that was way above what a teachers salary could afford and you had someone to make sure you weren’t self destructing.

She was a comforting thought, distracting you from thoughts of Yunho, what he was doing, what he was wearing, how he looked performing their complex, entrancing choreography…

Deciding that it was best you didn’t think of him for now, you opted for putting headphones in as soon as the song was finished. Scrolling through your music, you opted for a calming, slightly melancholic playlist, taking one last hit of your vape before putting it away. Your eyes quickly closed as you relaxed into the leather seats, the swaying of the car putting you at ease.

Before long Reed was gently shaking you awake. You hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep but the car was still, your door was open, and Luca waited outside with your luggage.

You stared up at the large, white two story that was your real home. Inside was your loving, best friend from high school, but the place didn’t feel nearly as inviting as the apartment you owned in Seoul. It didn’t have the same memories of you and Yunho.

Forcing yourself to think of the positive things, memories of you and Joanne drinking wine and cooking fry bread in the kitchen while dancing to your old hype playlist, summer days lounging beside the pool, and other things that brought you comfort.

It was with those thoughts that you forced yourself out of the SUV, snagging your backpack and slinging it over both shoulders before walking towards Luca.

“I can handle these on my own,” you took the handle of one suitcase from him before reaching for the other.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m positive,” he released his hold on the second large suitcase, giving you a once over as if he believed you were too frail to handle it. You had lost weight from the combined stress of being parted from Yunho for a long time once again, returning to acting after taking 6 months off, and the general anxiety of no longer being anonymous in a massive city like LA. Add that to the rigorous workout routine for the upcoming action movie you were set to start shooting in two weeks and your anxiety disorder that had set in not long after you made your acting debut at 16 and carried on strong for nearly 7 years, and you’ve got a wonderful recipe for poor health, physical and mental.

Reed followed you out of the car. “Do you need anything? Is there anything I can get you? Do you want me to call your parents? Joanne? Or even the studio. I’m sure they have whatever you ne-”

“Reed,” you stopped him with one raised hand and a kind, but exhausted smile. “Shut up. I can call my own parents. And Joanne is home,” you pointed to her car in the driveway. “I’m ok, really. I don’t need anything from you. I’ll see you in two weeks on set, Ok? And I’ll call you if I need you.”

He nodded and hugged you before climbing into the backseat of the car. When the door shut behind him, Luca’s focus returned to you.

“You can also call me if you need anything. You know I’m always happy to help and I haven’t seen you in so long,” his hand came up to cup your face and you moved back almost immediately.

“Sure, sure. See you later,” you quickly took your bags and made your way up the walkway to the dark wood door of your home, it had a pane of frosted glass cutting vertically down the middle. It was stylish, modern like the rest of the house. As soon as you had purchased it, your mom had insisted on remodeling the whole place. She had done a fantastic job, but sometimes it seemed too perfect. You were only 19 when you bought the place and it was incredibly lonely. The only thing that had made it feel like home was your childhood cat who had roamed the much too large house up until last year, when she passed from old age. It was around then that Joanne had moved in. She was a year older and had finished her English degree and gotten her teaching credentials at a university nearby. You had immediately insisted she moved in. You were usually gone for months on end for filming and she always house sat when you were away. It was perfect. You were lonely and she needed a place to stay as couldn’t remain in student housing any longer. It worked out perfectly. You had company and she had a rent free home a high school teacher could only dream of. The two of you had argued about the rent situation for a while but you had too much money to care about her paying you anyways. She did insist on buying groceries, though.

Speaking of Joanne, she threw the front door open before you could reach for the handle, instantly enveloping you in a bone crushing hug you wouldn’t expect for someone of her size, which you instantly returned. She was 5’2, sweet and charming with shoulder length black hair and large black glasses. Her laugh was contagious and so was her energy.

“I can’t believe you’re back!” She squeezed you tighter, burying her face into your chest, right between your boobs, which was a common hazard for someone her.

Barking drowned out what you were going to respond with as your great dane, Ivan bounded out of the door. He whined and barked at your side until you pulled away from Joanne and knelt to pet the big, black monster of a dog.

“Hi baby,” you cooed, sinking to your knees and scratching behind his floppy ears while he tried to lick your face. You were mostly successful at avoiding his lolling tongue. “I missed you, handsome.”

While you were focused on the dog you hadn’t seen in far too long, Joanne brought your suitcases inside the foyer before leaning against the door frame, staring fondly at you and Ivan.

“He really missed you,” her voice drew your attention to her. “So did I.”

She was dressed in a fluffy blue sweater and denim shorts, wearing an eclectic assortment of rings and bracelets that didn’t match at all.

“I missed you so much,” you stood, dusting off your pants as you walked inside, Ivan following as you waited until he was inside to shut the heavy front door behind you. After slipping your shoes off, you looked around. The white walls of the house, combined with the wooden floors, house plants, paintings, and decorative items that made the house look like it came out of a magazine gave it that foreign, cold feeling you had expected, but it was greatly dulled by the wiggling mass of black fur at your side and your best friend of so many years. They made it feel like home again, although you did still long for the high rise apartment you owned in Seoul.

Your comment brought a wider smile to Joanne’s face. Her hands clapped together and her face grew mischievous.

“I want to hear all about your vacation and that yummy boyfriend of yours,” her hand grabbed yours and yanked you through the doorway to the left of the foyer, into the kitchen. She dropped your hand in favor of retrieving two wine glasses from the black cupboards and your favorite bottle of cheap white wine from the small built in wine fridge beneath the granite counters.

“Joanne it’s noon on a Tuesday,” you gave her a scathing look as Ivan barked. She waved you off. “It’s 5 o'clock somewhere!”

You snorted. “What are you, 40?”

She ignored you in favor of pouring two large glasses. Despite your protests, you took the glass she handed you and clinked your glasses together. The wine was good and before long you two found yourselves curled up on the gray sectional in the living room that faced the pool and large backyard with Ivan pressed against your side. The window panels had been slid back, leaving the room open to the outside, warm air pouring in.

You had removed your sweatshirt, leaving you in an oversized shirt that most certainly belonged to Yunho. Your phones were placed on the coffee table along with the half full bottle of wine. Your vape was placed next to the bottle. Joanne had given you a disapproving look when you first took it out, but thankfully didn’t comment.

She listened attentively as you recounted your adventure. You had flown to Seoul to seek refuge after you nearly had a breakdown 6 months before. The pressure was getting to you and you couldn’t handle it. You had finished 3 intense projects back to back which left your pockets full and your fame skyrocketing. You, however, had fallen. Hard. What pushed you over the edge, needing a break, was news story after news story calling you a bad role model and party girl after a photo of you smoking a cigarette had been taken when you thought you were alone with a costar. You weren’t necessarily ashamed of smoking, for fucks sake you’d been doing it long before it was legal for you to do so, but you had quit about a year previously. A moment of weakness and pressure had caused you to pick it up again and seeing the photos everywhere, the comments everyone seemed to have, and the texts from your parents made it much worse. It shouldn’t have been made into the spectacle that it had been so you’d made your escape.

You had owned the apartment for about two years now. You bought it after your one year anniversary with Yunho. You’d met him by chance at a coffee shop in Seoul while you were there doing press for a movie. You were only 20 and had shyly approached him to tell him you were a fan. He had immediately recognized you and declared himself a fan of yours and you exchanged numbers. The press tour you had been on was finished after the stop in Seoul and you stayed a while, having brought Joanne with you since she was on a break from school and you wanted company. The two of you exchanged numbers and texting quickly turned to calling and calling turned into dates and before you knew it, you had spent a month in South Korea. Joanne had had to return home for school but you had decided to stay and you and Yunho had kept seeing each other. Things went well and you made it official about a week after Joanne left. Time flew and you spent your entire 4 month break with him. You eventually did have to return home, though. Another movie was waiting for you and a tour was on the horizon for him. You had considered calling it off, but after a long conversation and the first of many ‘I love you’s, you decided to continue. It would only be long distance for two months before you could see him again on his tour. You had attended every concert you could, staying in his hotel with him when you could and trying to pretend your relationship was normal for a night or two.

Halfway through his tour, you filmed yet another movie and by the time you finished he was home. You had immediately hopped on a plane to Seoul when you finished. It had always been easier for you to come visit him. You had a lot more freedom of movement than he did under his company and your schedule had longer breaks in between busy blocks of filming and promotions. Adding to that, South Korea offered its celebrities more privacy than the states did. That was why he’d never been to your home here in Los Angeles.

You’d purchased the apartment as a safe place for you two to get privacy since he lived in the dorms still. It was more than just a private place, though. It had become your escape, even when he wasn’t in the country you found yourself going for a week, decompressing and relaxing. You liked Seoul. You liked the people, the food, the scenery. It had even allowed you to work on your Korean. You had started to learn some when you first got into K-pop, but a short stint in an apartment in LA’s Ktown had encouraged you to practice even more and the older women at the grocery around the corner were happy to help you practice. By the time you had met Yunho, you could easily hold a conversation and now you were damn near fluent. You had even undertaken the momentous task of teaching him English. He was still learning and he struggled sometimes, but he was getting very good.

Joanne had watched your eyes glaze over and a smile grace your face as you were lost in memory and she smiled herself, grateful to have her friend back in their home.

She let you day dream, correctly presuming it was about Yunho. It wasn't long, though, before her curiosity got the best of her and she gently prodded your thigh to rouse you.

“Tell me! I want to hear all about your… adventures with that sexy boyfriend of yours,” her eyebrows wiggled and a salacious smile took over from her fond one.

You felt yourself flush at her words. “Well… it had been a bit since we’d seen each other so we… caught up.”

“Was it as good as it always is?”

“Joanne!”

“We’re best friends, you have to tell me,” you and Joanne had always had few boundaries and talking about your sex lives were never off the table. Her words caused you to sigh and you reached for the bottle on the table to refill your nearly empty wine glass.

Taking a long drink you turned back to her. “It’s always good but sometimes it's amazing.” The memories flooding into your mind left you flushing and longing. Not necessarily for the sex, but for him in general. “He-he has a thing for hickies but a few weeks ago… god I should have sent you a picture it was bad. Actually wait a second.”

You placed your glass on the table, swiping your phone from the glass surface. You dug through your photos searching for the right one. You swiped past photos of you and Yunho and it hurt a bit, but you focused on the mission at hand. Finding your prize, you handed the phone to Joanne.

It was from the day after he caught you smoking. There were black and blue and purple marks down both sides of your neck with some even taking up residence on the front of your throat. You were wearing just underwear and a sports bra in the photo to also show off the marks on your body. You had sent it to him after he had left to attend to his schedule that day. It featured the hickies that also littered your chest, including the deep one over your heart. Another focal point were the bruises on your left hip in the shape of his fingers.

“Y/N,” Joanne shrieked, wide eyes never leaving the photo. “Oh my god. I don’t know whether to yell at him or you. This is… this is intense holy shit.”

You blushed even harder, turning your attention to Ivan sleeping beside you. It was easier to scratch his ears than face your friend. He grumbled, satisfied with the attention he was getting.

“God. If I didn’t know how well he treated you, I would be concerned,” Joanne finally handed you your phone back, shaking her head and eyeing your neck. None of the marks from that night remained and you knew that the marks from your last goodbye had faded completely also.

You cleared away your tabs and shut your phone off. Before you could deposit it on the table, it lit up. It was picture of you and Yunho with masks on, pressing your foreheads together at Namsun Tower, overlooking Seoul. Mingi had taken it while the three of you had been out on a walk one evening several months ago. ‘You Know Who’ followed by several heart emojis was calling.

You instantly stood, disrupting Ivan who sleepily stared up at you. “I’ve gotta take this.”

Joanne nodded and you headed through the open space to a far corner of the deck outside. You made yourself comfortable on one of the many teal lounging chairs as you hit accept. Bringing the phone to your ear you nearly sighed in relief at hearing his voice.

“Hey baby,” he sounded raspy and still half asleep. You quickly checked your watch, which displayed both your time zone and his, side by side. It was almost 6 am there.

“Hey Yunho. It's early.”

“Mmm,” he hummed and god did he sound amazing. You could picture him in your mind. Shirtless, with messy hair standing up at odd angles while he blinked sleep out of his eyes. He liked to sleep on his stomach, clutching a pillow to his chest. It always gave you such a good view of the redwood tree tattooed on his spine. He’d gotten it to match yours on your third anniversary. It was his very first and he had also declared it his last, claiming it hurt too much and that nothing else meant enough to him to get it tattooed.

“I wanted to talk to you, so I got up early,” his words were slightly slurred, like he had woken up seconds before calling you. “I just needed to know you got home safe.”

Everything about him gave you butterflies in your stomach, even after so long. “I did, love. Joanne and Ivan were very happy to see me.”

“Not as happy as I’m going to be in two months.”

In two months Ateez was holding their final farewell concert in Seoul after promotions for their final album finished. It had managed to line up perfectly with when the movie you were filming finished. You couldn’t wait. You loved watching him onstage. His energy was unmatchable and his voice was so sweet, but once he stepped off that stage in two months, you could just be Yunho and Y/n. Not a Kpop idol and an American actress. For a little while. The two of you planned on going public after his contract with KQ officially ended, but you were pushing that off as long as possible, wanting to enjoy the anonymity your relationship still had. Granted, you’d be able to go places together in public once it was announced, but that would bring unwanted attention that you were not looking forward to.

“I can’t wait to see you again.”

There was a lull in conversation before he spoke again.

“I want to come to your house,” this gave you pause. As much as you had talked about being together and your future, you two had never really talked about him coming to you. He was born and raised in South Korea and you had grown to love the place. You had always assumed the two of you would settle down there, in the apartment you loved so much before maybe moving to a house just outside Seoul with you traveling for work when necessary. “Baby?”

“I want you here,” your voice was quiet, but you knew from the sounds of shuffling on his end that he heard you. You imagined him finally sitting up in bed, leaning against the wall, sheets messed up as his long legs stretched out. You knew his roommate, San, was probably still asleep in the bed across from him.

“I wish I could be there. I want to meet Ivan and see Joanne and take road trips all over the country. I want you, next to me always. After we disband, I’m not letting you go anywhere alone, ever,” his words nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“I hope that doesn’t apply to when I have to go to the bathroom.”

The smile in his voice was so apparent as he spoke. “Nope I’m following you everywhere. I’ll be like the puppy dog my fans think I am. You’re never getting away from me. I’ll make sure you’re sick of me, Y/n.” You’d certainly like to see him try.

“I don’t think I could ever be sick of you.”

“SHUT UP!” There was suddenly shouting on his end and the sound of loud thuds as San presumably threw something at him. More shouting and rustling came through, almost incoherent but it sounded like him and San were wrestling.

San must have been victorious because all of a sudden there was panting and running footsteps while Yunho’s yelling got quieter in the background.

“Y/N!” You yanked the phone away from your ear, wincing at the shouting. “Y/n he won’t shut up about you, dear god please take him away from us.”

A laugh bubbled out of your throat. “I will, I will. Don’t worry, San.”

“Good. When are you coming back? We miss you,” a faint voice in the background asked if he was talking to you. San responded in the affirmative.

“I won’t be back until your concert. But I’ll be there, cheering for all of you.”

“You should call me more,” you guessed correctly that San had put you on speaker as Mingi’s pouting voice was the next one you heard.

“Yeah you don’t call me either,” San joined in.

“I promise to call you both if you give Yunho his phone back,” bargaining was the best way to get them to listen to you as you had learned. Asking nicely only worked on Yunho and commanding them only caused them to resist more.

“Okay okay fine. But you better call at least once a week,” you heard more shuffling, doors opening and closing and finally running water. “Ah, he’s in the shower. Want me to facetime you?” San’s mischievous voice was teasing and he didn’t even give you time to answer before your phone was jingling again.

With a sigh you pulled the phone from your ear to hold it out in front of you and answered. San’s bare face, blonde hair, and evil smirk greeted you.

“Don’t be mean,” you chastized.

“Me? Mean? Never,” before you could protest further, he switched the camera around and opened the bathroom door. Yunho called out in confusion from the shower before San yanked back the curtain giving you the wonderful sight of Yunho’s bare body. His back was to you, giving you a great view of his ass along with his toned back and the wonderful tattooed tribute to you.

“SAN!” Yunho whipped around, eyes wide and hands covering his dick. “What the fuck!?”

“Your girl wanted me to give the phone back to you so I figured I’d give her a show,” he was giggling but was quickly shut up when Yunho grabbed the detachable shower head to spray him. He screamed as Yunho snatched the phone out of his hand before he went running.

Yunho shut off the water. From this new angle, all you could see was his handsome face and the top of his muscular shoulders. His hair was dripping over his face and he looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“Don’t be, you know I always love looking at you,” despite your confident, flirty answer your cheeks were red. Your mind started to wander somewhere it definitely shouldn’t while you were in your backyard, staring at the mountains beyond your neighborhood.

“Mmm trust me I know,” his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, his eyes darkening suddenly, causing you to squirm a bit in your seat. His mouth opened to say something but he was interrupted by a banging on the door.

“Yunho hurry up! We’ve gotta go in 20 minutes and the rest of us have to shower!” It was Hongjoong yelling at him.

“Use the other bathroom!” was his response.

“We can’t. Seonghwa’s in there. You know he takes forever.”

“Fuck,” Yunho muttered.

“Just call me when you’re done with your schedule for today, love,” you knew it’d be super late but you could sacrifice an hour or so of your sleep to talk to him.

He sighed. “Ok I’ll call you tonight.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more, baby.”

And with a beep his face disappeared and you were left staring at your home screen, a picture of the two of you asleep on the couch in his dorm.

#ateez smut #ateez fanfic #jeong yunho smut #jeong yunho fanfic #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #ateez yunho #yunho smut #yunho fanfic #fire on fire exololyunho

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recurring-polynya · 7 months

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Writing/Art Update 10.31.2023

Sorry this is a little late, I was trying to get something done yesterday and then I got overtaken by Halloween Festivities and didn't get a chance to post it, but this update is as of 10/31.

This week was pretty slow to get going--as per last week's update, I really didn't know how to get started with Chapter 3. I had to sort of think about it for a few days, during which time no writing-writing took place, but I did eventually get it figured out, and now I have a pretty solid outline for Chapters 3 and 4. I was able to get about halfway through Chapter 3, which involved writing one new flashback (which I had a false start on, but the second try came out good) and reworking two present-time scenes, one which needed a lot of work, and one which needed just a little (mostly deletions).

This week's wordcount: 23,299 (+5,439), with about 2,387 of new content.

I am very close to having more in my "clean, contiguous" version than in my "old pile of crap" version (24,245), and that ought to happen this week. My goal for this week is to finish Chapter 3, which two flashbacks (one of which is half-written) and one new real-time scene.

I've been having really mixed feelings on my progress. On one hand, half a chapter per week is proving to be pretty doable, and I'm able to see real progress every week, and it's giving me a nice amount of "I wrote!" satisfaction. On the other hand, if, as I projected last week, this story goes to 10 chapters, that means it will take me 15 weeks, which feels like forever. On the other hand, that will mean it took me almost exactly two years to write, all-told (including time I wasn't actually working on it). Maybe I should just be grateful if I can actually get it done in 15 weeks.

I made a joke about it being November and trying to hype myself up to NaNoWriMo-style push my way through this thing, but that's actually a really bad idea. I still think about that "writing is just behavior" post every single day of my life. You only get to write each story once, and I think it's important to take my time and enjoy the story I'm in, right now. Also, we're getting into the busiest and most miserable time of year for me right now, and I think it's extremely important to keep writing as a treat I get to do, not an arbitrary word count obligation that I made up to torture myself with.

On a final note, I'm in one of those weird brain-places that I get sometimes where I really have not looked back over any of the stuff I've finished. My usual writing state is to enjoy re-reading the stuff that I've read, but right now, it's all "Don't look back! Forward only!" I do think this is good, because I know this will pass eventually and there will certainly be time to edit, later, but I am also really worried that everything I have written is going to be absolutely horrible when I go back to it later. (In general, I'm usually pleasantly surprised to find writing I haven't looked at in a while to be better than I remembered, but it's not guaranteed, you know?)

(no art this week)

#writing update #art update

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namazunomegami · 16 days

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ahhh sorry, the heatwave fic i meant was the fic you reblogged, that three-part one, "affection's edge". i only saw it because i was following you, and when i realized you were the one who reblogged it i was like "this is the SAME BRAND",, same brain cell

i think i read your "into the void" fic on ao3 before i found you on tumblr... that's happened to me a lot in this fandom. but i am suuuch a sucker for the religious allegories. "your serpent will always think it was right to bite" just hits absolutely diff.

geto is basically moral imperatives: the character. he goes full genocide and he sounds so calm and rational and legitimately?? healed??? by the decision?? he can believably be so many things because he's figured out the magnet hack with the moral compass baby.

it's really fun hearing about the backstory for the reader in that fic, too! the sheer utility value of having cursed energy gps, especially for geto who eats curses... and god. teen geto was a very sensitive and perceptive person who read others super well. he really was!

every idea i have lately has turned into this multichapter saga shdflkshdg it KILLS me but it's so fun thinking of backstories and abilities and how they could tie into their relationships with the characters!

i hope both of us can finish some wip someday,,, jhfgksdhg the struggle is SO REAL. but one day!

OH YOU MEANT CIELO'S FIC??

Now, I get it, I'm sorry for rambling about my Yuta fic lmao.

I love Cielo's works and the way she writes Geto. If I want a bit of inspiration or when I'm struggling with my own fics, I always visit her blog and read her stuff. I think we both like to characterize him as a kind of twisted caretaker but her Geto is a bit more playful than mine, and more upfront about his awful antics against the reader. And I absolutely love it! 💕

Yeah, I like religious symbolism a lot too, I can get my own religious trauma out of my system so I guess it's both beneficial to me and my audience too lol. But that part you're quoting from my fic is actually a little symbolistic tale about victims of abuse and their relationship to their abuser. The story is about that sometimes it's futile to make your abuser admit to the damage they caused and instead, you should focus on yourself and your healing. But it sounded kinda cool so I took it and reworked it a bit to fit into the narrative.

I like writing backstories for the readers even if I don't include it in the fic. But it actually helps a lot to have an idea about them, what kind of environment they come from, what they bring into the dynamic and why etc. It's easier to handle the dynamic if I have a general idea about how they got together with the character, what makes them attached to each other and stuff. Maybe I do this because I've been writing a lot of OC x canon stuff where you must establish the background of your character, make them fit into the canon and well... make it make sense why the character is into your OC.

I'm trying my best to restrain myself and not to start yapping about the dynamic of jjk OC and Geto because... oh boy... I do love to talk about my imaginary babies.

I really like that idea! It makes so much sense for Geto bringing reader to track down curses so he can add them to his collection. Cute date idea! But honestly, I came up with reader's technique when I was half-way done with the first part, completely out of the blue. But I do remember there was a headcannon post about how different cursed techniques reveal something crucial/sensitive about the character or how they can be interpreted as a coping/defense mechanism and that post probably influenced me a little bit.

And like... I don't want to spoil my own fics, but in the dilf!Geto fic, reader's curse technique kinda similar to his technique but it's not like curse manipulation 2.0. Similarities are important in this dynamic I can tell this much.

I was also a member of the multichapter madness gang but I got frustrated that I can't complete any one of them. I still have a Jerome Valeska fic, I love it with all my heart, it's packed with so much dark content but it still needs 8 chapters to be wrapped up (the whole fic is 26 chapters long with the unwritten ones). Aaaand I published the first chapter in 2021 so it deserves a rewrite too. I would rather write a really long one shot with lot of exposition and buildup to have higher chance of finishing it in the future. I mostly just keep the details, the fun facts and the backstories to myself, hoping for somebody like you to share them 💕

#asks

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birdylion · 1 year

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Fanfic tag game

Found a 2 year old tag game in my likes and I don't know if I ever replied! Thank you @hermitknut for tagging me all this time ago :D

AO3 name: birdylion on ao3, Wayfarer back on fanfiktion.de

Fandom(s): My first big fandom was HP. I wrote a little bit in German for Firefly and Discworld, and then in English for Green Rider, Rogue One, Good Omens, Mass Effect (trilogy + Andromeda), Rivers of London and The Memoirs of Lady Trent.

Number of fics: 23 on ao3. There are some, especially older HP stories on ff.de, that I haven't archived on ao3.

1. Fic you spent the most time on: I have a 70k unpublished (German) Minerva McGonagall/Pomona Sprout schoolgirl romance on my hard drive that would need a lot of reworking in order to be in a shape I would consider putting out there. I worked on that for a year on and off, and then for a summer intensely. From my published work: Probably my RoL one, Bintumani, because it's 12k and the words have to have come from somewhere. Also I spent a lot of time conversing with my beta reader and editing the fic.

2. Fic you spent the least time on: Sleepless Night, the 200 word Good Omens ficlet that I literally typed on my phone instead of sleeping.

3. Longest fic: Bintumani, my Rivers of London travel adventure with Elsie Winstanley and Mamusu Grant in the late 1970s in Sierra Leone which I wrote for yuletide last year.

4. Shortest fic: again Sleepless Night with 200 words :D

5. Most hits: For my English works: What we're made of, my trans Viktor Krum with Hermione at the yule ball HP fic that I wrote for the Trans Wizarding Tournament (a charity auction for trans organisations). But overall, if I count fanfiktion.de, it's Spürst du die Funken, my Dean Thomas/Seamus Finnigan getting together that I still want to translate into English. I have the half finished translation on my hard drive.

6. Most kudos: What we're made of.

7. Most comment: on ao3 Bintumani, on ff.de it's an old HP oneshot collection

8. Fave fic you wrote: hard to tell, and I'll just copy hermitknut's words: "normally whenever I’ve just finished something that one’s my favourite :)" but if I had to chose, I'd say my Lady Trent fic, Studying Dragons, if only because I love the books so much.

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: oh that's easy! I want to expand on To Serve the Sacred, my latest ME Andromeda fic. It's part of a big worldbuilding headcanon I have and I would love to put more of it into a story. Much of the worldbuilding (and the story I linked above) is about the game's Bad Guys, and a) I would need to make readers care about it and b) it would be more interesting to write it from the perspective of known characters. The worldbuilding reveals/twists that I want to do are very clear in my head, and I have a vague idea how to set it up in a story, but ... I need to work out the details, especially which characters I'd use as POV characters. Probably the other Ryder twin, but they'd need a team too, and the characters are only slowly starting to take shape. Also it's such a big project that I've put it on the backburner for now bc I don't have the time for writing plot / novel length fic in English.

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning: I'm only writing in German right now because that flows easier. My fandom of choice is that one German detective/crime show with the dysfunctional homoerotic dynamic between two of the leads that gets to no1 trending on tumblr once year when there's a new episode. This is now for a story about teenage queer self discovery: (Sorry I tried putting it through Google Translate to share an English version but the translation is terrible.)

Leo stellte sein Rad ab und setzte sich zu Adam auf den Felsen. Groß genug für zwei war der schließlich. Auch, wenn Leo sich damit halb an Adam lehnte. Das war okay. Machten sie ständig. Es war doch okay, oder?

Ein paar Tage nach Ferienbeginn hatte Caro ihm erzählt, dass sie auf dem Halberg Open Air gesehen hatte, wie sich zwei ihrer Klassenkameradinnen während Tokio Hotel geküsst hatten. ‚Cool, dass sie so dazu stehen‘, hatte sie gesagt. ‚Ganz schön mutig. Ich könnte das ja nicht.‘

Leo war nicht schwul, aber wenn er es wäre, dann wäre es Adam vielleicht nicht recht, wenn Leo ihm so nahe war. Wenn er es wäre, dann müsste Leo fairerweise aufhören, neben Adam zu sitzen.

I'm tagging @shakespearerants, @weatheredlaw, @the-moon-loves-the-sea and uh everyone else who follows me and writes fic. Seriously, tell me about it.

#a game is on #fanfiction #my stuff

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skinnyducky · 3 years

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made for you // v.h.

hello.. im sorry i havent been posting. school has been keeping me busy but i wanted to post this. this idea comes from @yelenasdarling so thank you ! i recommend listening to halley’s comet by billie eilish (as well as the whole album) bc that’s the song that is being discussed in this (as well as many others), so yuh. enjoy ! and i promise i haven’t forgotten about party @ y/ns !

vinnie hacker x singer!fem!reader

Word Count: 1408, edited

WARNING: MAJOR FLUFF LUV

---------

As the year was coming to an end, so was your debut album. For months, you’d been working with the best producers, musicians, and doing endless promo for this album and within a few days, you’d be playing it for the label. Obviously because it is your first record, you’re protective over it. No one had heard it besides the people working on it. So, you were a bit nervous to let your pleading boyfriend, Vinnie, tag along to the studio with you.

It was Friday, and you two had been chilling in his room when your producer, Sarah, said she needed you to go over it before the label meeting. As you bid your goodbyes to Vinnie, informing him of the reason for your departure, he pouted. “Why can’t I come?” he nearly cried, giving you his puppy dog eyes. Because you couldn’t resist them—and you just can’t say “no” to him—you allowed him to come.

Now here the two of you were, in the studio and listening to Sarah go on and on about how long it took for her to finish mastering it. Your manager, Jen, had came too. She had to hear the album for herself also. She couldn’t have her client looking a mess in front of her bosses. Bad for business and her reputation.

“…and after an hour or two of making sure your vocals were clear, I finally finish the album.” Sarah explained. “Honestly, this is probably the best album I’ve produced in a minute, and I worked on SZA’s album.”

“That good?” Vinnie asked with a smirk, leaning against the studio door. “That’s sick. I’m ready to listen to it.”

As that sentence left Vinnie’s mouth, you felt your anxiety overcome you. “Are you sure, Sarah? There has to be some sort of adlib I need to rework or something. Can’t be ready so soon.”

“Y/n, it can’t get any better than this. This is a solid project. I should know, I spent days listening to it over and over again. Trust me, it’s ready.”

“Besides, it’s too late to rerecord now.” Jen added. “The label meeting is next Thursday, and we don’t have a week for Sarah to mix and master all over again. Once the label gives us the greenlight, if there’s anything to tweak, you can do it before you have to submit the final project. But until then, no changes and no additions.”

You sighed, nodded your head. It’s not that you were afraid of it not being perfect. You were more scared of what Vinnie would think. I mean, he’s the one who inspired the album; more than half of the songs are about him. His opinion meant everything to you, and if he didn’t like an inch of it…that would destroy you.

As you were sulking and picking at your chipped nail polish, Vinnie wandered over to you where you sat at the soundboard with Sarah. He leaned against it and smiled down at you. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Nothing.” You sighed, keeping your head down. He scoffed and chuckled. “Y/n, you’re playing with your nail polish. You always do that when you’re upset.”

He pulled you up and took you out of your seat before sitting down himself and placing you on his lap. “Tell Santa what’s up.” He joked, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I’m just nervous. This album means so much to me.”

“Completely understandable. It’s your first one, it should mean a lot to you.”

You shook your head. “It’s not just because of that. It’s also because it’s about you. The only reason you haven’t came with me to the studio until now is because I didn’t want you to hate anything on this, and it would kill me if you did.”

“Y/n, look at me”—you finally met his eyes for the first time—“I could never not like anything you do. Especially if it’s dedicated to me. That’s like throwing away a gift you gave me. I wouldn’t ever do that. So don’t think for a minute that I’d hate this. That’s literally impossible.”

You smiled, planting a kiss on his forehead. “You’re too good for me.”

“I know.” He laughed and turned to Sarah. “Play us the album!” He said dramatically, sending the producer into a fit of giggles.

She followed his orders and with a few clicks and the press of a button, the first song from your album rang out from the studio speakers. You watched timidly as Vinnie bobbed his head up and down as it went from track to track.

“This shit slaps!” He exclaimed as “Y/n Bossa Nova” played. He nearly about died during “Oxytocin”, claiming it to be god tier. Minutes went by until you got to the final track “Halley’s Comet”, and you were scared to play him this song.

While the other tracks were quite playful in nature, this one was different. The song was a bit cynical, but it was also like a love letter to Vinnie. Never before have you ever felt what you had with him. And at first that made you scared. But as the months went by and your relationship started to blossom, you realized he was the one for you. This was just your way of telling him that.

When it started, you looked everywhere but at Vinnie. It wasn’t just because you couldn’t bear to see the expression on his face, but also because this song was quite emotional. You didn’t want him to see you “being a little bitch” as you put it.

The sound of your soft vocals bounced off the walls and you felt Vinnie place his chin on your shoulder. His hold on you grew tighter as he swayed you two back forth. A small smile crept it’s way onto your face as you tried your best to stray away from crying.

“I’ve been loved before, but right now in this moment,” you sung, “I feel more and more like I was made for you…”

When those lyrics hit, you felt Vinnie stop swaying. Hell, you were pretty sure he had stopped breathing too. You didn’t know what to think about that; did he not like the song, is he shocked? What was he thinking and feeling? Shortly after, the song came to an end with you singing, “I think I might have fallen in love…what am I to do?”

And with that, the album finished. The room was silent, the only sound being your sniffles. Although that was broken when Sarah screamed. “Wasn’t that amazing!? Ugh, my power…I really outdid myself on this one.”

Thankfully, Jen understood the impact of that last song. “Sarah, why don’t we go get a Snickers or something from the vending machine?”

“I can’t eat anything fatty, Jen. You know this.”

Jen mouthed some profanities and threats at the woman causing her to shoot up from her chair and run out into the hallway. “We’ll leave you two alone for a minute.” Jen smiled, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.

Neither of you or Vinnie spoke and that somewhat was comforting. However, part of it made you feel insecure about the album, “Halley’s Comet” in specific. Out of all the songs, that’s the one you wanted him to like the most.

The silence soon grew uncomfortable, so you decided to be the first to speak. “Well, that was the album. What’d you think?”

He opened his mouth, but it was obviously he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I-I don’t know how to even put it in words.”

“That bad?” You sighed.

“No, never.” He laughed. “It was beautiful, all of it really. And that last song, that was amazing.”

You pursed your lips, hiding the grin wanting to break free. “You think so?”

“Yeah, it was definitely one of my favorites. To know I had that much of an impact on you, it’s really sweet. I didn’t think I could simp for you any harder than I do now.”

“Shut up!” you laughed, slapping his shoulder.

“It’s the truth!” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. “I love you, Y/n. I really do.”

“I love you too.” And with that, he laid a sweet and gentle kiss on your lips.

Pulling back, he said, “Oh and just so you know, I agree with you.”

“On what?”

“You were definitely made for me.”

#vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie x reader #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker

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thefantasygirl3 · 3 years

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Negaverse stories: You're gonna have a bed time

Genre/warnings: Comedy, Slice of life, Action.

Word count: 5 287

Summary: The Darkwing Ducks are having a bit of a family dispute, with half of the team refusing to sleep at a proper time. An argument breaks out but is quickly interrupted by a villain attack. Now they will have to fight crime with only two heroes on top of their game.

Notes: I decided to continue writing some fun little adventures for my negaverse boys, because I refuse to let this hyper fixation go. I hope it’s a fun little read for you all. Edit: Gonna link my fanfiction.net as well, which might make it easier for some to find my stories.

Night was falling over all of st. Canard as people were already tucked in tight to sleep. Midnight was getting closer and closer. Quackerjack was fast asleep on the couch, snoring and drooling as he laid sprawled out cartoonishly. But as he was snoring loudly, a loud noise suddenly woke him up and he rolled off the couch and face planted on the floor. He let out a low groan and pushed himself up off the ground, his attention directed towards where the noise was heard, which happened to be the workshop. The duck headed over to the door and peeked inside. He saw Megavolt, sitting by the workshop table with the dismantled stereo he had started working on getting fixed earlier that day. Quacks gave away a soft yawn as he entered the room, walking up to the distracted man and stood beside him. "Hey, Sparky. How long have you been working on this?" He asked as he tilted forward to get a peek at his work. Megavolt gave his wrist watch a quick glance before he answered with "since 6 I think". "What?! You've been working for 6 hours?! When were you planning to go to bed?!" He huffed angrily and leaned in close to the rat, making him move away so he could see what he was doing again. He got angry that the stubborn rat just ignored him and kept working. "Sparkyyyy! You can't keep doing this! You need to go to bed at a reasonable hour and actually SLEEP!" He scolded him while he took the tools out of his hands and put them back into his tool box. "Hey! I'm busy, ok!? If I get into the zone, I can't just break my concentration! I need to finish it before I can stop!" He responded frustrated as he tried to take the tool box back, but Quacks moved it out of the way. "No! You need to go to bed! Now!" He demanded and put the tool box on top of his work shelf. "I'm not a kid! You can't make me!" He growled as he walked over and took it back down. "Wanna bet?" Quacks said with an annoyed squint, grabbing a hold of the box as well.

Meanwhile Bushroot was laying in his bed, sleeping soundly. Until he woke up, muttering under his breath "... I'm thirsty". He pushed himself up from his bed and wandered out into the hallway so he could grab a glass of water. That was until he noticed some light escaping the bottom of Liquidator's door. He cocked his head a bit and decided to take a peek inside to see what was going on. Liquidator was sitting by his computer, editing some ad he was tasked to make. Bushroot slipped inside and walked up beside him. "Hey. Bud. What… um… are you doing there?" He asked him softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. The dog turned his head around and gave him a tired smile. "Ah. Hey Reginald. I'm just finishing this ad before I call it a day" He explained as he looked back at the screen to continue his work. "You know it's almost midnight, right?" The plant asked and looked at him curiously. "... oh. Oops" He muttered as he saw the time in the corner of the screen.

Bushroot sighed and crossed his arms, shaking his head and muttering "Oh bud. We've discussed this!". "It was a mistake! I swear!" Liquidator tried to excuse himself as he turned around to the other man. "Liste bud. I know how you feel. You want to make sure it's perfect. You want to impress the rest of the guys so they will respect you. It's a totally legit feeling to have. But overworking yourself and tiring yourself out isn't going to solve anything" he told him as he put his hands on the other's shoulders reassuringly. "But… it needs to be good. I can't send in something bad" the water man replied with a frown. "You won't! You're too self critical. It was good the way it was, doesn't need 10 reworks" Bushroot sighed and gave his shoulder a light pat. Liquidator gave a small smile and muttered "you're right. Maybe I should get some rest". "There we go. Now, save your work and get to bed" the other man said with a grin and watched as his friend started turning off the computer, before he quickly added on "Oh! And I'll be taking the power cord". "WHAT?! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" He suddenly yelled as he turned around to face the still calm plant. "It's just to ensure you don't turn it back on in the middle of the night. And don't use the 'what if I need to start early' excuse. You're the only one who's putting that stress on yourself" he told him off with a stern voice, as if speaking to a kid. But they were then interrupted by a loud sound from downstairs.

The two rushed over to the stairs and saw the other half of the Darkwing Ducks pulling and tugging at a screwdriver. "LET GO OF IT! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME SLEEP!" Megavolt yelled as he struggled to pull the tool loose. "Oh yes I can, if I knock you out cold!" Quackerjack replied as he tightened his grip on it. Then the two noticed the other men by the end of the stairs, staring surprised. "... workaholic refuses to sleep?" Bushroot asked with one raised eyebrow. "Overgrown baby throwing a tantrum" The other duck answered as he got distracted enough for Megavolt to take the screwdriver back, making him give the rat a hard glare. "Alright guys. This is getting ridiculous! You two need to get a hold of yourselves and get working on a proper sleep schedule! These sleeping problems are going to affect our work!" He groaned and put a hand to his face, letting out a big sigh. "Yeah. I agree. You guys can't pull more all-nighters. You need-" before Bushroot could finish, a small alarm went off, signalling that something bad was happening in town. The dog and rat grinned and ran over to the couch that would get them to their secret hideout, taking the opportunity to escape the discussion. "Sorry! No time to discuss this! Justice awaits, chuckles!" Megavolt said with a satisfied grin, plopping himself down onto the couch beside Liquidator. The other two just sighed and walked over to sit down with them, pulling the lever that was disguised as a statue which spun the couch and transported the four to their base.

They emerged from a secret entrance, already dawning their hero outfits as they landed stylishly. Megavolt rushed over to the computer and started to tap away at it. "According to the drones, there is a big collection of police around the tool shop. Though on closer inspection, most of the officers have been knocked out cold. And there appears to be some sort of white smoke coming out of the entrance and windows" he informed the others as he tapped away at the keyboard. "I think those are clouds" Bushroot added as he walked over to get a better look. "Aha! That's it! This must be the work of King Dreamland! He's putting all those cops and security to sleep so he can rob the store undisturbed!" Quackerjack announced as he pointed at the light, soft looking clouds, already rushing towards the van so they could get going to stop the crazed criminal. Liquidator let out a yawn and dragged himself over to the van and hopped into the back, muttering "right. Then let's get dangerous!". Bushroot groaned as he stepped inside it as well, grumbling annoyed about how neither he or the rodent should be doing anything dangerous in their state. Megavolt sat down in the passenger seat beside the clown, glancing over as he got the car started. "You know I can still drive. You don't gotta-" as he tried to convince him he was perfectly fine to drive, the duck gripped the wheel tightly and hissed like an angry cat, shutting up any further argument. He then hit the gas and they drove off downtown.

They soon reached the store, parking right behind the cluster of police cars and unconscious cops, floating around on soft, fluffy clouds. "Definitely the work of King Dreamland" Megavolt remarked as he watched a sleeping officer drift by the car. "And it seems his work is almost done!" Bushroot exclaimed as he pointed at the figure inside with a big bulky bag of things in his hands. This caused the Darkwing Ducks to hop out of the van and rush the building while pushing clouds out of the way.

As they got inside, they spotted the hazmat suit wearing villain with cute cartoon stickers of clouds and stars on it, still loading up the bag with wire cutters and a sledge hammer. "We are the terrors that flap in the night! We are the alarm clock that wakes you up one hour late!" Liquidator started talking as purple smoke began to fill the store, causing him to swing around and stared at the cloud of smoke. "Ah! Darkwing Ducks!" King Dreamland yelled in surprise as he backed up from the voice. "Aw come on! At least let us finish our intro!" He groaned frustrated as he reeled back and launched his fist towards the villain, knocking him back into a shelf of nuts and bolts. Quackerjack quickly grabbed a hold of his toy wind-up teeth and threw them at him, causing them to bite down onto the suit sleeve and pinning it to the shelf. He started tugging harshly at the captured sleeve, grunting as he couldn't get it loose. "How dare you?! I'll have your heads for this!" He yelled while using his other hand to pull as hard as he could. "Zip It, snore fest!" Megavolt mumbled as he aimed his finger at him. His view suddenly got a little blurry and he let out a soft groan, feeling a bit of tiredness take over for a short moment until he shook himself back to reality and fired a bolt of lightning. Dreamland gasped and covered his face, but took a peek after he heard the bolt miss him, bounce off of a circle saw and shoot right back at the group and knock Bushroot to the floor. "GHA!" He yelled as he hurt his back upon landing. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, leafy!" The rat exclaimed in shock as he ran over to help him up.

King Dreamland took this opportunity, while the hero team was distracted and reached back to his backpack tank and grabbed the hose nozzle on the side. He pointed it at the befuddled green man and whispered "night night" before he fired a white puff of cloud at him. Megavolt heard the noise behind him and suddenly shouted "Watch out!" And pushed his friend out of the way. The cloud then completely engulfed him, making him disappear within it. Quackerjack gasped and covered his beak in disbelief, shouting a weak "No! Megsy!". He soon came back out from the cloud, lying lazily on top of it with a big, relaxed smile. "Hey… this is… pretty nice" He mumbled with a soft yawn. "You terrible tired tyrant! Hope you enjoy the prison beds!" Liquidator growled and ran at the suited man, hardening his hand so it would give him a hard smash. But the villain noticed how slow he was seemingly going and swiftly redirected the punch towards the teeth holding him stuck. As soon as he was freed from the shelf, he hopped back and pointed the nozzle at him. "You seem tired, doggy! Isn't it past your bedtime?" He said in a cocky voice before he fired another cloud at Liquidator, capturing him as well. "Well this has been fun, but I gotta get going. The night is still young!" The villain yelled back as he ran out the door and left the remaining two heroes with their friends now out of commission.

Bushroot ran over to Liquidator and gave him a light shake. While laying on his stomach on the cloud, he curled up into a ball and murmured "just five more minutes please, Reginald". "No! Liquidator! We need to catch that guy! Don't give in to your sleepiness!" The duck yelled while trying to shake him awake. Quackerjack, on the other hand, gave the rat a curious look. "... how are you feeling, smart guy?" He asked with a twist of satisfaction to his voice. "Sooooo… good… I think I'll take a little power nap" he answered his friend as he closed his tired eyes and let his leg dangle lazily over the edge of the cloud.

"Quackerjack! We have to get them off of these clouds! Come on! You've got to have something in your pockets that will help!" Bushroot ran over and shook the jester's shoulders violently. "Oooor! We don't do that! Think about it for a sec, spuds! These two finally WANT to go to sleep! We just got our little domestic issue solved for us! King Dreamland just did us a favour!" He said with a smug grin on his face, removing the leaf hands off of him.

Bushroot lit up from that realization and glanced between the two sleeping heroes. "You're right! They're sleeping like babies! But… what now? How are we going to stop King Dreamland?" He asked with a worried expression. "Pfffff! We've taken down villains separately before! The two of us can take on this one weirdo!" Quackerjack said confidently and put an arm around his fellow duck. "Yeah! You're right! Let the sleepyheads rest while we handle the hard work!" The plant nodded and chuckled, grabbing his friend's arm and pulling him out of the shop, in the general direction of the villain.

King Dreamland was walking down the street, cackling to himself as he flung the bag of tools over his shoulder. "Wow! Those guys were having an off night!" He mused to himself while speeding up his pace. But he was soon caught off guard by a tree branch suddenly appearing in his way and knocking him over. "Good job, tree friend! Now, you better stop whatever you're planning to do with those tools right now!" Bushroot yelled as he and Quackerjack were rounding the corner, starting to approach him. The villain pushed himself up from the ground and rubbed his head, quickly reaching for his nozzle and firing it at the two. The clown duck pushed his friend back and pulled out a gun from his endless supply of toys, firing it at the cloud. It caused an umbrella to pop out of the barrel, blocking the white puff from consuming them whole. "Darn!" Dreamland yelled as he turned right around and escaped the two while they were distracted. "He's getting away! After him!" Jacky said as soon as the umbrella was closed, pulling his co-hero along to give chase.

King Dreamland ran as fast as he could from the heroes, making a sharp turn into the mall. The two chasing him were slowly catching up, spotting him as he dashed into the mall and quickly following after. As they got inside, they scanned the area to determine where he went. "... There!" Quackerjack yelled and pointed at the bad guy, just entering into a sports shop. They ran inside and started looking around for him. They didn't spot him immediately, so they searched around the place. After a second of looking, Bushroot bumped into him. He screamed in fear and began to run. The plant man yelped surprised and started to run after him. "What are you planning to do with those things, you fellon?!" he yelled after him as he was right on his heels. "You'll see! Once my scheme is put into action! Ahahaha!" he laughed diabolically and held up the bag triumphantly. "OOOH! When I catch up, you'll pay for what you did to my friends!" Bushroot growled angrily as he just kept running, starting to pant a bit as he was getting exhausted from running. Quackerjack just stood beside them both, giving a quizzical glance between them. "What are you doing?" he asked as the other two looked at him confused. They then glanced down and saw that they were just running on a treadmill. "Oh. Well that's embarrassing. Anyways, I'm off!" King Dreamland jumped off the treadmill and ran out the shop again. "We got to catch him!" Jacky said and pointed towards the door. "Get me off of this thing first!" his friend yelled as he was still running and panting. "Oh. Right" he muttered and reached over to push the first button he saw, hoping it would turn it off. It just sped the treadmill up and shot Bushroot back into a wall of jump ropes. He was dizzy for a second, until the other duck pulled him up off the ground and dragged him along.

They ran into the next store, which was a music store, and saw the villain trying to sneak out the back door. Bushroot extended his arms and grabbed a hold of an electric guitar, slamming it into the hazard suited man and launching him into a drum set. He emerged with a big, broken drum around himself. Quackerjack started laughing and pointing at him, finding the slapstick hilarious. Dreamland growled angrily at being humiliated. It was then he spotted where the hero was standing, right underneath a hanging piano. How cliché, but perfect. While bushroot approached to apprehend him, he wriggled his arm loose and sprinted over to the violins, grabbing one of the bows and using it to cut the rope holding the piano and sending it plummeting down onto the jester's head. Bushroot gasped in horror and stared at the broken mess of a musical instrument. The suited man took this opportunity to bolt out the front door with his bag and ran as fast as he could. "Quackerjack?! Are you ok?!" the duck ran over to the piano and asked worriedly, rummaging through the debris until he found him. He sat up straight and swayed slightly, spitting out some piano keys before he could crawl out of the wreck. "Just fine" he muttered before heading out with his friend and pursuing the villain again.

They were soon walking through a hobby store, looking through the isles to find the bad guy. They headed down an isle with different types of paint lining the shelves while darting their eyes all around them. They kept completely quiet as to be able to hear him. It made the entire place eerily silent, like a ghost house. King Dreamland was spying on them from the other side of the shelf, watching them draw closer and closer to his position. As soon as they were near, he gave the shelf a hard shove and made it topple over towards the two. Bushroot looked up at the falling shelf and gasped in shock, giving Quackerjack a push out of the way before he was buried in pain bottles. The other duck yelped surprised before he gave away a growl and looked up at the villain, who ran away and started climbing a shelf. He bolted after him, pulling out a yo-yo from his pants and swinging it around as he got ready to attack. As soon as he reached the bottom of the shelf, Dreamland had already made it up there and picked up a big jug of pink paint, dropping it right down on top of his head. It made a painful indent into his noggin and he fell back onto the floor, getting a thunk on his beak by his own yo-yo, just for some salt in the wounds. "Ha ha ha! Wow! You guys suck! Guess you're nothing without all your team! You better just give up, I can see the bags under your eyes from here! I'm off to blow off some steam… all over town! See ya!" He taunted the two, blowing a raspberry at them, which stained his visor with spit before he hopped down and rushed out the back.

Bushroot managed to wriggle himself out from under the shelf, being completely covered in different splashes of color. He rushed over to Quacks and helped him up off the ground concernedly, looking at the jug that was still lodged into his head. The jester pulled it off of himself and straightened himself out with a proper tug on his hat tails. He then looked over at the plant man, starting to giggle quietly. "Wow. You're looking even more colorful than Megavolt during June!" He joked and snorted into his hands at the rainbow colored duck, who just rolled his eyes and pulled his friend off the floor. "Come on, Quackerjack! We gotta go and find where he went!" He grumbled and rushed both of them out the mall. "But where would he go to "blow of steam", huh?" The other asked as he got no chance to even put back the jug of paint before they were off. "Blow of steam… hmm… all over town! He's going to release his clouds all over town! Probably from a wind turbine! We got to hurry!" Bushroot realized quickly as he pointed towards the nearest wind turbine and headed towards it at top speed.

They arrived at their destination after a bit, immediately noticing that the lock on the door had been cut. "So that's why he got tools!" Bushroot growled angrily and stared at the wide open door, thinking over what their plan of attack was. His head was a little cluttered at that moment, having received a real beating earlier and been running around a lot, so he just shook his head and tried his best to focus. Quacks, on the other hand, just walked right inside. But he then saw the long stairwell leading up to the top and stopped right in his tracks. "... UUUUUUGH! Why STAIRS!? I'm tireeeeed!" He whined and leaned back in defeat. "Come on. We'll make it up there. We need to. For our friends!" The other duck sighed exhausted and began climbing up the stairs, determined to get the bad guy.

A few minutes later, they had reached the top. They were both huffing and puffing heavily, eyes bulging out of their heads as they stopped to catch their breaths. "After this… I'm removing the top floor… of our house!" Jacky groaned and hunched over while leaning on his knees. Bushroot leaned back against the door behind him to rest his tired legs, but was surprised as it started to slowly slide open and make him fall backwards out of the doorway. He looked up with a surprised look until he saw their target a bit away, carrying and setting up a smoke machine. "Hey! Stop right there!" The jester yelled and hopped out beside his friend, pointing at their enemy with a pissed look, mostly because of the pain he had caused them.

King Dreamland turned around and looked at the two weary heroes, grumbling a flippant "geez, do you guys ever give up?". He then set down the smoke machine and pulled the nozzle from his backpack, aiming it at them both. "Alright. You found out my plan. So now what? What are you planning to do to stop me? I mean look at yourselves! You're going to pass out any second" he spoke casually to them as he lightly waved his weapon around, showing how nonchalant he was about all of it, clearly not taking the whole situation seriously. "Don't underestimate my stubbornness-" "determination" "DETERMINATION! We'll put a stop to you right now!" Quackerjack yelled at him and pointed a firm finger while glaring irritated. "Alright. Put a stop to this" he shrugged and shot a big cloud at them. The jester gave away a shriek and covered his face, preparing for the collision. Bushroot shot up from the floor and extended his arms, wrapping them around the other's waist and janking him out of the way.

King Dreamland growled in rage and stomped his foot. "Why won't you lay down and die?!" He shouted as he glared at the two with absolute fury. Quackerjack looked down at his pockets and started rummaging through them to find something he could use to stop the villain on a rampage. He then felt something in his pockets that he didn't expect to have. It gave him an idea and he looked over at the plant holding onto him. "You have to toss me!" he told him hurriedly. "Huh?" he just responded to the cooky duck's request, not sure he heard him right. "THROW MY BODY AT HIM!!!" he then shouted, startling his friend into just doing as told and throwing him as hard as he could. Quackerjack flew straight at the villain and before he could fire another cloud, he was tackled and had a crazy clown climbing and scuttling all over his body, like a racoon who was also an expert climber. He stumbled around while he was being jerked left and right from the whirlwind of a hero. "Get… OFF ME YOU TIRED LOON!!!" He shouted as he finally managed to rip him off and toss him towards his co-hero, knocking him to the ground.

Bushroot quickly pushed Quacks off and got up to rush at the king, ready to whoop his butt. He picked up a sledgehammer from the ground that his enemy brought and swung it at him. But he dodged out of the way and backed out of yet another swing at him, avoiding every attempt at knocking him down. "Man. You guys really suck at this! Can't even land a punch!" He chuckled and grabbed a hold of the hammer, janking it out of his hands and aiming the hose in his face. "Time to visit dreamland."

He shot him right in the face. But he was not greeted by a soft, fluffy, sleep inviting cloud. He was instead splattered in the face by a load of pink. "H-HUH!?!" Dreamland exclaimed, bewildered as he looked into the nozzle and only saw pink. He then looked towards his back to see what went wrong, to discover that his usual tank had been replaced by a jug of pink paint. He then looked up at the other hero and saw him holding up the actual container, giving them both a thumbs up. Dreamland stared at him in shock, unable to believe he was outsmarted by two extremely exhausted dummies. This was unbelievable! He couldn't accept this! But as he was starting to have a breakdown of rage, bushroot looked over at Jacky and yelled "Rubber band!", Which he was tossed quickly and snapped it around the villain, finally capturing him. They both walked up to each other and jumped up and down in joy, cheering about their victory until the tiredness finally started to set in and they fell over onto the ground. "... Let's just get the other two." "Yeah. Let's go" they concluded while laying limply on the ground.

They had finally made it back to where they first had fought King Dreamland and helped the cops wake up before they handed him over to them. They then went inside and spotted their friends, peacefully floating around and sleeping soundly still. They looked so much better than they did earlier, well rested and happy, having these relaxed smiles spread out on their faces. "Ha… They must have had a nice nap" Quackerjack muttered with a fatigued smile as he stared at the sleeping Megavolt, then made the cloud disappear with this tool he took from Dreamland, causing the rat to fall down onto the floor with a thud. "Huh?! Whu?!" he suddenly woke up and looked all around him confused, not sure what had just happened. Quacks handed over the tool to Bushroot, who used it to get rid of the cloud from under Liquidator. But unlike the other duck, he gently caught the dog before he fell onto the floor. "Huh? Hey! How dare you?! I- Uh… Wait. Where did he go?!" he asked puzzled as he looked around, helped back onto his feet by the guy holding him. Megavolt got back up again and rubbed his neck a bit. "Hey… I'm feeling pretty refreshed! Huh!" he pointed out and stretched his arms, letting out a small groan. "Glad to hear it, sparks" Quackerjack grumbled and patted his shoulder. As the rat turned around to him to say something, he immediately stopped himself and looked shocked at his friend. He looked HORRIBLE! Baggy eyes, tired expression, slouchier posture than usual. He was looking absolutely EXHAUSTED! Liquidator thought the same as he got a good look at Bushroot. "Uh… hey… Reginald… Feeling ok?" he asked nervously and put a hand on his shoulder. "You two look like trash!" Megavolt just said, pointing at them both. "Well I was trying to be nice about it, Elmo" he grumbled at the straight forward remark.

"It's ok! We're fine! We captured King Dreamland and everything is good now!" Bushroot told them while trying to look like he wasn't currently dying. "Yeah! We are totally fine!" Quacks added on and grinned at their friends. "... Clearly you're not. You're zombies!" Megavolt sighed and walked over to them, starting to lead them outside towards the van. "Yeah. You two need to go to bed immediately!" Liquidator added in and opened the back of the van for his friend to hop in. Quackerjack opened the driver side door to get inside, but was pushed to the side by the rat, who sat down in the seat. "No. You are not driving like that. Get in the passenger side!" he demanded, pointing to the other side of the car. The duck grumbled angrily and walked around to the other side. He got in and sat down while glaring at his friend. Bushroot looked at Liquidator and muttered "It seems the sun is starting to rise… I'm worried I won't be able to go back to sleep." "Yeah! I don't even feel that tired! It's so early anyways now, so I probably won't be able to fall asleep anyways!" the jester noted to Megavolt, but was completely ignored by him so he could drive.

As they made it back home, Quackerjack was fast asleep in the passenger seat, snoring and drooling onto his shoulder. Liquidator looked over at Bushroot, who looked like he was about to faint as well. "Hey. We're home. Let me help you inside" he spoke softly as he gently put his arm around his shoulders, helping him out into the garage. Megavolt walked around to the passenger side and opened it up, picking the sleeping duck up and just carrying him inside without complaint or snarky comment. Gosalyn was just walking down the stairs, hearing someone coming home. She was in her pyjamas, holding onto Mr. Banana Brain and rubbing her eyes. "Another mission?" she mumbled sleepily, then noticed her two dads, one half asleep and one completely knocked out. The dog hushed her softly, nodding a little towards Quacks. He let out another gentle snore and leaned his head into Megavolt's chest. She nodded and smiled, walking over to him and laying the doll into his lap. "Night daddy" she whispered to him before she turned around to Bushroot and whispered "Night papa" to him. "Good night, my little apple seed" he murmured sleepily. Liquidator and Megavolt both grinned and started heading upstairs to put both the dorks to bed, finally.

#Megavolt #quackerjack #bushroot #liquidator #darkwing duck #negaverse #Gosalyn Mallard #nega megavolt #nega quackerjack #nega bushroot #nega liquidator #nega gosalyn #fanfiction #fanfic #friendly four #dwd fanfic

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mrslittletall · 3 years

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2, 3, 4, 6, 16, 20, 22 for writer meta ask. Feel free to ignore the sheer amount because I'd have asked more 😂

Fanfiction Ask Meme

My blood sugar is killing me today, I can as well answer a row of asks while I wait for the stuff I ate to take root ^^ 2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project The next chapter after the next of Off Balance. It have looked forward to it for a year or so now ^^ Being able to finish Storm. While we still have a lot of time to go, we are definitely in the middle of the second half. I just want to write the ending and see it if is like I envision it. My Made in Abyss/Bloodborne crossover. Lately thought about the Prince Ornstein AU. I might turn it into a fic soon. 3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

I would LOVE to write all the stuff about my Dark Souls dragon AU, but that one is SO WEIRD. It also has mpreg and I can’t be the first one to write mpreg in the Dark Souls tag, especially when I know so many people who hate pregnancy fics... Feel free to ask me about details though. 4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

His triumph didn't last long because Tempest very much could feel the figure of the dragon slayer looming over him. “You idiot.”, he snarled. “We have talked about this... over and over again. Don't rush without thinking! You only get yourself killed!”

“Whatever...”, Tempest said, hardly believing the word that escaped his mouth next. “It's not like you would care about it or anything. Besides, I am just coming back anyway.”

“Little Storm, what...”, Ornstein said, his stance wasn't looming and threatening anymore but instead looked... deflated.

“You are just with me so that you can go on a journey to find your old lover.”, Tempest said, nearly sniffling. “You never cared about me. I am just a nuisance, just this annoying Undead.”

“That's... that's not true...”, Ornstein said, a tremble in his voice.

“Oh yeah?”, Tempest got himself worked up. “Then why have you never asked me what I want to do when this is all over?!”

Ornstein now looked really really small, which was impressive for a man of his size. “It's... It's not that I am not interested, but...”, Ornstein didn't finish the sentence.

Because Tempest didn't knew. Tempest wholeheartedly believed that linking the flame would set everything right again. That it would get rid of the curse of the Undeath, give the gods back their power and Anor Londo would once bloom again. He didn't know that linking the flame meant to sacrifice oneself...

“But?”, Tempest asked, an angry glare and some tears in his eyes. Ornstein felt horrible. He couldn't tell him. Not with the hope he still had...

“I am sorry, little Storm.”, Ornstein said instead. “So.. what is it you would like to do when this all is over?” This one from Storm. It came out EXACTLY like I wanted. 6. What character do you have the most fun writing? Laurence. Guy just works with me. He’s so FUN to write. His dorky self, his sciency self, his asshole self. I love him. 16. Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?) Yes, I tried to write for characters I never tried before. With the whump prompts. It was fun and I love to see how much I can learn by getting out of my comfort zone. 20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?) Ok, guys.... I LOVE to reference my own fics in other fics. Stuff in Storm references Keeping it Together, Keeping it Together references Duel Gone Wrong, Crazy Cat Vicar references Frenzy, etc etc. Go and search it and I give you a cookie when you find all the references ^^ 22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them? Yes, I have too sometimes, to find out what I already put into it and what not. I sometimes cringe about style and want to rework it (Duel Gone Wrong needs more paragraph breaks), but often I read them and am like “Woah, this is actually good”. A few months ago I read “Distracted” again and cried laughing at my own humour!

#ask answered #thx for the ask #blood sugar get stable finally #I am not even diabetic arghl!#datsonyat

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ceo-caroline · 4 years

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58 or 61, 62 for caveline...? idk if ur still doing these sorry lol

61. “It’s past midnight! Where the hell were you?”

“Yes, his name is Joseph. Joseph Price.”

Caroline has grown tired of this woman’s voice. The way she sounds so near to tears is scraping across her skin like nails, and she rubs her arms uncomfortably, the telephone resting between her cheek and shoulder. She clears her throat.

“I’m looking through our records currently, ma’am. Thank you for your patience,” she’s flipping through the C section of their current test subject registry. There are three other Prices, and her eyes skim down the list, landing on Joseph, and then on the subtle red x to the left of his name.

Shit.

She winces. It’s been two years since she’s had to inform a family of a death. They don’t get too many young test subjects anymore, so rarely anyone calls to ask for someone’s whereabouts.

Is there a script for this? Something to make it easier? Caroline wonders in the silence as she pretends that she is still searching for a name. At no point in her interview did they tell her what to say to a woman whose son is just a body, now. His features unrecognizable from the acid that he fell into on a testing track because the guardrails weren’t tightened when they needed to be. Caroline glances quickly to her boss’s door, which has been closed all afternoon. She imagines what he would say. Always so charismatic. Maybe a little brash, but she’s sure Mrs. Price would prefer his voice to hers. She takes a second in her mind to wish he were here, coaching her through the phone call as he did once when she was first starting. The door stays shut.

She closes the registry, smooths her palm over the glossy cover. Tries her best to conjure some sympathy into her tone.

“Mrs. Price, I am very sorry to have to give you this news, but your son passed away yesterday afternoon during a routine testing procedure. Our scientists did everything they could, but I’m afraid his condition was too severe for medical attention.”

There is next to no logic behind it, like most things at Aperture, but the official test subject contract designates a 48-hour “processing” period for any casualties. Time to examine the bodies, or something like that. Caroline knows it’s just the corporate way of scrambling for time to release an appropriate statement that doesn’t sound like a lie. It satisfies the lawyers, at least.

The mother’s wail is spine-tingling. She is clearly no longer listening, but Caroline presses on.

“I’m going to transfer you to our Human Resources department for further information. We at Aperture thank you for your son’s admirable contribution to science and give our sincerest condolences. Have a—”

“Can I see him?” The woman’s interruption borders on inaudible, but her voice still cuts through Caroline’s forcibly professional words.

No one usually gets to ask questions. She’s always managed to transfer them before they can get another word out.

“... No, ma’am. You can’t see him. Again, I— I’m very sorry.” And she sounds like she is going to say something else, but another sob rises up and swallows her words. Caroline hits the recall button and frantically dials in the number for Human Resources. She ignores how much her hands are shaking.

And then it’s done. And she stares at the wall ahead of her after gingerly placing the telephone back onto her desk. She reaches for a pen to keep her hands busy but remembers the stack of papers to her left that needs signing, and, relieved, pulls them in front of her.

The phone rings again. Scientists from Alpha need extra fire extinguishers. And so the day goes.

She is used to long hours, by now. There’s no obligation attached to working late, but Caroline feels dependent on the exhaustion. Any problem Aperture has to offer her is a better alternative to her apartment, especially in the nighttime. She tries to stay away from it as much as she can.

The rest of the day is spent filing away her finished paperwork and taking the elevator down to the labs to get some notes on their latest repulsion gel trial. The first batch of it kept melting the test subject’s shoes into the floor and they carted off a whole group of people to the ICU with chemical burns. All part of the process, though. They just went back to the start and reworked the formula. As she writes on her clipboard, hair tied back messily, Caroline notices that her hands are still trembling. When she glances down, her writing is slightly messier than usual. She sets the notes aside, frustrated. She’ll just type her findings up later.

Hours pass by, and Caroline doesn’t notice. The test finishes; they’re out of subjects for the day. One by one, the lab boys clear out, not giving her a second look. She waits in the observation room until the lights in the test chamber switch off below her, and then gathers herself and goes back to her desk. Her throat hurts like she’s trying to hold in a scream.

She remembers Cave telling her that she could break off a typewriter key with how hard she types. Her eyes flicker back to his door. The lights are off inside. He’s probably gone home. She bows her head, rubs the back of her neck. She needs a cigarette. Three more pages, she tells herself. Then go outside and take a break.

Three turns into five which turns into ten, and soon she practically has half a novel of notes on the new gel formula, and her fingers fucking hurt and she just can’t get that woman’s voice out of her head and— dammit. She pinches the bridge of her nose and grabs her purse.

It’s a clear night. A breeze pulls her hair loose from her updo and tosses it around her face. She makes no effort to brush it away and stares numbly ahead at the parking lot as she smokes her cigarette down to ash.

It’s not sadness. It’s not grief. It’s not even compassion. Just this foreign tugging feeling in her stomach when she thinks about the way she had wept. Caroline has never let herself cry like that. She wonders if there’s anything that would bring her to that point.

As she lights another cigarette, the door to her left is suddenly thrown open. Caroline jumps, her whole body unconsciously stiffening at the sound of clanging metal.

Cave steps outside.

He looks tired, his hair messy and shirt untucked, but at the sight of her, a look of relief spreads across his face.

“You do not know how happy I am to see you.” He walks over to where she’s leaning against the building and settles himself by her side. Caroline fights the urge to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Why’s that?” She asks, keeping her voice just casual enough to hide behind.

“It’s past midnight! I’ve been lookin’ for you all over the facility! Where the hell have you been all day?” Well. Time really had escaped her in the lab. It explains why she’s so exhausted.

The fact that he’d been trying to find her makes her feel like her head is full of static, and she flushes deeply. “Caroline?” He asks gently when she doesn’t respond.

“You didn’t think I had just gone home for the night?”

“You always tell me before you leave.” He glances away from her, crossing his arms over his chest. If she didn’t know better, she would say he was being bashful.

“I never really thought you noticed that.”

“I do. I kinda look forward to it. I like seein’ your face before I go home, kid.”

“Oh.” She takes a drag of her cigarette to avoid speaking again. The silence between them grows, and he leans a little closer.

Caroline looks up into his eyes. They survey each other, and the tension from the day melts away as a new kind of feeling starts to swallow her whole. She passes him her cigarette without thinking, watching him bring it to his mouth.

“Tell me about your day,” she says softly.

When they are alone, she can listen to him speak endlessly.

And slowly, slowly, Mrs. Price’s broken sobs leave her mind for the night. Slowly, slowly, she lets Cave’s voice fill up the open space. He walks her back to her desk, after. Bids her a gentle goodnight and tells her to stop working so hard. If only. Caroline doesn’t promise him anything, but that night she drives home with steady hands.

#okay 1 i am SO SORRY this took so long i genuinely forgot about it for a bit #2 theres literally no logic here so i apologize for that too #but i hope u like it aaa!!#caveline #my writing #asks #prompt meme #portal #portal 2

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johnathanthetiger · 4 years

Text

@marge-simpson i sent an anon about wanting to write something about betty’s hairstyles through the ages. i had a point in mind when i sent that but i forgot it by the time i finished writing this. hope it’s still interesting enough to you.

okay so betty, in her(and archie and jughead) first appearance is notably ponytail-less, in fact, her hair is completely down with no accessories. of course character appearances take time to be refined so it’s not strange for there to be differences in their very first. but there’s a clear influence from the hair down look as she gets her official Look as a character. in the forties, both girls, betty and veronica, wear their hair down with bangs. betty’s is blonde and curlier and veronica is black and straight. this is true even among various artists that were drawing the stories. very early archie art is kinda ugly looking but not too much worse than the average art style at the time just as a warning. by the fifties we get to what would become the classic house style for the characters. betty’s look stays with her hair down but now the bottom part is pinned back, sometimes with a black bow, and curled. it’s clearly influenced by her original look but it’s more distinct. her bangs are lumpier than veronica’s, which are straight across. she then gets to her first ponytails in the late fifties, all high, short and flipped at the end with a black bow most of the time. the bangs stay the same and the bow stays as well. the two looks with the bow overlap into the sixties when betty’s ponytail gets longer. the black bow and flip at the end are consistent but it varies in length. veronica gets really into headbands for a while in the sixties but has stayed constant with her straight black with bangs look which also varies in length but is usually shorter than betty’s hair. then in the mid sixties, betty starts to wear short pigtails a lot for a few years, with two bows on either side, varying in color. and when we go back to ponytails betty has transitioned to a low ponytail, still with a bow or now a colored hair tie. her and veronica’s hair steadily gets longer and veronica develops a hair flip with betty’s pony/pigtails being teardrop shaped. the pigtails phase out in the early seventies and betty’s bangs become more fluffy in comparison to veronica’s, instead of having lumps like they used too. then in the eighties, betty’s ponytails go back up again with more variance in shape. and in the mid eighties, they get choppier with betty becoming more of a tomboy in contrast to veronica’s girly girl. also, predictably her hair ties get bigger and more scrunchie like. her ponytail gets looser and scruffier and she goes through a half up and half down phase, essentially a mini ponytail on top of her mid length hair. in the late eighties there’s a bit of a relaunch and betty gets her own comic! betty and veronica gets rebooted too, now no longer having “archie’s girls” in front of the title. basically, feminism finally catches on a little bit and betty becomes the girl next door that most young people today would’ve read as children as opposed to her earlier more obsessive tendencies and constant rejection from archie, which she also starts calling him out on more. this ponytail is basically a modern version of her original one, which is likely intentional in the reworking of the comics. her ponytail starts to vary more and more in style and she’s basically the only blonde being published by them at this point so she doesn’t need a strong character design other than “ponytail”. through the 2000s it’s the same with her ponytail again lengthening as time goes on, keeping it even as an adult through her marriage story arc and subsequent married life comic series. generally, her ponytail is a bit sloppier as the 2000s go on, similar to real life hairstyles. roberto probably is most influenced by the eighties and nineties because that’s when he was a child with a classic fifties appearance influence. he wrote his gay archie play and got his cease and desist letter in 2003 and started writing for archie comics in 2013(?) so i’d say his interpretation of the characters was pretty much fully developed by the end of the nineties probably. betty’s ponytail on riverdale is obviously fifties based but riverdale does away with both betty and veronica’s bangs. personality wise, riverdale betty is a mix of the nineties and the fifties but more nineties, which makes sense as that fits with the viewer and writer base age that they would have read archie stories from. even though her original look and current look are so different, the general journey of betty’s hair is easy to follow visually. and is very influenced by popular styles at the time and the personality betty is meant to have, which evolves over time with changing cultural attitudes. anyways i wrote all this out to say that riverdale and roberto need to stop being so sixties-phobic and let betty have pigtails. also, the heather duke look is very similar to early betty, curled and pinned back, and also should make a comeback because it looks good and begins to explore betty’s many hairstyles. this whole thing is very long and very overall detailed and kinda pointless also you can google to actually see what the hairstyles I’m talking about look like if i did a bad describing them. sorry for this if it’s not worth reading i guess but i had fun looking at archie covers for an hour(?) and got caught up in identifying various wilbur(archie’s less popular predecessor) supporting characters (because there’s not a good list of them online) partway through writing this. was it worth it? who cares. hope you take something positive from my rambling though.

#im sorry if this is really bad or uninteresting #im bad at assessing how much other people know or care about archie stuff sometimes

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iffeelscouldkill · 5 years

Text

Adjusting [Part 3: Campbell]

A/N: It liiiives! Here is a long overdue Chapter 3. As compensation for the wait, this chapter is longer than the other two chapters put together :D

I originally drafted this chapter some time ago, but then once I started serialising the fic on AO3, decided that I wanted to rework the middle part. I wound up redrafting most of it over the past few months, and it was a bit of a slog at times, but I'm much, much happier with the final result. A big big thank you once again goes to my wonderfully encouraging beta @dragonsthough101, and to @whelvenwings for writing with me and listening to my Fic Woe and helping me fix That One Section that I was struggling with!

A heads up that this chapter contains some quite heavy conversations about wartime under an oppressive regime, loss and regret. There are no graphic descriptions of violence, just a lot of fairly grim introspection. It probably goes without saying, but I'm not a military veteran myself, so I based all of this on the podcast canon and my own imagination.

Please take care of yourselves, and I hope you all enjoy 💜

---

Summary: It turns out that there isn’t a blueprint for quitting your job, turning your back on the organisation that you’d built your life around, committing treason and abandoning your friends and family to go travel across the galaxy with a band of wanted criminals. Fortunately, RJ now knows some people who have been there.

Or: Five times that RJ McCabe shares a late-night drink with someone on the Iris 2.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Read on AO3

---

About three weeks on from the Iris’ flight from New Jupiter, Sana calls a crew meeting. It isn’t their first by any means, but until now, crew meetings have either been about the division of chores or about pooling information to convey to the resistance movement. This one is different.

“We’re making another stop-off,” she tells the crew once they’re all assembled, Arkady looking half-asleep and disgruntled at the earliness of the hour. “I’ve arranged to meet a… long-time contact of ours. I know that we need to be careful about who we trust outside of the crew on this ship and confirmed members of the anti-IGR resistance, but… he’s a friend. An old friend.”

RJ raises their hand. “Is it Ignatius Campbell?” they ask, feeling like they’re on a quiz show.

Arkady revives slightly and snorts. “Got it in one, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” RJ shoots back automatically. This is old, well-worn banter between them at this point.

Sana blushes slightly. “Right. I forgot that of course… you and Park know exactly who Campbell is.” She gives them a sidelong look, and RJ suspects that she’s remembering her fractious exchange with Campbell after Elion, and thinking about exactly what they would have heard.

“If it’s any consolation, we’ve been trying to forget about the recordings, too,” Park offers, slightly abashed, as he always is when this subject comes up.

RJ finds it awkward, too, but doesn’t see any point in pretending that they weren’t at one point on very different sides. Or that listening to the recordings from the Rumor wasn’t literally their job. But Park is right – they have been doing their best to forget about those long days and nights spent cooped up in their tiny office, replaying audio over and over. Know thy enemy had practically been RJ’s motto back in those days, but the Rumor crew aren’t their enemies any more. And RJ wants to move on from the person they were back then.

“I’ve spoken to Campbell a couple of times since… Well, since Elion,” Sana continues. “Trying to smooth things over since we-”

“Accused him of backstabbing us?” Arkady volunteers drily.

“To be fair, we really didn’t have any other good theories about what was going on,” Brian puts in. “None of us would have ever jumped to ‘an invisible robot nanoswarm’ as the source of our leak.”

Sana nods. “I know, and Campbell understands that, too. That’s why he’s willing to meet with us, and help us out – with supplies, and with information about the situation on Telemachus as well as some of the other Regime planets.”

“What about payment?” Violet asks. “We’re pretty light on funds at the moment, and we don’t have any cargo to trade either.”

“Campbell has agreed to effectively give us the goods on credit, with the understanding that we’ll pay at a later date,” Sana replies. “We’re also trading a little information in exchange for what he knows. Nothing top-secret, just a bit about the Regime’s movements, to help him keep two steps ahead.”

“And did you ‘barter’ with him to get him to agree to that deal?” Arkady asks, raising her eyebrows in a significant way.

Sana reddens a little, but says with dignity, “I don’t know what you’re implying. But yes, we did haggle for a bit.”

“Nice to hear that you two are back on ‘bartering’ terms,” says Arkady with a smirk.

Krejjh, looking between Arkady and Sana, grins as if Ferin has come early.

Ignoring this, Sana continues, “It’s obviously too dangerous for us to land on any of the IGR planets, so I’ve arranged to meet Campbell on Halton Station, in the Neutral Zone.”

Brian instantly perks up. “Dude! We’re going to Neuzo? Wait, isn’t Halton Station-”

“Where Thasia and Emily Craddock grew up,” Krejjh finishes eagerly.

“Yeah. To be honest, I picked it half because I knew the name, but it happens to be in a particularly convenient location for us, too,” says Sana. “It’s also not that populated, so there’s less chance of us attracting unwanted attention.”

“Does this mean I’ll be able to go outside?” Krejjh asks, practically vibrating with excitement. “Oh, for the gentle caress of the wind! The touch of the ground beneath my feet!”

“I don’t see why not,” Sana says with a smile. “Just try to keep things, uh… low-key?”

Arkady snorts eloquently.

Later on, RJ is on joint kitchen cleaning duty with Violet, who is chatting aimlessly about the rendezvous with Campbell.

“…it’s just going to be Sana, Krejjh and Arkady going out to meet Campbell on Halton Station,” she says. “It’s still not safe for Brian to set foot on Neuzo, and having a huge group would definitely attract unwanted attention. So, I guess we won’t get a chance to meet Campbell this time, unless he comes back to the ship.”

“Is that likely?” asks RJ.

“If things go well between Sana and Campbell, I guess,” Violet says with a small smile. “At least, that’s what Arkady thinks.”

“So, are Sana and Campbell… a couple?” RJ clarifies. Violet laughs a little, moving a dishrag in slow circles over the countertop.

“Not that I know of? My impression from Arkady is that they’ve always been close, but never actually, uh… been romantically involved,” says Violet. “Then, after Elion… well. We didn’t really know who we could trust, and… Campbell was one of the only people who knew about our destination and had our new IDs. Or at least, so we thought.”

“Mmm,” RJ responds, which seems safer than ‘Sorry for being part of the evil government eavesdropping operation that made you paranoid and destroyed your friendships’.

“But now it seems they’re patching things up, so maybe…” Violet smiles brightly. “It would be great if they could make it work.”

“That’s true,” says RJ with as much enthusiasm as they can muster. Romance has never held much of an appeal for RJ – it’s nice for other people, but RJ realised some years ago that they just don’t feel the thing that people have devoted endless poems and novels and movies to, and trying to get invested in other people’s romances feels similarly awkward. But RJ likes Sana, and she deserves to be happy.

Violet, who is sensitive to that sort of thing, seems to pick up on RJ’s train of thought. “Sorry, I realise we might seem a bit… romance-obsessed on this ship sometimes,” she says with an embarrassed smile. “If it gets to be too much… feel free to tell us to knock it off any time, really.”

RJ thinks about working under the IGR, and the way that no-one ever felt safe being themselves. They’ve already started to take this new freedom for granted – but that doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten the way things used to be.

“It’s fine,” they say.

---

This time, it’s not unsettling dreams or racing thoughts that are keeping RJ awake. It’s just energy. It’s midnight, but they feel as tense and jittery as though they’ve just downed four mugs of that overbrewed sludge the IGR used to serve employees in the breakroom.

A lot happened during the day. A huge amount of planning went into the rendezvous with Campbell on Halton Station, and even though RJ wasn’t part of the group who went out to meet him, they were involved in every other part of the endeavour.

Halton Station might be in the Neutral Zone, but they’d already established that the IGR was willing to cross huge lines and even violate the Treaty in order to get what it wanted, and the crew of the Iris is wanted on every IGR planet. It’s impossible to be too careful. Park and RJ had advised Sana to the best of their knowledge on steps that the IGR might take to try and survey the area, on the resources that they might try to use.

Meanwhile, Brian and Krejjh – both over the moon at being back on Neuzo, where they first met – had taken it in turns to tell stories about Ryedell Station, where Brian once worked as a bartender alongside his friend Alvy Connors.

Inside the Republic, the Neutral Zone was referenced only sparingly, and always characterised as a den of vice and iniquity. RJ had hardly ever thought about it except to be glad that they’ve never had the misfortune to set foot on any of its stations. But hearing stories about a place where humans and Dwarnians co-existed alongside each other, talking, trading, bartering… It’s made RJ realise just how narrow their world was until recently. And it’s sobering.

Sure, they’ve been watching Dwarnian soap operas, which deal with a completely alien (literally) species and set of cultures – but those are overblown and feel removed from RJ’s day-to-day reality. This doesn't.

So, RJ processes by pottering around the kitchen, making a late-night cup of tea. The light in the kitchen is kind of busted and it only emits a very dim glow – Sana has been swearing that she’ll tackle it once they’ve got the supplies from Campbell, but RJ finds it soothing, particularly at this hour.

It does make them jump, however, when the door suddenly slides open to admit a tall, dark shape.

“Apologies,” says the man, in a rough voice accented with a slight drawl. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Ignatius Campbell,” says RJ in realisation. His voice, though RJ has only ever heard it over comms (and recorded comms at that), is pretty distinctive. Also, process of elimination dictates that there’s only one person this could be.

“The very same,” says Campbell, inclining his head forward. The door slides shut behind him. “And you must be RJ McCabe? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

RJ would like to say something witty like ‘The one and only’, but doesn’t really think they could pull it off. Instead, after a few dumb moments of deliberation, they manage, “You can call me RJ.”

Okay, so maybe they’re more tired than they realised.

Campbell raises his eyebrows a little. “Well, then, you can call me Ignatius.”

RJ doesn’t think so. Even Sana still calls him ‘Campbell’ – well, at least as far as RJ knows. Does his presence on the ship mean that the rendezvous has “gone well” like Violet and Arkady hoped?

The water comes to a boil, and RJ busies themself with pouring it out. “Would you, uh, like some tea?” they ask, mostly out of politeness – Campbell doesn’t really look like the tea type.

“Actually, I was planning on drinking something a bit stronger, if you don’t mind of course,” Campbell says, pulling out a battered metal flask from the pocket of his heavy brown coat. “It’s not moonshine,” he adds, at RJ’s slightly sceptical expression. “Just whiskey. You’re welcome to some, if you want.”

The opening notes of ‘Whiskey in the Jar’ immediately start up in RJ’s head, and they inwardly curse Violet, who has a habit of humming it when she’s nervous. And when she’s happy. And when she’s been spending time with Arkady.

“I’ll pass, but thanks,” says RJ, taking their tea and sitting down with it at the table. Campbell manages to locate a mug and pours his whiskey into it, but stays standing, drinking it slowly and staring into the middle distance. It puts RJ a little on edge, but they force themself to relax and remember that Campbell isn’t a threat.

It’s harder to resist the impulse to run through the collective intelligence that the Intergalactic Republic had on the man known as Ignatius Campbell. Known contact and long-time associate of the crew of the Rumor; expert forger; suspected aliases include Alexander Cole and Jonathan Johnson. Based in Telemachus, but with an extensive network of affiliates and possible connections across multiple galaxies.

As if picking up on their thoughts, Campbell suddenly asks, “You used to work for the IGR, right?”

RJ tenses. “Emphasis on ‘used to’,” they reply.

Campbell waves a hand. “Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to accuse you of anything. God knows everyone on this ship has stuff in their past they’d rather not go back to – me included,” he says, a little darkly. “No, I was just wondering what kind of intel they might have on me up there. Any good rumours?”

“Most of it was inconclusive,” RJ tells him, but thinks back anyway. It already feels unnatural trying to access the headspace and knowledge that they had while working for the IGR, after going to such pains to put it behind them. “W- They suspected you might have links to the notorious pirate Kim Hoff and her Bald-Cat gang, potentially as a supplier of intel or documentation, but nothing was proven.”

Campbell gives a low chuckle of amusement. “Believe it or not, I’m not the one on this ship with links to Hoff,” he says. “Though I can’t say we’ve never crossed paths.”

In response to RJ’s look of confusion, he elaborates: “She was Brian Jeeter’s thesis advisor.”

“You’re kidding,” says RJ in disbelief.

Campbell lays a hand on his heart. “I swear – you can ask him about it. For all that he might seem mild-mannered and harmless, Brian Jeeter has some interesting connections.”

“I’ve heard about his run-ins with the Dwarnian mafia,” says RJ, partly to show that they aren’t completely uninformed.

“Yeah, that’s another good example,” says Campbell. “There’s a reason why I’ve kept doing business with the Rumor crew all these years: they have some damn good stories to tell.”

RJ snorts in acknowledgement. If it weren’t for the fact that they’ve listened to some of the Rumor crew’s insane exploits (and been present for one or two of them) they wouldn’t have believed half of the stories that they’ve heard since they came aboard the Iris.

Neither of them says anything for a while, and RJ contemplates taking their tea back to their room so that they can carry on thinking. But the prospect is dull and a little claustrophobic, and part of them wants to take this opportunity to find out more about this person who is obviously so important to their crewmates.

“So…” says RJ, and Campbell’s gaze flicks over to them from where he’d been contemplating the cupboards. “What’s got you up so late, drinking whiskey in the kitchen with a total stranger?”

One corner of Campbell’s mouth quirks up. “You’re not a total stranger,” he points out. RJ just raises an eyebrow, and Campbell relents.

“Not sure, really – Sana and I were talking, but then she wanted to crash, and I wasn’t quite ready to sleep yet. Got a bit too much going round in my head.”

RJ nods; in other words, a very similar reason to their own. “So I take it you’re staying the night?”

This immediately makes Campbell flustered, and RJ can’t make out his face very well but they imagine that he’s probably gone red. “I – I mean I am, but I promise that there’s nothing improper- It’s just for the one night. And we’re bunking in separate rooms,” he says in a rush.

RJ snorts and manages to keep from rolling their eyes – just about. “Calm down. I wasn’t trying to imply anything,” they tell Campbell. “I only asked because I’m on breakfast duty tomorrow morning, so I wanted to know how many people I’d be cooking for.”

“Oh.”

“Also, ‘improper’? What millennium is this, again?”

Campbell coughs, and says with the air of someone trying to pull the conversation back on track, “So – what about you? What has you up in the kitchen past midnight?”

RJ sips their tea, stalling for time as they try to decide how much to say about what has been keeping them awake. They settle on,

“I guess I’m… learning a lot about the universe that I never had the chance to before. Working for the… for the IGR, you’re told that only you have access to the real facts about everything – Dwarnians, the war, the upper limits of science and space exploration – and that anyone who tells you differently is lying or trying to confuse you. I prided myself,” they stress, bitterly, “on the thoroughness of my research. On having all the information. Now I realise just how little I really knew.”

Campbell nods, slowly. “All repressive governments control their people’s access to information,” he says. “The better to make sure that no-one gets any ideas of their own.”

“Yeah, I know,” says RJ, a little wearily. “I’m not under any illusions about what the IGR really is. Not anymore.”

“But you were,” Campbell points out. “Sure, maybe there were things you could’ve questioned and didn’t. There are also folks up at the top of the whole operation who have access to all the information and make a very different choice with it. At the end of the day, you still thought for yourself when it counted. You got out.”

RJ eyes Campbell warily. “I’m not fishing for reassurance here,” they tell him. “You don’t have to make me feel better.”

Campbell holds up his hands in apology. “I know,” he says. “It just sounded to me like maybe you were being a little harsh on yourself.”

RJ shakes their head and searches for the right words. “When I joined up with the Rumor crew on New Jupiter, it wasn’t some heroic stand,” they say eventually, quietly. “It was a strategic decision I made to survive. If I’d stayed where I was, I would have been killed on sight.”

“The crew of this ship knows a thing or two about survival,” Campbell tells them. “They’re not all on some grand moral crusade.”

RJ knows that Arkady worked as a guard for the IGR, that Violet used to be a government scientist, that Krejjh fought in the war on the Dwarnian side. But on nights like these, the gap between their experiences still feels vast.

The others, they all have this bond, a camaraderie forged from venturing out into the deepest parts of space, from facing near-death experiences and defying the Regime side by side. RJ might have tagged along at the end, but they don’t have that history. They haven’t earned that bond, yet.

RJ realises that Campbell is still watching them – considering, almost. Their first instinct is to break eye contact and look away, but instead they meet his gaze, raising their chin slightly. RJ thinks they see Campbell’s mouth twitch into a small smile.

“You know that I served in the military,” he says suddenly. It isn’t a question.

“Yes,” RJ replies cautiously.

“Do you want to know why I left?”

“Uh…”

RJ is well aware that Campbell fought in the war. They vividly recall the argument with Sana where Campbell angrily spoke about losing ninety percent of his first unit. RJ remembers listening to that exchange in their cramped office with Park, and looking over at him, wanting to ask for more information. But Park’s brow had been furrowed, his expression dark as he stared down at the wood of the desk, and the question died on RJ’s lips.

Park had fought in the war, too.

RJ doesn’t feel like they have a right to Campbell’s story any more than Park’s, but apparently, he's offering. “If you’re… okay with telling me,” they say uncertainly, pressing their mug between their palms until it’s a little painful. “I’m… sure it was nothing good.”

Campbell gives a short nod, his expression grim.

“I enlisted in the military in 2178, two years before the coup,” he says. “My first unit, they were… a really good group of people. Some of the best I’ve known. When the coup took place in 2180, we were excited. The old government had left the military drastically under-funded and over-stretched. The Regime promised better funding, better resources, more troops – of course, they accomplished that via the Mandate, but they made that seem like a great thing. A stable career path; an opportunity for everyone who was able to “serve the human race”. As they put it.”

RJ nods slowly. “I know. They’re pretty big on teaching that as part of the history of the Republic,” they say. “‘How the Intergalactic Republic transformed our military’.”

“Yeah, well, I experienced it first-hand. And for about a year, everything was as promised. But then my unit got word that we were being redeployed to the Dwarnian stronghold of Nreech-shlegga.”

RJ frowns. “As in… the Battle of Nreech-shlegga?”

“The very same,” Campbell confirmed. “But this was years before that battle. We were told that it was a small outpost, largely unmanned – an opportunity to score an early victory over the Dwarnians and make an incursion into their territory.”

RJ feels a sick sinking feeling, and unconsciously grips the edge of the table with one hand. “What happened?” they almost whisper, although they know the answer.

“On the basis of the briefing we were given, we stormed the stronghold,” Campbell says, and RJ suspects that he might not really have heard their question, lost in the memory. He’s not looking at them anymore, staring down at his mug, but he doesn’t drink from it. “Of course, Nreech-slegga was the exact opposite of what we'd been led to believe – it was an extremely well-defended military stronghold. My entire unit, barring myself and six others, was wiped out in less than an hour.”

Campbell is silent. RJ breathes out quietly, trying not to interrupt his thoughts by drawing attention to themself. Their throat is dry, but they’ve drunk all of their tea and daren’t move to make some more.

Several long minutes later, Campbell shakes himself a little, seeming to come back into the present. “Sorry,” he apologises gruffly, taking a swig of whiskey.

“Don’t apologise,” RJ says quickly, and then clamps their mouth shut, in case they sounded overly familiar. But Campbell nods, and they think they see his lips quirk upward slightly.

“What did you do… after?” RJ ventures, after another long moment of silence. They hate to pry, but they’re still not clear on why Campbell decided to tell them this in the first place. Maybe he’s not sure anymore either.

Campbell nods again, once, as if agreeing to something inside his head. He meets RJ’s eyes again. “Would you believe me if I told you that I defected from the military?”

“Of course,” RJ says immediately. “After what they did to your unit? Your superiors must have known the reality of the situation, but they withheld crucial intel. It cost the lives of dozens of good soldiers.”

“I notice you haven’t considered for a moment that the IGR might have had a good reason for giving those orders,” Campbell points out. He sounds amused.

“I—” RJ falters. “I mean. How could they have?”

People died needlessly, they want to say. But they know that while they were on the IGR’s payroll, they came across all kinds of evidence of similar incidents and found ways to rationalise them, to explain away the devastating loss of human life. Like the planet where the inhabitants were left to starve without aid after their food supply was consumed by ants – because of “improper paperwork” and “budgetary concerns”. Or the fate of the original Iris, in which an entire crew had been murdered in order to silence one man.

Why had it taken RJ so long to see the Regime for what it really was?

Because it’s easy to make excuses, to explain things away, when it’s not your life on the line, RJ’s brain supplies. When you’re not the one they’re coming for.

“If you see any of the Rumor crew, or Agents McCabe or Park, shoot to kill.”

Until you are.

“You’re right,” Campbell says, and RJ stares at him for a few seconds, having lost the thread of their conversation. Their head feels heavy and over-full, their mind whirling. “My superiors had perfect intel on the situation in Nreech-slegga and knew the full extent of its defences, but they lied to us because they wanted to test the Dwarnians’ response times on their own territory. We were just cannon fodder to them.”

The phrase rings a bell in RJ’s mind – they remember him using the same words to Sana in ‘Report 6: Parallel’. They nod mutely.

“But in the wake of The Nreech-Slegga Disaster, as it became known – though only among the troops, as official reports of the incident were largely suppressed – they told us that they’d been fed false intel by double agents working for the Dwarnian Federation. They even used it as an excuse to purge a few members of the rank and file who’d fallen out of favour.

“I could tell something was off about it all – if the Dwarnian counter-intelligence efforts were so effective, why tip their hand so obviously? Why waste them on eliminating a single ground unit? But at the time, I couldn’t envision a life for myself outside of the military. And I was afraid to follow that train of logic any further, for fear of where it might lead me. So I stayed enlisted – for three more years.”

“Three… years?” RJ echoes in shock. “But…”

“Why would I stay?” Campbell finishes for them. “It takes a lot of guts to choose a different path to the one you’re on, to leave behind everything you know. I didn’t have them, then.” He stares off into the middle distance, mug held loosely in one hand. “A lot of people who fought in the war didn’t really believe in the Regime’s cause. They had their own reasons, and I told myself I had mine.”

Campbell raises his mug to drink from it again, and then – evidently finding it empty – picks up his flask and drinks directly from there instead. “But I spent a hell of a lot of time regretting those three years.” His voice is a low, bitter growl, almost too low to hear.

A more profound silence descends this time, and RJ isn’t sure how to break it. Their instinctive response to hearing how Campbell lost his first unit had been to assume that he would have left the military and refused to serve under the regime that caused the deaths of his comrades – just as many people would question why RJ had stayed and continued to work for the IGR after Park was taken away.

Like Campbell said, at the time, they thought they had their reasons. It's only in hindsight that those reasons become a lot harder to justify.

It takes a lot of guts to choose a different path to the one you're on, Campbell had said. RJ can't find it in them yet to think of their decision to turn against the IGR as something that took "guts".

But no matter how adrift they've been feeling since then, they also haven't regretted it for a moment.

“Apologies,” says Campbell abruptly, and RJ looks up from toying with their mug, surprised. “I probably shouldn’t have dropped all of this on you at once. It’s just been… on my mind, what with the renewed crackdowns from the Regime, and skirmishes breaking out everywhere…”

RJ’s stomach turns over. They knew that there were protests on Telemachus, and a couple of the other large planets as well, the ones that were harder to control. But they hadn’t realised it had broken out into all-out fighting.

They realise that Campbell is still looking at them, and try to force their mind back to the subject at hand. “No, it’s fine – it actually helped. Uh, it’s nice to hear…” They trail off, not sure if it would be presumptuous to say, ‘a story similar to mine’. RJ isn’t a war veteran. It’s not the same thing at all. “That is, I uh, really appreciate you… trusting me with this.” There.

Campbell gives them a slight smile, and then ventures, “I’m not sure how well it’ll go with the aftertaste of whiskey, but… can I take you up on that tea?”

“Oh! Sure!” RJ jumps to their feet so quickly they almost upset their chair. They do their best to cover it up by holding the box of tea out to Campbell, who raises his eyebrows. “What kind would you like?”

“Uh… Why don’t you choose,” Campbell suggests.

“Oh, if you’re sure…” RJ looks down at the tea, wondering what kind would be appropriate to give a former-soldier-turned-forger after a heavy conversation about serving under an oppressive regime. They decide to go for vanilla and honey.

As RJ is busy boiling the water again, making another cup for themself at the same time, they realise that Campbell never actually told them how he came to leave the military. They wonder if it would be pushing it to ask him, or whether it would be best to leave the topic alone.

They procrastinate by pouring out the water, then finding a spoon to stir the tea with. “You can leave it in for as long as you want to – three minutes is usually a good amount of time,” they tell him, handing over the mug and the spoon.

“Thanks,” says Campbell appreciatively. “It smells good.”

“You’re welcome.” RJ goes back to pour out their second cup of jasmine green tea. Campbell gives a little chuckle to himself, and RJ looks over, curious.

“Oh, it’s just – I realised that after all that, I never finished my story,” Campbell explains. “But uh, I’m sure you’re sick of hearing-”

“Actually, I was wondering-” RJ begins, and then stops awkwardly. “Uh. That is. I’d like to hear the last part?”

“All right then,” says Campbell. His manner is a little more relaxed than before, and RJ senses that this part of the story is easier for Campbell to tell.

“I served in the military for three more years,” he says, “after the Nreech-Slegga Disaster. I rose up the ranks a little bit – but not that much. I wasn’t great at taking my superiors’ orders without question, especially when they were irrational, stupid orders. A lot of soldiers who started out below me on the pecking order quickly got promoted ahead. But that was fine – I never wanted to be in command. I knew there was all sorts of corruption in the upper ranks of the force – bribery, dirty deals, a comfortable life lived on military funds.

“But the breaking point really came when I was put into a situation that reminded me vividly of the Nreech-Slegga Disaster – a campaign where we were given almost no information about the situation on the ground, and were ordered to go in, guns blazing, and mount an attack. I refused to lead my men in blind – I demanded more information from the officers in command. And when they ordered me to go ahead with the offensive regardless… I left. I couldn’t watch it happen again.”

“Where did you go?” RJ asks.

“I disappeared,” Campbell says simply. “I had an old friend I’d never completely severed ties with who had links to the criminal underworld. Not, uh, Sana,” he adds quickly. “We met later. I went underground with a new identity, and set about methodically erasing every trace of my former life. Officially, I’m listed as Killed in Action during the offensive that I refused to participate in. I honed my skills as a forger at the same time.”

“Did you have, uh…” RJ realises partway through asking the question that it might be an uncomfortable subject – well, another uncomfortable subject. “…family? You don’t have to answer that,” they add awkwardly, but Campbell is nodding.

“My parents had passed away, but I had a brother I’m close to. I wasn’t able to make contact for several years. But now I… see him, occasionally. And his kids, my nephews.” He says the last part softly.

“That must be nice,” RJ says without thinking, and then flushes when Campbell looks at them quizzically. “Um, that is…”

At that moment, the door slides open and a voice says, “Hey, I woke up and I wasn’t sure where you’d – oh! RJ, sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

Sana stands framed in the doorway, wearing loose sleeping clothes, her hair twisted into a side braid. Because she’s Sana, rather than being embarrassed or discomfited, she immediately shifts into Concern Mode. “Is everything all right?” She looks between the two of them, obviously curious as to how they came to be talking in the kitchen.

“Hey, Sana. Everything’s fine, we were… just having tea,” RJ says.

“I think mine’s vanilla and honey,” Campbell adds, lifting his mug. Sana seems tickled by this, grinning broadly.

“All right, well I’ll leave you both to it, if you’d prefer – I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, it’s okay–” RJ says, at the same time as Campbell begins, “Actually, I’d be happy to come back to–”

They both stop, and RJ presses their lips together in amusement and then stands. “I’m gonna head back to my room. It was… really nice talking to you, Mr. Campbell.”

Campbell gives an exasperated huff at being called ‘Mister’, which makes RJ smile. “Likewise,” he says.

“Goodnight, then, RJ,” says Sana, standing to one side so that RJ can get past her. “Don’t be afraid to come and knock if you still can’t sleep.”

RJ nods, though they have no intention of doing anything of the sort. “I will. Oh, and Campbell?”

“Yes?”

“Do you like eggs?”

This throws Campbell for a loop. “Do I… like eggs?”

“For breakfast tomorrow. Sana said there would be some eggs in the supplies we were getting, so I figured I’d make eggs.”

Campbell laughs a little with surprise. “Sure. I’ll eat pretty much anything.”

“Great.” RJ looks back at Campbell. “See you at breakfast.”

What they really mean is:

Thank you.

#TSCOSI #The Strange Case of Starship Iris #RJ McCabe #Ignatius Campbell #Sana Tripathi #Violet Liu #late night tea drinking and heart to hearts #war stories #I want to promise that RJ will get a break from chatting to traumatised war veterans in the next chapter but uhhhh #let's just say I can't promise that quite yet

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neni-has-ascended · 5 years

Text

A question about "Complete Turnabout"

@athena-cykes-ace-attorney:

Hello Nenilein,

I’d been reading “Complete Turnabout” recently and noticed that there haven’t been any updates for a long time. I’ve also played through the beginning of the game. I’ve been getting into writing fanfiction recently and I just wanted to ask if you’re ever returning to writing Ace Attorney Fanfiction. Did Spirit of Justice just completely drive you out of the fandom and the fanfiction? Or are you just done with that part of your writing?

Hello, sorry for the late reply. So, let’s get into this.

I’m a super flighty nature. It often causes me to start projects and then jump to the next, not taking into account how the new project might divert my attention away from the old projects, especially because I find it hard to even force myself to keep my attention on the old project if I have new ideas. It’s a problem I’ve honestly been working to overcome, especially because I never really abandon old projects. I mean it, I still have every single tiny, useless thing I’ve ever started working on in my Dropbox and occasionally randomly pull them up and make new additions to them or edit them, even if the thing has been dormant for years. Complete Turnabout is no exception there,

The big problem with getting back into actively finishing the Fanfic is... Well, there’s several, actually. And yeah, Even though I still actively think about the fic a lot (like with a million other things), it makes it hard to go back. Here they are, most important to least important:

1.) Complete Turnabout no longer matches my current style of writing and doesn’t reflect my skill level.

The Fic represented a huge turning point (ha ha) for me in my “career” (using the term losely) as an author, since this was where, influenced by an important person in my life, I threw out everything I thought about writing before and gradually came to use a completely different style of writing, one which I’ve kept developing to this day. CT reflects a huge part of this transitional phase in my writing. The thing is, I haven’t stopped progressing as a writer ever since I last actively wrote on it. There’s so many things I’ve started and stopped doing, so many techniques I’ve learned and a lot of humor I found funny back in the day now only makes me cringe. It’s not like I find all of CT entirely unreadable now. But the first 10 to 15 chapters are garbage. Unadulterated and absolute trash. You couldn’t force me to write like this anymore these days. So if I wanted to go back to finishing it, I’d feel myself compelled to rewrite half the fanfic from scratch, which would be a massive undertaking and would clash with my already almost non-existence time management abilities.

2.) The in-fic Court Record is fundamentally broken.

To me, a huge part of the fic was the reader’s ability to guess along while reading and feel as if they could actually move around through the settings and throw evidence at places and people like in the series proper. Unfortunately, my inability to update the CR properly has turned this into a mess I was deeply ashamed off at latest by chapter 25. If I wanted to go back and continue the fic I would HAVE to rework this feature of the fic from ground up, maybe even program a little web-page to make it work for everyone or something. I want to do that one day, but right now I am a creative garage stuffed to the brim with unfinished arts and crafts projects and I need to take some time to clean myself out and finally get things in order.

3.) OMFG Spirit of Justice

Yeah, as you correctly guessed, that game was like... the straw that didn’t just break the camel’s back but put the camel into a coma that only the most advanced veterinarian science could possibly retrieve it from. It wouldn’t be so bad if I just didn’t like the game, I mean, there’s a ton of stuff I don’t like in Gyakuten Kenji 2, and I still use its characters and concepts quite prominently and passionately. No, the problem is what Spirit of Justice did to friggin’ Apollo! That friggin’ game messed up his character timeline and underlying motivations so badly, I have no idea how to write around this bullshit stuff anymore. I have no idea what the writers were thinking there, all I know is that this is DEFINITELY not the kind of thing Shu Takumi envisioned when he wrote Apollo’s character. The character was envisioned to be young, passionate, but down-to-earth and an everyman. Spirit of Justice turned him into a fully fledged DanganRonpa character, and not the “Ultimate Luck” type. I have no idea how to work with this!!

4.) I really want to do everything ever, now, immediately, all at once, god, give me 20 arms and 5 more brainssssss

As some people following my antics for some time might have realized I have a teeeeensy problem keeping my priorities straight and tend to start, like, 5 new projects every month. I’m working on a TobyFox-multiverse themed comic right now, wrote a script to an A Hat in Time adaptation comic, I have an ongoing Kingdom Hearts fanfic retelling an alternate universe version of Birth by Sleep, I am working on a Youtube Series about the meaning of the Tarot Arcana as used in the Persona games, I sew 3 Cosplays a year and take part in various nerd competitions, I am working on my final University thesis on the application of religious themes in JRPGs, I have been writing on a novel for 3 years, have started working on several different video game projects with friends (all but one abandoned right now), started and abandoned a web-novel project, I draw, I stream, I play Trading Card Games on Weekends, I am actively looking for a job, and, damn for some dumb reason just a year ago I thought getting myself a pet would be a great idea, too!

If it were up to me, I’d finish all these things. Every last one of them. But as it is, I’m forced to set priorities. Right now, I am working hard to at least bring the most important/recent of these (One of the game projects, my novel, the comic project and my Master’s Thesis) to a satisfying finish. After that, I will pick other ideas back up and work on them. But I really, really, really need to learn to not just start things, but also end them.

It’s been a journey, and it will keep being a journey from here on out. But I’m glad there’s people who love what I do. Making people happy with my creativity is my dream, and I’ll fight to keep making it happen, no matter how much effort it takes.

I thank you for being happy with what I’ve made so far. I thank you with all my heart. Here’s me praying that I will make more things in the future that will make you just as happy. And here’s me praying that I will be disappointing people less by not finishing the things that made them happy in a timely fashion.

That’s what I had to say here. I hope it helps. I am sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear. Honestly, it’s not what I like to hear from myself either...

Still, I thank you, so much,

Many Greetings, Nenilein

#Complete Turnabout #Ace Attorney #Neni Replies #submission

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tonks32 · 5 years

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Inktober #5 - Family

Castle and Beckett from my AM series fanfic.

It was mass chaos in the Castle household. The clock was striking eight in the morning and Beckett nor kids weren’t close to walking out the door. All thanks to the alarm that didn’t go off. Usually, her internal clock would wake her, but they had been out late the night before celebrating the release of Castle’s latest novel.

Beckett slapped the two pieces of breath together squeezing half of the jelly onto her white blouse. “Damn it.” Now she had to go run up the stairs to change.

“That’s a bad word, mommy.” Brianna kindly pointed out.

The Lieutenant glare at her daughter. The five-year-old had insisted on dressing herself this morning and as a result she was wearing her shirt, not only backward but inside out along with mismatched shoes. “I know sweetie.” Beckett bent down to help Brianna turn her shirt right side out. “Mommy is just having a rough morning. Did you let daddy do your hair?”

The girl averted her eyes for a moment, “Yes.”

Beckett arched a brow in response, “are you sure about that?” Her daughter needed to take a lesson from her brothers on the art of lying. Especially if no attempt was even made in the first place.

“Yes?”

“Don’t think so.” Beckett soothed Brianna’s wild wisps of hair, “please let your dad brush your hair while I finish lunches.”

“All right.” Brianna huffed before shuffling out of the kitchen as if her feet were weighed down by cement. There was no doubt that she got the Castle's dramatic flair.

“Boys you have two minutes to get your butts down here before you lose your video games privileges for a week.” The sound of scrambling feet came from the floor above and the familiar sound of the boys’ laughter flowed down the stairs. Thankfully, they were both properly dressed. “Daniel, where is your jacket?”

The boy in question looked startled in the realization that he didn’t actually have it on. For so long he had to wear long sleeves to cover up his bruises that wearing a jacket or sweater was almost like an extension of his skin. Daniel was still adjusting to having a normal life. “I left it upstairs.”

“Go get it.” Beckett softly instructed finally completing the three lunches. “Is your basketball gear in the car?”

“Yes,” Nate assured.

“I’ve got to change my shirt. Make sure you three are waiting by the door.” The instruction was half-muffled as she darted up the stairs. There was a near collision with Daniel at the landing. She was quick to steady him on his feet. With his impaired eyesight, it was very easy for Daniel to run into things. “Sorry honey.”

Daniel took a moment to collect his balance, “I’m good.” He assured with a smile.

Over five minutes later, Beckett was jogging back down the stairs trying to rework the buttons of her fresh blouse. Her three kids and husband were waiting for her ready to go by the front door. Beckett slipped into her coat with the help of Castle. “What time are you done with your book singing?”

Castle gently pulled his wife’s braid from her collar. “If my meeting with Gina today, hopefully, five. Mother will pick up the kids, get them something to eat, and take the boys to their basketball game.” As a parent there should be a reset button to help with these types of days. Coordinating two careers and three children after school activities were enough to cause lots of gray hairs. At least he had a great partner to weather the storm of parenthood with. “Which I’ll meet you at.”

“Sounds good.” No matter how rushed their mornings might be, Beckett always made sure she stopped to give her husband a proper goodbye. She pressed her lips to his and the three children surrounding them groaned in unison. “Don’t let Gina beat you up to much.”

“I’ll try my best.”

They didn’t even make it a foot out the door before Beckett’s cellphone came to life. A quick glance at the screen left her no choice but to answer. “Espo I’m on my way out the door … What do you mean? Is she okay?”

The tone of her voice stopped Castle halfway down the porch steps. He has known her long enough to realize her serious cop tone. Whatever happened needed her attention even though she hardly hit the pavement anymore. “Kate?”

“I’m sorry, Rick.” Beckett pocketed her cellphone. “Lanie needs me down at the morgue ASAP.”

“Say no more.” Castle mentally adjusted schedule. “All right kid-os say goodbye to mom. You guys are stuck with me as your driver.”

Nate let out a disgruntled sigh. “aww man.”

“Hey!”

A smile crossed the boy’s face before giving his mother a hard hug. “Have fun catching the bad guys.”

Beckett had to kneel down to receive Brianna’s goodbye in the form of a kiss. “Bye.” Daniel snuck in a kiss as well.“Love you.”

“Love you too mom.” Daniel darted off after his sister as soon as the last word was out of his mouth.

Beckett found herself stunned into a stupor.

“Mom?” Castle softly echoed a smile working across his face. “When did that start?”

“Just now.” They had urged the blonde-haired boy on a few occasions that now they were officially his parents he could call them mom and dad if that’s what he wanted. Beckett never pushed it being content that Daniel worked past his apprehension of calling them by their first names. Plus, she never wanted to make Daniel feel like she was trying to take place of his birth mother. So, hearing him call her mom with very little hesitation told her that Daniel was starting to finally realize that this was truly his family and they weren’t going anywhere. Beckett proceeded to sit and start to cry.

Castle did the only thing he could and gathered her against his chest.

After glancing over his shoulder, Daniel looked at Nate, his small brow furrowed. “Did… Did I upset her?”

Nate looked himself. “Nah she’s happy.”

“But she’s crying. I didn’t mean to make her cry.”

Nate heard the panic in her brother’s voice and placed a reassuring hand on Daniel’s shoulder. “Sometimes people cry when they’re happy. I think it’s defiantly a mom thing. She cried buckets at Alexis’s wedding.”

Castle wiped the tears from his wife’s face. “You’re such a great mom, Kate.”

“You’re not mad?” The question was followed by her searching for the answer in his blue eyes. “That he called me mom and you not dad?”

“Far from it.” He had no problem waiting until Daniel reached the same comfort level he had for Beckett. They had made a lot of progress with their adopted son over the last two years and they still had a long road ahead of them. “It makes sense though. You were the first loving parent he had ever known in a long time. He felt safe with you from the very beginning.”

“I love you, Rick.”

“Love you too.” He helped her back on her feet and stole one more kiss, “I’ll see you at the game tonight.”

“And Rick.” Beckett waited until she saw his smiling face, “You’re a great dad.”

#inktober #castle #castle and beckett #kate beckett #Richard castle #writing #mine #AM series

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