#that's why parts of it are unfinished but oh well. it is done enough.

[science-doyourstuff]

My contribution to @thesem and @bigneonrat 's Disco Elysium pinup calendar, which you can check out here! I was assigned Lilienne Carter the Netpicker, who has stolen my heart.

Very grateful to have been a part of the project!

[blackenedsnow]

unwanted(ish) company

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Beetlejuice x Reader

NOTE: New movie’s out! Really like how this turned out so I hope you enjoy!

SUMMARY: After foolishly summoning Beetlejuice, you're now stuck with the infamous ghost in your house. Good job!

PART 2: Here

You really needed to stop messing around with things you didn’t understand. At the time, it had seemed harmless enough—a bit of fun, something to distract you from the dull routine of life. The "summon a spirit" kit you'd bought as a joke had done more than give you a good laugh.

Because now Beetlejuice, the "ghost with the most," had taken up residence in your house, and getting rid of him wasn’t as simple as you’d hoped… you didn’t have the heart to do it.

“So, babe, what’s on the agenda today?” Beetlejuice asked as he sprawled across your couch, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He was dressed in his usual black-and-white striped suit.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Same thing as every day: trying to keep you from fucking up my house.”

Beetlejuice let out a loud cackle, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Oh, come on, where’s your sense of fun? You summoned me, so clearly, you wanted a little excitement in your life.” His grin was wide, sharp, and just a little unsettling.

Yeah, summoning him had definitely been a mistake.

To be fair, it had been an accident. You hadn’t really expected it to work. But one too many mispronounced “Betelgeuse”s later, and the next thing you knew, there was a strange man with wild hair and an even wilder personality wreaking havoc in your home.

And now, a month had gone by, and Beetlejuice was still here. You couldn’t bring yourself to banish him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t done anything too terrible. Annoying, yes. Gross, absolutely. But nothing truly malicious.

Or maybe it was because, in a twisted sort of way, you had grown used to his presence. The house felt less empty with him around, even if he was an obnoxious dead guy.

“Hey, Earth to you,” Beetlejuice snapped his fingers in front of your face, bringing you back to reality. “You daydreaming about me or what?”

“No,” you replied flatly, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “I was just thinking about how much better my life was before you.”

Beetlejuice clutched his chest dramatically. “Ouch, babe, right in the ticker. You sure know how to hurt a guy.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up from the couch, heading toward the kitchen. Beetlejuice, of course, followed right behind you, his boots making a faint thud on the floor with each step.

“You know,” he started, leaning against the counter and watching as you grabbed a glass from the cupboard, “you haven’t actually asked me to leave. You’ve had, what, a month? All you gotta do is say the word a few times.”

You paused, fingers tightening around the glass. He was right. You could have banished him by now. But you hadn’t. You hadn’t even tried.

“Well, you haven’t exactly made it easy,” you muttered, filling the glass with water. “And you never give me any space.”

“Space? What do you need space for, babe? I’m the life of the afterlife. I keep things interesting.”

Beetlejuice grinned at you again, but there was something behind it this time, something less cocky and more curious. He was testing you, as if he was trying to figure out why you hadn’t sent him back to wherever it was ghosts like him came from.

You drank your water, your back turned to him, trying to ignore the way his presence seemed to fill the room. You weren’t sure how to explain it—to him, to yourself. Sure, he was obnoxious, loud, and a bit of a creep, but there was something about having him around that kept the loneliness at bay.

“Don’t you get bored?” you asked suddenly, setting the glass down and turning to face him. “Just hanging around here, doing nothing?”

Beetlejuice chuckled and shrugged, the movement casual. “Eh, beats being stuck in the Netherworld, dealing with bureaucrats and dead people whining about unfinished business. At least here, I’ve got you to keep me company.”

He leaned in a little, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Not to mention, you’re way easier on the eyes than the dead folk.”

You groaned. “God, you’re such a creep.”

“Hey, just calling it like I see it, toots.”

There it was again—that nickname he kept throwing around, as if he was trying to get under your skin. Normally, it worked, but tonight… you just didn’t have the energy to fight it.

You were tired. But at the same time, the idea of being alone again—completely alone—was even more exhausting.

“Alright, fine,” you said, folding your arms and leaning back against the counter. “If you’re gonna stick around, at least try not to destroy the place while I’m asleep. Deal?”

Beetlejuice raised an eyebrow, a slow grin creeping across his face. “Oh? You’re giving me permission to stay? That’s the first time I’ve heard you admit it.”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t say I wanted you here. I just said—”

“Relax, babe, I get it,” he interrupted, pushing off the counter and stepping closer to you. His voice dropped, that ever-present playful tone laced with something almost sincere. “You like having me around, don’tcha? Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

You looked up at him, trying to come up with a retort, but your words caught in your throat. There was something about the way he was looking at you—something less mocking, more… genuine?

“Don’t push it,” you muttered, though your heart wasn’t really in it.

Beetlejuice let out a soft chuckle and stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to get all sentimental on me. But hey—if you ever want to, you know, really cut loose, you know where to find me.”

With that, he winked and disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving you standing there, your heart still racing for reasons you didn’t quite understand.

You sighed, rubbing your temples again. Maybe you were losing it. After all, who else would tolerate a dead guy like Beetlejuice hanging around in their house?

But as you headed back toward the living room, the empty silence that had once filled your home didn’t feel quite as oppressive anymore.

[lucabyte]

i am looking at nohats au 👀 please share more

So! NoHats! I'm going to grab you and use this to ramble. A Lot.

The NoHats AU is @samhainian's it's just that I'm the strange little freak who takes the words said unto me and executes on them. But I can still do a little explainer on what our overall thoughts and vibes are. (And, that we are in fact propping up a little box with some cheese under it here. 🪤 Please (PLEASE) feel free to pick up what we're putting down.)

We're far from the only ones exploring a "what if siffrin fucking died" AU, though the main difference with NoHats is the placement of the death in the timeline. Instead of being 'Mal Du Pays Wins' or 'Act 6 encounter goes horribly wrong', the death is… Just after the (literal) falling action.

(This placement is because Sam is a comic book fan who thus has become used to characters being ripped away at the cruelest times by shitty writers. THANK FUCKING GOD adrienne is not that and isat is delightful yippieee, but, back on topic.)

Giving the party the full understanding of What Happened that you get by putting the death after black hole siffrin, but before the A6 encounter leaves an interesting gap to be filled. See, making Siffrin's death very much not Loop's fault means that… this once again reads (when not read as simply a tragedy...) as the universe doing what it sees fit to fulfull Loop's wish… Thus making Siffrin's death Loop's fault again, but only in their eyes. And only in a way they could express if they were honest about who they were…

And this is where having had excuse to waffle about my general Postcanon Loop thoughts the other day comes in handy, because Sam and I have that as our canon-compliant reading to begin with, NoHats plays off of a lot of the same readings of Loop's character. Namely: Uh Oh Somebody's Lying By Fucking Omission Again. (BECAUSE TO BE FAIR THIS TIME… HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU HANDLE THAT?)

Now, neither Sam nor I are fanfic writers, so this has been a little bit trapped in our heads and DMs (and my unfinished art but,)

But our thoughts on how NoHats like… Goes.

Siffrin's death is peaceful, but that does not mean the aftermath of it is. I can't imagine the party takes it well, especially after understanding the circumstances of the Loops. (And, of note, in A5 where nobody had the discussion on what to do with each other's bodies should something happen…) But I'd imagine it traumabonds them somewhat (understatement of the century) and now knowing how the rest of the party feels, they resolve to travel together for the forseeable future.

The party track down Loop to deliver the terrible news, since they were clearly Siffrin's friend too, and invite Loop along to travel at least long enough to (let them grieve) get the burial over with. Loop, here, can be helpful in knowing what Siffrin would've wanted where the party would be at a loss. Loop, I think, takes a bit of a lead on the funerary aspects of it all, because, um. (Performing rites on your own body, huh?)

Then, as things are after a death, life just… Kind of has to continue on as normal. The party travel, pick up Nille, and get to know Loop as this mysterious new person. Maybe in this situation they might stay in Bambouche for a while to give Bonnie more stability since. They are probably taking it the worst. It would've come out of absolutely nowhere for everyone in the party obviously but god, for a kid? For A Kid?

It should be stated NoHats is not intended to be grimdark, just y'know. An exploration of grief. This is also why it's got a bit of a lopsided focus on Bonnie vs the rest of the party because hhrrhghghhghghhhghhghhh <- incoherent

Now, a crossroads.

How does the party discover Loop to be Siffrin? How long does it take. How much have the party embraced them as part of the family (especially with something as intense to bond over as this)?

There's the Odile option. Have her put it together and have to bring it up somehow. This could also be done by Isabeau, perhaps. He's smart. (which. God. If anything's the real Isabeau Torment Nexus it's this)

Then there's the other option batted around by Sam and I. The: The Universe Dislikes Duplicates option.

The items in the house that fzzt away when inspected. The Universe doesn't like there to be two of something, at least not when they're acknowledged. But one of something is just fine…?

Which is to say. I'm not a personal proponent of 'Loop getting their body back'. EXCEPT …… except this one time.

There's only one Siffrin now, so they don't need to be obfuscated to exist.

Consider, if you will. Loop swallowing their guilt for long enough to be comfortable. Falling back into old habits. Without another Siffrin around to compete for the niche of, they actually begin to act like Siffrin again. Not intentionally, it's just… The party is as welcoming as they've always been. And the party swears they keep catching glimpses of a face under all the light.

Then, one day, while still not fully human again, the resemblence becomes undeniable. Loop having not even noticed until everyone looks at them like they've seen a ghost.

Has it been months? How long have they kept up this lie? Is it even a lie, to them? They're Loop. But they were, once, Siffrin.

Even after explaining it, does that make it better or worse?

Bonnie cuts through the betrayed, struck-nerve reactions with a sobering "I missed you."

… Anyway !

Yeah so that's the vibe for NoHats. As for LoopLoops? That's more nebulous. I think it can go anywhere really in the NoHats timeline. I err personally toward the "Loop continuously replays the last 10 minutes before Siffrin's death almost immediately after they find out and have to parkour their ass up the House in the most distressing situation possible to try and get them to hold on, just please hold on." (Remember! Siffrin can remember the contents of Loop's loop backs in the A6 fight!)

But there is the possibility that this happens months, or worse years down the road. One last Loop back. Throw it all away for the chance to just get that one thing you didn't know you even wanted but now know you NEED.

Misc:

Okay miscellaneous time.

This is where I admit that I have a bunch of unfinished NoHats art that I haven't gotten around to yet because I feel like a right tool being so obviously Loop-Centric with my fancontent (I AM . . I REALISE I AM NOT DOING MUCH TO BEAT THE ALLEGATIONS.) So like if people want to see that please say because euaghghghhfh <- the nervous.

this is like the most fucked up place to do isaloop fr. anyway.

one of Sam's mid-game observations that I'm just going to share for no particular reason is that Bonnie's hair shares a bunch of shapes with Siffrin's. The flick up at the top, the 3 pronged shape of the fringe… just something to think about.

Without 2 Siffrins around to compare each other to it'd likely be a lot harder to notice Loop's similarities. Doesn't mean that those similarities don't sting more in this context though.

If you do NoHats without LoopLoops. The concept of this all fading into memory years down the line while they just have slightly-glowy but otherwise regular Siffrin hanging out is fucked up to think about. Just like real grief. Augh

6. a peek into the original dms as a treat from us

[hello-summ3r]

reader, who is part of task force 141 is wrongly accused of being a traitor. but for some reason, despite all the torture they endured, they still forgive them.

hi guys :D im still quite new to tumblr and this is my first fic im gonna be starting. i have written before on ao3, wattpad, notes (for practise), a failed unfinished book so hopefully this will go well!

writers block may happen at some point because im kinda planning for it to be a series, if not, just a one-part fic. chances are, i wont have the energy to proof-read so if there are mistakes, please dont mind it :)

i got this idea from @ghostslittlegf . i have reblogged the post that they made that gave me the inspiration. <3

anyways, enough rambling, enjoy! <33

!tw! : t0rture, mentions of g0re, abvse, swearing, foul language, manipulation

part 1

it wasn't you. not your fault.

days pass, and all sense of time was lost for you. you don't know how long you have been bound to this chair for, and the same nauseating scent of old blood and soil was not making it any better.

the task force placed you in a holding cell underground. the entire place was empty; it was just you, and the chilling, hollow echoes of whatever slight movement you bore from the tight knots gnawing at your wrists and ankles. your skin was blistering from the constant friction of the jagged ropes and stinging. fear was eating you alive, consuming more and more of you as each day passed. hell, it felt like an eternity down here.

the task force, the previous week, had encountered a leak in information that meant the entire team was put under danger. they were sure it was someone within the base, as nobody else would just have access to such private information.

one day, you were just in the gym training when a few men took you aside, captain price at their heels. his eyes were dark and you could see levels of anger rising inside him. you were confused, obviously. had you done anything wrong? no, you hadn't. the next thing you knew, you were here. bound and restricted.

but you didn't do anything?

"you will tell us the truth, is that clear?" price spat as he bent down to meet your eye-level. behind him were 3 other people with pistols in their hand, loaded. you couldn't make out their faces as it was dimly lit.

"truth? what do you mean?" you question, utterly confused and a little scared of this situation. your eyes dart around the cell. you've never been down here before, and everything seems so foreign. the walls were slightly cracked, the large bricks uneven in placement. moss grew from the cracks, and the stench of wet soil creeped into your nose. it was cold and damp, and disgusting. these were the holding cells you never wanted to go down into, yet here you were, forced to be in one as a prisoner.

"dont play dumb." price sneered, his face closer to yours. you backed away instinctively, looking away to avoid his gaze.

"i really don't know what you mean..." you reply with some thought whilst slightly shaking your head, trying to make sense of this whole situation. price grabs at the arm-rests of the chair with some force. it startles you but you listen to him carefully.

"we know you betrayed us. that information that got leaked? yeah, well now the entire base is in danger. we're sabotaged, all because one little birdie decided to run their traitor mouths to enemy bases." he says, sing-songingly on the last part.

your eyes widen a little at such an accusation. never would you even think of betraying the task force. they were like family to you, and the accusation sickened you deeply. even the thought was sickening. "what? you're accusing me? but why!? what's your evidence?" you desperately pry for answers. all this was so sudden.

"oh, evidence? there's plenty of evidence, sweetheart." he replies, a sarcastic and irritated chuckle woven into his speech. he stands back up and looks back at the men behind him. he nods and they walk towards you.

"what? price...what are they doing?" you cry, your voice shaking and unstable out of fear. you watch as one walks behind you, the other two standing in front on either side. price walks away, pulling the cell door open and leaving.

"price? price! captain!" you yell, but no-one answers other than your screams that reverberate emptily off the cold, damp stone.

you wake to the sound of your cell door sliding open. it slams forcefully when it reaches the other side, which jolts you back into your senses. you blink away your exhaustion and look up at the dark figure that walks towards you. you try make out their face, and distinguish them as simon.

"simon...is that you?" you weakly mutter. your body was on the edge of breaking from the week-long physical and mental torture you had to endure.

he doesn't say anything and just walks towards you. his demeanor seemed calm and stoic but you knew what was about to happen. you took a deep breath to the best of your ability, your ribs hurting in the process, as you anticipated what he was going to do to you.

"listen, we've been a'this for a week now. you still refuse to tell us the truth. we've been too gentle with you. now, tell us the truth. or else i'll 'ave to resort to more...brutal ways." he stared at you, his gaze of pure rage that he managed to keep controlled.

"i'm innocent...i truly have nothing to say." you mumble, knowing it wasn't going to change anything.

suddenly, you feel the brute force of simon's fist against your cheek. you go limp at the pain of the punch, but you bite back tears.

"tell. me. the. truth." he demands, his voice becoming more stern and loud.

"i really don't have anything...i promise you the evidence against me are forged, and the accusations are false!" you whine, voice breaking.

another punch.

"i forgive you all for this...once you find out i'm truly innocent." you mumble with a sob in your voice, a warm, twitching smile on your face as tears brim in your eyes.

simon's eyes only narrow at you.

"i don't give a shit for whatever trickery you're pulling right now. i want the truth! so spit it out!" he demands again, just below a yell. you look away as you try contain your tears from the pain.

"i wont hesitate you batter you right now. i won't go easy like i did before, just a harsh hit here and there. tell the truth! the truth!" he yells this time, but you stay silent. your lip quivers as you try think of what to say, as you truly had no 'truth' to confess. you're not the traitor, you're innocent.

another hard blow hits your face, then another, and another. the abuse slowly turns into a result of his anger. simon had his denials, but the evidence changed his mind immediately. he was mad, infuriated that you betrayed the entire team, or at least, he thought.

"i'll forgive you, i promise." you choke under your breaking breath, trickles of blood running down from your nose and mouth.

"the truth!" he yells again before delivering another hit.

"i'll forgive you all...no matter what."

[handsupinthebalorclub]

Anagapesis (Chapter 9)

pairing: the shield x reader

word count: 2,337

summary: Anagapesis (n.) no longer feeling any affection for something or someone you once loved. After three years, you’re officially the manager of the Shield once again. But, things aren’t quite the same as they used to be.

warnings: cursing, mentions of betrayal, trust issues

playlist: spotify

Author's Note: It's been awhile! But, here's part 9

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five /chapter six / chapter seven / chapter eight / chapter nine

_____________________________________________________________

“Oh come on, can’t you pretend to be happy? Just for a moment?” Roman asked from your position inside of the ring. 

“No.” You grumbled. This earned you an amused look from Michael Cole, who would be overseeing that night’s contract signings. 

You hated signings. With a passion. Every signing you have been to, whether it be for the Shield or any other client, has turned out to be a mess. To make matters worse, you had to attend two today. Dean swiveled in the black office chair towards you in order to make a comment, but before he could, The Bar’s music overtook the speakers. Dean turned back around and clasped his hands together on the table. 

The pair walked down the ramp, showing off their titles as they did so. Once they reached the ring, Roman lowered himself into the seat next to Dean. You stayed off to the side, hoping that for once in their lives, the guys could be their own mouthpiece. 

That tactic actually seemed like it was going to work, shockingly. You watched in awe as Sheamus and Cesaro, the first team to sign, picked up their pens. You had actually anticipated this interaction being a lot more mentally taxing. 

Well, that was until any dreams of a simple signing went out the window the moment Dean leaned over and whispered something, very loudly and obnoxiously, to Roman. 

“How many cans of hairspray do you think it takes for Sheamus to get his hair like that?” This off-hand comment was enough for Sheamus to pause before pressing the pen down onto paper. 

“What?” 

 Dean acted as if he didn’t hear Sheamus’ question and continued. “Do you think Cesaro helps him? Probably, right? That’s cute. Why don’t you help me do my hair?”

Roman attempted to suppress a smile. You, on the other hand, had to resist the urge to hit Dean upside the head for prolonging this. Cesaro now looked up with creased brows, also with an unfinished signature in front of him. 

“Is this some sort of strategy?” He asked. Dean finally decided to acknowledge them and leant back into his seat.

“I dunno. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Who knows?” 

“Crazy asshole,” Sheamus mumbled. 

“You think I’m crazy?” Dean placed a hand over his chest in offense. “You two think you’re going to actually hold onto those titles. Calling me crazy, sheesh. You’re the crazy ones.” This was enough for Sheamus to suck his teeth and stare down at Dean. Feeling the tension, you quickly decided to intervene. The moment you stepped forward, Roman quickly handed the unused microphone that was in his hand to you. 

“Cesaro, Sheamus, I’m so sorry about my client’s behavior. There’s no reason for any action to happen tonight. Let’s save the fight for the Rumble, yeah?” You painted a smile onto your face. It looked as if Sheamus was just about to let it go when Dean turned to face you like he had done before The Bar had gotten there. A smirk was obvious on his face, a clear sign he knew how difficult he was making this for you. You made a mental note to get him back for this. 

“Y/n, there’s no use reasoning with them. They’re obviously delusional.” This was apparently the last straw for Sheamus, who placed his hands upon the table and started to get up. Yet, he was stopped by Cesaro. 

“He’s just trying to get a rise out of you, Sheamy.” Sheamus looked at his counterpart with narrowed eyes, but sat back down. Not even six seconds later, they had both signed the contract. Sheamus, quite harshly, slid the contract to the Shield. Roman quickly signed and gave the paper to Dean, who happily signed his name. You rolled your eyes at the little smiley face Dean had added to the end of his signature. This man… 

When The Bar’s music began to end the segment, you quickly did your best to drag Dean out of the ring to avoid further confrontation. You were pretty sure if he had the chance to, Dean would probably throw a punch for the hell of it. And knowing Roman, he probably wouldn’t have stopped him. Upon arriving at the gorilla, you let out a large sigh. 

“You,” You grumbled while pointing at Dean. “Are the worst.” 

“And?” He laughed. However, you just crossed your arms. “Oh come on, you can’t tell me that wasn’t fun for you! It was fun for Ro! Right, bro? Back me up here.” Dean twisted his body to look at the man who was walking next to him. 

“Hey, don’t bring me into this.” Roman chuckled. You took out your phone and quickly checked the time, realizing that you had to be in Kurt’s office in two minutes. Kurt was kind enough to let you and Jason borrow his office yet again to talk business. 

“I gotta go, have a meeting.” You locked your phone and slipped it into your pocket. 

“With who?” Roman questioned. 

“Marketing. Something about individual merch?” You mentally applauded yourself for a good on the spot lie. “I’ll talk to you guys later. Be good, Dean.” You began to walk away. Dean stood there, looking at your retreating figure with an open mouth. 

“I’m always good!” He called back, causing you to sputter out a laugh. 

* * *

This time, when you entered the office, you made sure to lock it behind you. Of course nothing happened last time, but you knew there was a very large chance a lot of wrestlers were pissed off with their Rumble entrance numbers and wanted to take it up with the general manager. When you turned back around, Jason sat at his father’s desk with a large smile on his face. You apprehensively approached and slowly sat down in one of the folding chairs before him.

“Hey!” Jason beamed. 

              You furrowed your brows.“Hey?” His smile didn’t seem to change. “Can you stop? You’re scaring me.” You commented. Jason’s expression fell as he crossed his arms. 

“Oh come on, I’m just excited! It’s my first Rumble!” 

“I’m scared and I’m not even the one wrestling.” Of course you loved the Rumble, but it was a stressful time. Jason rolled his eyes and kicked his feet up on the table. You had the desire to shoo them off, not sure if Kurt would like him using the desk as his personal foot rest. Yet, you allowed it. 

“So, got any tips on how I can win this thing?” 

“Uh, no.” You laughed. “Rumbles are hard to prepare for. No one knows who’s in or what position. There’s too many variables. You’re on your own this time. Don’t fuck it up, okay?” 

“Hmm, does this mean I don’t have to listen to you yap about foot positions?” 

Your eyes narrowed at him. “I’m trying to help you. Your stance is way too wide when you do front suplexes. You’re going to end up falling on your face one of these days. I saw you almost stumble while picking up Hawkins.” 

“It’s called having some dramatic flair, y/n. Maybe you should try it some time.” Jason jested. 

“No thanks, I’ll stick to being boring,” You commented. At that moment, you felt the familiar buzz of your phone. As usual, it was Seth summoning you to the gorilla. The words ‘I have a plan’ came through not even a second after. You held in a sigh and stood up. “Take your feet off the desk. I’m not sure your dad wants footprints on his documents.” 

“What are you? My mom?” Jason rolled his eyes, but followed your instructions. “Which hound was it?” 

“No, I’m your manager. Seth sent me a text. We have our signing with Brock in a little bit.” You slipped your phone back into your pocket. 

“Ah, the yappy chihuahua,” He smirked. 

“Chihua—I don’t even want to know. I’ll talk to you later.” As you were leaving, you saw Jason put his feet back onto Kurt’s desk. 

* * *

The moment you turned the corner into the gorilla, your eyes locked onto Seth’s figure a little bit down the hall. However, this meant that you almost collided with a very frazzled audio engineer. They gave a rushed apology and briskly walked passed. 

“I almost got knocked over earlier by a tech carrying a huge light,” Seth explained from his position leaning on the wall. “The gorilla is a mess.” 

“Now that you mention it, everyone does seem more stressed today,” You looked around the area to see various people bustling about. “I wonder why?” 

Not even a moment passed before a large commotion could be heard, followed by the sight of Brock Lesnar and a very red faced Paul Heyman. 

“When the Champion says he wants water in his locker room, he means spring water goddamn it!” Paul bellowed as he and Brock pushed through a group of poor stage hands. 

“That answers that question,” Seth answered with crossed arms. 

You held in the urge to sigh and decided to revert the conversation to the topic at hand. “So, what’s this plan that you have?” 

“Hm?” Seth cocked his head to the side for a second. “Oh, I didn’t actually have one. Roman told me that you were in some boring meeting.” 

You stared at Seth, your mouth slightly agape. “Not everyone finds meetings boring, Rollins.” 

He just stood there, unbothered. “So you’re telling me that you were having fun?” 

“And if I was?” You shifted your weight from one side to the other. 

“I’d probably mark you down as clinically insane.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Finn asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee earlier. I’m regretting turning it down.” 

“Once I become the champ, I’ll make sure the locker room is filled with coffee. Anything for the champ, right?”

You couldn’t help but narrow your eyes at him. There was a direct parallel between that statement and Brock storming out of his VIP locker room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Seth asked. 

“Nothing, Rollins. Nothing. Now that you just ruined my schedule and our signing isn’t for another…” You checked the time on your phone. “Fifteen minutes…so, I’ll see you later.” You began walking back in the direction from which you came. 

“Where are you going?” Seth called as he kicked off of the wall. 

“Anywhere but here.” You replied over your shoulder. 

A little while later, you sat at the table within the ring once again. Seth stared down Brock, while your attention was on Paul Heyman, who stood behind Brock’s chair. 

The moment Paul brought the microphone to his lips, you prepared for the onslaught. 

“Miss L/n, this is your last chance to convince your client to step down.” 

“Over the years Rollins has made plenty of dumb decisions, and will probably continue to do so,” This statement made Seth give you an offended expression, which you ignored. “But this is a decision I agree with. Brock Lesnar hasn’t shown up for a title defense in months, which isn’t fair to both our fellow colleagues and the WWE Universe.”

“In order to fight the Champion, you have to earn it. And half of these wrestlers,” he put the term in air quotes, “haven’t. When fans see Brock, and that title, they get excited. They know they're about to get a show. Isn’t that right?” 

The audience gave a weak shout of approval. At that moment, Seth leaned over so that his face was in front of your microphone. You could feel a bead of sweat forming on your brow, him being too close for comfort. 

“I think they would rather see a show every week rather than once a year.” 

Michael Cole silently pushed the contract towards the middle of the table, reminding everyone of the task at hand. Thankfully, Seth grabbed hold of the pen and scribbled his name across the paper.

“You’re making a mistake.” Paul warned. Seth, rather roughly, pushed the document towards Brock. The other man didn’t look too happy when the folder’s corner bumped into his arm. Begrudgingly, he signed as well. 

Before you could reply, a sudden blur of white took over your vision. When you came to, you realized that you were now sitting on the canvas and your nose hurt. A lot. 

You looked around, trying to piece together what had just happened. On the other side of the ring, Seth’s back was pressed against the ropes, his eyes wide and directly on you. The, once upright table, was now flipped over a few inches away from you. When your eyes trailed up to Brock, you saw him with a wide smile. 

Within that instant, the sound of the Shield’s music blasted through the arena. Out of seemingly nowhere, Dean slid into the squared circle and Roman appeared as well. 

“What was that for? Huh?” Dean yelled towards your attacker. He hopped up and down, ready for a fight. Brock threw his hands up and quickly jumped out of the ring. One look from Dean sent Paul scurrying into the same position as his partner. 

“Y/n, you okay?” Roman was suddenly at your side, cupping his hands under your chin so he could get a good look at you. 

“Did…did he just throw the table?” You asked. Roman didn’t respond, still inspecting your face. You curiously brought a hand up to your nose. When you pulled away, the sight of blood on your palm made your heartbeat quicken. 

“Hey, we need a medic!” Roman shouted into the sidelines. 

This seemed to finally awaken the paralyzed Seth, who quickly ran over to your other side. 

“Y/n…” He started, but the words fizzled at the sight of the two medics who had just entered the ring. One handed Roman a towel and instructed him to catch some of the blood. 

This was exactly why you hated signing nights.

[bonny-kookoo]

hii bonny 🤍

i‘m also very curious about what happened in crossroads can you maybe still post what is in your drafts 🥺

This is a random scene from my notes on my phone, set somewhere (I think? It's been a long time since I wrote those notes..) after his (failed) tattoo appointment. It was unfinished, so I cut off the last part of it that was a little scrambled and ended in an open sentence haha.

Only a warning for angst, being drunk and smoking. That's it.

It's not hard to realize that he's not the same person you used to go out with years ago- if not just by the way he visually changed, but also internally.

Still- if you had the ability to open up his chest and repair all the damage done to his back then soft heart, you'd do it in a beat of your very own with no questions asked. Then again, maybe you shouldn't- maybe you should just leave him alone just like you were told to years back. Did it do any good?

Did he grow up well? Are his piercings and tattoos his choice, or were they just a decision of rebellion against his parents after you left?

Had you already fucked him up too much to have someone save him?

"Hey- oh, you're cold." He notices the second his warm hand finds your rather cooled down, naked skin fleetingly, before he sits down next to you on the large rock in Taehyung's backyard. The music is still booming inside the house, and everyone's clearly conversing and having fun- so why is Jungkook out here with you of all people?

Especially after avoiding you like the plague?

"It's fine." You say, pulling your knees up to your chest, heels of your shoes scraping a bit before they find hold on an edge. He runs his fingers through your hair, his cheeks a bit reddened and nose shiny from the alcohol he still holds in his hand, before he sets down the beer bottle into the grass in front of him. "I get a headache from the loud music." You mumble, looking at a frog jumping into a bush. Taehyung fails to really maintain a proper garden- everything's wild and untamed back here, and you actually like the sight.

"I swear he keeps turning it louder every song." Jungkook chuckles, clearing his throat before he pulls out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes- offering you one that you take rather reluctantly. You're not sure when he started to smoke- but you won't question it either, just as much as he doesn't question if you still smoke or not, apparently. "I won't stay much longer. They're getting too wasted for my taste.." He mumbles to himself, before he lights his cigarette- holding out the lighter to you. "Taehyung keeps kissing people on the cheek."

"Well, you're pretty bad already too." You sigh, lighting your own for yourself before you give it back to him-

noticing the pink glued yarn on it, right before he snatches it back to put it into the small cardboard box he stuffs in the front pocket of his blue sweater.

Does he know that he still keeps something of you with himself?

Or did he forget that it was yours years back?

"Not really, no." Jungkook laughs, though he does rub his eyes a little, and it stings because his timing to your thoughts couldn't be anymore painful. "Really. Why do you think I'm drunk?" He accuses with a slightly playful hint in his tone that you don't feel fits the moment.

"Cause you're out here with me." You simply tell him, avoiding eye contact because he's been avoiding you the entire night until now.

"Hm, you have a point." He shrugs, taking a long drag of the cigarette between his fingers before he continues. "I can't handle you when my brain works, I guess." He laughs, and you just silently smoke next to him, watching the ash from it fly off with red sparks every time you flick it off. "I wanna ask you why you left." He says, lowly, seriously, and now you start to feel the cold too.

Or maybe it's just him.

"But I'm not drunk enough to do that." He chuckles, leaning back a little, moving his neck until it cracks- a habit he still has.

"Is that why you're here now?" You ask quietly, worried about his answer, somewhat- but at the same time, you're already scolding yourself for not letting it go. "So I tell you without you having to ask?" You continue nevertheless, brain too fogged up from the amount of alcohol to really sustain the ability to think thoughts quietly it seems like.

"No." He shakes his head, before he huffs out a long drag of smoke. "I just wanna.. pretend? Remember? Fuck." He laughs to himself, face in his hands for a good moment, cigarette burning on it's own tucked between to fingers.

It takes you a moment to realize he's probably crying. Or trying not to. You can't tell.

"Can't you at least say sorry?" He suddenly says, and once his hands are gone from his face, you can finally spot all the lights from the inside of the house behind you reflect in his glassy eyes like they're mirrored. His tears don't fall until he blinks-

then they're gone again, the lights and the tears, frustration replacing all of it, shaking you awake especially when you realize he's looking right at you.

"I can't." You tell him, bottom lip quivering as you keep it together the best you can. "I can... only say sorry for not being able to say sorry." You laugh, and he shakes his head.

"So you just.. left, fucked me over, and you don't regret that at all?" He argues so softly it hurts. It would feel a lot better if he yelled at you- because you can deal with anger, with resentment and all of that, you grew up with it, it's normal-

this isn't. You don't know what to do.

"Never said I didn't regret it." You deny, killing the burning cigarette bud by scratching it over the rock you're sitting on. "...I just can't say sorry for something I.. didn't do." You deny, and at that, he looks at you standing up, hugging yourself, before your heels sink into the soft ground, making you trip-

and him get up too quickly as he stumbles just as much, almost falling into the bushes with you if it wasn't for the flimsy fence your back hits instead, his hands on either side of you, face right next to yours.

"What did they do to you?" He asks, and you want to scream, yell, call police or whatever just to get out of it-

because you can handle him hating you. You're okay with him using you as the villain and reason he ended up mending his relationship with his parents. You can handle being the breaking point of the young Jungkook who finally woke up and realized that his parents and home had always been trying to help him. You can handle that.

But you can't handle tearing all of that apart. Not because he doesn't deserve the truth, but because you won't get a happily ever after anyways.

"They had something to do with it." He keeps going, only slowly giving you space again, and suddenly you want him close again, just so you don't have to look at him. "I know they did-"

"Jungkook-" You start, when you hear the door of the house opening, glass door swinging open, some people laughing as they walk out as well, shattering whatever moment just transpired between you both as you slip right underneath his arm. "I should get home now." You tell him with a tight-lipped somewhat smile, but his face is dangerous.

"Hoseok drives you home, right?" He asks, and you nod, unsure. "Cool." He says, completely catching you off guard as he walks past you. "I'll tell him you wanna go. I'll just go and say bye to Taehyung." He says, making you look after him confused, before you realize.

Hoseok mentioned he'd drop someone off on the way to your place.

And apparently you now know who that someone might be.

[mellowwhumps]

oc introductions!

heyo! now that i’m finally done with june of doom (which was meant to serve as a basic version of this) here’s all my oc introductions! i cannot for the life of me make it sound interesting but hopefully my future content compensates for that…roles are listed from least to most, but may deviate at times since i love role swap!

i’ll make picrews or coloured references like literally any normal creator. someday. soon. (lies)

side note: their personalities do change a lot between AUs since yknow. choices influence actions so yeah!! same yet different love that…as another side not everything i tag as simply “AU'' is just the main one i usually use since that’s the most developed

i really recommend checking their toyhouses since it goes into a lot more detail :3

haley !! 

toyhouse (both original and AU)

quotelist + more in elowen’s quotelist

roles: whumpee-whumper (ex), caretaker

my scrunkly scrimblo…in a way i’d describe him as half living weapon. why half you may ask? because for the first half of his life he was treated as a human and then abruptly in the second half it just. changed. no more nice words. conflict between his ‘home’ and a neighbouring kingdom peaks, war comes, everything ends, though i mostly don’t focus on the war part haha. this guy knows he’s meant to be wielded and used, but just how much of a weapon is he? 

personality wise, he’s not a talker. despite his generally serious demeanour, he’s a much nicer person to be with than the one who raised him, caring about others because he thinks the world should just be kinder, and maybe if he cares enough he can repent for it all.

for the most part he shifts personalities quite widely between aus…

——————

halcyon !!

toyhouse (unfinished)

roles: whumpee (ex), caretaker

from the aforementioned neighbouring kingdom! she serves the queen as the captain of the royal knights, yknow the drill, there’s war and they started it. she’s the type of person who believes in what’s right but also won’t hesitate to rethink if her beliefs are wrong. her story is mostly about dealing with all the hard stuff like Feelings and the Aftermath because nobody likes doing that ew.

she’s trying her best. i respect this behaviour

——————

elowen !!

toyhouse (AU)

quotelist

roles: caretaker turned (reluctant) whumper mostly but no fixed role

the guy that took haley in yeah. he cares. a lot. but sometimes his job matters more. he’s mostly there to drive the plot and then he literally just. dies. but that’s not the end is it? he lives on in haley’s memories, forever an enigma. their relationship is so complicated i wouldn’t do it justice in a short introduction…he’s alive and well in the AU and very relevant though

yes his intentions are good. yes he’s coping with it in the only way he knows how. he does genuinely care. he unwavers in his belief that he wants to give everyone a better life, wants to help more people than he possibly ever could. unfortunately, every decision has its downsides.

——————

ria !!

toyhouse

roles: whumpee (mostly emotionally i swear)

look. okay. i get to use at least one child for my found family agenda. once again i focus on the aftermath rather than anything else so it's mostly emotional whump

rogue. gremlin. she bites (sometimes) (affectionately) but she’s just dealing with how she simply is. she’s like the glue holding it all together as best as she possibly can, because she can’t even come close to understanding how bad it all was and sometimes that’s just better. can and will go through the five stages of grief before admitting that she cares and actually isn’t as independent as she thinks she is.

——————

ida !!

toyhouse (AU)

tiny quotelist (w. yuuto)

roles: whumpee, caretaker, whumper (rarely written)

right now i only have the AU version of him! his story’s about identity and somewhat also breaking free. oh and also semi-doomed yaoi but that’s not the problem here. he has a prosthetic arm and heart but that is 100% not his entire personality and just a few of the burdens he carries!! personality-wise he Does Not Care about restrictions but is also the furthest thing from impulsive when it’s most needed

i’m on a roll so this guy definitely gets more development in my writing than whatever i say here so!! check him out

——————

ibys !!

toyhouse (AU)

roles: whumpee, caretaker

right now i also only have the AU version of them although that and their current design might change someday…his themes are similar to haley (fate + past vs present) but they could not be more different in story and personality despite both being living weapons!! wanted to try a seperate route with them so this happened. they’re so serious but they’re working on it. so yes, since their story is directly intertwined with ida’s, their themes are similarly also about identity!!

the things i have planned for them are definitely more serious and whumpy than my other ocs (yknow. living weapon typical story) but sometimes that’s required for a good ending!! so bear with me and my little scrunkly scrimblo over here i swear they get nice things too

——————

twelve !!

toyhouse (both original and AU)

quotelist

roles: whumpee

verrill and them are from a completely different universe than above^^ (some of my ocs were previously from their home city though)

honestly their story is just based off one of my favourite dystopian literatures but i change it up a little! sorry their quotelist paints them as such a romantic because i sourced most of them when i was obsessed with their crackship…anyway!! damn this guy (gender neutral) can hold so much trauma with photographic memory that’s literally out for war with them

i think the best way to describe them would be dull exterior colourful interior! they hold so much hope in them…no 1 hurt/comfort extraordinaire

——————

verrill !!

toyhouse

quotelist

roles: whumpee/caretaker, pretty balanced

he's an adult he just has chronic babyface from my artstyle rip

the catalyst and the end of it all…this guy has Problems and refuses to deal with them. first attempt at a morally grey character, i suppose? extremely loyal, extremely caring, but only if it’s in his preference. loves playing hero but hates playing hero. walking contradiction. he cannot be described in a few words. he simply cannot.

——————

roles of other characters that might be mentioned (once again, least to most):

mc/emmei: caretaker

naeri: whumpee (90% emotionally) but really just there to drive the story. may/may not use her

cerilux (previously unnamed character no 2): (whumpee), caretaker

unnamed character: “caretaker”, whumper

more by @/lemlem21 | @/qiuthewhumps, a whole load of other characters in a whole load of roles: yuuto, saora, chelo + more

——————

misc. 

oc asks

BECAUSE I WAS TOO SHY TO ASK PEOPLE TO. ASK. SO I JUST DID NEARLY EVERYTHING (please look at this to find out more i spent so much time on this it’s kinda insane) (still unfinished with spontaneous updates because i do whatever i want)

and of course, promoting my other completely unrelated oc introduction post here

——————

anddd that’s it!! thank you for scrolling!! may or may not be extra ocs or content added later on but for now this is my final cast; feel free to send in whatever, whenever! inbox always open to prompts questions musings anything really 💥 please i get so happy if it wasn’t obvious enough by me maxxing out reblog tag limits for things i love pleasepleasepl

——————

update: you can find my masterpost in the read more under my pinned post^^^

[samandmaxmansionplay]

Introduction

What is Sam&Max: Mansion Play?

It’s a project I’ve been thinking about and working on since the beginning of 2023. I started thinking of what Sam&Max game would I make if I had the chance, but I wanted it to be something a bit different from the usual. That’s when I realized Sam&Max had never been on a murder mystery, we had to change that right? Since then I’ve been writing a script and drawing sprites and rooms of the mansion the story takes place in

What’s the story about?

Sam and Max have a very simple mission tonight, simply retrieve a mysterious document, located in the mansion of the owner of a famous toy factory, the billionaire known as Manny Money, who is hosting a big party tonight. What starts as a simple adventure develops into a strange and absurd murder mystery. Since they are here and have no other plans, Sam and Max will try to find out the person who is behind the murder that suddenly took place in the party. Get to know the guests, from an elegant fashion designer to a skeleton supervillain, and many more. Solve puzzles, or at least try to without asking Max for the answer. Play minigames, you have time to have fun in the middle of a murder case. Find the truth, discover the mystery behind this murder, could there be something deeper happening…? Oh well, who cares, just have some fun in this boring winter night

What can we expect from this story?

Hopefully laughs! The big challenge of this project for me is to make a Sam&Max story that feels very close to an actual real Sam&Max story, I know it won’t be perfect, but I want to come close. I’m not the funniest person ever but a couple of lines I’ve written have made me chuckle, I hope they make you chuckle too!

Aside from that, as silly as this adventure is, I hope you’ll get invested in the mystery! Ask yourself what’s going on, be curious as to what will happen next,… your typical murder mystery stuff, but with Sam and Max

There is a little bit of an emotional core to the story and some characters, but overall this is a comedic murder mystery, which I hope you’ll enjoy!

Is this a fangame? Will it be playable?

This is an idea for a fangame but no, it isn’t an actual fangame. I lack the skills to properly make a game, but I would like to use the skills I do have to share this project once it’s done. I am trying to learn more about Adventure Game Studio and perhaps if I’m confident enough I’ll be able to at least make some parts of the story playable, but as of right now I don’t have plans to do that

When will it finished?

I have a lot of the story thought out but there are still a couple of puzzles pieces missing to make the story feel truly complete. I have written a lot, but it still feels like only the 10% of a bigger story

I have almost finished drawing all the rooms of the mansion, there are close to 100 rooms in this project, so I’m happy I’ve almost finished this part

I have drawn a bunch of sprites, but I still need to draw more, included side characters, you’ll meet a lot of guests in this party!

And overall, this is a project I make for fun on my free time, it’s not a job. I’m hoping to finish it someday but it will definitely take time, sadly it will probably take long

If it’s still unfinished, why make this blog?

I’d like to share updates on a separate blog from now on, I think it’s better this way. I’d like to post sprites, parts of the script and even finished scenes from time to time. And besides, it’s close to Halloween so I wanted to make something special, like creating a sideblog for a project of mine

Are Sam and Max a couple in this?

Yes, obviously, I’m trying to write this as close to canon as possible after all

Who is the murderer?

Not even Sam and Max know, so we’re probably doomed

[whoslaurapalmer]

Lost Scenes Thursday! Get to know your favourite authors better. Show five scenes from either abandoned fics where you regret they will never see the light of day, or five scenes from WIPs where you are impatient to see them out there. Long, short, one-liner... it's all good reading. Tag five other authors where you are curious.

!!!! oh!! okay so it should come as a surprise to no one that even after my big post of likely unfinished wips, I STILL HAVE MORE

the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind au that is sadly kind of thematically jumbled that i could never post it but i love the movie very very much and i think about this scene from the au a lot. so bea was trying to erase lemony and this was when they're trying to hide in different parts of her mind to escape him being erased

“oh,” beatrice says.

the house is small, with white siding and little windows where the breeze blows in and ruffles the flower-patterned curtains. the blue door is just as inviting as it always was, the way she almost remembers. the begonias planted right along the edge of the house. the one patch of grass that never grew in as green as the rest. the light grey roof, the brick red chimney. the dark asphalt driveway. the beautiful maples in the backyard, the oak trees lining the rest of the street, tall and shady. the whole neighborhood, calm and quiet. the corner store down the block with the best ice cream she’d ever tasted.

“this is my parent’s house,” beatrice says softly. “i didn’t—i didn’t think i could still remember it.”

“it’s very nice,” lemony says.

“it was,” beatrice whispers. “i loved this house. i knew every single floorboard that creaked and i stepped on them every morning, just to hear the sound. my father had the biggest piano i’d ever seen and he’d teach me how to play after dinner. it was old and my mother would spend hours tuning it.”

“what are we doing outside?” lemony asks.

this is the day, beatrice realizes, all of a sudden. this is the day it happened. this is why i remember.

she bites her lip. “it was today. i was six. i walked home from the corner store and no one was there,” she says. “and then—do you remember how it happened, for you? or do jacques and kit remember it more? i heard jacques insist once that he was able to finish his tea before it happened.”

“i don’t remember much of it,” lemony says. “but i certainly wasn’t allowed to finish mine.”

beatrice sits down on the curb, pulling lemony to sit beside her, and they stare out at the sunlit road.

she squeezes lemony’s hand. “what did your house look like?” she asks. “do you remember?”

lemony sighs. he’s silent for a long time. “we had blue curtains,” he says. “they were softer than average curtains. i used to hide behind them.”

“that,” beatrice says, smiling a little, “is adorable, lemony snicket.”

“i pulled them down one day,” he says, a far-off look in his eyes, “and they made a horrible noise. jacques and kit came running and found me under a pile of curtains. none of us were tall enough to put the curtains back, so we took turns wearing them as a cape.”

beatrice leans against his shoulder. “i used to try on my mother’s heels all the time. i think that’s why i wear them so much now.”

“what do you think would’ve happened,” beatrice asks, “if we hadn’t done this?”

“this?” lemony raises their linked hands. “or the situation about to happen in your house?”

“either,” beatrice says. she doesn’t look at their hands or her house, instead focusing on the cracking asphalt underneath them. “anything.”

lemony sighs. “we wouldn’t have met,” he says. “there’s that.”

beatrice looks up at him. she doesn’t want to ask it, but if she’s going to ask any incarnation of lemony snicket, it might as well be dream lemony. he can’t be any more morose than real life lemony. “should we have met?”

“you always ask the hard questions,” lemony says, “when i always ask the wrong ones.”

and then he’s gone.

beatrice squeezes her eyes shut, hot tears burning at the corners. “don’t leave me here,” she cries, “don’t leave me here—”

this was from a supposed to be short fic about jacques that was getting too miserable and too hard to write even for ME. there's more of this i could share but since the dashboard has been all about jacques and jerome lately --

sometimes, on nights when jacques cannot sleep, he walks through the city. he always winds up by jerome's apartment. jerome leaves all the lights on, because jerome has never had to be scared of anything. jacques is sure he would have, eventually, if jacques hadn't stopped talking to him. he does not regret lying to jerome; he regrets not seeing him anymore. he does not regret leaving jerome; he regrets not seeing him anymore. he does not regret protecting jerome from his life, his organization, the inherent danger in his presence, the fear that he would do something with his own two hands to break jerome's happiness and trust. he regrets not seeing him anymore.

jacques allows himself a moment to be selfish, just a moment. his family means the world to him, but the only person he wants to see is jerome.

he would give anything for jerome’s easy, unbothered company, no obligations, no fragmentary plots, no siblings, no friends, no ghosts, just the two of them. for jerome to smile at him again, for them to talk about mindless things that mattered to them alone. jacques could easily go up into his apartment, use the key he still has, lie again and tell jerome, his business trip was canceled, he won't be leaving the city, everything is fine. everything will be fine. sometimes he stands in front of jerome's door, even, ready to knock. he stands there and listens to jerome move about the apartment, humming off-key.

it wasn’t like they had really been in a relationship, not formally, at least, not like the other couples jacques has witnessed. they’d rarely gone places together, but they had been together, in one apartment or the other, not hidden away at all but just the two of them, seen by each other. they would play card games or trivia because jerome knew everything, all the things that mattered – definitions and geography and individuals and animals. he knew good things.

jerome was too kind. but jerome is smarter than he looks, and just smart enough. he hasn't sent jacques anything. he knows there is something going on, something where it would be better if he wasn't there. he pressed his hand against jacques's before they parted ways, and smiled very gently. jacques would love him even more for being so understanding if it didn't leave such an awful ache in his ribs.

so i have a long-fabled unfinished lemony/olaf fic and ugggg there's so many pieces i want to post from it. i had a hard time picking a piece but here is one of them (and isn't actually lemony/olaf whoops) --

“it’s all fun and games,” esmé says, shrugging, “until your parents die, I guess.”

esmé’s lucky. vfd never found her parents. not that she talks to them or likes them, anyway. but she’s lucky, because her parents were never dangled over her like a threat and a warning and a cage. she’s saying the most horrible things but she has an arm draped loosely over olaf, tapping her nails against his arm while he tries not to lose it into her shoulder.

esmé doesn’t talk like lemony does. she doesn’t get that decimated look on her face when she lights a cigarette, she doesn’t get philosophical about how much they’ve lost or how much of themselves they’re still losing as they fight a battle no one is ever going to win. she doesn’t question fires. she sits just on the edge, a pretty, untouchable thing, who acts for no other reason than just because she can. it’s a miracle she’s not dead, as a matter of fact, with how much she operates outside of vfd.

and lemony would have that devastated but resigned frown, but esme just looks calm and impassive and she doesn’t even care that all olaf wants to do is burn everything down anyway. she just does not care, and he needs someone right now who’s not going to make him feel sick with remorse any more than he already is.

fear spikes through him, spreading out from his stomach.

olaf pulls back, stares at some spot on the wall behind esme’s head, his eyes wide. “what if he knew,” he says quietly. his throat scratches to talk, has been like that for days now.

esmé blinks. “oh, well,” she says, “i don’t think he knew. who tells leonard anything, anyway? no, I know—leland! no, that’s not it, either. it’s a baked good, isn’t—”

olaf grabs her by the arms, pulls her too close against him, pushes his nails into the soft flesh of her biceps. he hates her. he hates every single part of her, every single damn inch, he wants to crush her in his hands. he can just feel the bones in her arms—how much more would it take? what would it take to break esmé genevieve, the way someone broke him? to twist her sideways until she pulled apart, until whatever was in her stopped? “what if he did,” he insists, breathing it into her face.

esme tries to shift in his arms, and he just holds her tighter. she stares at him, a curl of her hair falling into her face. he gets a thrill that there’s a little bit of fear in her eyes as they dart back and forth between his own. “i don’t think he did,” she says, uncharacteristically quiet. “and I don’t think he did it, either. he’s a lot of things but he’s not the type. not now.” she swallows, and then tilts her head back, her hair shifting back around her shoulders. her eyes are dangerous now, staring straight at him. “let go of me, olaf.”

he does, hurling her back into the chair. esmé wastes no time and fixes the sleeves of her dress, her hair, checks her makeup in the mirror from her purse. olaf walks away from her, but he can feel her eyes following him around the room.

“well? what are you going to do?” she asks.

i think last time i posted about my incredibly shattering lemonberry ice post-opera fic?? i think? did i?? idk i can't find the post. there's so much i love in it too but idk if it will ever really truly pull together. anyway this is another piece of that

bertrand is gone for weeks, trekking up the mortmain mountains in the middle of summer with the sugar bowl. summer is yellow-gold and hot and beatrice makes it hurt, turning on all the fans and standing in the middle of them with her skin bared, she imagines bertrand cold and worried so she is too. cool orange on the ice cubes in her glass, blinding white in the sun on the floor, falling across her feet. she keeps scrambling through her apartment in the middle of the night, throwing everything out of every drawer, checking for the things that are missing, reminding herself bertrand packed everything right. gold in the morning on the spaces in the bookcases, the gaps in her desk where bertrand kept his notes. yellow like a flame on the wall where the grappling hook was supposed to be and beatrice yanks the curtains shut.

the nights are too long. lemony paces on the terrace in the dark when he thinks she’s asleep. the only way she knows lemony is even out there is the little orange glow from the cigarette in his mouth. beatrice creaks one of the terrace doors open, leaning against it.

“it’s cold out here,” beatrice says quietly. it is. it’s a chilly night for july. beatrice shivers, her whole body shaking.

the glow flickers, and a thin line of smoke rises up. beatrice watches it drift and disappear in the darkness, like the evidence of a fire disappearing, like lemony falling through her fingers. her stomach twists, her hand clenching tight around the door handle. “I hate it when you do that.”

she can just barely see the edge of his face. he takes the cigarette and crushes it in his hand.

do anything for me, huh. the words are right there against her tongue and she almost says them. the longer she waits, the more sour they taste inside her. the hold he thinks she has on him is a tenuous thing. he looks at her like the whole world is in her eyes, instead of – that dark awful black beatrice feels when she thinks too much, sticking to her insides.

“what are you thinking?” beatrice asks, so she doesn’t have to keep thinking herself.

he’s silent, but beatrice knows he’s looking at her.

“was it necessary?” lemony whispers.

“what?”

“was it necessary, to steal it from esme?”

beatrice jerks back. she feels like glass, too thin and too fragile, cracking out from the middle in uncontrolled spirals. “fuck you,” she grits out, and she turns and stalks back into the apartment, slamming the terrace door behind her.

OKAY SOMETHING SILLY also to the surprise of no one, i do have a very large document of lemonberry ice funtimes. and it started with a fic i never finished where 1) bea and bertrand are performing in my silence knot 2) lemony wrote my silent knot 3) this is the last performance of the play in the city before they go on tour 4) the three of them are trying to sneak in as much sex as possible before b+b leave, which means, in between scenes

The next break sees them in the same closet, because, well, why not be consistent, Beatrice figures. They spend their whole lives being purposefully vague about every other location, the least they can do is pick the same closet again. They are practically a part of this closet now, anyway, or at least Lemony is. Beatrice thinks he stayed there the whole time, sitting on the floor until their scenes were over, patient and disheveled and contemplating the universe (The Lemony Standard, trademark pending).

“How,” Beatrice says, “are you supposed to write a review of Bertrand and my’s excellent acting if you aren’t even in the audience?”

“I already have a leg up on everyone else,” he says, which is true, because his foot is balanced on the opposite wall and it’s giving Beatrice an excellent amount of leverage where she’s sprawled over him. “I wrote the play myself.”

[s4pphic-sh3nan1gans]

Welp I just re-read Zame, si čisti dopamin because of your WIP post even though it ends on a cliffhanger and I shouldn't do that to myself😭😭😭 please tell me Bojan ends up kissing him

awwww thank you so much for re-reading!!! I know cliffhangers kinda make me wanna tear my hair out, so I'm immensely sorry for leaving it on one for so long aksjsksh 😭

so, I had a dive deep into my notes app and I realised that I actually wrote a decent amount of the final chapter?! like... over 1000 words?!?! which I was NOT expecting at all. it just makes me wonder why I lost motivation, usually if I have a big chunk of something done it just makes me want to finish it even more but gosh, idk 😭 sooooo perhaps I should finally finish it after all these months? 👀 it seems like a tragedy to leave it as is.

anyways, for your commendable bravery of reading an unfinished fic, I now gift to youuuuu (drumroll pleeeeease) the start of the final chapter, so far unseen... until now! enjoy 😌

Chapter 5 - Have I ever told you?

The next couple of days raced by for Bojan. Of course, he spent most of his time simply with Jere enjoying his company, but also getting to know his friends and being taken sightseeing around Finland.

If he was being perfectly honest with himself, a solid (and embarrassing) 70% of the time was spent over-thinking every single interaction and wondering if his sentiments were returned, and how he would even begin to bring it up.

(And if the other 30% was spent stealing glances and touches whenever he could... well. That was no one else's business but his.)

The day of the Tavastia concert was finally upon them, and Bojan had never felt so much anticipation in all his life. He simply could not wait for the atmosphere that he knew would feel like liquid electricity injected straight into his veins, heightened even more when he would step out onto stage with Jere, to a crowd not expecting him.

And yet... something was nagging at the back of Bojan's mind. Because as much as he was looking forward to sharing a stage with Jere - with Käärijä - it was also tainted by the fact he knew that he wore his heart on his sleeve and was as easy to read as a book. Maybe not by Jere himself, (because that man had proved himself to be clueless even at the best of times) but by the hundreds of people watching, and the countless thousands more inevitably watching videos online afterwards.

He knew that the fans were perceptive, and he knew that he didn't trust himself enough to keep his reactions and his goddamn smiles under control whenever he's around Jere, and as much as he might try, he knew there would be absolutely nothing he could do about it. To his eternal annoyance, he was in way too deep.

However, despite his worrying, a part of him really didn't care. It was highly likely that any embarrassing, lovesick moments on his part would be seen as a performance, simply fan-service and nothing more... but that simultaneously filled another part of him with dread and nausea, as he feared that is how Jere himself would view their antics. Playing it up for the crowd. Evoking reactions. Getting people talking.

"Bojan?"

He jumped. Jere was looking straight at him and... oh. He was shirtless. Clearly, Bojan had been too inside his own head to even notice him losing an item of clothing. Great, and now he was staring.

ask me about one of my wips!

[winryofresembool]

Birthdays (a Jily one-shot)

A/N: Happy birthday to James Potter, who is currently celebrating his 63th birthday with his wife, son, daughter-in-law and 3 grandkids ♥

Summary: glimpses to four of James' birthdays during his Hogwarts years from Lily's point of view

Words: 2032

rating: T for suggestive language in the last part

@jilymicrofics

AO3

...

27.3.1972

When Lily stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room, she wondered why the people in there were being so loud. Louder than usual, that was, and that was quite a lot considering the fact that Lily suspected the Gryffindor house was the loudest of them all in general. When she was looking for the source of the ruckus, in the center of attention she found the two boys that had been the bane of her existence for 6 whole months already. Black and Potter.

“What’s going on?” She walked to her friend Mary who was sitting on an armchair quite far from the boys.

“Oh, it’s Potter’s birthday.” Her friend waved her hand dismissively. “Apparently her parents sent him a new broomstick… Some Nimbus or whatever, apparently it’s a brand new model and only professional players have managed to get those so far.”

“But first years aren’t supposed to have their own broomsticks, right?” Lily questioned.

“Nope, we are not,” Mary confirmed. “But I just heard him bragging that he’ll keep it hidden in his dorm and fly at night and McGonagall won’t know a thing. Sure, as if everyone in our house won’t be talking about it in the Great Hall and all… He’s going to have it taken away before he manages to say ‘Quidditch’.”

“Well, serves him right if that happens. Anyway, I think I’m going to head to bed,” Lily yawned. “I’ve had a long day and Merlin knows no one can focus in this noise.”

“Alright. I’ll join you soon,” Mary said, showing her the unfinished essay she had been working on.

Lily nodded and turned to leave. Before she got to the stairs, though, she heard someone yell at her. “Oi, Evans!”

Slowly, Lily turned towards the voice.

“Yes, Potter?”

“Are you not gonna wish me a happy birthday? And admire my new broomstick?” He had a hopeful smile on his face.

Lily rolled her eyes.

“I think you and your broom already have enough admirers as it is. And after what you did on my birthday I kind of feel like skipping the pleasantries.”

“I told you I was sorry!” James exclaimed with frustration. “I swear I hadn’t meant for you to get into that trap…”

“Well, I did end up in it anyway. Now, excuse me, I’m feeling pretty tired, so…”

She got into the stairs and didn’t look back as she started climbing towards her dorm. If she had done that, she would have noticed that James’s earlier excitement had faded somewhat. Not long after she had disappeared he took the broomstick into his dorm and no longer boasted about it to the other students.

…

27.3.1976

“Why are you not in the Common Room? It’s almost curfew already,” Mary noted when she found Lily in the library, doing her homework there at almost 9 PM.

“You know what day it is,” Lily simply grumbled as a response.

“Hmm? A Wednesday?” Mary pretended to not know what Lily was talking about.

“It’s Potter’s birthday.”

“Yeah? What about it?” Mary smirked.

Lily rubbed her forehead tiredly. “It’s always unbearable in the Common Room on his birthdays. Everyone is being completely nuts and he just keeps boasting about his presents…”

“Actually…” Mary started, “he and his friends left already. They said there was somewhere they needed to be tonight so they cut the party short this time.”

Lily shook her head. “Right, I bet they went to Hogsmeade through one of those secret passages of theirs and are currently trying to make Madam Rosmerta sell them alcohol.”

“That’s what I would have guessed too,” Mary admitted, “except that apparently Remus is having one of those sick days of his again and I happened to see James, Sirius and Peter heading towards the hospital wing when I was looking for you.”

That stopped Lily from making more snarky remarks about Potter. She had for a good while had a suspicion about Remus’ condition but she still hadn’t gotten a confirmation for it. However, it just so happened that she had checked the current moon phase for an astrology assignment earlier that day and she was very well aware it was full moon that night. But if Remus really was what she thought he was… how did the others manage to be close to him and not get hurt?

“That’s… too bad. About Remus, of course. Hope he’s feeling better soon, the poor guy is sick so often… Anyway, since the party has died down, I suppose I can go back to the Common Room with you…”

“It’s not like you have a choice; Pince is about to kick us out any minute now," Mary pointed out.

Lily chuckled. “I can be pretty convincing! But… I’m not feeling like trying my luck tonight,” she mumbled as she noticed the woman in question glaring at the girls from behind her desk.

The girls left the library, but as they were making their way to the Gryffindor Tower, James Potter was running down the staircase towards the entrance hall.

Lily wasn’t quite sure what made her do it, but before he got too far, she yelled: “Hey, Potter!”

James stopped, looking surprised by the interruption.

“Alright, Evans?”

“Yeah, I just… um, wanted to tell you happy birthday. Oh, and tell Remus I wish him a speedy recovery.”

A small smile spread on his face. “Thanks. And will do.”

“How do you…” Lily started to ask, but then she changed her mind. “Er, never mind. You seemed to be in a hurry so… go ahead.”

James still seemed a bit confused. “You’re not going to take points for me for being out of our Common Room at this hour?”

It was only then that Lily even remembered she indeed was a Prefect.

“I’m going to make an exception this time. Just this once, though. Take it as a birthday gift, or something.”

“Thanks, Evans.” Then James glanced at his clock. “So, I better going. But I’ll see you two around.”

“See you,” Lily gave him a small wave before she turned to the other direction. Mary gave her a weird look.

“What was that about?”

“What? I can’t wish a classmate a happy birthday?”

Mary shook her head. “You can… just that, a moment ago you were pretty adamant on avoiding his birthday altogether.”

“Whatever,” Lily said coolly and started talking about something else to stop Mary from teasing her mercilessly.

…

27.3.1977

“Is this from one of you lads?” James asked his three friends after an owl had stopped in front of him and dropped a square package in his lap. They were having their breakfast a few seats away from Lily and her friends, just close enough for her to listen to the conversation.

“No,” all of them shook their heads.

“All of us already gave you presents in the dorm, how many presents do you expect us to give you?” Sirius asked as James started ripping off the paper.

“Well, it’s my sweet seventeenth and all…” he said nonchalantly before focusing his attention back to his gift. It was a brown leather covered book with a golden snitch imprinted in the middle. “Quidditch Through The Ages!” he gasped. “I’ve been asking my parents to buy me this for years... I wonder if this is from them…”

He searched for a note that would reveal who had sent the book but found nothing.

“So strange… I don’t think this is from my parents; they would have left a note… And besides, they already gave me this watch.” He raised his hand so his friends could see the old, golden watch around his wrist better.

“Maybe you have a secret admirer,” Sirius smirked, and Lily could have sworn his eyes flicked towards her for a moment before turning back to the book. Suddenly her face felt very warm.

“You think so?” James asked skeptically.

“I do,” Sirius nodded solemnly.

“I hope I find out who it was… This is a rare edition, must have cost quite a bit…”

Lily was not about to tell him that she had used almost all of the money she had been hoping to use during her next Hogsmeade trip for that single book. She couldn’t help but notice some knowing looks from both her friends and Sirius in her direction, but chose to ignore them.

"It was you, wasn't it?" Mary muttered some minutes later as she and Lily were leaving the Great Hall.

"I was what?" Lily asked innocently.

"You're the one who bought James that book," Mary accused.

"So what if I was? He gave me a copy of Pride and Prejudice for my birthday; apparently his mum had recommended it. Besides, he's actually been quite decent this year..."

Mary just rolled her eyes. "You two really are so dense..."

…

27.3.1978

“Happy Birthday, James.”

Lily was waiting for him near the bottom of the stairs that led to the boys’ dorms. When he spotted her, he jumped over the last few steps and instantly pulled her closer, locking their lips in a way that would probably have made Sirius tell them to get a room, but luckily the young man in question was still happily asleep in his dorm. Once they had to break the kiss to get some air in their lungs, James breathed:

“Thanks, Lils. I have to say, this birthday already kicks last year’s arse, and last year was pretty solid, so…”

“I take it you really like snogging me,” she grinned at him teasingly.

“’Liking’ doesn’t even begin to describe it, Evans. I don’t think I could ever get bored of it. Shame that we have basic needs for things like oxygen and food and water because otherwise I would probably never stop doing it.”

Lily snorted. “Big words, Potter. But lucky for you, I have taken my entire evening off today… You know how in the Muggle world 18 is often the important age in terms of getting more rights and responsibilities… It’s worth celebrating, right?”

“Certainly,” James agreed. “How are you planning to celebrate it?”

Lily gave him a mischievous look. “I have to admit, after giving you that book last year I had a hard time deciding how to top it…”

James’ mouth opened in surprise. “Wait, what? It was you who gave me that book?”

“I thought you knew,” Lily said sheepishly. “Yes, it was me. I got really lucky because apparently it was the last one they had. To be honest, I had no idea they were that popular…”

“To think that you went through such trouble to get it and we weren’t even together yet… You never cease to amaze me, Evans.”

“Don’t say that before you hear about my plans for today.” She reached for his tie, pretending to straighten it even though it was really just an excuse for her to stay close to him.

“Well, now I really need to hear them as soon as possible,” James demanded.

Lily quickly glanced around to see that no one else was in hearing distance. “There might be an after party on the seventh floor, near a certain tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy… But only you are invited.”

“The Room of Requirement?” James’s eyes darkened, remembering the few times they had snuck there after finishing their patrolling. “Hmm, I might have to tell the boys to cut the party short, in that case…”

Suddenly Lily was feeling a bit bashful. “I don’t want you to feel pressured to leave, though… You should have fun with the others too.”

James took her face into his hands. “Hey, there’s no place I’d rather be than with you. Believe me, they’ll understand. As a matter of fact, I’m fairly certain Sirius would kick my arse if I stood you up.”

Lily chuckled at that. “Good to hear. The word is there will be treacle tarts in the after party so it would be such a shame if you missed that.”

James kissed her again. “Can’t have that happen, then.”

[tillman]

Embarrassed asking this bc I've been following for a hot minute now and still don't know anything haha--where would I start if I were to look into reading abt Lancelot and Galehaut?

NO ITS OK LOL medieval lit is fucking insane especially getting into it with no background here is my brief spiel: <- said before i ended up typing 800 words. sorry.

medieval lit is complex and extremely hard to approach. let alone that most translations work under the assumption the only people to ever read them would be academics with a background in medieval lit, getting into and reading it is a challenge. if u have an interest and dont want to have to brave one of the longest and most complex stories written in medieval french and translated by many many people into english, im happy to say the story of galehaut and lancelot has enough influence to have a pretty decent modern english retelling of the main beats in Lancelot and the Lord of the Distant Isles. (my pdf here, tho copies are really easy to find in bookstores and stuff this is only from 2007). It takes the main story of the vulgate and condenses it down to focus on just the love story of galehaut and lancelot. its pretty fun. the liberties it takes are slight and work for telling a coherent story.

Now, if you have read it, or want the real Galehaut experience, heres whats up, medieval texts and modern poems undercut:

Galehaut is in 5. i think maybe 6 medieval stories total. youre in for a treat as this is maybe the shortest "i want to get into arthuriana and i like this character where do i start?!" list possible besides like. drian the gay. or some other fucking nobody.

The main one, again, is the Vulgate Cycle. This is the main old french tale that inspired a looot of other arthurian works all over Europe. Its huge. Im not done scanning it BUT, i am done scanning the section Galehaut appears in, the beginning, because i got depressed after that lol. (Heres my scan of part 1, part 2 is on my website im too lazy to get both links).

From there, you got the most detailed explanation of the story of Galehaut, and can read the more fun shit and whacky shit with him and Lancelot in it YAY. Heres what i got pdfed on me rn:

Biggest one to note is he has a side role in Thomas Malory's Le Morte D'Arthur. Nothing huge, and they do mix him up with Galahad at one point? but hes there. No one should read the original text its such a slog so heres Keith Baines awesome rendition

In other bad middle english texts, Lancelot of the Laik Book 3 has Galehaut, but its unfinished and also. only in middle english. fun footnote, dont read it. one day ill post my translation of book 3 alone LOL.

Short and sweet Galehaut is in The Old Knight, the greek text we have. he tries to fight for palamides and lancelot and tristan then try to fight for him. its cute. the old knight is an odd little thing just had to bring it up LOL (had to download a pdf for this one the site i read the article on before doesnt seem to be up.... just scroll to the bottom!) <- thisll be up on my website soon i forgot it i guess

Now for the funniest reveal: Galehaut plays more of a role in Tristania than Arthuriana most of the time (well. the arthurian branch of tristania im not getting into this rn). Why is Galehaut and Lancelots relationship expanded upon only here? only god can answer that.

Here is the Tavola Ritonda. Its one of the oddest texts i know of. Medieval italian. Very Very brutal. BUT. has some really interesting Galehaut takes and moments hidden in the . whatever is happening in this fucking text. its long as hell but mentioning for fun. (pdfff)

aand more interestingly. Here is the Belarussian translation of that. Which is even fucking weirder. mostly different plot, still has lots of really cute galehaut moments including the bit he asks tristan to join his and lancelots marriage. oh well i love the povest. (and heres that pdf)

Now. this is the wild card round. Heres the weird shit and the Hovey.

If you can brave French. modern french not old dont worry, Pierre Sala has Tristan et Lancelot. an exceptionally fucking weird story. Galehaut does make a slight appearance but mostly, keyley, funnierly, his evil german cousin is a recurring villain for a few chapters. its weird. its fun. its french. (pdf)

and finally. this one is on its own level, here is my dedication to Richard Hovey. one of the greatest poets of 1885 or whenever he wrote his arthurian stuff. He was gay. he famously called himself the american oscar wilde (and maybe met him at a party? one time we found a source saying they made out at a party.). and he wrote one of the only poems featuring galehaut i know.

well ok its a collection of dramas. and galehaut is not the focus. but he is a main character and he is insane. I recommend reading literally all his works hes a fucking amazing poet, you can even find his other poetry online easily. but heres his list of works on the camelot project. oh my god read richard hovey. please . hes my favorite poet.

[poisonhemloc]

i've been fighting brain to cooperate and its not going the best it could go so uh have two chunks of writing

'Poison these read as unfinished' they kinda are I was just fleshing people out

“That’s interesting.” Slate focused on the Hearthian- the hatchling, really, they were definitely still living with someone- currently poking at the malfunctioning radio in the truck.

“What’s wrong?” They could fix the radio themself, but technically Feldspar and Gossan owned these trucks and Feldspar had insisted on calling an independent tech after two CDs got chewed up. 

“There’s a bit in here that’s destroying the CDs, wild. It must have gotten jarred loose in a weird way, it looks deliberate.” Slate watched them very carefully, waiting for the follow up “you said you do all the maintenance on these, did you-?” But it didn’t come. 

“Do you have a diagram of this radio and all?” 

“Somewhere. Why?”

“There’s like, extra parts in here, I think. Wild.” The hatchling dug around in the backpack they brought. “I can fix it, if you take it out of the truck and give me a week, but Feldspar wanted a fast fix, and I think that’s this.” They held up a cable. “Just bypass the player entirely, they can hook a phone up to this. At least until there’s time to let me take the player out.” 

Slate watched them for a second longer than they should- the unwavering little smile was good enough, they probably wouldn’t point fingers- and nodded. “Sounds good, Potch, I’ll pass that along.”

“I’ll call Feldspar later to tell them, I think I missed their call window.” They hopped down from the truck and looked up at Slate. “But otherwise I think I’m done for today! The cable can stay in the truck ‘til they’re ready for a more permanent fix.” The light behind them gave a little iridescent outline to the freckles scattered across their face and arms. 

“Thanks, Potch. I’ll keep your number in case something else happens.”

~

Granite and Hal walked into the tattoo shop, Granite calm, Hal anxious.

“It’s just color.”

“I know, I know, it’s fine, just-“

“Hal?” A hatchling appeared from the back- just a normal Hearthian, except, they’d managed to avoid any of the little jagged injuries every Hearthian Granite had ever met got in their ears growing up. 

“I’m Hal.” 

“Magalor is just cleaning everything, xe’ll be right up. Go ahead and take a seat.” 

“Okay, thanks.” They didn’t vanish into the back again, but turned to look at Granite. 

“Moral support?”

“Yeah.” 

“Thought so.” They looked like they’d add something for a moment, but didn’t, and walked back to whatever they were doing. 

Magalor appeared after a minute. “Hal, good to see you. Come right back.” They looked down and grinned, feathers shifting. “Granite, are we getting you into my chair anytime soon?”

“Maybe, but, not right now.”

“Fair, fair, come along.”

“Do you have a new apprentice?”

“Oh, Chrys? Not a new apprentice, but they’re only here part time.” A blink, as xe pulled on gloves. “We’re working on their people skills.”

“…is that-“

“Excellent artist, tends to make judgements of people and never change their mind. I will convince them of the benefits of change in time.”

“Don’t you do permanent art on people’s skin?”

“Well, yes, however, there is always a time where someone may wish to change or cover up or redo a tattoo. Or even have it removed. There is very little in life that is always unchanging and they do not like that.”

[thebeckster]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @emeraldhazeart, thank you so much!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

85 total, across 2 separate accounts and including some ~Secret Works~ (aka Anonymous fics) that aren't listed on my main work count.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

1,147,857. I have been writing for a very long time and my posts on AO3 go back to my earliest fics from ~2008.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The bulk of my fics are either Star Wars, Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons, and Rune Factory. But I've been known to dabble in other fandoms when the muse strikes.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Gonna focus on my main account because otherwise I know at least half of the list would be [Redacted] (because ~secret works~)

Wells of Silence (Star Wars)

Aggressive Negotiations (Star Wars)

[Redacted] (Star Wars)

Among Scuttled Ships and Scrap (Star Wars/The Bad Batch)

How Far Ahead The Road Has Gone (The Hobbit)

It comes as absolutely no surprise to me that all of my top 5 fics from from Enormous fandoms

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I love responding to comments. If anything just to thank the people who take the time to read and comment on my stuff. But I also love engaging in conversations with readers! I try to respond to every comment, but sometimes I just don't have the time/energy/spoons when it comes in, and then it falls through the swiss cheese holes in my brain and goes unanswered (but never forgotten).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Maybe it's recency bias, but Fated comes to the top of my mind. Soulmates who spend almost all their lives separated and come together only to be fated to kill each other? The angst was just So Delicious.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh man, a lot of my fluffy oneshots have happy endings. It's tough trying to pick one with the Happiest ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not to my face.

Realistically and statistically I'm fully aware that my writing is not somebody's cup of tea. Just by the numbers I know someone isn't going to like something about my stories. But anyone who is unhappy is at least gracious enough to not be mean to my face or in places where I could find the hate.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Only once. And I think I overcompensated a lot with angst. Smut isn't why I read or write fanfiction, and while I thought it fit well and was necessary for the one story I wrote it was an interesting exercise. I might include smut in future stories, I don't know, it's not entirely off the table, but I'd probably just stick closer to the M/PG13 cutaways and implications.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really. Beyond characters from different installments of a franchise/universe interacting when they don't in canon (which I don't count as a crossover).

The closest I've gotten is doing a Rune Factory Star Wars AU recently for a fun little one shot. But again, it included RF characters in the SW universe, and no SW characters so I'm still not counting that as a true Crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so, no.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I've done other collaborations but never a full co-writing. I think one could be lots of fun though!

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I don't really have one. I'm a pretty fluid shipper, I'll ship anyone with anyone if it compels me. I have a few comfortable oldies I'll fall back on, but I don't think I could rightly say they're an All Time Favorite.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There's some Really Old WIPs that I kinda abandoned from 10+ years ago that I don't think I'll ever get back to. Part of me never wants to give up hope, but I've moved on from the fandom and the muses and they'll probably stay unfinished for all time.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do quite well with taking what could be a 'meh' idea and putting an interesting enough spin on it to make it a story worth telling and reading.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Sticking to a consistent writing schedule and wrangling my muses long enough to finish long projects. My focus is Very Easily broken and I am super susceptible to distractions and chasing the nest shiny ideas. 😭 rip all my wips i was just gonna take a 'short break' from and it's been like a year or longer since the last update.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Unless I have some confidence in the language, or it's a common enough phrase within the fandom that everyone knows what it means, I won't do it. I might translate choice words or phrases when necessary and appropriate. But I'm not subjecting my readers to google translate dialogue. Anyone who is fluent will know it's a bad translation, and for anyone who isn't I'd have to translate back to english anyways.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

If we're going back to before I started really writing fanfiction, but was still doing creative writing in a fandom, it would have been Warriors Cats.

But my first real fanfic was for Jak and Daxter. (And can still be found on my ao3, but oof is it old)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This is a cop out answer, but I genuinely can't pick a favorite. I can find something I love and I'm proud of in every fic I've written. But I'll give into the recency bias and say Tongues & Teeth is still living in my brain rent free even after I wrote it down and posted it.

Tags! No pressure tags, and if I don't tag you and you want to play around, feel free to say I tagged you! @durotoswrites, @thychesters, @lookforanewangle, @aashiyancha, @kindlystrawberry

[adzeisval]

The Perfect Plan

A little emotional whump fic if any is interested.

The plan was perfect. Or at least as close to perfect as a plan to attack an enemy base could be. Drop off locations, extraction points, redundancies in case someone should fall in the ensuing battle. 

All the little details meticulously put into place on the board before the team and gone over in excruciating detail. Which is why Cora was certain that having only eleven extraction locations for a twelve person team was no mistake. 

Cora didn’t blame them, she wasn’t an easy person to get along with and she had spent far longer as an enemy soldier than a friend. Then with the death of a team member only a month ago which had partly been her fault it was no wonder they wanted her dead. Too kind to do it themselves but the desire was clear. 

It probably didn’t matter in the long run; they were going to be outnumbered, things were going to go wrong no matter how well things were planned, and there was a good chance that she would die anyway. That all of them would. 

Still it hurt. She understood, but it hurt. She’d tried her best but it wasn’t enough and once the mission was over they were done with her. There wasn’t a lot of time to dwell on it though, the attack was the next morning. 

Cora stepped off the landing craft with her weapons in hand and mission in mind. 

Against all odds she survived, against all odds it seemed to be going well. Everyone else was likely already being picked up or heading to their extraction points. Cora knew there was a spot outside of the base, high on the hill where she would be able to see if both transports made it and headed toward it. 

The first transport flew by and Cora was glad that some of her friends were alright, she hoped they were all safe on board. 

Cora heard yelling from below on the hill, the enemy was tracking her and when they found her she was sure they would kill her. She might be able to take a couple down with her. She would try to do so. 

No matter what though she couldn’t allow herself to be taken alive. 

The voices were getting closer. Cora heard the second transport, it would probably fly over her before the enemy got her. 

The transport came into view and…it was landing. At first Cora couldn’t move but when the doors of the transport opened she ran. 

The doors shut behind her and they took off as she strapped in. Everyone who was supposed to be there was.

The pilot’s voice came over the headset, “We got everyone! No major injuries!” 

Everyone was cheering on the way out of the transports onto the main ship. Hugging and laughing. The med team took the few injured away to treat their minor wounds. Cora felt numb, and then felt like she might start sobbing. She needed to get away and no one was paying attention to her anyway. 

“Well done Cora, I knew you could do it,” the Captain said. 

Cora tried to say something but the only thing that came out was a broken sob. Once the first one was out she couldn’t stop and she sank to the floor shaking and sobbing. 

The team gathered around her asking her what was wrong, asked her was she wounded, and asked what she needed. 

“I thought…you were done…with me,” she managed, “The…plan.” 

“Oh, oh shit,” Tia said, “I put up the wrong version in training, the unfinished file it didn’t have Cora’s extraction point because it was the last we figured out.” 

Captain knelt right before her, “I would never abandon anyone on my team, and more than that you’re a part of our family now Cora, have been for a long time.” 

“Not that long,” she said miserably. 

“Long enough,” Captain said, “Come on, let’s all get cleaned up and celebrate and help Cora work through this, yes?” 

The team helped Cora to her feet and for the first time in a long time she thought things might be alright.

[thebraxiatelcollection]

ooo drabble prompts! 64, "What's the point in all of this?" for anyone you like from the Gallifrey Gang, please!

Drabble List #8

-

"What's the point? What is the bloody point in all of this-this-" Braxiatel for once, struggled to accumulate a sentence. Normally Narvin would have teased him for it, saying something clever like how a cat finally caught Braxiatel's tongue or an insult he picked up from Ace. But he didn't, his head was pounding like there was a war drum rattling inside his skull.

How much had he and Braxiatel had to drink last night? It had all been a bit of a blur after the second bottle of rich, red Heartshaven wine.

"War?" Narvin suggested helpfully, and he rubbed his temple. He could feel a headache forming. He sniffed.

More likely a migraine.

"War, yes, thank you Narvin." Braxiatel sighed and slumped back in his chair and grimaced. "What's the bloody point of it all? It's a bloody waste if you ask me."

Narvin agreed with him and he bit his lip for he knew part of the reason why the Time War started in the first place was because of him. Because he didn't have enough belief in Romana. In any of his friends.

But when one had been a spy all of his life, he found it so hard to put trust in anything. Even himself and he knew that was his biggest downfall. "Every war is a waste, Brax. This isn't the first one we've been through."

"Oh don't I know it," Braxiatel huffed, and he picked up a small droid that lay half-unfinished on his desk and began to tamper with it. If there was any doubt about Braxiatel being the Doctor's sibling, all doubt was pushed out of Narvin's mind as he watched fascinated at the way Braxiatel tinkered with the electronics. They had similar mannerisms to each other like the way they were so focused on the device in front of them, the way they sat upright and crossed-legged, and even the glasses. The two had more in common with each other than they realized. "Sonic screwdriver, please Narvin."

"I don't have a sonic screwdriver. If I did, I wouldn't give it to you."

"Sonic lockpick then." Braxiatel corrected and offered his hand out to Narvin in anticipation.

"How did you know-" Narvin protested before he sighed and looked up towards the heavens dejectedly before he pulled out his sonic lockpick from his leather jacket and reluctantly gave it to Braxiatel. "Here."

"When it concerns the Doctor, I know everything. Well, almost everything."

"Of course you do."

"If you had siblings, you would understand. Or cousins, even."

"Fortunately for me, I don't have any siblings so I can't say I share the same sentiment." Narvin squinted as electronic sparks flew out from the droid. He hummed. "Press the red and blue wire together and it's setting 45."

"It's red and green."

"Red and green if you want it to explode on you, be my guest."

"Fine," Braxiatel grunted, but he did ask Narvin asked. He pressed the red and blue wire together and pointed the sonic at it. The droid buzzed about happily, and it shot up into the air before spinning in gentle circles in front of them. It had two small, black robotic eyes which seemed to blink tentatively at the Time-Lord's. "Well, there we have our perfect spy drone. Well done Narvin."

"Oh, thank you."

He slapped him on the back. "One down, a hundred more to go."

Narvin didn't feel as confident after that.