#this was fun to write up a response to

[hedgehog-moss]

I lost one of my chickens :( she was caught and carried away by a fox... I’ve been growing complacent about my chickens’ safety I think because we’ve only had one other attack before, a goshawk that swooped in abruptly (unsuccessfully), but no fox sightings nearby so I’ve been assuming Pandolf was a great deterrent. Which he is, just not foolproof. I’ve talked to some people in town about this and they were pretty philosophical about foxes stealing chickens, like “it’s the tribute we pay to woodland animals, it’s just a few hens here and there.” I don’t begrudge the fox for being a fox, if anything I have a renewed respect for foxes because everyone I talked to proceeded to give me their best / worst fox stories, and most of them involved foxes outsmarting humans (learning people’s habits / timetables, opening latches, faking a limp...) Still I feel terrible for my hen, she was only three. RIP Cordy :( You’ll be remembered fondly... (except by the cats.) I feel bad for the other hen too, who just lost her pal!

When I said that last thing, one of my neighbours jumped on the opportunity to try and convince me again to accept a rooster from him. He had a rooster baby boom last summer and I’ve been telling him for months that I don’t need a rooster, I don’t want to raise chickens I just want eggs, and his new argument was that a rooster would protect my hen (or if it comes to that, would heroically sacrifice himself rather than let the hen be eaten—I’m sceptical...) I asked around for a young hen but there aren’t any to be had in this season, so my remaining one is going to be alone until the spring, and my neighbour said she’d get stressed and male company is better than no company. (I wish I could ask my hen what she wants! Maybe she’s penning A Coop Of One’s Own as we speak.) I said the rooster was more likely to stress her out and harass her and he said nah they’re free ranging all day, it’ll be fine, and he’s young so your adult hen will boss him around. I was like, but then will he be any good at protecting her? etc. etc. and after a while I caved in.

When I told her about this on the phone my mum sighed “you’re terrible at saying no”—excuse me, I said no so many times and the guy just kept ploughing on until he could foist a rooster upon me. I’m good at saying no, other people are terrible at hearing it! I reassured her that I had only agreed to take the rooster for a short probationary period, and if he bothers my hen too much I’ll drive him back to his native farm. My mum was like “Drive him back? look I’m sorry I raised you as a city kid but there’s no need to waste gas on driving a rooster around, I’ll have no qualms about wringing his neck for dinner if he’s more trouble than he’s worth.” The rooster’s fate is not sealed though, if he is anywhere from vaguely useful to not actively problematic I’ll keep him, so we’ll see...!

[mylittleredgirl]

i'm so charmed by the letter trapper gets back from his wife in "kim"

louise mcintyre is hilarious actually

[slavhew]

always covered in your tears and their blood.

[formulapookie]

💛💛

Under the cut to read on tumblr, here to read on Ao3

chapter 1 ; chapter 2

Les fleurs du mal rosquez, 2.1k words

Next race is two weeks later, championship finale, and Marc has been feeling increasingly worse for these past days.

The coughing had gone on almost non-stop, sometimes accompanied by petals, sometimes just a bothersome feeling of suffocation.

He doesn’t precisely know when, but some of the petals have started coming out colored a deep blue now, the yellow still there, perfectly matching Vale’s color scheme.

He had a half thought of reaching out to Vale, telling him about his situation, and telling him how truly hurt he was.

But he ultimately didn’t, he couldn’t - after last time, when he tested on his skin what hate meant he couldn’t bear the thought of being close to Vale without breaking down.

It had only gone worse, from his visit to Vale’s motorhome, he could feel his lungs crush under the pressure of the roots around them.

His brother knew something was wrong but couldn’t say what, Marc hadn’t spoken to him about his problem at all, and much less to his father.

His mother, well she didn’t need any kind of words to know what was happening to him, not after he had yelled at her when he came back and found his room stripped of any kind of reference to Vale, the room who was supposed to be his sanctuary, the room he wanted to photograph and send to Vale to remind him.

Remind him he had been there, had seen it all, reminding him how they had shared his room for more than a night.

And it was all gone, as if it was never there, just a ghost in Marc’s heart.

Marc had yelled so much to her his throat closed, he had begun coughing and gasping for air, until a bunch of petals had come out his mouth, falling to the ground, next to the cardboard boxes where his mother had carefully put away all the collection bikes and the poster.

The cap and the framed picture on top of them, the helmet stored in another box, wrapped so as not to ruin it.

He had cried then, cried so much he barely could breathe, and his mother had just held him, trying to calm him down as more petals made their way out of his lungs.

“per què fa tant mal mare?  Vull que s'aturi, si us plau, necessito que s'aturi”  (Why does it hurt so much mom? I want it to stop, please, I need it to stop)

“perquè estimes amb tot el cor, i la gent no és tan amorosa com tu, Marc” (Because you love with all your heart, and people are not as loving as you, Marc)

“Em fa tant mal que no puc respirar, per què m'odia? Em va dir que m'estimava. Per què m'odia? L'estimo mare, l'estimo” (It hurts so much I can’t breathe, why does he hate me? He told me he loved me. Why does he hate me? I love him mom, I love him)

“Ho sé, ho sé, l'estimes tant que estàs disposat a no sotmetre's a l'operació perquè tens por d'oblidar-lo” (I know, I know, you love him so much you’re willing not to undergo the operation because you’re scared you’ll forget him)

“Només vull que em torni a estimar” (I just want him to love me back)

“Ho sé Marc, ho sé” (I know Marc I know)

He had passed out in his mother’s arms, tears all over his face and lungs burning.

He didn’t understand how Vale could hate him so much after all the promises he made, all the murmured “I love you”s between the sheets, all the sweet glances when he stayed over at Vale’s.

He's preparing for the press con now, quali gone, he had crashed a few minutes to the end, he had trouble getting up, but he had managed to get a few good laps in.

The crash had made him lose breath, the little one he still has.

For a game of sorts, he’s sat next to Vale at the press con, and he hates it.

He’ll see how pathetic he looks like this, how lonely and miserable he is without Vale in his life.

They don’t speak, Vale ignores him completely if not to bad mouth him to the press, who like flies on honey is eager to get the micro expressions on Marc’s unreadable face.

When the journalists turn to Lorenzo for some questions Vale strikes.

It’s calculated, cruel, made to hurt.

“You like helping him uh? You sucked his dick too? Did you go to him and let him fuck you as a thank you for letting him win? Did he fuck you well Marc? I bet you enjoyed his dick so much given how you ran to me immediately after to suck me off”

“Stop it Vale please”

“Ah stop what? I’m having fun here aren’t you? Does he know how you like to be treated like the whore you are?”

Marc can’t hold it anymore, not with the amount of cruelty Vale is throwing his way.

He starts to cough, turning towards Vale, and the petals fall from his lips, they’re of a dark deep blue.

He can’t stay here, he just can't, he has to get out this damn press con now.

Vale is staring at the petals, one of them has landed on his lap. The room has gone silent, one can only hear Marc‘s all-but- hidden coughs as he runs out the room.

The journalists are frozen, Vale rushes out the room.

He doesn’t make it too far before noticing Marc leaning over a bin coughing and puking those fucking yellow and blue petals.

Some of the people standing out of the press con room start to take out phones and cameras to record Marc.

Vale tries to get close to Marc, somehow shield him from the flashing of the phones and the fuckers taking pictures of him, but Marc just pushes him away.

Yells at him to go away.

And Vale is shocked because he never heard Marc yell, much less would he have expected Marc to yell at him.

He tries to get close again, understand if what’s happening is truly what he thinks is happening.

And Marc now just looks like a wounded animal, and he hates it; he hates it even more than being insulted by Vale. He's weak in front of who knows how many people, he’s weak in front of Vale.

He feels one of Vale’s hands on his arms and jerks away with force.

“Don’t touch me!”

He’s crying, face red and his whole body is shivering.

Vale doesn’t really make out what is going on, it’s all too confusing right now.

He only sees a flash of blue, speeding right next to him, and closing the distance to Marc as he’s frozen there.

“Marc let's go away I’m taking you to the medical center come on, let’s go” 

As he focuses back on reality he only understands Lorenzo has come to Marc’s rescue, somehow, and managed to drag him away.

He’s standing there, the flashing of phones disturbing, press con canceled, his mind racing.

He walks back to his motorhome, everyone saw the press con, he avoids talking to people.

Meanwhile Marc has been taken to the med center, he didn’t want to go, he tried to free himself from Jorge’s hold, but the older man just didn’t let go, he was stronger than him in this situation, Marc too debilitated by the illness.

When he arrives at the center he’s shivering, his body is burning, he’s coughed so many times he feels his whole throat scratch and tear at every breath he takes, his lungs feel caged in an intricate maze of roots.

He’s crying and sweating and shivering, he looks like he’s on the verge of a collapse from how much his body is out of his control.

“Marc you have to focus back on where you are I need you to focus on where you are”

The voice of the doctor seems far, as if he’s talking through a glass door.

He somehow manages to get back, resurface to reality.

The coughing stops, for now at least, but the fever is really high, and the tremors are only slightly better.

“Marc, were you aware you were suffering from Hanahaki?”

“Yes”

Marc’s voice sounds so feeble and thin he doesn’t think it’s him doing the talking.

“I need your consent and signature here to have you transported to the hospital for the surgery, we caught it in time luckily, you just need to sign here and I’ll-“ “No” “Marc don’t be stupid sign the damn form” “No” “Marc, you understand the risk you’re putting yourself through?”

“Yes. I can’t - I just can’t forget him, you get it? I know he’ll - with a bit more time he’ll love me back. He’ll love me again. I can’t have the surgery. I have to race tomorrow I have no time”

Jorge is just staring into the void, he can’t believe this kid is wiling to fucking risk his life for what? Valentino Rossi? 

Because no matter the fact Marc has not said his name, he’s got heart eyes for him since they met, and the two of them were all but subtle.

He is willing to sacrifice his health  for a man so egotistical he dares to blame this same kid for ruining his chance at a tenth title?

A kid who for fuck’s sake is willing to endure this inferno just because he can’t think of living without the knowledge of who Vale is?

The same Vale who’s now sitting in his motorhome, on his couch, silent, trying to elaborate what he just saw.

A feeling of guilt is gnawing at his guts, twisting them in a way he doesn’t like in the slightest.

He had been pushed away by Marc. First time in history he was the one who was pushed away, yelled at, distanced.

And it feels fucking horrible.

The door opens slightly, Uccio sneaks in, an ugly looking grin on his face.

“What the fuck did I do Uccio”

There’s silence, the man doesn’t answer, he waits for Vale to finish.

“I - that’s a kid I - he was puking petals fucking God, they were all blue and and yellow I - oh God”

“I don’t think those petals were for you Vale”

At this Vale gets up, he’s angry, and something else Uccio can’t quite figure out.

“Not for me? The fuck do you mean not for me? Yellow and blue remind you of something Uccio? Huh? Maybe I don’t know, MY fucking colours? The ones I’ve been wearing all the time? Why the fuck are you saying shit like this? Why - why did you come to me saying he - he would ruin my championship”

Uccio takes a step back, Vale is too close to him and a bit too angry for his liking.

Every word he speaks is like poison to Vale’s mind and heart, it takes over everything else, over every rational thought.

“There weren’t any yellow petals Vale. Just blue. Blue petals each time he coughed. And look, look how he pushes and yells you away and look how when Lorenzo comes close he melts in his arms. What does blue make you think of?”

“Me, Yamaha for fucks sake”

“Yamaha. But whose one? Look how the coughing stops here, when Lorenzo goes to drag him away”

The sequences playing on the ipad screen are undeniably those Uccio spoke about.

He was sure he had seen yellow petals, he was sure.

Like he was sure Marc wasn’t responsible for the losing of the tenth, until Uccio had shown him proof.

every cough two or three blue petals coming out his mouth, Marc pushing him away, Lorenzo being accepted as a savior.

“The petals are not for you Vale. They’re for Lorenzo. Why else would he have helped him win? Why else would the petals be blue? Why else would he trust only Lorenzo to be close?”

And the little poison Uccio is spreading with his words gets to Vale, it digs its way to his brain, to his heart. 

Marc truly helped Lorenzo win because of a more intricate and complicated relationship between the two.

Marc. Marc wasn’t suffering because of him. He didn’t play a part in it. 

He knows because he was shown evidence.

Like the telemetry. Yes. The telemetry it - it was clear from there.

Marc is not his. Marc can suffer on his own.

Because it’s not his fault after all, if Lorenzo doesn’t love him back.

[yuesya]

Suguru frowns. 

“Gakuganji-gakucho. What do you think you’re doing?” In front of him, the aged principal of the Kyoto jujutsu school tenses. And for good reason –the ire of a Special Grade sorcerer is not something to take lightly, and Suguru does not appreciate the old man attempting to kill Yaga. Who was looking rather decidedly beaten and battered at the moment; if Suguru hadn’t arrived just in the nick of time, then he’d be dead. 

Just the thought of it sends a cold chill down his spine.

“… What are you doing here, Geto?” 

Suguru pauses. His old teacher’s voice is… strange. And not strange as in ‘surprised,’ which would only be reasonable given that Suguru had pretty much suddenly appeared out of thin air here, after solving the puzzle of that complex eightfold imprisoning barrier he’d been trapped in. He hadn’t expected there to be a teleportation mechanism built into the exit, either.

No, Yaga-gakucho’s voice sounds hostile towards him, which makes absolutely no sense. Also, ‘Geto?’ Why is Yaga-gakucho calling him ‘Geto’ and not ‘Suguru’ as he usually does? Why does he look at Suguru as if he’s an enemy? He’d literally just saved his life!

“What do you mean, ‘why are you here?’” Suguru gives his old teacher an unimpressed look. “I’m one of your teachers, where else would I be? Satoru would’ve driven you up the wall a long time ago if I wasn’t here to rein him in.”

Silence. The look that Yaga-gakucho gives him –Suguru can’t quite put his finger on it, but something about it feels wrong, wrong, wrong.

“What’s your angle here?” Yaga-gakucho scowls. “Stop lying. We know what you did at Shibuya! How long are you going to play obtuse?”

Suguru rears back, startled by the vehemence in the older man’s voice. But at the same time, “What do you mean, Shibuya? I’ve been in America for the past two weeks! You were the one who handed the assignment to me!”

“What?”

“What?”

Another silence. This one is much more awkward than the previous, however, and also blatantly ringed with confusion for all parties involved. Even Gakuganji-gakucho.

... It takes awhile to sort things out. Apparently, Suguru hadn’t just teleported back to Japan when he’d solved that puzzle barrier. He’d been fucking teleported to a parallel reality, and the sheer sideways angle of everything here was absolutely mind-boggling. Firstly, he was apparently dead –but also not, because some thousand year-old curse user had hijacked his corpse? Also, the Geto Suguru of this world had gone off his rocker as a third year student and intended to massacre all non-sorcerers in the world in order to create a world without curses, which, just. What??

“Why would they ever do that?” he asks, completely flabbergasted… and just a touch morbidly curious.

Because Amanai had died. Which had then led to the Suguru of this world questioning the worth of non-sorcerers and the purpose of sorcerers –and then, madness.

… In what world was that possible? Zenin Toji had gotten past the terrifying combination of Satoru and Shiki? How?

Suguru frowns pensively. “Amanai Riko is the teacher for second year students in my world. After the mission in our second year, she rejected the merger at the end, and the Tokyo school accepted her as a new student. She traveled with Tsukumo-san for a few years after graduating, then came back to take up a teaching post.”

“I… see.” There’s a complicated note in Yaga-gakucho’s voice, accompanied by something else that’s just slightly wistful. Clearly, he had his own regrets over how that mission to protect the Star Plasma Vessel went in this world. 

Suguru rubs at his forehead. This world… things are currently an utter mess. And Satoru and Shiki were sealed? How? It boggled the mind –Satoru alone was already unstoppable, and together with his sister the two were invincible. Or at least, the closest approximation to invincible that there was. However, from another perspective, it also painted the current situation in a grim light. They were really in some dire straits.

Good thing that Suguru was here to help, and hopefully he’d also be able to find a way back to his own reality where everything made sense, at the end of this mess.

“You know the students are probably going to attack you on sight, right?”

Suguru waves his hand, “It’ll be fine, Yaga-gakucho. I’m a teacher, I can deal with a few enthusiastic students.”

[qcomicsy]

Lately I've only been wishing to grab a comic about my favorite character and just have a genuinely good time reading it.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

Hi hello I watched all of carmilla in a weekend when I was 17 because a student teacher who in retrospect I had a bit of a crush on mentioned that she knew one of the actresses. also I am pretty invested in all your recent vampire stuff because I watched iwtv in 2 days last week because your edit intrigued me

oh hiiii 🫶 thank you for indulging me. thats so cool that you watched iwtv! did it live up to the expectation?

i also watched carmilla at 17! or like, 17-19. i found it when s2 had just started and followed it to the end. did something permanent to my brain but i think it was a good thing. on rewatch now im like, i was right to like this. like it's a solid show, it's good. it has its flaws obviously but it's well written, the emotional moments still get me, i can see why i liked it and i still like it now even when it's not anymore, you know, meeting every need that baby gay me didnt even know they had

what it doesnt reaallyy do though - i dont remember if i posted abt this or if i left it in my drafts but - is explore vampirism as a concept. their subject matter is more lesbianism than vampirism. which is great! thats what they wanted to do and they did it and it's very good. but reading interview with the vampire the book rn im realising how much potential vampires have to be metaphors for like so many things and i started wondering like 'wait, did carmilla just not really engage with it or did it all go over my head'. but it just didnt really engage with it all that much. which again is fine bc that wasnt what they were doing. im glad they were more about the lesbianism than the vampirism

but there's this interesting difference in framing, because in iwtv they keep calling armand 'ancient' right? and emphasising how old he is. and he's like 500? and i was like 'wait isnt carmilla like 400?'. she isnt, shes 340, but still, thats getting there, you know? and we know quite a lot about her history, but kind of just the Big Events. when she was turned, the events of the novella, coffin of blood, silas. thats sort of what we know. but none of the long lonely slog of history day to day you know? with armand i feel like we can really feel how much time everything takes. how every one of those years is made up of single days. with carmilla i dont feel that as much. i keep kind of thinking about daniel, when louis calls him a boy in the first episode, saying "im an old man, with all the triggers that come with it"

because carmilla might look 18 (or mid twenties at this point) but she has lived all that time. shes also seen her native land be claimed by like a succession of ruling powers, right? like armand. shes been buried alive, like louis. when lestat is born, shes already 80 years old, shes lived a whole human lifetime, and the entire adult part of it shes been a vampire. shes lived through 1680-1870 being a lure. i compared her to abigail hobbs in some tags on a post, i dont know if youre familiar with hannibal the tv show, but i do also kinda keep thinking about that comparison

if youre not familiar, in the first episode of hannibal the murderer of the week is this guy garrett jacob hobbs who kills and cannibalises girls who resemble his daughter. and later on it turns out she was made to be his lure. like they'd go places and he'd sent her to the victims to make friends and maybe get them back to their home or smth. not sure if they specified all the details. but that's what carmilla did for mother. and in s2 we hear from mattie that while every couple of decades carmilla had to lure victims for the fish god, she also seemed to just enjoy humans between those times, right? like the doctor, gets lonely, gets a new companion. but we've only sort of got mattie's mocking word for it ("dont eat him, hes a poet! or her, shes got such a wonderful voice. or that one, shes just too pretty to ruin"), we don't know exactly from carmilla's point of view what she was doing or why. if mattie's talking about stuff that happened after the blood coffin, 1950-now, then i think it's a fair assumption based on what carmilla says in the s1 sock puppet show that after she'd figured out what the real situation was and what her role in it was, when she'd started trying to save girls from being sacrificed, that she mightve been doing the same trying to save people from becoming mattie's victims. it's probably more likely that she was just trying to find excuses to stop mattie from sucking someone dry rather than actually having like an aesthetic based morality. but it might be a bit of both. im still trying to figure out what her philosophy actually is, like i dont know what existentialism actually means ghkfjghkj but i will

i also found it pretty striking in the movie when shes turning back into a vampire she says like "this was supposed to be done, you know? the blood lust, the self-loathing, the sleeping tied to a chair in my own bedroom". thats what defines her vampirism, wanting blood and hating yourself for it (the third part is a joke/reference to s1 but also i think meaningful for how she sees her relationship with laura when she IS a vampire. little bit of that 'she will reject me for my monstrousness' shining through). and thats what defines vampirism for lots of vampires across the genre obviously, but i dont know, it struck me. we dont get a lot from carmilla's pov, we know a fair amount about her, but the story is always told through laura. we get laura's diaries, but just snippets here and there from carmilla, what shes thinking, how shes feeling

and i love that shes a philosopher. i love that thats how she seems to try and find something to hold onto, in a world that kind of moves around her, having been murdered, kidnapped, turned and groomed to be a lure on the cusp of adulthood, never having been properly loved (the relationship with her father wasnt good she says in s3, and her mortal mother i dont think has ever been mentioned (like laura's)). the only good relationship she seems to have had for the better part of 3 centuries seems to have been mattie, and mattie seems to love being a vampire. i can imagine carmilla just sort of going along with anything mattie wants to do just because shes so desperate for that friendship. not like, against her will necessarily really. but more like, she hasnt even had the space to develop her own will, you know? and philosophy lets you do that. philosophy gives you frameworks to understand the world and to develop your own opinions on it. and by the 21st century she seems to have developed those opinions, she has a sense of her own values, but shes also still stuck in that same situation. shes jaded and cynical in the face of laura's optimism and strong moral code a lot of the time in s1 because she feels probably pretty powerless. like she does what she can to save some girls but at the end of the day shes scared of her mother and she has nowhere else to go really, right?

i like how she grapples with that over the course of the series, in tandem with laura grappling with her black and white morality. she sort of jumps ship from her mother to laura bc theyve fallen in love, but then laura still stuck in her hero thinking refuses to see her monstrous side. not literally bc i think the biological vampirism never seemed to be a problem for laura, but morally. the having murdered. carmilla needs laura to see that and love her while seeing it bc the last girl she loved rejected her for being a vampire.

but you see her kind of swing back and forth in s2. she softens first with laura but then they break up and she leans back hard into the sarcastic cynic defense mechanisms, leans hard into "im a monster, dont expect heroism from me". but thats like, it's sort of learned helplessness i think. it's powerlessness, resignation. bc morally shes not a monster. maybe she doesnt have as strong a drive to help other people as laura does and is a little more selfishly hedonistic in that she just wants to enjoy her/their life, but she doesnt hurt people for fun, she never has. she just sort of didnt have another option for a Really long time. so she pretends she doesnt care. "im a vampire, this is what i do, this is who i am". but clearly from the way she talks about it when she turns back into one, she doesnt enjoy it

and i like how she goes even further in s3, where she starts swinging even more to the heroic side, bc she sees hope. shes like "wow if we kill my mother, i'd be free". theres hope and she becomes like a lot more active. and shes like that at the start of the movie too, a lot happier, a lot more relaxed, and then vampirism is back and bam depression gfhgkjh like shes immediately more gloomy, ashamed of her past and her self, retreats into herself

sorry i just took this as an opportunity to dump all the carmilla thoughts floating in my head on you. you didnt ask fhkghgjh consider this an open invitation to you or anyone else to come talk to me about carmilla

[wundrousarts]

Hi folks! It seems like people are discovering that there are people online who write some WEIRD! 👎 stuff for Nevermoor. Some tips and tricks for dealing with that:

Don't engage. Don't read the fics. Don't even comment to say how much you hate it.

Don't spread it around. It's gross as hell, I know! But being like "ew, guys, I found this gross fic" just means you're causing more people to seek out said gross fic, and that's just not great. If you don't want to see it, no one else wants to either.

If you can: block, mute, or filter. I don't really use any fanfic sites to know if these functionalities exist, but I'm sure people online have found ways. Edit: here's a way to do it on Ao3.

TL;DR: Ignore, Ignore, Ignore. 👍

(PS: Same thing goes for when people send weird inappropriate anon messages. Just delete them from your inbox and don't subject others to them.)

This is unfortunately something that's been present for years in the fandom, on both Ao3 and Wattpad. This is also why I essentially don't read Nevermoor fics unless they're for Mogtober, and even then I'm cautious. I have seen some weird stuff written about my favorite characters that I wish I could pluck from my brain and set on fire, or worse! But when I stumble across that stuff, I just quickly close the tab and pivot to something else to get my mind off of it.

We should not entertain these types of people in a fandom full of minors about a middle grade series, so: just don't engage with them, ignore them, filter them out, and maybe even drown them out with some fics of your own.

[sharkneto]

hi!!!! I was rereading the shifting mirrors and holding it together since you finished joining together recently (it’s SO good, it’s so so SO good, your writing is always so well done and flows so well) and I had a couple questions. Sorry if this is weird - if you don’t want to answer them feel free to ignore this ask, I’m just curious!

1.) did you start writing joining together while you were still posting holding it together? a lot of the details I noticed in HIT were referenced in JT, and I was just kind of like ‘that’s a LOT of details to remember’ so I was wondering if you were working backwards !!

2.) have you ever thought about what happens at the end of HIT? do you think they would actually end up stopping the apocalypse, or would the commission try to come and correct them? I thought that was interesting - that the commission said they were done with five, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re done with the offshoot timeline ; if they hadn’t interfered prior, that would mean they were still on track for an apocalypse, right ? I like to speculate about this. with sheer strength of will I think that five would probably end up stopping it, mostly because he knows how to work through his rage rather than act on impulse again - and now he has the knowledge to try and connect the others so that viktor doesn’t feel so isolated.

3.) what was your favorite part of writing the story / what kept you motivated to keep it going ? I’ve started a couple chaptered fics, and then I get three or four chapters in and lose it completely.

I love, love, love the world youve created - I love the characters youve built and the personalities behind them. the dedication youve held on to to keep the series going is admirable; I can barely write 20k, much less hundreds of thousands of words. I was actually thinking of asking your permission to maybe write an offshoot of your offshoot (it might be the thing that gets me back into writing for tua) but idk if I’d have the imagination or creativity to make it nearly as compelling and fun as yours. Congratulations and great work on finishing it !! <333

this got long - feel free to ignore it if it’s overstepping or weird, lol !! I hope you’re doing well - have a great night, shark :)

Hey Toby! Glad you enjoyed it all so much and thanks for the kind words! It's a little surreal to have it done, JT has been a WIP almost as long as I've been into TUA.

I started writing JT before HIT. This whole series was supposed to be a Just For Me Fun Project while I rotted alone during the pandemic that I ended up sharing with permission from orsumfenix and encouragement from friends. I was a bit into JT, I think, when I started thinking about how fun it would be to get more siblings in here, and those musing became HIT. HIT got posted first because it had a lower barrier for entry, with more focus on the Hargreeves we know instead of OCs. So, because the stories were written more-or-less simultaneously, it was easy to reference one or set up something for the other. Working forwards and backwards, with the end of JT already written (in a rough draft) when I was writing HIT, so I knew where Rob, Sarah, and Number were coming off of at that point. (The tiny detail I'm most fond of is Allison in HIT noting that Number broke his nose at some point, and then in JT we get to see the stupid scenario in which he broke his nose.)

(rest under a readmore because I ramble)

I do have thoughts on what happens after HIT! More of a time jump, to Number's Apocalypse Week, and I've got words in a WIP started about that (and a few snips shared in my snip tag, although some I think I've changed some of the details, now). It goes... less smoothly than it should, for a guy who has (almost) all the details he needs. If motivation continues, I'll share that eventually. If it doesn't, I'll word-vomit an outline so at least people who are interested can know how it goes down. I don't see the Commission coming back - the people obsessed with Five are dead, and the organization is done with him. They don't have the resources to spare to keep going after him, so at least in Five and Number's timelines, they're out of the Commission's scope.

What kept me going was a combo of things. 2020-2022ish, I had a fuckton of time. I only worked three days a week because of covid protocols, I couldn't go anywhere because of covid, and I couldn't see anyone because of covid. I had four days a week to fill, and a lot of that time got filled with writing - all of HIT and the first draft of JT happened during this time, plus all the other fics I published throughout that time. What kept me going is that I was having a ton of fun writing and fun interacting with other people about my fics. Love, love, love talking about them (so never apologize for an ask like this, every fic writer is begging for an excuse to ramble like this). I liked thinking about the characters, thinking about Number doing mundane things I was doing made them more interesting, I liked thinking about Rob and Sarah's little romcom life, and I'm fascinated by Five's whole deal. My favorite part of writing these is Five (both versions of him) - thinking about him and how he'd react to x or y, how others react to him. I love that, at his core, he's kind of a loser. I love what an incredible vehicle for grief he is. He's a character of all time for me.

How to keep going, I don't have an easy answer for it. Some people outline, so they have the skeleton of what they're doing and where they're going. I'm not one of those people, I have an idea of the general shape and trajectory of the story and go from there, splitting up chapters as needed. I think it's important to not force it, or the writer's block gets worse and then you're stressed about writing instead of having fun with it, and that's no good - the point is to have fun. If you run out of steam, you run out of steam and you have to take a six-month hiatus until life calms down and you have words again (as a hypothetical example). Don't be afraid to poke at other ideas even if you have a giant fic unfinished. For having 25 fics on AO3, I have 35 other WIP files on my computer. Some of them have a couple hundred words, some have tens of thousands of words, some of them I'll come back to finish, some of them I won't. Such is life - some ideas have legs, others don't. I don't set out thinking "Oh this fic is going to be 50k words with 10 chapters". I just write until it feels done; sometimes that's 2k words, sometimes it's almost 200k words. The point I'm trying to make, here, is that we're all just fucking around having fun, and words flow easier when I'm remembering that and not stressing about being done or trying to finish for a self-imposed deadline. You've got it :)

Feel free to write in my little world! Would love to see what others are thinking about, what stuck with them. Just give me (and orsumfenix, if you use Number) a shoutout if you share it! And don't sell yourself short - I'm sure you've got great ideas and the chops to write them out. Don't compare yourself to me; you might write in a world I helped shape, but you've got your own voice and style to give it. I, for one (if you end up writing and sharing it), would love to hear your version of it all :)

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Your writing is so amazing!!! Could we get #14 for shigadabi?

Prompt: heat/Sex pollen/love potion

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Sex Pollen, Fuck or Die, Begging, Dacryphillia, Multiple Orgasms, Handcuffs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dry Humping, Handjobs, Praise Kink, Dub-Con associated with this trope that is recognized by the characters involved and discussed within the narrative followed up by enthusiastic consent.

Everything happens so fast. Goes from a tense but potentially fruitful meeting with a small group of villains who specialize in chemical compounds and weaponry, a contact that Toga and Twice managed to learn about during their time with the Shie Hassaikai. People without resources now that Overhaul has been taken out of the picture and desperate enough to keep doing their research they seemed willing to overlook their part in that. People who, they had been hoping, might be able to expand on the process used to make the quirk erasing bullets that they had also stolen. But negotiations broke down. They didn't even so much as break as implode. Shigaraki isn't even sure exactly what set it off, had been having a relatively civil conversation and then one of the members snapped at their representative. Had been two short, bitter comments and then he had lashed out with his quirk. Doesn't know how their infighting had spilled over and gotten directed at them, but the next thing they knew the League was being rounded on. 

It's an actual genuine surprise when Dabi steps in, moves in front of them as a cloud of pale pink spores are suddenly filling the air and racing towards the rest of them. When he ignites he torches the lot of them and the group of scientists in one massive wall of blue flame. A surprise because he didn't think Dabi really gave a fuck about the rest of them and their continued well-being. Hadn't thought he would ever put himself in harms way like that. But Dabi torches their opposition and then hesitates, smoke curling from his arms. 

"Woah," Toga murmurs, watching the flames eat up the other half of the building. 

"Certainly an impressive display," Compress remarks, "But perhaps we should be taking our leave now?" 

Yeah, absolutely. Do not need to get caught when someone sees the smoke and fire pouring from the building. At least when negotiations broke down this time no one got killed, he thinks bitterly. At least no one got hurt--

Dabi takes a step towards them. He sees it, the slight wobble to his step, starts to move before he even knows why, and then Dabi is dropping. Barely manages to catch him before he hits the floor without accidentally activating his quirk. Shit. Shifts his grip to keep a finger away from his skin. 

"Fuck," the arsonist's voice thin, smoke leaking out from his mouth. Can see sweat starting to bead across his brow and then he's gone, eyes fluttering shut and going limp in his arms. 

"Shit, what happened?" Spinner rushing over to help him try and haul Dabi back onto his feet. No use, not particularly heavy, but completely dead weight. 

"Must have gotten hit with some of whatever that quirk was." He mutters, "Compress," doesn't even really need to ask. They need to leave, dragging around their unconscious companion is not going to help with that. The older man comes over and marbles Dabi immediately. Also will help keep him in stasis as they travel. They regroup and start to move. "Go back to base." He tells the rest of them, the base in question a gutted condemned apartment building for the time being, "Take him to see the doctor."

"Text me when you need him released," Compress tells him easily, 

"And you'll text us when you know what's wrong, right?" Toga's voice a little more worried. Can't blame her. Barely a month since they lost Magne. 

"I will," he reassures her, "Go on." 

They separate and he does his best to make his way towards Ujiko's lab swiftly. 

///

Takes an hour to get to the lab and then another hour of the doctor running tests before they know what's wrong with him. 

Aphrodisiac quirks aren't unheard of. They're not incredibly common and tend to carry a significant stigma given that they can cause public acts of indecency on the low end of damages and can be the source of assault and rampant abuse on the higher end. Can also be fairly deadly depending on the potency of them, with victims sometimes not even being able to remember to eat or drink through the haze of lust. Ujiko tells him this, says that he's put Dabi on an IV to keep him from dying of dehydration, and says that they'll have to wait and see if this version of the quirk will fade on its own or not. Because sometimes they do. Sometimes it's just a matter of letting it run its course and then moving on. But sometimes. Sometimes they won't fade without outside assistance. 

Texts the others and tells them that they're waiting for Dabi to wake up and see the effects of the quirk but doesn't tell them what he was hit with. Doesn't know if Dabi would want anyone to know. Barely sticks around with them when they aren't actively doing a job, hasn't told them anything about himself in the months that he's been working with them, doubts that he would want them to know even an inch of vulnerability now. Still doesn't quite understand why he had gotten in front of them, why he had risked-- and actually gotten-- hit with this quirk to keep them safe. Never seemed to care about their safety before now. 

After three hours it becomes clear that this isn't going to be as easy as just waiting it out. Tomura's not sure exactly when Dabi woke, believes the doctor tried to go in and explain the situation to him before he entirely lost his head, doesn't know how successful he was. Then Ujiko showed him into an observation chamber, in case he needed to check in on the arsonist, and left, actually maintaining his job at the hospital and needing to go to his shift. Told him to check up on Dabi again in another few hours and if it wasn't fading then intervention would probably be necessary to keep him alive. Waits three hours and then checks up on the man. Is shooting out of the chair, going to one of the cabinets of supplies and finding what he needs before making his way to the room Dabi's been put in. 

Smoke is trickling out from beneath the door. 

Enters the room and immediately notices how hot it is, notices that before the choked little sounds of whimpers and moans coming from the bed. Dabi is smoking too, his coat, shirt, and boots pulled off, the air around him shimmering with heat, sweat beaded across his skin. Rutting into a pillow making those desperate, pained little sounds. 

His mouth goes dry and he immediately tries to shake that as he tries to get the other man's attention, approaching the bed carefully. "Dabi,"

Gets a desperate gasp out of the other man, pulling his head up to look at him, pupils blown so wide he can barely see any blue at all, face flushed, mouth open and panting softly. "Duster," a thready little whine. Doesn't expect him to keen softly before surging up to reach for him. Not expecting his hands to close around his forearms and try to pull him down, wonders if he should have realized how absolutely scorching his touch would be even through the long sleeves of his shirt, but the staples across his palms are glowing, and they immediately start to burn through the fabric. 

"Fuck, Dabi your quirk," brought suppression cuffs. Neither he or Ujiko had even thought they would be needed, didn't know that there was a risk of Dabi incinerating himself while under the effects of this quirk. 

"Help?" Desperate and wavering and he feels something tighten sharply behind his ribs. 

"Yeah, come on, just need to let go." 

The other man seems to struggle but manages after a second. Releases his arms and he feels his skin stinging with burns. Can see the holes burned into his sleeves where his staples touched. Barely takes a breath before he's wrapping the cuffs around Dabi's wrists and locking them in place. As soon as they're on, the smoke stops and Dabi all but collapses, forcing him to catch him again as he lets out a loud breathless sound of relief. 

The smoke around the room starts to dissipate and he sees that the heat has burned holes in the thin cot as well, melted the IV bag and evaporated the liquid. Lucky he got to the other man before he'd set the whole room on fire. Winces slightly when Dabi's hands wrap around his forearms again and he pulls. Not expecting it, stumbles. The arsonist uses the momentum to get him onto the bed, pushing him up against the wall before he can shift, 

"Dabi--" 

"Please, please, Duster, please," Has the other man in his lap, can feel his cock straining against his pants as he grinds against his thigh, making his mouth go dry again. Fuck. 

"Dabi, shit, you'll be fine, you just need to get this out of your system--" 

"Can't," never heard the other man sound so broken. "Can't cum, please, Duster, please," 

God fucking damn it. Because if he hasn't been able to get himself off at all then this is the really bad type of aphrodisiac quirk. The kind that will kill him if it stays in his system for too long. The kind that needs assistance to remove. Feels his stomach go hollow as he is suddenly faced with the question of if Dabi would rather die or rather... have him help when he's so out of his head. Dabi can barely tolerate him, they tried to kill each other a few months ago.

"Do you have anyone I can call--" Doesn't know anything about Dabi other than that he is good at his job when he deigns to be around to do it. Could have a significant other, someone he trusts, anyone who could help. 

Shakes his head, whining and rutting against his thigh again. Shigaraki grabs his hips, holding tightly, trying to keep him from doing it again and Dabi keens, "Want you, please," 

Knows it's the quirk talking. Knows Dabi wouldn't ever say that to him. Hates himself for how much he likes it. For how much he's wanted to have Dabi looking at him like this, desperate for his touch, doesn't want it when he knows the other man isn't in his right mind. Is trying to think of literally anything else he can do when Dabi meets his eyes again, when he sees that the other man's are wide and glassy, his whole body trembling, 

"Hurts, please Shig, please. Help?" The last word escaping him on a thin sob. Startles as he starts to cry blood. Crimson tears slipping over his cheeks as he shakes, hands fisted in his shirt and straining against the hold on his hips. 

Fuck. Going to lose his best piece one way or the other. Would rather Dabi be alive to hate him when he goes than gone completely. "...Okay," loosens his grip and gently rocks his thigh up against Dabi's hard cock. Makes the arsonist moan loudly, pressing in closer. Lets him start to ride his thigh, settles into a desperate frantic rhythm, sharp gasps and moans slipping constantly from his lips. Tries to stay still, to keep his own cock from hardening as he has the other man rutting in his lap, face pressed against his neck. Might break hold of the quirk if he can just get off with someone else there. Just let Dabi do this and hopefully he'll be alright. Can't take away the wrongness of all of this, but may be able to ease a little of the filth that's going to cling to his soul afterwards. 

Hears the other man still whimpering, sniffling, feels his tears dripping against his skin. Can't help it, raises a hand and strokes through his hair, "It's fine, you're gonna be fine, baby, come on," Rocks his thigh up against him again. Gets another loud, broken moan against his throat, "Feels good, doesn't it? Come on, be over soon, just have to cum, Dabi." 

Gets another weak nod against his neck as he keeps moving, thrusts going faster, breaths coming in harsh pants. His moans are constant and getting louder, higher, his muscles tightening, must be close--

Dabi's whole body goes rigid as he cums. Tomura lets out a slow breath, pulls his hand from his hair, ready to need to extract himself as the other man's sense returns. Takes a second for Dabi to pull his face from his neck, panting and eyes still hazy. Fuck. Looks so good blissed out with tears clinging to his cheeks. Doesn't even have time to linger on the wrongness of that thought slipping through his mind when Dabi didn't choose to show this to him, before the expression is gone, his brows pulling together for a second, confusion written across his features. Understands at the same time as him, as he doesn't feel Dabi softening at all. Cannot catch a fucking break with this quirk. 

"No," Dabi's little whine makes his chest fucking ache. Shatters his heart when Dabi gives another weak sob. "D-didn't work. Need more, fuck, please Tomura, please, I'm sorry." 

Immediately reaches and cups his face in his hands, trying to brush away the tears and shush him. Trying to comfort him. Didn't even know that would be something so automatic for him. Hadn't ever had to do it for anyone before they'd lost Magne. Definitely isn't any good at it but he'll try for Dabi, for all of them. "Shh, you don't have to apologize, Dabi. It's not your fault," knows that the words can't be trusted but he just needs something if he's going to convince himself to go through with this, "Are you sure you want me to help?" 

Dabi nods desperately, "Please, need you, please Tomura,"

Takes a shaky breath of his own. "Okay, gonna give you what you need." Tries to coax him out of his lap and Dabi clings a little tighter. "Just want to get you undressed, sweetheart, won't that feel good?" Earns another needy sound from the other man and he lets himself be shifted out of his lap and back onto the cot. Doesn't immediately reach to help him with the last bits of his clothes, Dabi struggling to do so himself with the suppression cuffs on, instead reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his gloves. Doesn't usually wear them in bed, usually trusts his control even here, but Dabi is already so desperate, has already grabbed at him a few times. Is already so vulnerable and he is not going to make that any worse by potentially hurting him further with his quirk. 

Gets on his gloves, takes a small breath to steady himself and then reaches to help him with the thick belt and the clasp of his pants. Dabi moans again when he gets them open, when the cooler air of the room touches his hot skin. Wonders if he would literally be on fire if not for the cuffs. Can't really keep stalling and the arsonist lifts his hips eagerly so he can peel the leather away from his long legs. Fuck. Wondered what he would look like naked, prettier than he imagined. Wondered how far the scars would go, didn't know if he expected them to wrap around his legs, stapled together around the middle of his thighs and extending down to his calf on one leg and all the way to his ankle on the other. But there is an expanse of unblemished skin, smeared with his release, glistening with sweat too, his cock flushed and curving up against his stomach, a ladder of six shiny barbells decorating the underside of his length. Feels his own arousal starting to build as he takes in the sight of the other man, especially when Dabi whimpers, 

"Tomura," hips rocking up, looking for anything, and he tears his eyes away from his body and finds Dabi looking back at him, eyes hazy and half-lidded, face flushed, tears still clinging to his cheeks. Swallows and tries to focus. Just needs to get him off, break the quirk. 

Wraps his hand around Dabi's cock, giving him a long slow stroke, palm sliding easily enough when he's already wet with cum. Is aching himself when Dabi moans so loudly, cuffed hands reaching and tangling tight in his shirt as his back arches, head thrown back, the sound tearing from his chest as he starts to rock up into his fist immediately, spreading his legs even wider. Lets Dabi set the pace, lets him fuck into his hand fast and messy. Tries to find what he likes. Figures out from how his voice goes high and whining that he wants him to tug a little at the piercings, that he likes it when he tightens his grip around his base. 

Finds out how badly he wants to be kissed when the hands in his shirt yank him roughly, tugging him down just enough for Dabi to crash their lips together. Doesn't mean to let himself moan softly against the other's lips, but if anything the soft sound makes Dabi more frantic. Lips needy and wanting, tongue flicking out over his, teeth following. And he's too weak to stop him. Opens his mouth, meets his tongue. Kisses Dabi rough and filthy until he's getting familiar with the lingering taste of smoke all over Dabi's tongue and the other man is moaning. Is still kissing him when his body goes rigid again, when he lets out another gut-punched sound of pleasure before his cock is twitching against his palm and he's spilling again. 

"Ah, Tomura, please, more," Doesn't even pause this time, keeps fucking into his hand. Still hard. Fuck. Not enough. Can't help it, presses another kiss to his panting mouth. Dabi cants his hips up again, pulls back so he can look into those pretty, lust-dark eyes, "Inside? Please, want you." Doesn't. Not really. But he's still in danger. Will be until the quirk breaks.  

"Okay," his voice soft and thin. Wishes this was real. Wishes that Dabi really wanted this. Takes his wet hand from around Dabi's cock and he spreads his legs wide so that he can press his fingers to his hole. Blinks, confused, because he's already wet. Shifts so that he can see, and realizes that there's something slick dripping down his thighs, his hole glistening with it. Another effect of the quirk? Doing something to make his body ready for what it would make him crave? Rubs a finger over his hole, smearing the slick, seeing more of it drip out as the ring of muscles twitches against the touch. The whine Dabi makes is going to haunt his dreams after this. 

"Duster," watches Dabi's mouth fall slack as he slowly presses his finger inside. Wet enough he doesn't feel any drag as he sinks into that tight heat, muscles immediately squeezing around him, getting another loud moan as Dabi rocks back. Still tries to go slow, doesn't want to rush here and risk hurting him, uses his other hand to hold his hips so that he can't fuck himself open. Every press of his finger has a little more fluid leaking out of him and after another minute he hesitantly presses in a second finger. Only makes Dabi moan even louder, his fingers knotted in his shirt so tightly that his knuckles are going white, "Ah, Tomura," Starts to work him open more deliberately, crooking his fingers, searching. 

Finds his prostate and Dabi sobs again. Shit, tries to ease off, 

"No, no, more, so good, please, Shig, please," Okay, fuck. Keeps going, watching Dabi fall apart, his cock drooling constantly, tears slipping across his temples. His cock is aching. Doesn't matter, shouldn't be, adds another finger, keeps pressing. Slowly loosens his grip on Dabi's hip, lets him start to fuck himself on his hand. Doesn't take long until he's frantic, moving so fast that the wet slide of it is obscene, competing with the litany of pleasured sounds still falling off his lips. Keeps going until his muscles are squeezing tight around him and he's cumming again. 

Stays hard. 

Sees Dabi grit his teeth, sees him swallow hard, turn his face so it's half hidden against the pillow. Another sob, deeper, coming from his chest in a way that makes his gut so sour, feels hollowed out when he speaks again. "...'m sorry, fuck me, please, need your cock." Voice so small and shaken. Doesn't know what else he can do, doesn't know how long Dabi can stay like this. 

Reaches and wipes away a few more tears. Dabi presses into the touch, eyes squeezing shut. "Alright, baby," Doesn't know what to do with the ache in his chest when Dabi wraps his hand around his wrist to keep him there so he can shift and press a soft kiss to his palm. Only lets go of him when he eases his fingers out of his body and starts to shift to pull himself from his pants. Watches him again with those dark eyes. His cock is aching as he shifts, made all the worse when Dabi moans softly as he sees him, teeth sinking into his lip as he tangles his hands back into his shirt and tries to pull him closer, urging him to go faster. 

Wraps a hand around Dabi's thigh, the other leg hooking around his hip and pulling him closer, until his head is dragging over his hole. Dabi gasps, his whole body trembling, trying to rock against him. Fuck, the friction feels so good. Takes one more breath to steady himself before he starts to press into the tight, wet, heat of the other man's body. Can't help the groan that pulls from his chest as he sinks inside. Swallows him up greedily, Dabi moaning so loudly that his voice cracks, panting harshly when he bottoms out. Means to give him a second to adjust but Dabi doesn't care to wait, immediately starts to roll his hips, making short needy little sounds as he does so, his cock leaking all over his stomach and muscles tightening rhythmically around him. 

Never going to have him again, will be lucky if the other man doesn't light him on fire when this passes. Wants to make it good, wants to help him, wants him. Just once. Lets himself focus on that as he starts to fuck him. Moves a little slower than the frantic twitches of Dabi's hips, makes sure that he's going deep, hitting his prostate. It's an indulgence that he shouldn't allow himself, but he does, lets himself press kisses and little nips along Dabi's jaw and throat as he wraps one hand around his cock and strokes him in time with his thrusts. Has the arsonist moaning even louder, reaching up as best he can to tangle a hand in his hair, starts to pull his mouth away from his skin only to find Dabi dragging him back into a messy kiss. Kisses him back, kisses him with every broken aching hope that he had for this that has been absolutely destroyed. Has the man sobbing against his mouth, kissing him back hard. 

Keeps moving, pleasure building under his skin, surprised that Dabi hasn't cum again. Dripping all over his hand, can feel it leaking out of him with every thrust, fuck, what if this wasn't what he needed to break it? "Dabi,"

"Shig," immediately rocks back against him harder. 

"What do you need sweetheart?" Do anything to stop this for him. To make him better. 

Dabi whimpers, face flushing even darker before he tries to hide against his shoulder, fingers tightening in his shirt. "...More?"

Fucks him harder, moves his hand faster, gets another loud moan pressed against his throat. "That it, baby?" Not expecting the whine he gets at the words too. 

"More," he pleads. Hasn't changed the pace. Takes him a second, 

"Want me to talk to you, Dabi?" Makes the heat in his veins go even sharper when Dabi whimpers, nodding weakly against his neck. "Doing so good for me, baby," he tries, nearly choking on his arousal. Feels how he goes tighter, hears the little moan against his skin again, his hips moving a little more desperately. "That's it, fuck, feel so good, sound so good." Every word a confession he shouldn't be allowed, "Didn't know you could make those sounds, gorgeous." Sounds that are starting to change, short fast little gasps that come each time he sinks into his body. So hot and tight around him that he's feeling his orgasm starting to creep up on him. "Getting close, darling?" 

Another little nod against him and a weak sob. 

"Shh, that's good baby, just need to cum for me. One more time," hopes he's right, hopes the fact that this one has taken so much longer means it's the last, "So pretty when you cum, let me see you one more time, please, baby?" 

"Duster," didn't even know Dabi's voice could go so high and thin. 

Goes even tighter around his cock and he's gasping a moan himself, tangles a hand in Dabi's hair and pulls gently, coaxing him back enough he can look at him again. Almost delirious with his pleasure, whimpers when their eyes meet, blush darkening further. "Beautiful," perfect. 

"Tomura," presses in again, meets him. Kisses him hard as Dabi's body goes rigid one more time, goes so tight around his cock, doesn't even feel him cumming in his hand, can't stop himself from giving two more shallow thrusts before he's sinking as deep as he can and following Dabi over the edge. And then they're not so much as kissing as they are just sharing breaths as they both try to greedily fill their lungs with air. Takes another second before Dabi gives a low, relieved gasp, and Tomura feels him starting to soften. Is only relieved himself a second before everything that just happened starts to settle in him. Broke the quirk. Dabi's not going to die. Doesn't make up for everything else. 

Shifts as gently as he can. The damage is already done but he's still careful as he lets go of him and pulls out. Dabi's eyes are closed, still panting, completely limp against the cot, fuck, okay. Needs to at the very least get him something to drink before he tells him to fuck off or tries to kill him. Starts to move away. Dabi makes a sharp sound, eyes opening, pupils shrunk back to normal, lets him see all of that pretty blue again, and reaches for him, holding onto his shirt. 

"Wait--" Can't help it, his eyes automatically flick back to his cock, but he's not hard again. Meets his eyes again and Dabi is flushing, doesn't stay looking at him for long, "Cuffs." 

Oh. Right. Shit. Didn't grab a key on his way in, doesn't know what the code is. "Right, sorry, hold still." His gloves are filthy and he takes them off as he shifts away from the arsonist, enough that he can sit up. Once they're off Dabi lets him take hold of his wrists, pressing five fingers to the cuffs. They gray and crack, dust falling away from his skin after another second. He pulls his hands away immediately, moving to stand. 

"Just hang on a second, please--" sounds like himself again, but Tomura is confused why he'd reach to catch his sleeve tightly. Hesitates. Dabi still can't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, but fuck, you could at least stick around long enough for me to thank you for saving my life." 

The sickness in his stomach grows. "Don't thank me for that." His voice hoarser than he'd expected. "I wasn't going to let you die, Dabi." 

Dabi lets go of his sleeve, "Right. Sorry." Takes a shaky breath and starts to look for his clothes. "Just give me a second and I'll be out of your hair." 

"No," Shit, definitely lost the right to give him any kind of order after all of that, tries to backtrack, "I'll go, but you need to drink something, and if you can stand being here, wait for the doctor to come back. I don't know if the quirk will have any side effects." Feels like he's trying not to startle an injured animal. "I'll stay as far away as you want, never have to see me again, but at least wait for the doctor to check you over." 

Sees Dabi's jaw clench, a tremor run through him, gives a short tight nod. "Right, okay." Voice tight too. "I'm sorry."

Didn't even know his chest could ache so sharply. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Dabi. This wasn't your fault--"

Not expecting the bark of laughter, short and bitter, Dabi finally shifting to meet his eyes. "That's sweet, Shig, but I literally dragged you into bed. Should've let you leave, shouldn't have touched you." 

Realizes that he's staring at the other man when Dabi starts to move again, going back to looking for his scattered clothes. "How aware were you?" 

Sees his jaw tense again. "...Knew what I was doing, knew I shouldn't. Couldn't stop myself anyway." 

"Because you knew what would happen if you didn't?"

Sees his shoulders hunch in on himself. "Not an excuse. Shouldn't have made you--"

"Dabi," 

"My fault. Got hit, made you stay, saw how hard you were trying not to touch me, made you anyway--" 

"I didn't want to hurt you," barely recognizes his own voice. Doesn't know if it's ever sounded so thin. "Dabi, I didn't want to take advantage of you." Sees the other man tense further. "...I didn't know how aware you were of what was happening. I wouldn't have let you die and I was trying to hold back, to just do what I thought would help break the effect. What I was doing was bad enough, I didn't want to go any further than I had to to help you." Finally gets blue eyes back on him. Shouldn't admit, "Would have been happy to touch you in any other circumstance." 

Really expects to be set on fire for that. But Dabi keeps staring at him. Feels like an eternity passes between them. "...Wouldn't have let anyone else. Would have asked for you if someone else tried to help." 

"You're sure?" Seems like he's all back together again, but he kind of doesn't dare let the hope start to knit back together that aching thing in his chest. 

Dabi flushes, "Yeah, Duster." 

"Okay," too small a word for everything now tangled between them. "Do you want me to leave?" 

"...You don't have to." 

"Not what I asked, Dabi." 

"...no."

"Okay." 

Another long stretch before Dabi mumbles, "... can come back over here if you want." Tempted to ask if he's sure again, only doesn't because Dabi seems to be anticipating the question, "I feel fine now, Shig. Know what I'm saying. Would absolutely tell you to leave or torch you if I didn't want you here. Not gonna die if you leave if you'd rather do that." 

"I don't want to go anywhere, Dabi." Moves back over to the cot and settles on the edge carefully, still searching the arsonist for any sign of discomfort. A light pink blush is dusting his cheeks, gets darker when their eyes meet before Dabi's quickly looking away again. "We would have all been hit if you hadn't stepped in." Could have dropped all of them. Might have been killed, might have burned to death, or been arrested before they even woke up and found out about the rest of it. Dabi saved them. 

He shrugs, sees him chewing on where a staple pierces into his cheek. "Wasn't going to be useless again."

"What are you talking about?" Has been one of their best. Well, if he's going to play favorites, Dabi is the best at his job. Smart, motivated, barely needs any oversight to be effective. There's a reason he lets the other man wander off whenever he chooses, always knows he'll come back when he's called and is more likely to bring something good with him when he does. 

Still not meeting his eyes. "Didn't do a damn thing in Kamino, wasn't even around when you all went to see Overhaul." His voice going tighter, "Could've stopped the bastard before he even lifted a hand--" Takes a breath, sees him exhale a little stream of smoke. "Not going to stand there and let you all get hurt again." 

"Can I kiss you?"

Dabi stiffens, head snapping up to look at him. "What?"

"I want to kiss you, can I?" 

"...yeah," 

Doesn't hesitate, curls a hand around the back of his neck, careful to keep one finger from his skin, and pulls him in. Meant for it to be gentle, starts that way, just a soft press of lips. But then Dabi shifts, moves closer, opens his mouth with a soft sigh as he reaches back. Can wrap his arms around his neck this time without the cuffs on. Keeps him close and Tomura wants to kiss him without guilt souring it. Tastes fresh smoke on Dabi's tongue as he licks into his mouth, feels his whole body go hotter against his as he does, as the other man gives as good as he gets until they're both a little breathless. Dabi who pulls away, blushing hotly, with a mumbled, 

"Fuck, gotta stop," Immediately shifts to let go of him, sees the other man shifting a little, "...Might be finding some of those side effects." Can't help it, his gaze slips lower, sees his cock starting to harden again. 

"Really?"

"Shut up." Bright red across the section of his cheeks that aren't scarred. "Still feel fine, quirk's not out of control just... sensitive I guess." Squirms again and his mouth goes dry, 

"Still getting wet?" 

"Shut up, Duster!" Feels his temperature spike with his embarrassment. "I'm fine, doesn't feel like before. Don't have to--" 

"Want to. Told you, happy to go to bed with you, Dabi. Just need to know you want it too." 

Takes a breath, meets his eyes again. "Want you to fuck me again. Wanted you before this quirk fucked it up." Wraps his hands around Dabi's hips and pulls him into his lap again, 

"Say it again, baby." Breathes it against Dabi's lips as he gently rocks his thigh up between his legs. 

Earns him a sweet, soft moan. "Want you to fuck me, Tomura." Is tangling his fingers in his hair, trying to pull him even closer as he speaks, kisses him as soon as the words are out of his mouth. 

"Give you anything you want, Dabi," barely enough breath for the words when they part. Wants to burn away the sourness of the first time.

"Want you," eyes focused and sharp the way he's come to expect from the other man, shifting closer, reaching for the hem of his shirt as he moves to press a kiss to the edge of his jaw. Lets himself believe the words this time. Lets himself pull Dabi closer. 

Lets them both take what they want from each other. 

Thank you so much for your submission!

[lost-in-fandoms]

Logan and Max have another talk, or 'does kissing count as free therapy?' Part 2 of whatever this was. I couldn't fall asleep last night because of how hard I kept thinking about these two. I blame @girlsdads for giving me the brainrot in the first place.

cw: the tiniest bit of implied sexual content

It's another bad race. Fucking 16th, only ahead of the two Saubers, and of the Haas and Alpine that had crashed each other out. There was no reason why his pit stop had to be 4.3 seconds, when Alex's had been 2.7, no reason why he had been fucked over by not one but two undercuts because of shitty strategy, no reason why Alex's side of the garage had to be celebrating 8th place while his was sullen and quiet.

Logan fears he's going to throw up when he steps in and James claps him on the shoulder, saying sorry, next time, as if Logan doesn't know his contract is on the line. Fucking. Next time?!

Logan feels like he's trying to swim with his hands tied behind his back, desperately trying to make it to shore. Nobody cares he's drowning.

He can barely look up during the debrief, feels like he's choking the whole time on the words nobody is saying. As soon as he's free, he escapes, fumbling for his phone as usual. Only this time, he doesn't call his mom.

Are you free?

Max has his motorhome this weekend, and Logan doesn't wait for an answer before heading over. If he doesn't answer, he'll just take a walk.

Yes come over

He's knocking on Max's door before he can rethink it, before all these feelings catch up on him and he decides he's going to break down alone instead. When Max opens his door, Logan immediately regrets it. He's wearing a black t-shirt, hair styled, looking ready to go out. Of course he's heading out, he has a win to celebrate. Unlike Logan. Who should have just gone home.

He opens his mouth, ready to apologize and turn around, when Max's hand closes on his shoulder, his mouth downturned with what would be worry, if it wasn't absurd for Max Verstappen to be worried about him.

"Come in," Max says, doesn't leave space for arguments when he pulls Logan inside, closing the door behind him.

For a long moment they just look at each other, as Logan's waves lap at his neck. He doesn't know why he's here anymore.

"Are you okay?" Max's hand is still on his shoulder. Logan feels like he'll keel over if he takes it back.

"I might be out of a seat."

It's not an answer to Max's question, it's not even what Logan meant to say, it's not something he should be telling to the competition, but really. Logan is barely Max's competition at all, and who wouldn't know that after this season's disaster? Nobody is counting on him to race next year.

He waits for Max to say something, even if it's just empty platitudes, but the other just squeezes his shoulder and nods, and suddenly it's much harder to hold back his tears.

"I just..." he breathes in, willing his voice to not crack, "I don't know what I am doing wrong."

It comes out more desperate than he meant it to, but he's just so tired and upset, and nobody is seeing him drown. Why is nobody paying attention?

"You have a shit car, get bad strategy calls, and have a teammate with years more of experience. You are not the one doing it wrong."

Max says it so matter of fact, as if he's the one driving the shit car, the one with the better teammate, the one having to fight through the back of the field with no success, and suddenly Logan is angry. He shrugs Max's hand away, fists clenching. What does Max know about being the second driver in a bad team? How dares he say he knows Logan's hunger?

"Fuck off," he spits, wrapping his arms around himself to hide the way his hands are trembling. He shouldn't have come.

"You have potential, you are not doing it wrong," Max says again, stubborn and bull-headed as always, jaw set and eyes clear. Logan's anger spikes again. Max Verstappen, the prodigy child, talking to him about wasted potential? This must be a joke. He scoffs, ready to turn around and leave, but Max grabs him again, gets a hold on his elbow and keeps him where he is.

"Why are you angry?" he asks. And yeah, this must be a joke, for sure. Why is Logan angry? Why is he angry?!

"You don't get to..." he starts, but Max interrupts him, squeezing his elbow.

"No. Why are you angry?"

"The team..."

Max takes a step closer, narrowing his eyes.

"Not the team, I do not care about the team. Why are you angry?"

As if there was a right answer to the question that Logan isn't getting! It's his own anger! And Max doesn't care about the team? Of course he doesn't, it's not his team fucking up! Why can't Logan be angry about the team?!

"Alex gets..."

"No. Why are you angry?" Max interrupts again, steadfast in a way that grates on Logan's nerves.

They're too close now, and for a second Logan entertains the idea of punching three times world Champion Max Verstappen. Anger burns in his chest, and suddenly, without knowing who closed the gap, they're kissing. It's not a nice kiss, all teeth and spit, and it almost feels the same as the punch he hasn't thrown, until Max moves his hand from his elbow to his waist, the other one coming up to cup the back of his neck, turning his head slightly. Gentling him.

His anger is back in his lungs, but it's no longer anger, it's back to salt water, and Logan is drowning again. He breaks the kiss, gasping, but Max doesn't let him go.

Logan doesn't remember the last time someone held him like this, like being here matters.

"Why are you angry?" Max asks again, breath soft against Logan's bitten lips. He smells vaguely like minty toothpaste.

"Because..." he hesitates, but at this point he might as feel say fuck it, and give it all. All his fleshy insides in Max's hands, bleeding on the floor between them. "Because I could do better, but I can't do it like this."

This time Max nods. "You could do better."

And Logan knows his parents and friends have said it before, have kept saying it for years. Knows his time in Formula 2 speaks for itself. But it's different, to have Max say it like that, so surely. It's a different kind of validation, and a different kind of heartbreak, because they both know his time to prove it is running out. It's hard to breathe again.

"It is good to be angry. It makes you want to take it," Max says, maybe mistaking the way his breathing has gone funny. But Logan doesn't feel angry anymore. He's tired, and scared, and lonely. He drops his head on Max's shoulder, who moves to card his fingers in his hair, bearing his weight with ease. Logan wishes anything would come easy to him instead.

"I don't know how to be angry," Logan confesses. He doesn't want to say it, doesn't want to disappoint Max, but he disappoints better than he lies anyway. What's one more person.

"That is of course still okay," Max says, instead of some sort of rebuke Logan is expecting. For a second, he thinks about the stories of Max's childhood, of angry men and steel hands. Max's fingers are gentle in his hair.

"What do you want right now?"

It's too big of a question. Logan wants his seat to be safe, he wants to end in the points, he wants a good car, he wants to not feel so distant from everyone else, he wants to go home. He wants someone to tell him it will be alright and mean it.

He shakes his head, forehead dragging against Max's t-shirt. Disappointing again.

Max holds his hair a little tighter, uses the grip to pull Logan up, to make him open his eyes.

"What do you need?"

And it's the same, but it is different, and Logan needs...he needs...

"You can take it. What you need." Max sounds so sure of it, Logan can almost believe it. Maybe Logan doesn't know how to take, doesn't know how to fix it, but here, now, he at least knows what he needs.

"I need to be better," he says, words bleeding out from his split-open chest. "I need to be good."

They both know what Logan means, because the thing with Max is, that it's always about racing, even when it isn't, and it is also always both at the same time.

Max nods, letting go of his hair, and Logan pushes him around, back against the door. Gentle, because he needs to be, but firm, because he wants this.

He eases himself to his knees, and feels Max's hand cup his cheek. His raspy voice isn't disappointed, or pitying, or even sad when he speaks, only fond. A little proud.

"Good boy."

[jacksprostate]

yo dude i was really curious and i just read yr primal fear fic, just wanted to say that your writing is genuinely so impressive.. not a lot of people could take a prompt like this and actually give it so much substance, your stuff shows such a deep level of understanding of the media ur working with +intuitiveness.. like characterizing shit well from 90s movies is crazy hard and u like immediately got how to write an in-character martin vail so if u can do that u can do any thing im like blown away 🙈 cant wait to see what u do in the future with yr original stuff, youre a beast with the pen ✍️✍️

sobbing for real dude.... this is so kind... "shows such a deep understanding of the media youre working with" truly there is few better compliments 😭 the 'from 90s movies' part is hard as hell sometimes yeah... I feel like I understand the psyche pretty well but there's so much just general milieu that's easy to just... not even realize is relevant. Of course it helps that most of my readers are also not particularly familiar with the 90s lmao but. Idk I try to keep that post-fall of the soviet union pre-9/11 immense nihilism in mind. Fortunately I have some friends who have a pretty strong lock on the vibe for one reason or another who help too— I assume they'd tell me if it was a 'he would not fucking say that' situation haha. It's funny wrt Martin Vail because I do think I did him pretty passably.. I don't always mesh into characters well per se; like for Tyler, I think I understand him pretty well but it's still tricky to figure out how to actually word what he says — I'm tempted to outsource to @a-forsteri who has a goddamn LOCK on it... we should collab, bestie... but regardless yeah Vail was an interesting one for sure. You only get so much characterization of him in the movie, really. Thanks for reading and I'm really glad you enjoyed it, comments like this are what keep me going fr :')

[arcvenus]

anyway like this for joph in your inbox. 😇

[hauntingofhouses]

i think im gonna take a break from my fic to write my original work instead

[pastlight]

I really love writing dialogue cause it's like creating a roadmap of how to get to point A to point B (of a scene) while making sure you visit every sightseeing spot on the way (topics that you want brought up in the conversation) in a way that feels natural to the characters

[ereborne]

What is a Monday? A miserable little pile of obligations.

semester turnover restructure

generate/send out error reporting

figure out how to separate out unique counts

create polite reply to Massive Dick Move email

finish the bad book >:(

bò kho (not an obligation. dinner)

laundry

lizard bath