#unfinished fic snips

[nari-writes]

.....am I writing sex pollen fic without the sex?

"Do you know, on average, how often you guys get sex pollened? You have a form!"

"It's good to pre-establish consent," Tim said, instead of something far more stupid like: have you been carrying around lube and condoms on the off chance I'll get whammied and you're the only person around, and NOT because you're insatiably horny and getting it on during down time on missions?

Baby you betcha!!

[basicallyahedgehog]

Unfinished Everyday

Thank you to the wonderful @floydig for the tag, and @wolfpants for starting this wonderful train. Read their snippets here and here.

The last time I touched this doc was a literal year ago - 26th April 2022. It was one of two drarry fics I started writing before I got swept up in the world of fests and I've never been back to it. I may have shared part of this snippet before, but I honestly can't remember. The fic is a non-linear, 8th year/post war, cottage-core, get-together/established relationship fic with chronically ill Harry.

Half an hour later, the muscles were no longer jumping under his hand, and the tension between Harry’s eyebrows had eased enough that he thought it safe enough to move onto phase two. 

Carefully, so as not to disturb Harry more than he already was, Draco slipped out of the bed, tucking the covers back around his husband. Padding through their little cottage, Draco paused to grab his dressing gown from where it laid haphazardly across the back of the sofa. Yesterday had been a good day and well, they tended to discard clothes a lot more readily on good days. 

He really should have seen this coming, Draco mused. Harry’s health had been better in the last month than it had been for almost a year, but Harry had a tendency to push himself. There had been produce to harvest, jams and chutneys and pickles to be made. Even now, their small kitchen was full of this autumn’s work, jars littering every surface and garlands of onions and garlic hanging in the windows. 

Then there had been the Halloween party for the children’s ward, bonfire night, multiple birthdays… Harry hated that he had to say no so often, Draco hadn’t had the heart to slow him down. 

Now though, he regretted not being just that little bit firmer. Made Harry rest just that little bit more often. But he hadn’t, and now his husband was reaping the consequences.

No-pressure tagging @phoebe-delia, @phdmama, @makeitp1nk, @thesleepiesthufflepuff, @geesenoises and whoever else wants to share :)

[erineas]

Hi there! Hope you don't mind but I'm just wondering if you have any recs for fanfics of the skellies :D I typically love reverse harem trope ones racoonsinqueen & tyranttortoise my absolute favs but if you know any that are just one main pairing but the writing is still good, I'd love to know :D

OK, EVERYONE STOP THEIR HORSES, because it's fanfic appreciation time ✨

I've read my fair share of fanfics, most aren't finished or their authors disappeared but I'll mention them too because they still very much worth it and I. Just. Love. Themmmm!

Also I'll try listing by memory so this is probably going to be messy:

Bitty Hunt by RND_Injustice (SSLL but you're a bitty! Unfinished, has 33 chapters + 18 bonus chapters in here. 10/10 Already read it three times) My Favorite Red Scarf by RND_Injustice (Reader x UT Papyrus. Unfinished, has 34 chapters. MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE. 100/10 I want to marathon this fic with someone, if that makes sense) Fur a good time, Call by popatochisp (Reader x HT Sans. Finished, with extra chapters on Snips & Snails. Another favorite with a 100/10. Also want to marathon this one) Dirty Laundry by popatochisp (Reader x Swapfell bros. Finished. To be honest I don't remember much, that's why it's in my rereading list but it promise very good things and the feelings I get just reading bits are like-- kdjkdjkdj my heart!) On top of the Bone Pile by Lyrjok (Reverse Harem. Finished. Good writing, SSLL vibes but totally different and really good. 10/10. Rereading right now) A Mouse Among Skeletons by Duchess_Aquarius (Reverse Harem with more skeletons than the main 5 AUs. Kinda crazy, rlly, but I still ate it. Finished. Be sure to read the tags. Rlly good writing. You decide how good it is) Bones, Picked Clean by lulu-writes (Reverse Harem. Unfinished. 37 chapters. I don't remember much about it but I loved their Horrortale bros) The Skeleton Games by Poetax (Reader x UF Sans. On going, has 56 chapters by this time, SHORTY RED. I also love this one, another favorite hehe. Unexpected 100/10 to me) Aggre(v/g)ation by Llama_Goddess (Reverse Harem with UF/HT/UT Sans x Reader. Finished. Being honest again, I started reading years ago and haven't finished it for reasons that have nothing to do with the fic. I found it again and let's just say there's a reason why everyone worships this fic)

Those are ones that made my days the first time I enter tumblr. Now that i'm back, lets continue with the recent ones i've read:

House Next Door by BattleMaiden13 (Reverse Harem. On going. Has 130 chapters by this time but you're damned if you want to catch up because THAT AUTHOR IS FAST AF. I've started reading like a month ago and they already posted 25 chapters. Writing improves very fast as you're reading and there's so many things to enjoy. Delicious. 10/10) Saving Three Ex-cell-lent Skeletons by RecklesslyCaffeinated (Reverse harem with UF/HT/UT Sans x Reader. Finished with a second book on the works. ABSOLUTE BANGER. Another 10/10, made me heart bleed for skeletons and question myself) It's just a Game by Htsan (You x UT Sans. Finished. Unconventional. Read it if you like heavy angst and interactive games, and maybe hate your emotional stability... Really good, tho. 10/10. Made me cry so many times. Not gonna elaborate)

[tackytigerfic]

Unfinished Friday

Thank you to the lovely people who have tagged me recently in WIP snip posts - pls expect reblogs soon, I am sort of off Tumblr atm and have a lot to catch up on but I am so grateful to be tagged and to get to read all your fucking phenomenal writing. Writing loads atm. Long wartime AU/ multiverse fic is progressing well. Here is a snip from it. Seven years after the war began, Draco has gone undercover with the Death Eaters to try to get close to Voldemort. Draco visits the Order HQ when he can. Draco and Harry are best friends and have been hooking up in secret. They're also in love but haven't really talked about it.

Downstairs in the Order meeting, Draco had been chilly and controlled—a gloved fist, a bridled Abraxan. He had barely looked at Harry the whole way through the meeting, but after the reports were all in, he had stood up in front of everyone and held a hand out to Harry across the table, and Harry had leaned right over to him and taken it. It didn’t seem to matter anymore who knew, or what they thought. There was no need for the smallness of subtleties in the face of something so horribly huge as Draco having to leave, again and again and again.

Together they made for the stairs, bumping shoulders as they went out the big double doors, Harry’s skin overheated where Draco’s hand made a bracelet round his wrist, not caring who was looking. They ignored the wolf whistle that followed them (Malfoy, no doubt, the smug prick), racing together up the steps two at a time until they reached their corridor and then finally Draco was a warm and moving thing under Harry’s demanding hands.

And he was different here in the shifting shadows of their old shared room, both of them jammed into Harry’s single bed, the moon a sick yellowed disc through the window. He looked glossy and well-fed, flesh solid over his ribs when Harry spanned them greedily with both hands, skin soft and rich-smelling, his hair swooping over one eye with the sheen of a starling's wing. His clothes, discarded on the floor, were too formal, too many pinnings and fastenings, too stiff with ornamentation and embellishments. He looked like what he was, Harry supposed; Lord Malfoy, the Viscount.

As Harry tried to undo him, he wondered for a moment how easily Draco slipped back beneath the trappings, but then he felt the frantic tap of Draco’s pulse under his fingertips and the familiar warmth of his breath as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth, carelessly, like he couldn’t wait any longer, and Harry knew he had him back.

“How long have you got?” Harry asked, breathless already, fingers slipping wet with lube over Draco’s skin, and Draco kissed him almost angrily.

“Long enough,” he said. “We have time. God, you’re all I can think about.”

If you've read this far then please consider sharing your own WIP snip - I would love to read it. And artists/reccers/other creators too, if you have a WIP you're working on!

[h-doodles]

anyways im all drawn out this tender 3 am but mrrp! wip snip on unfinished art for not going anywhere (pt.1) by @sarahpaulsonsoftie <3

You wandered into Marilyn’s Conservatory seeing her sitting with Larissa on her desk, mugs in both of their hands, and a third mug sitting beside you. Marilyn grinned, picking up the mug and handing it to you.

You smiled gratefully at her, accepting the mug. “Thank you.” You murmured, taking a sip of the coffee, (...)

- excerpt from the fic :)

if u cant tell this was actually my fave line and i wish i was a writer that i could expand THIS scene bc i always imagine Larissa & Marilyn tenderly looking @ reader who's just. peacefully enjoying their time together like!!!!!!!!! girl they're literally so domestic it's cavity inducing!!!!!!

[minnesota-fats]

Ok, since people are curious about my Anger Managment fic were Jazz has her own bad ass suit like Valerie and goes in to save Danny the same time the Batfam are infiltrating a GIW base outside of Gotham, I decided to post a snip bit of it.

For context

I don’t feel comfortable posting a whole unfinished work but here is a bit of it out of context—even though its kinda self explanatory.

“Huntress!” The woman in teal shouts as she grabs Jason by the collar and pulls him behind a fallen over filing cabinet for cover.

“Got it!” The woman dressed in red—Huntress says as he pulls out an orb with the same color design as the GIW weapons from her pocket, pressing the green button on the top and throwing it at the men shooting at them down the hall before taking cover.

A loud explosion rang through the hallway and Jason looked back expecting to find a mess of viscera only to find all the guards pinned to the walls stuck in green sticky goo, “I gotta get me some of those,” Jason mumbled. The woman at his side giggled, the helmet she wore distorting her voice yet still coming through clear.

“Hey lovebirds, let's get out of here!” Huntress says as she volts over her cover and with a tap of a button on her wrist a hoverboard materialized out of her feet and she flew forward past the sticky mess.

Hope that holds people over for the time being!

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter X

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.2K

Beta. @starstofillmydream

21 Melona

The picture frame was heavier than Kazi originally planned. Arms trembling from her awkward grip, she managed to connect the hook to the nail and secure the frame to the wall. 

With a satisfied breath, she retreated a meter to assess the picture’s balance. Her triumphant smirk slid into a rictus. The right side of the black frame was tilted higher. Much higher.

“Fuck,” she muttered to herself. 

A beep from her comm drew her away from the unbalanced frame. The number was familiar. Her heart stuttered. 

“Lucien,” she answered tightly.

“Ms. Lucien,” the voice chirped. “This is Licae Thurmin with Eluca’s Adoption Center for Young Girls and Boys. I have a recent update on Neyti Lucien’s application.”

Kazi chewed the inside of her cheek, scanning her surroundings for any listening ears. 

She was alone. The men outside, Daria in her garden, and Neyti upstairs. 

“What’s the update?”

“The application you submitted has been processed and accepted,” Licae Thurmin said. “I want to remind you that a live application does not guarantee immediate adoption—”

The kind woman’s voice quieted as Kazi stared blankly at the room. 

White walls housed three new paintings, the colors smudged and blotchy, common for a six-year-old artist. The refrigerator displayed a handful of sketches. On the kitchen table, a small collection of bird feathers Nova had gifted Neyti a few weeks ago rested. Beside the collection was an unfinished drawing of the feathers. 

Formerly barren and devoid of personal touches—other than Daria’s succulents and Kazi’s dragon on the bookcase—the living area and kitchen now spoke of life. The existence of a family—

“I understand,” Kazi said once Licae Thurmin stopped speaking. 

For a fleeting moment she hesitated. Considered revoking the application. Or asking for a deferral. The adoption center was Elucan and had no connection, at the moment, to the Empire. One of the reasons she went through this center and not another. To protect Neyti from the Empire’s eyes. So, revoking Neyti’s application wouldn’t raise Imperial suspicion. 

However, it was silly—a frivolous desperation to cling to a new normal—and she knew better. 

Instead, she said, “I’ll await further updates.”

The comm went silent and Kazi pocketed it, eyeing the lopsided frame next to the holoscreen. A hammer and nails scattered the floor. The measuring tape lay limply on the table. 

What the hell was she doing?

Closing her eyes, she ran her hands through her unbraided hair, massaging her temples. She was stupid. So fucking stupid. 

After all these years she had perfected the mirage of closeness. Of companionship, so that others felt appreciated and needed. It was all an illusion. An illusion that allowed her to maintain distance to protect herself. 

And yet, sometime in the last three months, she had formed a semblance of a bond with Neyti. A bond so small and fragile it could easily be snipped. But it still existed. 

The tightness in her chest, the empty disappointment in her bones, were proof an attachment was forming. 

Three goals. She had outlined three goals upon her move to Eluca, and one of them was Neyti’s adoption. The application’s process and submission shouldn’t have surprised her. She had no right to be upset. 

“You are aware that picture is crooked.”

The voice startled her from her thoughts and she dropped her hands to her sides. How a man so large could move around so silently was beyond her. Cheeks flushing, she frowned at Wolffe.

“Thank you for that illuminating observation.” Wolffe threw her a bland look and she sniffed her exasperation, muttering, “I was just about to fix it.”

Sweat sheened on his face and matted the white shirt he wore. Sleeves rolled to his elbows revealed the black ink darkening his left forearm. Piqued interest encouraged Kazi to analyze the tattoo closer, but she fought the urge, instead, lifting her gaze to his. 

He was already staring at her. Rather, he was scanning her neck. It started, she assumed, the morning after their conversation beside the lake. His assessment was subtle, and she didn’t notice it until a week later. Now, it was obvious. And even though it had been a month since the incident, he didn’t appear content to stop.

A small piece of her appreciated his analysis—appreciated the thought of someone caring about her. A greater piece of her disliked the attention and the confusing emotions it brought forth. Life was easier and simpler when their lives remained separate and uninvolved.

Stepping toward the wall, subsequently creating distance, Kazi unhooked the picture frame. From the corner of her eye, Wolffe retrieved the tape measurer and the stylus. She held out her hand for both items. He blinked at her outstretched hand, levelled an unimpressed look in her direction, and then stepped toward the wall.

Kazi straightened. “I was going to do that.”

“I know.” 

Stylus between his teeth and the old nail removed, he measured the distance from the floor to a spot on the wall. Kazi folded her arms.

“I can do it—”

“I know.” Wolffe penciled a small dot and dropped the tape measurer. He extended his hand to her and she rolled her eyes, handing him the hammer. “Did you present the intel?” 

A frisson of unease twisted in her stomach. “I did.”

His silence, as he hammered the nail into the wall, demanded further explanation. 

Kazi glanced out the window that overlooked Daria’s garden. A neatly-twined hat kept the sun off her sister’s face, but it was the obvious trembling in Daria’s hand as she snipped dead leaves from her plants that caught her attention. 

“The magistrate was impressed,” she said to Wolffe. “But he didn’t elaborate on my findings. I still don’t know why he’s interested in this.”

Wolffe set aside the hammer and hefted the picture frame. Annoyingly, he didn’t struggle with its awkward size or its heaviness. 

“You’re sure the outpost is abandoned?” she asked.

“I’ve told you”—he grunted and hefted the frame higher—“it’s been cleared for months.”

Nearly five weeks ago, Kazi noticed a nearly imperceptible pattern in her data analysis for the magistrate. A pattern concerning deserted clones. 

Most of the clones Wolffe and his men rescued relied on secure comm channels. However, there were a handful of desperate ones. Those who needed a quick extraction and couldn’t wait for a secure channel. And even though they spoke in code, their transmission could be located. 

Hence the pattern: Before a clone deserted, Eluca or Coruscant received a long-range transmission. Days later, the deserted clone disappeared. 

Luckily, the pattern had occurred only three times—twice to Coruscant and once to Eluca. But, Kazi feared if she noticed the pattern, someone else might, too. It could lead to an Imperial investigation. So, she decided the best solution was to manipulate the data to a different location. 

The outpost was a secret, former Republic station located on a hyperlane route within Veridian Sector. It stored rations and additional weapons and was used primarily by commando units who needed a hideout in the midst of a mission. According to Cody, who offered the outpost’s location, it was abandoned a few months before the war’s conclusion. After a Separatist ship located it.

Seemingly forgotten by the Empire, Wolffe and his brothers had stripped the outpost of its goods. And now that it was emptied of provisions, the men claimed it no longer served a necessary purpose to their missions. 

The solution was simple. All transmissions between deserted troopers and the men would appear connected to the outpost rather than Eluca. Thanks to the outpost’s long-range communication tower.

Wolffe stepped away from the wall. “I want to know: What will happen to you when the magistrate realizes the outpost is abandoned?”

The question was a point of contention the last two weeks. Wolffe thought it too risky to provide an abandoned location, arguing the magistrate was too impulsive and it could threaten Kazi. She argued the need to deliver intel and keep the magistrate satisfied outweighed a possible reaction. 

“I think it’s still crooked,” she said, changing the conversation.

Jerking his gaze to the frame, Wolffe scowled. “It’s not.”

“Huh.” Placing the tools in the tool box, she shot him an awkward grimace. “Thank you. For helping. Even though I didn’t ask you to.”

With a roll of his eyes, Wolffe crossed his arms over his chest. He watched her, and when she was finished, he cleared his throat. “I keep expecting you to return with new bruises.”

A current of tension tightened her skin and she rubbed a spot on her arm. A month had passed since her interaction with Magistrate Aro, and yet she still woke some nights from a phantom pain in her neck. Her sheets dampened by sweat. Her heart racing erratically. A shout of terror built in her throat. It took a long time for her to return to a fitful sleep.

Most of the time, she avoided thoughts regarding that day, and she diverted conversation whenever it seemed Wolffe might reintroduce the issue. Especially in the past few weeks when discussing an intentional mislead through the outpost.  

“I don’t know why you would expect that—”

“What will happen to Neyti? To your sister? Have you thought about them?” Wolffe exhaled sharply. “Lying to the magistrate is needlessly dangerous.”

“It’s not.” Irritation heated her blood and she folded her arms across her chest. He knew she only ever thought about Neyti and Daria—that they were her first concerns in everything. “You know I wouldn’t do it if it weren’t necessary.”

“And what happens if you die?” He took a step toward her. “You’ll leave my brothers and I with a kid—”

“If that’s your concern”—she lifted her chin, glaring—“let me reassure you. There’s an adoption center in the capital—”

“Do you really think so little of us?” His tone was harsh. His eyes were narrowed in indignation. “Of me?”

Time spent with the men the past month had convinced her of their honorable character. They wouldn’t abandon Neyti, and they wouldn’t abandon Daria. Kazi knew this to be true. But she had also learned an important lesson over the years: relying on another was a direct path to abandonment and hurt. 

The optimistic side of her that believed in morals and ethics and justice yearned to trust Wolffe. The realistic side of her, the side that endured too much and yearned to protect, couldn’t relinquish control. 

At her continued hesitation, Wolffe huffed a wry chuckle.

“I told you,” he said curtly, “if a problem arises, we will protect you—”

She shook her head. “That’s not your job.” 

“You’re fucking aggravating, you know that?”

“Me?” Her eyes widened. “Have you met yourself?”

Wolffe scoffed. “You’re closed off and guarded. Too independent to ask for help. You’re stubborn and self-righteous, and it’s fucking aggravating.”

“You’re guarded, too.” A scornful smirk twisted her mouth. “You carry responsibility like you’re the only one who can. You’re reserved and apathetic, and borderline overbearing.” 

Rolling his eyes, Wolffe opened his mouth but he was cut off by the approach of padded footsteps. A pair of bunny slippers rounded the corner. 

Dressed in a green dress, Neyti wandered toward Kazi and Wolffe. She frowned at the recently hung picture frame.

“It was Mr. Wolffe’s idea,” Kazi said quickly. Wolffe levelled a disapproving scowl in her direction but she ignored him. “What do you think?”

Tilting her head to the side, Neyti scrutinized the frame.

Kazi followed her line of sight. “It’s crooked, isn’t it?”

Wolffe sighed. 

Tiny hands wringing together, Neyti didn’t react to the comment. Hesitation hunched her shoulders and distress worried the line between her eyebrows. 

Kazi shared a disconcerted look with Wolffe. The man eyed the little girl, his gaze intense and assessing. 

“Neyti?” Kazi searched the youngling’s face. “Is everything okay?”

Gray eyes, wide and timid, bounced between Wolffe and Kazi. Understanding the girl’s unspoken discomfort, Wolffe excused himself, making his way through the sunroom and out the backdoor. 

“Did something happen?” Kazi hedged.

Dark thoughts spun in her mind, like a spider spooling its web, and she considered the past week in its entirety. The only disruption was the men’s last mission. The three deserted clones they rescued had left yesterday. 

Uncertainty stalled her heart and she glanced toward the sunroom’s windows. If something had happened to Neyti—

Blinking rapidly, Neyti reached for her hand. Neyti’s throat bobbed and Kazi squeezed her fingers. Gently, softly.

Neyti tugged on her hand and led her to the stairs. Nonplussed, Kazi followed Neyti up the staircase. Her bewilderment increased when they wandered down the short hall and found themselves in Daria’s bedroom.

Pale pink curtains lined the windows that overlooked the backyard. Sunlight dappled the carpeted floor. The room was fresh and inviting, except for the clothing items littering the bed like unwanted paint splats. Kazi pursed her lips at her sister’s lack of basic cleanliness. 

Daria was always put together, and yet she couldn’t make her bed in the mornings. The contradictions in her personality never failed to irk her.

A white dresser housed a dozen succulents, the plants ranging from prickly cacti to flowery geometrics. Opened and recently written in, a notebook sat on the desk. Penned in superfluous script was the day’s date.

Kazi had half a mind to read her sister’s diary. If Daria refused to respect her personal space, willingly sharing her adventure book with Neyti, then the same rules applied to her. Maybe she would finally understand her sister’s thought process. Then again, she would probably read diatribes concerning her actions and complaints concerning her perpetual singleness.

Neyti dropped her hand and wandered into Daria’s ‘fresher. Kazi followed, watching as Neyti extracted one of Daria’s morning/evening potions. Liquid an iridescent blue, the potion shimmered beneath the fractured sunlight. An empty bottle from this morning sat behind the faucet. 

With an abashed grimace, Neyti mimed draining the potion in the sink. Kazi’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. Neyti repeated the gesture. 

Realization dawned on Kazi, slow and creeping, like the sun rising on the horizon, and with it, the world around her quieted. 

Slowly, she peered into the black basin, running a finger along the bottom. She withdrew her hand, praying Neyti was wrong. 

A blue tint coated her finger pad.

Her breathing sharpened. Her throat dried.

She thought she might be sick.

Months of unexplained symptoms, months of unusual episodes suddenly made sense. 

A dull roaring filled her head. She turned on her heel. 

The descent down the stairs passed in a haze.

In the kitchen, Daria was washing the gathered herbs and vegetables from her garden. Her dress fell to her knees, light and airy. The white spoke of innocence. A quiet tune sounded from the radio. Daria noticed her and she started to smile.

Hand shaking, Kazi raised the empty bottle.

“You haven’t been taking your medicine.”

The statement was muffled by the ringing in her ears and Kazi took a deep breath, focusing on the kitchen. Focusing on her open-mouthed, stunned sister.

“What the fuck is your problem?” She hissed the words in a spit of vitriol so pure Daria stumbled back a step. “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”

Flustered, Daria turned off the sink and patted her hands on a towel. A slight twitch in her eye belied the casual blasé she was trying to exude. “It’s none of your business, Kazi.”

“Like hell it isn’t—” 

“It’s not!” 

Shocked by her sister’s sudden change in demeanor, Kazi stiffened.

Daria glared at her. “What I do and do not do with my healer’s recommendations is not up for your judgment and criticism—”

“It fucking is!” Kazi snarled. “It’s all up to my fucking judgment because I’m the one who’s wasted money and time trying to ease your pain and prolong your fucking life!” 

Kazi slammed the empty bottle into the kitchen sink. The clatter of breaking glass further incensed her.

“Months of paying Healer Natasha to help you with your symptoms”—she fisted her hands at her sides—“and you haven’t been taking your fucking medicine. What the fuck is your problem?”

Rage, roiling like the sea in the midst of a hurricane, churned within her body. It dominated her thoughts, dominated the tautness in her muscles and the tightness in her lungs. 

After her father died, Kazi taught herself to control her emotions. Primarily her anger. Formerly quick-tempered, young Kazi could work herself into a conniption of such rage she would cry. 

Anger was her least favorite emotion. When she experienced it, she felt unbalanced, and her façade of perfect composure and unaffected apathy splintered beneath the emotion.

Her mother exploited her defensive anger. She used it to ridicule and humiliate her. To force her to obey. 

So young Kazi learned to shut down. The moment she felt her emotions rising, circling outside her control, she gritted her teeth, clenched her fists, and told herself over and over that she didn’t care. 

She numbed herself to her mother’s scorn. Numbed herself to feeling.

Years of training herself to dominate her emotions rather than accept or acknowledge them created her cool, aloof personality. It was her shield against a world of change that constantly felt out of her control. 

And so this rage—receding and crashing inside her—unnerved her. 

The lack of control frightened her. But she didn’t care. 

She couldn’t care because her sister—the person she had pooled money, time, and effort into helping—decided to forego her daily medicine. Medicine designed to ease her suffering. Lessen the severity of her symptoms. Offer her more time to retain her mental sanity. 

“You have no right to be upset with me.” Daria glowered. “You don’t care what happens to me—you don’t care that this illness is killing me. You haven’t cared about me, or anything else, for that matter, in years.”

Kazi hardly processed the words. 

The roaring in her head was too loud and her thoughts too distorted by this revelation. 

She didn’t care about the hurt in Daria’s tone, and she didn’t care about Daria’s accusation. Especially since her sister’s accusation was partially true. She hadn’t cared about anyone or anything in a long time. 

There was a reason for that.

“It seems I’ve given you too much free reign,” Kazi said tightly.

Swallowing her anger, forcing it down and locking it away, she took a deep breath. 

Numbness returned and, with it, clarity. 

“It’s clear you’re a danger to yourself.” She stared at Daria, unfeeling. Flippant. “You don’t care about your health or trying to prolong your life. And since you’ve shown a lack of concern and maturity, I think the best option would be hospitalization.” 

Dismay widened Daria’s eyes and she retreated to the far counter. Her mouth opened and closed. The tremble in her lower lip worsened. 

When the silence lengthened between them, tight as a wound harpoon, Daria lifted her chin. “How could you do this to me?”

“You’re doing this to yourself.” Kazi chuckled, the noise acerbic and unrepentant. “Your lack of propriety to take care of your own health—”

“I’m your sister and you’re threatening me because I refused to take a dumb potion—” 

“The medicine is supposed to help—”

“The medicine takes them away!”

The brokenness in Daria’s voice forced Kazi to pause. 

Confused, she could only frown. “What?”

“It takes them away.” Daria pressed a hand to her mouth and choked. “Mama and Papa. I can’t see them when I take the medicine.”

Time stood still for a moment as Kazi considered her sister’s bewildering statement. 

And then it hit her.

The moments she noticed Daria staring off into space, smiling at nothing.

Hallucinations. Her sister was hallucinating their parents.

“When I see them,” Daria murmured, “I don’t feel so lonely.” 

Her sister’s gaze was deadened, lacking the vibrancy Kazi used to envy when they were younglings. A gaze so full of life and joy. Eager to explore, intrigued by stories. Loving.

“I miss them, Kazi,” Daria whispered hoarsely. 

Gritting her teeth, Kazi exhaled a slow breath. 

“It’s harder to remember them,” Daria said. “I can’t remember what they look like.” 

Daria stood before her pale and sick-looking, once-fresh features drawn and weary. The fullness of her cheeks had hollowed; even the plump pink of her lips were dull.

“I’m scared.” The words were defeated. Daria raised a shaky hand to her cheek and wiped away a tear. “I’m losing more of myself every day. I’m scared of forgetting everything, and the medicine only makes it worse. I don’t want to lose Mama and Papa. I don’t want to be alone.”

The fear in Daria’s voice, the unspoken plea, rendered Kazi speechless. Her sister—the woman she had loved more than anyone else in the galaxy—wasn’t preserving her life out of fear of being alone. As if companionship through hallucinations meant something.

It was selfish. Daria would die sometime in the near future and she would leave Kazi. Her sister didn’t understand the meaning of loneliness. 

Her sister didn’t understand the fear of being alone.

“Every morning I will watch you take your medicine,” Kazi said coldly. “And every night I will watch you drink that damned potion. Got it?”

Visible shock tightened Daria’s features and then darkened into hate. “I’m not a child for you to hover over.”

“It’s quite obvious that you are.”

“You’re being unreasonable.” Daria corrected a wrinkle in her dress. “If you want to mother someone maybe you should start with the actual child in this house. Neyti lacks any sort of emotional care because you’re so unfeeling it’s borderline monstrous.” 

Kazi flinched at the harshness of the words. 

“What do you want me to do?” she demanded. “I am trying. I am trying to do what is best for this family, but you don’t care. Nothing I do is ever good enough for you. And now you mention Neyti?” 

Resentment bittered her mind and she laughed ruefully.  

“What do you want me to do with her? Give her away?” She threw up her hands. “Maybe I should because I don’t fucking know what else to do! I didn’t ask for this, Daria. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t ask to be responsible for either of you—”

A broken sob cut through her rant and Kazi froze. 

No.

No.

Kazi looked over her shoulder, to the little girl who was cowering on the stairs. The little girl who had been here this entire time, forgotten. 

Horrified, Kazi took a tentative step toward her. “Neyti—”

Neyti sprinted away. Up the stairs. 

Kazi stared at the abandoned space. 

Her lungs squeezed. Her stomach felt empty. Her blood ran cold.  

A numb sensation, cold and unfeeling, pooled in her toes and slowly rose. It entombed her body.

She’d fucked up. 

She’d fucked up even worse than forgetting the field trip. 

A brittle laugh drew her attention and she turned her gaze on her sister. To the sister who was staring at her like she truly was a monster. 

“Mother was always right about you.” Daria laughed again. The sound as broken as Neyti’s sob. “You’re too emotionless to care about anyone but yourself.”

The words repeated over and over as she climbed the stairs.

If only Daria knew how little she cared about herself. 

If only her little sister knew the depth of her self-hatred. 

If only her sister knew she brushed aside emotions because they were nothing but a liability. 

Kazi knocked on Neyti’s cracked-open door. 

The silence that followed was deliberate. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

Over the years she promised herself she would never be like her mother. Critical comments, judgmental stares, constant disapproval. She promised she would always be better.

She should have known she would fall short. She should have known she would fail, and she would hurt those around her.

“I’m so sorry, Neyti. What I said”—her voice cracked and she gulped—“was wrong. I spoke out of anger and I didn’t mean it. Any of it. I’m so sorry.”

Unwavering silence resounded from the room.

Sliding to the floor, Kazi pressed her forehead against the door. “I made a promise to your mother.” 

The memory was stark in her mind.

Chaotic streets darkened by night.

Screams of terror. Children’s sobs.

A woman and daughter fleeing.

The crack of a blaster.

A child, bleeding and crying, shoved into her arms.

“I promised your mother that I would protect you,” Kazi said hoarsely. “I promised her that I would do everything in my power to keep you safe. To give you a chance at a new life.” 

Vision blurring, she rubbed at her wettened cheeks.

“I’m going to give you that new life,” she whispered. The adoption application was finalized and the search for real parents could finally start—the search for a home where Neyti would never hurt again. “I promise.”

The door squeaked open a smidge. 

Sitting on the opposite side, her cheek pressed to her knees and tears in her eyes, Neyti played with the ear of a bunny. 

“I want to go home.” 

The words were soft and quiet, and Neyti speaking for the first time—those five specific words—flooded Kazi with shame.  

All she could do was nod. In understanding. In regret. 

Because Neyti knew they couldn’t return home. There was nothing left. 

For either of them.

Masterlist | Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

A/N: I know it’s probably frustrating to see Kazi constantly keep up her walls and not entirely trust Wolffe. My writing has always been a way to deal with real-life emotions in realistic ways. A woman who’s struggled a majority of her life with trust issues immediately trusting the love interest because he’s a nice guy is the most unrealistic and annoying thing for me to read in novels and fics. Kazi’s trust issues are a main part of this story, and they will not be going away any time soon.

Next chapter release – March 14th  

This is your friendly reminder to pay attention to the date and month of each chapter. There will be major time jumps between certain chapter groupings.

Star Wars Months:

Elona Kelona Selona Telona  Nelona Helona Melona Yelona  Relona Welona

Tag: @ulchabhangorm

[angel-bubbles]

wip wednesday

haven't written in a looong time but got tagged by @k9rage and @bicyclepainting for wip wednesday so i'm sharing a lil snip of an old unfinished fic!! it's entirely self indulgent david/angel hurt/comfort because lets be real i have a niche

cw: mentions of anxiety/panic attack

---

Before Angel could look at the group chat again their screen was lit up by David’s contact picture. It was him sleeping on their shoulder during the summer solstice and he looked so serene.

Now though, looking at his sleepy face had their heart beating even faster, if that was possible. They had a real problem with asking for help, and having help forced onto them stressed them out beyond belief. They slowly hit accept and brought the phone to their ear.

“Angel?” David’s voice was firm, the concern thickly present in his single word and the sentiment of it had the tears finally spilling over and dragging down their cheeks. They could feel the panic set in when they heard his voice, the safety they felt with him opening the flood gates to the anxiety they had been swallowing down.

“Hey.” They croaked. “What’s– uh what’s up?” They heard David scoff over the line followed by some shuffling. 

“Don’t give me that shit you already know Asher’s mate called me right?” Angel silently cursed them and rubbed their nose with the back of their hand.

“Yeah, I know.”

i'm kinda late so no tags from me but feel free to take this as an open tag!!! i wanna see what you're working on >:3

[fiveais]

Unfinished Lethal League Blaze Fic: Unauthorized Maintenance

i started this fic. some time late last year, and i unfortunately ran out of steam while polishing it, but i still would like to share it (it's not written well enough for AO3). it's just about all headcanons despite my best efforts to capture what little there is to their canon personalities, so who knows how well i did there lol. i hope, if u choose to read, u enjoy it nonetheless

Rating: probably something like PG

Warnings: mild self harm mention, oblivious robot friend, fictional programming jargon, and robot body horror(?)

Characters: Raptor&Switch, with a tiny bit of Latch

“So when we do this- could you turn around for a minute when I take it off?”

Switch took a step back and scanned the setup they had made in the communal living space they allocated for this. The couch sat at a slightly lower height than what he was hoping for. He opened up the part of the architecture suite that handled spacial contradictions and disparities- it all came back with a positive return. He slid the chair forward anyway and then turned to face Raptor.

He was talking about his face.

Raptor sighed, hand tentatively posed to itch his arm, but he held back “dude, it’s not a big deal, I’ve seen your insides before”.

“No, man you don’t get it. Like-” He couldn’t explain it. The thoughts snagged and gummed up right as they were coming to a head. Some he could make out and others were harder to find specific words for. He floundered- bits and pieces of half broken syllables and snipped consonants were all that he was able to get out before he gave up entirely on the endeavor with a dejected sigh.

“Please?”

Raptor shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then back. He felt something bubbling under the surface and it burned his throat. Switch looked on at him in that way that he did when he expected a response, but his question had left a hot coal in the pit of his belly. It bothered him that this bothered his best friend. He thought they trusted each other more than this. He thought they were close. He thought they were really close.

“Okay, but can I ask something?”

That took him by surprise, “yeah, man, anything”. He eased into the chair they decided to use for this.

He took that to heart and braced himself, “are you scared what I might think? That I’ll think you’re weird or something?” The questions hung heavy between them.

He took a moment to think- mulling the questions and how he felt. When he melded them together- Raptor brought the malformed thought to light. What he felt was something like that.

“Yeah.”

“Huh? Are you okay?”

He tried again “yeah, dude. I’m scared. I don’t know how to explain it. But I think if you see me without the-“ he made a vague gesture around his face “-piece here, you might- you know. I don’t know.” He kind of did, but mostly he didn’t really want to think about it.

“What? See your robo-skeleton face and freak out?” He gave him a light shove. “C’mon man- it’s just a face. We all have skeletons and it’s not like you have gross stuff like blood or whatever. Just get it over with.” He felt the stress ease out of his shoulders as he turned to sit on the sofa, eying the tools.

Switch flexed his fingers one at a time, releasing them, and then all at once until his joints creaked “can you, like, promise to not freak out. Like, seriously, don’t freak out.”

Raptor raised one of the cleaning tools. Huh, he doesn’t remember this one. “No, I won’t freak out. Can we do this already? I’ve been ready for this since you asked. We kind of need to do this fast-“ or else all the old gunk and dust that built up might just stick to him forever and who knows what that would do weeks or months from now.

There was a series of clicks and a several latches unhooking from the inside- a pneumatic pressure gauge hissed as it retracted. He kept his attention on how everything undid and unlatched and separated away from the rest of his body. There was no turning back now. Next thing he knew Raptor had gently lifted it out of his grip, and held it while just looking at him. A cacophony of uninsulated clicks and whirls were made as he failed to look anywhere else that wasn’t directly at the human that stood over him. He made an attempt to turn his head, but the rollers silently spun uselessly in place. He imagined that this is what a camera on a tripod must feel like. Except he has bare exposed lenses that were out on display in the open along with all the delicate wires and circuits and motherboard; meanwhile Raptor was right there holding his face-

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. He chanted to himself as Raptor sat across from him, setting his now dimly-lit casing aside on the couch cushion next to him, not really taking his gaze off of Switch.

Raptor ran a hand over the tools and slid one of the smaller ones out of its pocket. With a soft microfiber brush tip and squeezable cleaning barrel, it was the first one to use for small sensitive parts. He peered up and beckoned Switch to lean a little further down and forward so he didn’t have to strain to keep his arm still as he worked. Switch inched ever forward in the chair- it groaned and half of his face was now cast in a column of bright warm sunlight, his lens contracting and throwing deep shadows where the light caught on his face.

Raptor’s jaw slackened and his hand got sidetracked. This was his friend, he’s had this face when he was made. It was just under the case that protected it this whole time. When was the last time he took it off? Did he ever get cleaned up like this? Was there anyone to help him then?

Getting a closer look, it reminded him of the old guts of a computer tower with the anatomy of one of those electronic skeletons found in toys. There were several tiny circuit boards- wires that were bundled with electric tape- some in neat tidy strips and others in a haphazard mess, a couple little fans that sputtered in frequent bursts, a couple little speaker-looking parts, a large mess where his mouth would be- it didn’t even look like a speaker, and to his surprise, two lens that were locked onto him.

In a smooth and methodical motion he looked for a place to start, circling around his eye area. The cleaning solution that would clear any dust off and polish his eyes gleamed in the mid-day sun as he closed in on Switch’s face.

He heard the soft clicking and whirling of camera lenses as Switch focused on him and tried to distract himself “is it bad?”

Wow, that brush was getting close to his eye.

He leaned away slightly.

Raptor stopped and hummed “not as bad as we thought it was gonna be.” He raised a brow “can you feel this?” The brush met the outer rim of his eye- tiny raised text caught the cleaning mixture which condensed into a crystalline droplet that slid into his view. Switch flinched back before realizing what it was. He really needed to chill, he could trust Raptor with this- it was difficult to fight off his fraying nerves when a slew of different hardcoded self-preservation functions poked him every few nano-seconds- one after another. In succession.

He leaned back forward, hands resting on his lap in loose fists “no- but-” something in his hindcode itched. He took a glance at it. It was a loop of the company variety. Again. “Just be gentle?”

Raptor seemed only a little annoyed, brush held in the air, “trust me, dude, I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you” he slowly returned with gentle contact- Switch heard a series of soft scrapping sounds coming from seemingly right inside his audio input receptors. Everything in him screamed that this was unauthorized, that it was potentially damaging, that he might just explode and die a fiery death (which wasn’t going to happening, but the company maintenance made vague threats like it would). He decided to authorize Raptor as a technician right then and there- he just hadn’t thought about how he had never done this before. He opened a system option and accessed the manual bypass for personnel intel and security. It was so broken and frail it didn’t care that he was the one talking to it. Only the thing had completely ignored him when he reached for the input prompt list.

Wait.

He went after it, but it didn’t even go near the route programs he usually had corralled them to.

>> System: return address; null function; else return “error”;

> error; return data type; void int;

What.

Then he heard it.

“REGISTERING TECHNICAL CLIENT FOR AUTHORIZATION. PROCEED?” Oh that was loud. It lacked all the inflection of what he usually sounded like, too. Actually, exploding right about now didn’t seem so bad. Maybe even an astroid hitting him where he sat.

Raptor froze and went pale, he was stopped whatever he was saying and doing. That was never good. He went straight for a backdoor, deciding not to waste time confronting it.

“Switch?” He said in a small brave voice.

“PROCEED?” The voice asked again. Piece of shit was scaring Raptor, he needed back in right now. But just as the system didn’t care that he accessed it, it didn’t care that he needed a fast way to find the lead to where this program was coming from. Terminate. Terminate you stupid piece of shit software.

Raptor looked lost and terrified like his best friend was taken over by some kind of virus and was about to eat him.

A moment passed. Then another. He slowly took his hand away after realizing nothing was going to happen, and regarded him carefully, ready to launch off the couch if he needed to. He swallowed thickly and then followed the body-snatcher’s lead.

“Proceed?”

“TECHNICIAN DESIGNATION” the voice prompted in its flat buzzy voice.

“Raptor” it didn’t have any of the charm of when they first met, but he found some small sense of bemusement in this second first meeting.

“REGISTERING “RAPTOR”. BYPASSING CONFIRMATION CODE 405.” Almost there. He had a feeling the lack of company server was what even let Raptor interact with the program like this.

Raptor seemed less scared and more confused and concerned “Hey, Switch, are you in there?” For all he knew this thing was now Switch and that the friend he knew was gone.

He wrestled the voice command away “hey, yeah, I’m here- sorry” he would have crawled behind the couch and manually erase all of this if he could.

Raptor gave him a pointed look “dude, that was not cool.” He paused. Oh, his hand was shaking now. Shit.

Switch slowly reached up to try to reassure him.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about it” he didn’t look or sound okay.

“I’m sorry” he elaborated “I was… it was…” he made a learned frustrated sound “I just authorized you as my main technician. You can access everything now” he continued “I didn’t know that was gonna happen. I thought it was all boring internal company stuff and you could work while I deal with it” it was easier to tell when he looked off and away to the side “I know that was loud.”

Oh. This was a Citynetics thing. Switch didn’t ever really talk about them.

“It’s cool, we’re cool… What do you mean by everything?” Getting back to the task at hand, Raptor took one deep breath and then another. He shook his hands out and took a drink. He felt a little better. Everything was okay, it’s alright, Switch was still Switch.

“Everything as in everything” he made a motion with his hand “you know, coding and parts and all that.”

“Oh. Cool.” Raptor didn’t grasp that Switch had just handed him, but that was okay, he would figure it out later.

He picked up the brush once more, gestured for Switch to return to his position, and then started on the other side of his face. He rested his left hand across on the collar of Switch’s neck and used his right forearm to prop up his hand up just below his wrist. Barely squeezing the plastic barrel for more cleaning solution and being as careful as to avoid exposed wire and metal and glass, he went to work. His hand still held a slight tremor- then he noticed Switch clench his fist just a fraction “do you have, like, popups that yell at you or something?”

“Well. Yeah, I guess. Most of the time I can ignore it.”

“That sounds like it would suck.” Raptor snapped the cap back on the brush- saving solution from drying, and reached for the little blue can of electronic air duster. There was a ton of light grey dust built up in little mounds around the fans and boards. He gingerly started working on the tiny metal fans as he held the brush with the attachment up to them.

Switch tried to relax. In the undercode that ran behind his awareness there was a constant stream of now approved movements that Raptor was making. It was weird. There was now something that tracked every move Raptor made and a new library of statements that revolved around ID’ing him. Was this always there and he just now noticed it? He doubted it. Suddenly it disappeared and Switch made a startled noise as Raptor came back from opening a window to air out the room.

“What’s up?”

When he looked at Raptor something popped up in the undercurrent and he went to check it out.

He didn’t need another full-body possession twice in one day “hold on… when I authorized you something weird happened and it’s trying to track you”.

“Wow, creepy, but okay” Raptor said lightly, the ice cubes clinking together as he took a refreshing sip.

Switch sounded distracted “it’s trying to do something here… oh.”

“Oh?” Raptor casually turned over their small can of all-purpose 3-in-1 oil.

What exactly did he open up when he went to authorize him.

“It’s trying to give you some kind of title… you’re my… handler? Creation buddy? Another ex-worker? I don’t get what this is trying to tell me, it’s written in another language from everything else.”

“Dude, you’re bilingual?”

“Something like that, yeah. It’s a computer language that I don’t know” he focused on the oil can, it was new. Where did he get that from? “I should know all of them, so I’m not gonna lie, I’m kinda worried about what’s going on.”

Raptor tried to wrap his head around what he was saying “so the thing that talked to me is speaking to you in a language you don’t know even though it’s your mind- and It’s trying to give me a label even though you just said I’m you ‘technician’”? He grabbed a microfiber cloth and tipped a dollop of oil onto it. It would protect the raw steel from rust “why would it try to call me anything other than ‘technician’?”

Switch wondered why, too. It was broken and twitchy and when he gave it his attention it pinged him. Or it moved. He only understood a fraction of it even when he looked into the transistor part of his code (which almost overwhelmed him to even make the call for in a terminal screen). It kept updating and changing and when he moved it moved with him. Weird.

Then he tried something- bypassing the input-output he spewed a line of code right at it.

Mid-questioning everything up until now, just like that, he was gone.

When he came to- his system already went through the on-off system check. This is not where he was expecting his day to go. Maybe Raptor accidentally snapping off a fan or a bundle of wires coming loose and disconnecting something vaguely important? Well yeah, but not this. Last thing he remembers was sending a line of code that would have crashed that thing that was hanging out with him in his head- oh.

Raptor stood at his side, hovering over him. It took a minute for his vision to clear up entirely. He knew that look.

Now that he got the chance, he noticed that he was on the floor on his side- he tried to get up, but a hand pressured him to stay. What happened?

Raptor’s face was weird and puffy. It left him feeling uneasy- it was off and looked uncomfortable and almost sad? Angry? There wasn’t a lot of red in his face, it was mostly wet like he was crying. Something bad must have happened while he was out. He checked his history bank. It wasn’t there, actually looking for it now- it was out of his reach. He felt like he should be more worried, but Raptor had to come first, he could worry about his system later. How could he make this better? Raptor probably thought he had off-lined him. More than anything he felt guilty- he really messed up this time.

He stammered out a “sup”

Seriously. That was the best he could think of? Try again- what does Raptor need right now.

“I really fucked up, this time, I’m sorry” his voice sounded tinny and crackled. Was his face still on the couch?

Raptor’s voice sounded mildly stuffed up “Latch’s here”

Oh.

He heard someone adjust on the couch, clacking away at a keyboard out of his view “hey” it was cool and impartial. That was Latch, alright.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“You terminating your own code mid-process is what’s up- do you see this?”

Something gave him a jolt and forced itself into his view. It took up his whole vision “yeah, but now I can’t see you”

“Good. Just follow it.”

“So following your responses from that program it looks like your sentience stems from somewhere in the system options and augmenting area of your code. To make this short: you were talking to yourself, but because it was a fraction of an already broken code you fractured more of it and made a kind of mirror of code. It probably acted strange- does that sound right?”

He would have nodded “yeah! It tried to get my attention and kept saying weird half-gibberish to me”

Latch motioned with one hand “think of it as your subconscious- it wasn’t you per se, but rather, like a more complex low level thought process. You have the memory for it.” He paused “I had wrote a user-based function that should keep that from happening.”

He turned to Raptor “it was like a snake eating its own tail, but I made it so he knows not to do that again, right?”

Latch gave him a look that could freeze summer over

“Right”

Was he the system options? Is that where he came from? It was a lot to think about.

Raptor cleared his throat “I owe you one, Latch”

Latch huffed as he hopped down from the couch and brushed himself off

“I know who to bill, you bums don’t have a penny to your name”

“Heh, got us there”

“Thanks, Latch”

“No problem, kid. Next time he does something stupid like that, you can plug him into your laptop, he can figure it from there.”

Raptor saw him out, Switch watched from his position on the floor- Raptor then closed and locked the door behind him and turned and came back “I thought I killed you- you know”

“I’m sorry-“

Raptor exhaled with a shuddered breath “I tried everything, nothing worked-” he started to pace, not really looking at Switch. Words barely tapering off above a hoarse whisper- grabbing at his hair with one hand and positioning his other near his mouth “-I thought you forgot to charge, but plugging you in didn’t work. I thought-“ his eyes were getting shiny and his words started to choke up and all thought was devoured by a wall of emotion that he had holed up in his the entire time that Latch getting Switch to just turn on. He held onto hours of storming thoughts when Latch managed the first time he boot up where Switch wasn’t really Switch. Then they tried again. The second time looked promising, but it still wasn’t clicking in place. By the third he was starting to lose grip with his nerve, hands turning numb as he tried to keep his cool. He had obviously mostly failed on that front from the looks of it.

He never told Switch, but sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night with this specific dream- one that when he sat up he felt as though the wind was knocked out of his body and the floor was pulled from right under his feet. Like a waking nightmare coming true. Like Switch never turning on from a crash.

“I thought you were dead- you. You weren’t coming back. That-“ That he was gone and the only person who had given half a damn about him had left him alone in a world where no one cared what happened to some kid who played ball and had nothing else to his name but a bat and a helmet.

“Raptor-” he faltered, thinking on the best words he knew. The ones that’ll balm Raptor’s hurt- he kneaded and mulled over the words in his mind that would reassure that he would never leave Raptor like that, but his own stupid mistake and shallow foresight had almost lead him to his end. Again. He would be the master of his unmaking and he felt helpless to the knowledge. It made for some choice alerts in his under-code that paid attention to every little thought that crossed his mind. Nonetheless, even if the logical pathways left errors- he chose to ignore them for the one good solid truth he knew.

“Raptor, I’m still here.” It was all that he could afford.

He propped himself against the couch with his arm outstretched as an open invitation for Raptor- a small plea to close the gap. Raptor haphazardly collapsed in the familiar angles of Switch’s embrace. He melted into his side and pressed himself as close he could as he was wracked with a quiet upset.

“I’m here” his voice had tempered into something soft and warm and solid and repeated it until Raptor lulled himself into a stupor. Limp as he was held Switch noticed the little wells that his teeth left on his arm and the red angry skin around his sutures.

What was he thinking doing that to some part of himself he didn’t have a clue about. He should have ran a diagnostics to see what that even was. At the very most they would have called Latch together ofr him to have to section off that part of his system options. It would have been annoying, but nothing compared to this. He gently scooped Raptor up with very little effort- reaching behind himself to unplug some wires he was still hooked up to. Raptor only stirred a little, but some light coaxing got him to settle down. He eased him onto the couch, working off his helmet that he then laid on the coffee table next to their mess.

When that was done he closed the couple laptops Latch was using earlier, wrapped up the cords in a neat little bundle, and made space for himself on the floor by the couch. If there was anything left from cleaning his electronic components- they were quickly forgotten about. There would always be another time for that. Settling down Switch let his arm rest on the cushion next to Raptor. He took comfort in the sensor that gauged the mild influx of psi as it rested well, a nudge had let him know that there was the tiniest bit of resistance against it. Raptor was pressing himself up against his arm.. After a few more minutes he then picked up on the gentle slow snoring. It was late afternoon- almost time for dinner if he had to be frank, so it would probably be next to impossible for Raptor to go to bed on time, but after this, he figures one personal day wouldn’t hurt. He’d help Raptor catch up on any of his homework if it came to that.

With the dying light and the sulfur lamps blinking on one by one he let himself sink into the thought of tomorrow and the day after and the day after.

[sleepsonfutons]

@dreamlingbingo Master Post Time? Dreamling Bingo Master Post Time!

Red - Rating: Explicit or Not Rated Mind the archive warnings/tags & take care~ Yellow - Unposted/unfinished fic snips Enter with caution ymmv Blue - Rating: Teen And Up Green - Rating: General Audiences Pink - Filth, absolute filth (ﾉ*ФωФ)ﾉ Rating: Explicit

A1 John Dee Wins - Even When the World’s On Fire, I Won’t Stop To Watch It Burning Chapter 1

A2 Secret Admirer (Adoptable) Post-Apocalyptic - Even When the World’s On Fire, I Won’t Stop To Watch It Burning Chapter 4

A3 Punishment - Untitled WIP Snippet Fill

A4 Russian Roulette - No Accounting For Taste

A5 Trust me - As a Stranger I Know Myself** Chapter 5 In Your Absence

B1 Searching for answers - Even When the World’s On Fire, I Won’t Stop To Watch It Burning Chapter 3

B2 Bodyguard (Monthly) Only Fools Rush In - As a Stranger I Know Myself** Chapter 3 In Your Company

B3 Phone Sex (Monthly) Obsession - Dream of the Dark

B4 Crying - Even When the World’s On Fire, I Won’t Stop To Watch It Burning Chapter 6

B5 Last of their Kind - Untitled WIP Snippet Fill

C1 Come Swallowing (Adoptable) Road Trip - As a Stranger I Know Myself** Chapter 7 In Your Return

C2 Disability - My Comfort. Your Touch.

C3 Free Space - Empty and Whole

C4 Love Triangle - Untitled WIP Snippet Fill

C5 Felching - Insatiable

D1 Tied on a table - Untitled WIP Snippet Fill

D2 Uniform Fetish - As a Stranger I Know Myself** Chapter 6 In Your Leaving

D3 Time Travel - Untitled WIP Snippet Fill

D4 Mistaken for a couple - As a Stranger I Know Myself** Chapter 3 In Your Enthusiasm

D5 Spanking (Monthly) MerMay - Don't Ask Me To Say Goodbye

E1 Too shaky to stand - As a Stranger I Know Myself** Snippet Fill

E2 Bound and Gagged - As a Stranger I Know Myself** Chapter 1 In The Darkness

E3 Creature: Feline - Untitled WIP Snippet Fill

E4 Magical Healing Cock (Adoptable) Talking in Riddles - As a Stranger I Know Myself** Chapter 2 In Our Correspondences

E5 Magical Pendant - Even When the World’s On Fire, I Won’t Stop To Watch It Burning Chapter 7

**(Collab with @phinofthestorm)

[nari-writes]

Was meant to be self-sacrifice and somehow turned into Shenanigans instead: welcome the yj core 4 being three badly-raised teenage guys and one "normal" teenage girl who Does Not Deserve This Level Of Mortification (also, there's a vampire)

----

"Okay," Tim says, and then again, a bit more breathlessly, "okay. We can do this. It's fine. It's fine? No-one's injured, and without blood their tracking won't be-"

"Shit," Cassie says. Tim's attention immediately snaps to her, which is not what she wants but also entirely what she expects.

"What?" he asks. "Did you get hurt? Are you okay?"

"No," she says, humiliation making her cheeks burn, and Tim gets even more concerned.

"No what?" he asks, and then, too fast for her to get an answer in, "No to you being okay? No to having an injury? Cassie-"

Oh god this is the worst, she thinks, because this is the punchline to the world's most misogynistic joke - an alien, a too-old baby, a socially awkward teen therapist, and a girl with- "I'm on my period," she says, and hates how squirmy embarrassment feels in her stomach.

Kon stares at her, looking vaguely panicked. Bart at least just cocks his head, but Tim can't even look at her, and he's turning pink under his mask-

"How- much blood?" Tim asks, sounding as awkwardly as she feels, and Cassie hisses.

"I don't measure it! I dunno, Robin, enough for a freaking blood-sniffing vampire to track-"

"Just turn it off?" Bart says, and Cassie makes an offended noise in the back of her throat.

"Wait, she can do that?" Kon asks, now looking even more panicked.

"No!" Tim and Cassie say in unison.

"I wish," Cassie adds, and this time it's Bart's turn to reel back.

"So you just bleed?" he asks, aghast.

Cassie's tone probably matches his when she asks, "Imp, has no-one had the talk with you yet? Is there no sex ed in the future?"

"Shots not," Tim says, and Cassie immediately repeats the phrase, desperately.

"What!" Kon says, "No, no, no, no, I am not- I can't! You want me to teach him? I don't even know if human sex ed is different from Kryptonian sex ed!"

"Not like Superman gave you many pointers on either," Tim mutters, because he takes every chance he can get to snub Clark, and Cassie steps on his foot.

"Nobody has to tell me about anything," Bart says crossly, "I'll just go to the library and teach myself-"

"Vampire!" says Tim, grabbing Bart's bicep before he can flash from the room. "Oh my god do not go out there right now."

[ssscreamingwrites]

day 9

note: forgot to post this yesterday!

time spent: 15 min overall mood: fatigued. music: n/a. written line(s) that i liked: n/a.

i only managed to do the prophecy fic on my phone. i couldn't get up from my bed to do it on my laptop;;; honestly, i just wasn't feeling it.

i feel the urge to snip and edit the doc. mostly because i've been heavily focusing on writing not editing. so, there's just a bunch of words / paragraphs / etc that's out of order or unfinished solely because i've been following my thought tangents / stream of consciousness. will do that outside of draftdash time then.

[navysealt4t]

⭐

:DD this lil snip is from when you died, my firefly

One afternoon, she goes below deck to find Ollie sitting at her desk. It’s still littered with unfinished diagrams and charts and tools. She would have liked to keep it in a nice state, but her passion projects had never been tidy. He’s crying and sniffling up a storm, and Jay hopes the crew didn’t forget to talk Ollie through grief. She can't imagine he's had to deal with death before. He is very sheltered. There’s not much she can do, just watching, but she tries. He sorts through the papers, setting them into piles and cleaning the oil off her tools. She quietly talks him through her drawings, even when he sets the paper into a neat pile. There’s so many projects she never got around to sharing with him. He would come racing down the stairs, nearly slamming face-first into the wall, just to see what she was currently tinkering. She looks at her charts, noticing a mistake caused by an alive Jay fueled by three cups of coffee. She instinctively picks up a pencil, already making the motion to flip the pencil to its eraser side, before realizing. 

i had SO MUCH FUN writing this little scene with jay and ollie. they r so very underrated in my opinion and like!!! i took this scene to kinda reflect on their relationship!! ollie really admires jay yknow and even if initially jay thought it’d be a terrible idea to be onboard (it still is in her opinion, he should be at home with his mom not thrown into danger) she’s so so fond of him. if jay was alive in this scene, she would be teaching ollie how to build a compass or some useful little knick-nack. but since she’s not really there, all she can do is pretend she is there and pretend like ollie isn’t mourning her :( god i forgot how unwell this fic made me

[ilovedthestars]

Tags I Use (For My Stuff)

I just went through and fixed the tags on most of my original posts so I'll actually be able to tag them consistently. Making this post partially so I can remember, and partially so i can link it in my pinned post when I get around to making a new one.

Stuff I Made

#stars art - my finished art (most of what I post here is fanart)

#stars doodles - unpolished or silly art that i wouldn't qualify as a finished piece

#stars fic - anything related to fic I've written or posted, sometimes snips, occasionally ao3 links

#stars wips - posting/talking about artworks or fics that are still in progress

General

#stars has thoughts - original posts that aren't any of the above, and have coherent thoughts in them

#stars rambles - original posts that are shorter or more stream of consciousness/rambly

#stars reblogs - reblogs of other people's posts that I added my own thoughts to

#housekeeping - posts like this one, about tumblr stuff/my blog

#tag game - participation in tag games

#ask game answers - responding to ask game asks

#stars answers - asks that aren't part of an ask game

Stuff I Made but More Specific

#walk me home animatic - a murderbot animatic i'm working on (on and off) that's set to Walk Me Home by P!nk

#old unit young unit fic / #old unit young unit wip - my big in-progress multichapter murderbot OC fic! Feat. OCs Niri and OldUnit.

#polaris series - the fic above and its sequels, including some more OCs

Generally, if i talk about a published fic i tag it "#title fic" and if i talk about an unfinished fic I tag it "#working title wip." (Old Unit, Young Unit gets two separate tags for when i'm talking about the parts that are published and the parts i'm still working on.)

[rockinlibrarian]

👖⏰ for the fanfic ask 😊

Thanks, person I reblogged this AskGame from even though I think I forgot to ask you back! How about I now ask you 💭 and 🍰?

👖 Are you a planner, plantser, or pantser? Is it consistent?

I think...it's NOT consistent? Which may be all part and parcel of being a plantser?

I usually start out as a pantser, and then when I get an idea of what I'm writing, I decide if it needs some background structure! If it's fairly short, and more character-driven than plot-driven, I'll pants the whole thing. If it's going to be multi-chapter or somehow complicated, THEN I'll write out the Beats to Hit and put notes under each, and sometimes make a new Scrivener page for each beat/chapter. Then I can focus on the parts that need to be written! But the first thing I write is usually more of a snip of voice and tone and concept, completely pantsed.

⏰ Do you spend more time reading fic, writing fic, or do you do both equally?

You know I'm not sure? It was definitely writing before I got it into my head to browse the Umbrella Academy tag in alphabetical order by author (this by the way is currently somewhat stalled out in the Ts. Now I'm mostly reading ongoing things I've subscribed to and anything new that shows up under the Five/Viktor tag because I'm still weirdly obsessed with that. OH, and also things my recipients for Yuletide have written so I get an idea of their tastes! But that's a somewhat different subject I should get out of the parenthesis for!) , but I feel like-- it varies? Some weeks it's more reading, some it's more writing. There's also the issue where I get sucked into rereading whatever it is I'm supposed to be writing, so which is that, really? This morning I got it into my head that I wanted to read the unfinished chapters of "Tesseract," so I did, and I didn't actually ADD anything to any of it, even though it's been going on two years since it's been updated and that's probably annoying for anyone who was actually waiting for me to update. It doesn't actually have any subscriptions though, so I'm probably only annoying myself.

😊 confused me! I was like "I don't see a 😊 ! There's a 🌝 (Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to? And the answer is... I don't know, because if I want to write a character I probably already have written them! I was thinking, when I placed my requests for Yuletide, that I WISH I could write Sal Vidon from 'Sal and Gabi Break the Universe' because he has SUCH a distinctive voice, but that's part of the problem because he's also very Cuban-American and I know basic Mexican-Spanish and I couldn't possibly pull the cultural part of his voice off ANYWAY), but no 😊!"

Then I figured out it was just a pleased smile and a very cheerful one at that. So, have a nice day!

[ladyswillmart]

I started writing this Nero Scaeva-POV fic like...a year ago? Two years maybe? Some time right after I finished Endwalker. This is just a snip from the beginning of it, and it's an image because I don't know (alt text included though).

Of course I never finished it and it got consigned to the Bargain Bin of Oblivion as an official UFO (Unfinished Object) but... well, I dunno. Maybe it was worth finishing?