#zero below rewrite

[lumashiki]

Another animation for you lot! (There’s a ton I’ve been working on. My brain can never stick to one thing…)

More ZB!Rewrite content! (The ZB AU belongs to Skullgoat on TikTok!)

[thedragonagebigbang]

Big Bang Writer Requirements

Writers commit to producing a completed, new fanfiction PRIMARILY for the Dragon Age Media of at minimum 25,000 words. This work must be completed and posted to the AO3 collection by October 31, 2025. 

Total Writing Time: July 1 - October 31

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[hellodarling1357]

Battle Wounds (Cassian x Reader)

I didn’t realise how busy Christmas would be but I’m finally back on track with finishing/starting some of my WIPs and requests.

This is just a reader-insert / little rewrite of chapters 56 - 61 of ACOWAR

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 3,600

Standing along the edge of the field of tents, you watched alongside Feyre, Mor, and Nesta as the battle raged across the floor of the valley below.

Your eyes were keenly fixed on the armoured figure of your mate, breath quickening with each clash of a sword and shout of pain as Cassian led and held the lines of soldiers fighting against Hybern’s forces.

As much as you hated him being in the thick of it, you couldn’t deny the fact that he was damn good at what he did. It was like a dance, the way he moved with and against both your own and the enemy soldiers, never faltering as he somehow managed to keep an eye on every stage of the battle.

You cursed under your breath at Keir’s lack of control over his own soldiers, forcing Cassian’s attention away from what was going on around him as he roared above the sounds of battle for Keir to fix the lines.

You could sense Mor’s growing frustration as she shifted from foot to foot from where she stood on the other side of Feyre. That feeling of helplessness and being ordered to stay up here, to protect Feyre and her sisters, while she could be raging a battle of her own below ran through her.

The sound of Mor’s groan as Keir’s forces caved in response to Hybern cavalry surrounding them was a distant sound as you watched on in horror as Cassian leapt into the air and flew straight into the middle of the onslaught. The stream of arrows and spears just barely missing him as his Siphons dimmed. You furiously tugged on the bond, begging him to get out, but you knew it was no good as he unleashed himself on Hybern, further ignoring Rhys’ roared orders to fall back.

You barely registered Feyre squeezing your hand, breath stuck in your chest, as you watched Azriel lunge into the fray, desperately fighting his way towards Cassian who was completely surrounded. The red flare of your mate’s Siphons only allowing him a moment of reprieve as he panted in the midst of a circle of dead soldiers before more moved forward to take their place.

Too fixated on the battle and Cassian’s sputtering Siphons, you were oblivious to Feyre pulling Mor aside. But you quickly caught sight of your friend’s stream of golden hair appearing beside Azriel as they edged closer and closer to Cassian who was beginning to slow in his assault against a Hybern captain.

You whipped around, tearing your eyes away from your mate for the first time since the battle started. Nesta was still standing feet away from you, eyes frantically moving across the battlefield as if she didn’t know where to look.

But Feyre…

Turning on the spot you scanned the space around you but found no trace of your friend.

You raced towards the sea of tents, senses heightened as you tried to track her down; Rhys would be furious enough at Mor for abandoning her post in favour of the fight, let alone when he realised you had been too distracted by your own mate to notice that Feyre had also left your spot overlooking the valley.

Heartbeat quickening, you frantically searched tent after tent, but there, exiting the one Elain resided in…

You winnowed towards her, grabbing hold of Feyre’s arm, not realising it was the exact moment she also decided to winnow, taking you alongside her as she headed towards the Middle.

*****

“Feyre, what are you doing?”

Still breathless from the unexpected journey, you furiously stared at her before taking in your surroundings, quickly zeroing in on your mating bond to make sure nothing had happened to Cassian in the minutes you had been gone.

“Y/N,” she seemed just as shocked. “I… I have a plan, I think it will help but you need to go.”

A disbelieving laugh left your throat but your words were quickly swallowed down as an ancient, rasping voice filled the clearing.

“Have you come to kill me, or to beg for my help once again, Feyre Archeron?”

Shooting you an apologetic grimace, Feyre turned towards the Suriel.

***

Alert and on guard, you stood in silence as Feyre spoke with the Suriel. Your mind raced as you tried to be present and focus on what was occurring in front of you, but you couldn’t stop yourself from fixating on the bond and the adrenaline, laced with fatigue, that raced through it.

“…Tell the silver-eyed messenger that the answer lies on the second and penultimate pages of the Book. Together they hold the key.”

You tuned back in with a blink, aware you had missed the conversation but still daring to ask, “The key to what?”

The Suriel studied you closely, causing a chill to run down your back, before replying, “The answer to what you need to stop Hy—”

But the sudden spray of black blood that covered both you and Feyre as the arrow made impact with the Suriel’s chest had you pulling out the Illyrian sword Cassian had given you as you scanned the darkness of the trees for the assailant.

More arrows shot through the trees, causing the Suriel to stumble and scream, and then a lilting female voice crooned, “Why does it talk to you, Feyre, when it would not even deign to speak with me?”

Ianthe.

It had been centuries since you had last seen the High Priestess, but the sight of her still had your blood boiling. The encounter you stumbled across involving her and Cassian, so soon after you had been mated, had not ended well for the blonde haired fae. The fact that she had tried similar tactics on Rhysand and Azriel, only furthering the anger coursing through you.

“Y/N, what a pleasant surprise. How is that gorgeous mate of yours?” But her attention was already focused back on Feyre, prattling on and on about Hybern and Tamlin and how she had captured the Suriel with a sickly satisfied smirk.

“I should have slit your throat that night in the tent.” Was all Feyre deigned to give as a response.

An arrow shot through from one of Hybern’s soldiers which you quickly deflected, edging closer with your blade angled, ready to pounce.

Ianthe’s face tightened as she glowered at Feyre. “You’ll find you want to reconsider how you speak to me. I’ll be your best advocate in Hybern.”

“I suppose you’ll have to catch me first,” And with that, Feyre was hurtling into the woods, Ianthe close on her trail.

You took the momentary distraction as a chance to engage both guards.

They smirked at you, edging closer as though tracking their prey. To your delight, it seemed they had no idea who you were. Had no idea that you had trained alongside Illyrian warriors for centuries, that your mate, the General of the Night Court, had overseen your training to an almost gruelling manner until he was satisfied that you could hold your own.

So you smirked right back as you leapt towards them, blade raised and ready.

The fight didn’t last long.

*****

After ensuring the two Hybern soldiers were well and truly dead, you raced after Feyre but the trail blurred and darkened the further in you got, causing your sense of panic to rise as you let out a frustrated yell.

The silence of the woods was abruptly broken by the sound of an unending scream. Without a second thought you raced towards it, hoping that it wasn’t Feyre and that you hadn’t been too late.

But there she was, flying through the trees towards you as she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back, racing towards the clearing.

“Feyre…,” You gasped as you caught your breath. “What was that?”

“I figured I owed the Weaver an apology and decided that acquainting her with Ianthe would suffice.”

You were both stunned and impressed by your friend’s quick thinking but Feyre was already heading towards where the Suriel lay, kneeling down beside it and grasping its bony hand in her own.

Staying a respectful distance away, you watched on in silence, tears filling your eyes as you watched the Suriel’s chest stop moving, Feyre weeping over it. Stepping closer, you put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Feyre…” You started, stopping as your senses heightened in on another presence.

You raised your blade and cautiously turned, letting out a sigh of relief when you found Helion hurriedly striding towards you.

“Come. It is not safe. I’m here to bring you back, both of you.” A panicked look in your direction had your brows furrowing but you pushed it aside as you helped him pull Feyre to her feet, watching on as Helion’s flame burned the cloak-covered Suriel to a pile of ash before taking his hand and allowing the warm light to whisk you away, straight into Rhys’ war-tent.

*****

You knew something was wrong the moment you took in Rhys’ pale features, splattered with blood that was not his own. He pulled Feyre into a crushing embrace before fixing you with a heavy look that told you enough.

“No…” You felt yourself begin to hyperventilate. “Rhys, is he…? Where is he?”

The encounter with Ianthe had distracted you enough that you failed to miss the disturbance that flowed down the bond. But Cassian couldn’t be dead, you would know if he was dead.

Your body started to shake as you stared back at Rhys, seeing nothing.

Then you were moving. Racing out of the tent, following the faint trace of your mate that the bond provided.

A sob escaped you as you shoved through the tent’s entrance. Mor and Azriel, standing in front of the cot, blocked your view of who lay atop it.

“Y/N—“ Mor’s tearful voice was a distant echo as she reached for you, but you pushed past, falling to your knees beside the cot as you took in the sight of Cassian, covered in both mud and blood, unconsciousness not allowing any escape of pain as his face contorted under the healer’s glowing hands, breathing laboured and weak.

There was no chance of stopping the vomit that violently urged up your throat once you noticed the too-deep slice curving up Cassian’s navel to the bottom of his sternum. All you could see was Cassian, pale and bloody, not giving you space to even be aware of your sobs and the violent shaking that coursed through your body.

The healer kept working, someone knelt beside you, pulling you into their arms, you didn’t know who, didn’t know how much time had passed as you sobbed, and shook, and stared at the male in front of you who meant everything to you, who you couldn’t imagine life without, who now seemed as though he were mere moments from death.

The gaping slice across Cassian’s middle grew smaller and smaller, the blood easing to a slight trickle. Still, you refused to look away, even as the commotion of Rhys and Feyre rejoining you slightly pulled you away from your racing thoughts.

“Is he—is he going to—“ Feyre’s unfinished question loomed, forcing you to momentarily drag you bloodshot eyes away from your mate’s body to the healer who had been tirelessly working on him.

“No. He’ll be sore for a few days, though.”

You started to cry again, not sure if you had truely stopped in the first place. This time it was Azriel who knelt beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as Feyre, again, asked, “How?”

“He wouldn’t wait for us,” Mor said flatly. “He kept charging—trying to re-form the line. One of their commanders engaged him. He wouldn’t turn away. By the time Az got there, he was down.”

Azriel’s face was stone-cold, even as his hazel eyes fixed unrelentingly upon the slowly healing wound.

Blood rushed to your head, blocking out Mor’s questioning of where Feyre had gone, and why you had needed to chase after her.

The sudden fluttering of Cassian’s eyes had you loosening a breath as you hurled even closer to his side, carefully grasping his calloused and scarred hand, watching unblinkingly as he finally opened his eyes and let out a groan of pain.

“That’s what you get,” the healer chided, gathering her supplies, “for stepping in front of a sword.”

She frowned at him. “Make sure he rests tonight and tomorrow.” A brief nod in your direction, “I know better than to insist on a third day after that, but try not to leap in front of a blade anytime soon.”

Cassian just blinked rather dazedly at her before slowing turning his head to face you.

“How bad?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“How bad was your injury,” Rhys said mildly, “or how badly did we have our asses kicked?”

Cassian blinked again. Slowly. Turning his gaze away from you and towards his friend. As if whatever sedative he’d been given still held sway.

“To answer the second question,” Rhys went on, Mor and Azriel backing away a step or two as something sharpened in his voice, “we managed. Keir took some heavy hits, but … we won. Barely. To answer the first …” Rhys bared his teeth. “Don’t you ever pull that kind of shit again.”

The glaze wore off of Cassian’s eyes as he heard the challenge, the anger, and tried to sit up, hand tightly squeezing yours at the pain he felt. He hissed, scowling down at the red, angry slice on his chest.

“Your guts were hanging out, you stupid prick,” Rhys snapped. “Az held them in for you.”

You did a double take at that, flinching once you finally noted the blood - Cassian’s blood- caking Azriel’s hands.

“I’m a soldier,” Cassian said flatly. “It’s part of the job.”

“I gave you an order to wait,” Rhys growled. “You ignored it.”

You felt your breath quicken again, heart skipping a beat at the fight playing out in front of you, your own anger at his recklessness beginning to appear now that you knew for certain that Cassian was going to be okay

“The line was breaking,” Cassian retorted. “Your order was bullshit.”

Rhys braced his hands on either side of Cassian’s legs and snarled in his face, “I am your High Lord. You don’t get to disregard orders you don’t like.”

Cassian sat up this time, swearing at the pain lingering in his body, your arm quickly wrapping around him to offer some support. “Don’t you pull rank because you’re pissed off—”

“You and your damned theatrics on the battlefield nearly got you killed.” And even as Rhys spat the words—that was panic in his eyes. His voice. “I’m not pissed. I’m furious.”

“So you’re allowed to be mad about our choices to protect you—and we’re not allowed to be furious with you for your self-sacrificing bullshit?”

Rhys just stared at him.

Cassian stared right back.

“You could have died,” was all Rhys said, his voice raw.

“So could you.”

Another beat of silence—and in its wake, the anger shifted.

Rhys said quietly, “Even after Hybern… I can’t stomach it.”

And the way Rhys spoke, the way Cassian leaned forward, wincing again, as he let go of your hand and gripped Rhys’s shoulder…

The others quickly left, you hesitated, torn between letting them talk and remaining by your mate’s side.

Rhys’ voice broke through, deciding the matter for you, “Stay, you being here will help.”

You silently remained by Cassian’s side as they spoke, brother to brother. Still in shock by the state you had found your mate in, the previous conversation was only just catching up to you. And with the realisation of what Cassian’s excuse was, as well as his apparent lack of care for his own safety, you were overcome with white hot anger and finally snapped.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Both males abruptly looked at you, silenced by your first words since seeing Cassian bleeding out on the medi-cot.

“Y/N—“

“No. Are you fucking kidding? I’m a soldier. It’s part of the job,” You mocked. “Well what about your job outside of this war. As a friend, a brother, a mate? Did you ever once think about anyone else, about me, when you decided to jump at the first chance of playing hero?”

Rhys remained silent during your outburst, wishing he didn’t have to witness the fight that was about to break.

Stiffly turning to face you, Cassian observed you as you took in a few deep breaths, eyes still wide from panic and fear.

“Y/N,” he said slowly, grasping your hand in his. “I’m General of the Night Court, I can’t just sit back and do nothing while our soldiers take the fall—“

But you were shaking your head at him, vision blurring through a sea of tears.

“I know, trust me, I know, Cassian,” You let out a humourless laugh. “But you promised. You promised you would stay here, with me. Cauldron, we even spoke about properly trying for a child after all this was over. And then two seconds later you’re throwing yourself into the middle of it and almost dying in the process.”

Rhys silently left the tent, any words he had saved up to say to his brother as a way of reprimanding would hold zero weight compared to what you had to offer.

Despite himself, Rhys couldn’t help but smile fondly at the idea of the two of you having a child. He knew your plans had been put on hold after everything that happened whilst he was trapped Under the Mountain; and knowing this now, he swore to himself to subtly relieve Cassian of some of his more demanding and dangerous duties. It was the least he could if it meant the happiness of two of his closest friends.

Ignoring the pain that ricocheted through him at the slightest of movements, Cassian turned to properly face you as he guided you to sit beside him on the cot.

“Sweetheart, all I could think about was you,” he gently cupped your face, wiping the tears away. “You heard Rhys, we were so close to losing everything today, and if that had happened…” he took in a deep breath to collect himself. “If we had lost, and I hadn’t done everything in my power to prevent it, I couldn’t live with myself knowing that whatever happened afterwards, what could have happened to you, if Hybern won… It would’ve been my fault.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, gently caressing his thumb over your cheek.

“You almost died, Cass.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you grasped his hand.

“I’m not going to apologise for trying to protect you. If me getting hurt meant any of us getting a shot at a future after this, then it was worth it.”

“A future without you in it isn’t worth it to me.”

“Y/N—“

“No, Cassian, please. I thought I had lost you. How would you feel if it was me where you are right now?”

Cassian let out a sigh, unable to fathom how much seeing you split down the middle would tear him apart.

Gritting his teeth in pain, he moved over to make more room on the cot before pulling you into his side. You snuggled closer into him, cautious of not jostling him too much as you eyed his injury.

The pair of you lay side by side in silence, Cassian’s breathing eventually evening out and growing heavier as he drifted off to the feel of your fingers running through his hair.

Still feeling on edge and needing to do something, you detached yourself from his arms, careful not to wake him. Scanning the tent, your eyes landed on a few clean cloths and a bowl of water that the healer had left behind.

With a sigh, you started to carefully wipe the blood away from Cassian’s body, the bowl of clean water fast becoming a murky red mess.

Cassian stirred once you reached his wound, your fingers gently dabbing away the caked blood, leaving the newly healed split across his middle as the only evidence that he had been injured in the first place.

You felt his eyes on you as you finished cleaning him up, letting out a sign before finally lifting your eyes to meet his.

“I’m still so mad at you.”

“I know you are.” The slight tug on the bond you shared left you with a weary smile as you placed the dirty cloths in a heap beside the bed before lying down beside him again.

You laced your hand with his as he murmured, “I think I know a few ways I can make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, a light laugh escaping your lips.

“Yeah I can think of a few ways too, starting with you not acting like a baby for the next week and actually staying in bed.”

“The healer only said two days.”

“Yeah, well, I’m saying seven.” The look you fixed him with told him there would be no changing your mind.

He let out a huff of a laugh as he brought your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss to it before holding it against his chest.

“Fine. But only if you’re staying in bed with me.”

The shit eating grin that lit up his face had you shaking your head, your only response was a flick to his nose followed by an overwhelming surge of love that flowed down the bond.

[sewerpalette]

Little rant I might make a video out of:

Edit: disclaimer I wrote this directly after waking up so it’s very awkwardly paced and hard to read I’m so sorry.

AL-AN is not a good person, now I’ll start this off with saying that I looove his character, especially before the rewrite and this certainly isn’t an attack on anyone, just something I’d like to point out because I think the shift of perspective between both games is fascinating.

If anyone remembers the subnautica fandom before Below zero was even remotely announced, there were certain opinions flying around, people believed the architects to be the grand villain(s) in the bigger picture of the game lore for just how messed up they were, they literally hated those guys for being at fault of the sea emperors suffering and there were even theories going around that they made the kharaa to wipe out all other life around them- but it had went wrong.

But now it’s not like that anymore, no AL‘s previous actions are completely ignored because he showed some remorse for being responsible for the deaths of 7 architects specifically, together with messing up before pretty much an audience of billions, it must’ve been embarrassing- but when he apologizes he specifically only mentions the other architects, because he isn’t sorry for the other things he’s done, clearly. I mean dissecting a fetus is one thing, especially with their goal in mind, DISPLAYING it is another, like that’s just purposely gruesome. Together with all the other dissected experimented on animals in the shelves just hung up like prizes (I know the concept itself is not inhumane, but in this case it just wasn’t necessary.) also research specimen THETA anyone? Yeah we know it didn’t die because of the facility collapsing because there’s no injury displayed on its bones that would suggest that, and that part of the facilities insides also didn’t collapse, they just left it there until it either succumbed to the virus or starved to death, same with the sea emperor but they survived, kept alive by unfinished business for the next couple thousand years. Not to mention who the fuck comes up with a quarantine program that includes semi sentient killer machines and a giant gun made to shoot anything down from atmosphere, there were so many better solutions, I get the warper thing, I mean kill anything that’s infected makes sense, but the gun?? Literally why, if they send a signal through the network that this planet is diseased nobody is going to go there (we know that at that point humans weren’t advanced enough to travel space and they knew that so for who was that even for??) it was completely unnecessary to create a giant weapon in wich even more destructive weapons are stored wich let me get into that real quick because there’s also some implied stuff there, appearently AL was so desperate to get rid of his mistake that he attempted to blow up a doomsday device?? (Which would’ve destroyed most of the solar system in an instant.) In the entry it says it malfunctioned so they must’ve tried to use it, and even if they didn’t why would they have it on them anyways? Including all the other weapons. Also let’s talk about the architects in the little sanctuaries in the first game, it’s implied they stored multiple souls in like one of them, literally cramped up all their data whilst AL stored himself in a big ass sanctuary like idk man that’s kind of an asshole move. And those were just the first game events! (And there’s probably even more there.)

In BZ he can’t really do anything except for talk to robin because he doesn’t have a physical form, so there’s less to go off here but even then it didn’t seem like there were other sanctuaries in BZ for the other architects. and sure, you could make the arguement that architects don’t feel at all connected to their physical forms, wich is true, but don’t you think seeing a dead architects body, an architect from his team, a colleague, would illicit some kind of emotion from him beyond “great, now fetch me their skin.” (/j) even if he doesn’t see the attachment to the vessel, if it’s all that’s left from that time and from the crew, there would still be projected attachment onto it realistically. Also he was smart enough to hide himself from alterra because he guessed they didn’t have good intentions- scraping himself off the grid both physically and on any radars they had (presumably with hallucinations), but wasn’t smart enough to distract the critters running around infront of the sanctuary to idk get the help he needed with the failing sanctuary from the mercury, marg, or the alterrans that genuinely wanted to help instead of being eaten by sharks right infront of it.

Like man I love you but that’s just messed up.

And we know he knows he messed up, that’s why he’s so gloomy and does attempt to apologize at the end but like??? He said he wanted to make amends to his people showing that he still doesn’t care about everybody else he hurt, only those he deems as important, not the over 150 people that died on the aurora or the mercury or the degasi or the sunbeam or the research specimens or even the alterrans he’s indirectly caused death to, it is all his fault but he doesn’t see these people as important because he feels they are below him - sure you could make the arguement that he didn’t know about the ships that crashed, fair point. But seemingly he did if he could sense that alterra was there without even seeing alterrans in the first place, especially because Ryley has made contact with the thermal plant and other architect tech before, so he’d definitely know- especially based on the data robin has of the missing sunbeam and aurora incident on her PDA wich he has canonically said he read through.

And I’ll say it again I love AL, next to Bart he’s probably my favorite subnautica character in the whole game series, but I don’t like the portrayel of him suddenly being completely redeemed or being an inherently good person, he still doesn’t understand empathy or morals (you can be a good person without having those, don’t get me wrong.) and acts like a total idiot whilst victimizing himself, like yes, the other architects on the mission died and it’s his fault, they weren’t stored to keep him company and that’s his fault; neither did they like him, wich is very fair in my opinion. He can’t pull all this crap, disobey orders and get everybody killed and then pull the “but I’m sad about it so that erases everything I’ve done” like oh my god. I like him, but I would also like more content showing all this.

Sorry this was a very long kinda pointless rant and I don’t have any images because my phone which has like a whole folder of these is at home and we’re still stuck in England so it’ll have to do without for now.

TLDR: I want more morally dubious AL please and also he killed a fetus (well pretty much borderline newborn at that point) so he’s going into the fictional child murderer category for me.

[p1nkcanoe]

We Depend (I Depend) On You

[ jayvik multi-chaptered fic ]

summary: Viktor has always been alone, so he uses his brilliant mind to assemble the crude, metal frame of a “friend”. His self-modifying robot quickly becomes his obsession and the center of his young adulthood. But it was designed to record a lifetime of memories – and Viktor’s life has never been glamorous enough for tape. What begins as artificial intelligence becomes something more, something unexpected, and against all odds, his creation learns to love.

“I’m going to call you Jayce.”

or: viktor builds a robot to document his life, but somewhere along the way, it begins to feel

• inspired by “sad machine” by porter robinson

Chapter One is posted below the cut, continue to read on ao3

In the dim yellow light of a cold, cluttered lab, a twenty-five-year-old engineering student tightens the final screw into the metallic panel covering the delicate inner processors of his latest project. He exhales, lifting his safety goggles off his head and setting them carefully on the workbench beside him. His spine sinks into the soft backing of his chair at the same time his goggles hit the wooden surface. So far so good. Nothing has popped, cracked, or bent under pressure. He isn’t sure he has another piece of scrap left if the screw managed to dent the plate again. His free hand drags down his face, heavy with exhaustion – from too many sleepless nights and a grueling number of failed diagnostic tests. But this time, he thinks, this time will be the last. This time, it will work or Janna help him.

His creation is nothing spectacular – just six repurposed metal panels soldered into a crude steel box. On the front, a screen flickers, displaying endless lines of code he once wrote and has since forgotten how to read. Silver ones and zeros shift and rewrite themselves in real time, a chaotic stream of digital language pulling from the many mechanical nuclei he’d designed and installed inside of the box’ rigid frame. Above the screen, a hole no larger than his thumbnail houses a recording device for visual media. To the right, another opening, shielded by thick, spongy mesh, for the purpose of capturing sound.

It’s not a large prototype. It only stands about two feet from the floor and barely eighteen inches wide. But it’s far heavier than what’s healthy for his back and his hips. It’s been weeks since the last time the thing was moved, and it will continue to stay in its spot in front of the workbench for as long as it continues to be modified and upgraded.

The young engineer watches as his creation speaks to him in code, the nucleus he recently connected seemingly doing its job. A self-modifying computer – entirely capable of squashing its own bugs and learning from the diverse input it records. He wants it to evolve, to speak in his language, to respond in a complex alphanumeric code instead of the one it was built from. To recognize his voice, to obey his commands, answer his questions with answers he would have never thought to consider – not out of programming, but from its own discovery and worldly understanding. But alas, after his last adjustment, all he can do is stare at the endless stream of ones and zeroes as they rush across the screen from left to right.

“Hello?”

Even his voice sounds tired. Weak. He rolls the handle of the screwdriver back and forth over his palm and talks again towards the box.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

For a brief second the code falters, and he holds his breath readying himself for the imminent [ERROR] message. The text cursor blinks and blinks and blinks. And then–

→ 01100001 01100011 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 01101100 01100101 01100100 01100111 01100101 01100100

The code skips a line and continues to run as it had before. Endless and chaotic.

It hadn’t failed.

A sharp exhale escapes from his lungs as the young engineer loosens his grip on the screwdriver. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it so tightly, but now his fingers are marked with a mottled pattern of red and white and he watches as the blood slowly pools back into place. Back to normal.

“How strange,” he mutters to himself, though whether he’s referring to his own sudden tension or the hesitation in his creation’s programming is unclear. Most things in his lab are. He moves to set the screwdriver aside but stops when he sees the code falter a second time from the corner of his eye.

The cursor blinks…

→ 01100001 01100011 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 01101100 01100101 01100100 01100111 01100101 01100100

The code skips a line and continues.

He should be happy when his code runs without failure. He should feel relieved that his project isn’t breaking down or spitting out a concerning stream of smoke towards the concrete ceiling. But as he watches the endless lines scroll across the screen, all he feels is bone-deep exhaustion and grey indifference.

With a sigh, he reaches for his cane, planting it firmly before him as he pushes himself upright. Pain flares in his right leg and down through his tibia, drawing a sharp curse in his native tongue. It always aches when he forgets to take breaks. He knows this, and yet he never seems to learn. Maybe he continues to do it for an excuse to feel.

→ 01100001 01100011 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 01101100 01100101 01100100 01100111 01100101 01100100

He glances at that code again.

It continues on as normal.

“That’s enough for tonight.”

→ 01100001 01100011 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 01101100 01100101 01100100 01100111 01100101 01100100

He grabs his coat from the hook and heads for home.

— continue to read on ao3

[septnautical]

Septnautical update and possible REVAMP??

Hi Guppies!

Long time so see huh?

Guess what! I’m actually working on Septnautical before Mermay for once! I’m sorry for the sudden hiatus during last year’s Below Zero event. Honestly, I had a major personal issue that lasted months- it was crazy. And since it happened right during that time I lost all the motivation I had to continue the project... even though I loved the ideas and new hybrids I made!

And honestly- revisiting Septnautical… I’m really proud of all the past work we’ve done. But since I’m rewriting the first creation story… I really feel like it might be time for a revamp? Revisiting the start of the story and expanding on stuff, exploring the boys more when they’re little and actually letting myself be a little more fucked up with certain topics. I feel like I really need to lean into how young the boys were mentally during some major events. But also like work on their dynamics with each other- I dropped you all into Jack’s capture without you all knowing the hybrids at all!

Don’t worry- whatever I decide the old stories aren’t going away! I’m just gonna rework older stories, write new stuff in between and hopefully make the beginning a lot more coherent! I think after the spilt the story is pretty solid- but there’s def a lot of stuff I wanna expand on! Like Marvin’s capture, the spilt and how it affected the boys more? Lots of different stuff!

But you all let me know what you want to see!

I know- I disappear for a long time then pop up with all these changes…. It means so much to me to still have people around for my silly little Merboys. I want to work on them and Swap more consistently and I think I’m finally coming out of that rut I was in. I have a new job that gives me time to write and a new spring in my step! So, I think a revamp might make me love my story again, you know? Ive always loved it but throughout the years, I definitely see how I started this story from passion but didn’t do a lot of research or concrete world building or really anything to really nail down a plot you know? Which makes sense, back then this was just a silly project I never knew so many people would love! I want to see people passionate about the story again like I used to be- and I think starting over might help? (All the older stories would be kept- I would just make a new masterpost of the revamp btws!)

Love you all,

Huffle 🩵💚

[blackgirlsuperherorants]

Random Captain America: BNW rant but....

(Spoilers below, read at your own risk.)

Sabra was completely pointless. I know they significantly reduced her role due to the protests against the character appearing in the first place, but she was completely unnecessary. Seriously. I feel like even wanting to introduce her in this film makes no sense. The overall plot about getting adamantium from the celestial in the ocean doesn't even involve Israel. And even if it did, the way they set her up (probably with the rewrites), she wouldn't even have any relationship to Israel if she was raised as a Widow in the Red Room. Most of those girls seem to not even know where they're actually from, let alone identify with that culture. And then, it made no sense for her to randomly be working for President Ross.

And since President Ross already had Leila Taylor working for him, everything Ruth did could've just been given to Leila and would've made more sense.

Nobody wanted Sabra in the movie anyway. It feels like a sneak. Israel is controversial right now. There's no need to introduce an Israeli superhero, especially one who is canonically a Zionist (and once had to be told that letting a little Palestinian boy die was evil). And there was certainly no reason to wait for the Black Captain America movie to introduce an Israeli superhero at all. All it did was make people boycott a Black superhero movie.

She also did not have any charisma and she had no chemistry with Sam, Joaquin, or Isaiah (even though they forced it at the end.)

Leila is apparently a love interest of Sam's in the comics, and they barely explain her. It's like they split her character... I bet some executive made them add Sabra and all of Sabra's cool parts were supposed to be Leila's. Because neither of the women were well-written or fleshed out.

I'm rambling bc I'm annoyed by Sabra's presence. But what I would have done is

1) No Sabra

2) Increase Leila's part, giving her the investigation and the cool fight scenes.

3) Added some flirtation with Leila from Sam

4) A dash more Bucky, to make it seem like Sam's personal life exists. (For that matter, Sarah and the boys, too.)

5) Flesh out that fun Steve/Sam/Nat dynamic with Sam/Joaquin/Leila. No Ruth/Sabra whatsoever.

I can't stress enough how much she was uninteresting, unnecessary, and gave a terrible performance. Zero confidence, zero charisma. Could've been written out completely without ruining the movie. All of that controversy just to hold on to a boring, pointless character. 🙄

[nenoname]

my outline for my 999 au!

(because there’s no way i’m actually going to actually finish this rip)

tldr: it's a death game on a boat, and nothing convoluted happens whatsoever!

Basically everything I had planned with giant spoilers for the Zero Escape series below!!!

Protag!Ford POV

Teen!Ford gets kidnapped on his way to college, wakes up on a replica of the Titanic, gradually meets the other participants, Zero introduces themself + rules of the game

Preston (doesn’t get a codename cos lame rich asshole) gets blown up to establish stakes if participants don’t abide by the rules (aka bombs in stomach allegedly)

Snakeyes is way too similar to a certain estranged twin despite being an old man…

Puzzle time!

Guess who got murdered! Almost everyone!

Repeat 1-5, with a lil variation (not all bad ends are murders, some are merely Ford getting softlocked/unable to continue any further)

And again

And again

And again–

Ford gradually builds up subconscious memories that lead into a “true end”

Tri is the culprit of the murders to no one’s surprise

What do you mean this is 2013

What do you mean time travel is a thing

Everyone here is from different time periods

Oh god that old man really is Stanley

What do you mean quantum timeline divergence

What do you mean there’s alternative universes

What do you mean this is all to save his brother who is stuck in a similar game, ten years in Ford’s future but thirty years in the past

Ford is Zero??? Or rather his future self is

Tri is the Zero of that other game??? And he created the vlr!game to murder Stanley early before he ruins his plans?? Also the whole. Actually is a triangular demon that had been midway through tricking Zero!Ford before he suddenly switched to murdering Stan

The old Stanley in this game is a clone???? A robot clone of a Stan from another world????????? (partially why he’s way too chill about dying :(((( natural disposition when made aware that he’s a “fake” and knows he can’t go back to his world because he’s not the Stan who belongs there…), while he’s technically Zero’s accomplice, he’s working to try to contain the damage to only this dimension

This game exists to rewrite the reality of Bill's game, Tri/“Silas” hasn’t become vlr's Zero yet or even learnt of the Stan twins existence until this 999!game started (a paradox already formed and there’s no going back unless his memory is somehow erased), the answer Zero!Ford settled on to save his Stanley is a simple “have teen!Ford give mullet!Stan the answers” except he threw in “do it via a psychic connection that’s immune to the laws of space-time (aka morphogenetic field from the VNs) that they don’t have… yet!” (can’t ya like. Use phones or somethin…)

Have the chance to rewrite all of their fates from the get go at the risk of the sheer amount of unstable paradoxes collapsing literally everything, sea clone!Stan working to prevent that because despite his entire life, he knows that some form of him is happy in that world at last and will protect OG world + family at all costs

But Time Pirates CYA!Dipper was in the vlr game all along!!! (with an alt!Wendy as support) using the same trick aka the morphogenetic field connection to communicate between games with Mabel via Axolotl shenanigans!

Protag!Ford free to rescue mullet!Stan without fear of their plane of existence literally blowing up yippee!

Teen!Ford and mullet!Stan only having a moment to see each other before the connection is broken, and the exposition dump is finally over

Order of events

In origin 2012, the Stan twins beat Bill Cipher (in an offshoot of the OG verse, the CYA twins drive between time and space and meet the Axolotl)

In the Zero verse, midway through conning researcher!Ford, the Bill of this multiverse finds out that Stanley had managed to undo Weirdmageddon, doesn't know the details, but hey! Why don't we nip that problem in the bud?

Comes up with the most fucked up way, designed to crush both brothers mentally, vengeance now, wait for another sucker to build a portal in the future when all of the other Zodiac are firmly dead

In 1981 with the boat replica constructed by lingering Ciphertologist cultists, the game begins with mullet Stan and 7 random others, while researcher!Ford is stuck in isolated part of the boat as Bord takes over when he sleeps (ate so many sleeping pills)

Other participants all reach the end but at the last moment Stan gets tricked into entering a room (with the bait being his old photo of him and Ford) that reveals itself to be an incinerator

Only way to unlock the door is via an unsolvable puzzle/needs perpetual motion machine info, Bord uses this as a chance to mock Stan with the claim that Ford is behind this but Stan calls his bluff

At least 7 participants escape. maybe.

A day later, Ford wakes up in an escape room (the captain’s quarters of the boat), and after solving it, he then finds the tape recording what happened to his brother

Breakdown from guilt and grief, proceeds to come up with even more convoluted plan to save his brother, will refuse any other option and is focused on saving that specific Stan

Focuses obsessive research on space/time using some of his knowledge from partial construction of the portal, stealing from Time Cops and partially with Fiddleford's help (who has no idea of his true intentions)

Takes decades to prepare everything, resents the origin twins, but clone/duplicates instead of kidnapping OG!Stan to participate in the game cos didn’t truly want to harm him (you fool, your not-completely messed up intentions has left a Stan astray forever!!)

999!boat is a pocket dimension that's now a mess of time and space, a contradiction, simultaneous time periods at once, at risk of destroying the universe by merely existing

The timeline in the pocket dimension gets erased everytime teen!Ford “loses” and reset to the beginning where only he carries over subconscious memories (or so Zero!Ford believes)

The game is designed to force teen!Ford to interact with “Silas”, ensuring his younger self learns not to trust Bill the hard way (the entire game is basically a messed up form of self harm and endless grief)

The end goal is for teen!Ford to sync up with mullet!Stan’s mental state moments before death so he can access the morphogenetic field

But if teen!Ford does succeed then the giant paradox would mean it’s all for naught anyway!

????

Reveal that Dipper+Mabel got their own plan suckers!!! Offshoots of the origin verse twins who encountered a god (aka the choose your own adventure twins who got lost between time and space, and got enlisted by the Axolotl), possessing younger alt selves but will swap back + wake up in their original dimension without memories of these events aka original end when they met the Axolotl in the hidden page

Kids tricks Bord into thinking Mullet Stan died, got schrodinger cat-ed??? manages to stabilize multiple timelines at once (....don’t ask me the specifics), meaning in the end Zero!Ford failed as his Stan is still dead even though a new timeline was created

The end results in participants being sent home to individual timelines, time-space of this universe now looking more like a messed up amalgamation of 20 yarn balls knotted together

Clone!Stan stays with Zero!Ford + not letting him turn himself in to the Time Cops and now are on the run (he still gets occassional gifts for the Dipper+Mabel+Soos of that timeline even though they don’t know  him and never will…)

Back on vlr!boat, there’s an 80s bro reunion, with the threat of Bill still lingering

Teen!Ford chooses to delay college for a bit while searching for teen!Stan, in truth hasn’t quite forgiven his Stan but doesn’t want to lose him

Clone!Stan notes:

More of a scifi-magic duplicate than a clone really

"Existential crisis + having his happy end ripped away from" time

Ends up at peace with himself, even if he and memories were fabricated, still real to him + remembers those past few years of happiness and knows that the real Stan is still out there living his life

Still fucking stressed as hell tho

Will piss Zero!Ford off by sarcastically calling him dad, is honestly freaked out that he’s only like. A few weeks old. And like. A magic robot????

His acting chops being pushed to the limits when confronted with teen Ford, a younger Mabel, a much older Soos (who’s more quieter and a bit more bitter even if it’s still his kind self) and of course Bill possessing a dead con artist’s body

Sometimes Zero!Ford asks him how he handled his grief from losing his Ford to the portal, the simple answer is that he didn’t and he’s the worst person to ask about moving on

And that's mostly it!!!

[lumashiki]

Art Dump! Had a bit of a burst of creativity this morning. Then I passed out until 2pm! ^^;

[yallthemwitches]

Coucou!

As some of you know, I came back to the jily community last year after a long hiatus and for the first time ever (despite being a long time reader) decided to try my hand at writing fanfiction in the form of a lil' monster called "Catch the Wind."

At the time, I thought absolutely zero people would read it and it would immediately get lost into the interspace along with the millions of other fanfictions in the world. For this reason, I am ashamed to admit that many of the early chapters had zero forethought, editing, or reflection upon their publications---It was a project literally written on some headcanons and a prayer...and I am still so so shocked that it even got an inkling of followers much less the kind of support I recieved (and have continued to recieve) since it's start.

With this being said, as I've worked on other projects I've seen my writing evolve and found myself getting stuck as to how to move forward when a lot of this fic doesn't feel like a current reflection of my writing. There are so many things I would have expanded, redone, or developed more but I didn't know it at the time because, well, hindsight is 20/20.

So, as I've been sitting here for the better half of a week trying (and failing) to push myself forward with a new chapter, I think what would be best for me would be to *big inhale* rewrite it from the beginning.

I have no timeline for this and I don't know just yet if I will wait to finish the whole rewrite to start republishing, but what I DO know is that I'm not giving up on it and I will see it through to its finale in whatever form that takes (I've been burned so many times by unfinished fics... I refuse to be my own worst enemy!)

If you would like to read it in it's infancy 1.0 form, I will still leave it on AO3 and add the link below, but know eventually I will pull it to make way for 2.0 (again timeline tba) I'm sorry to everyone who is bummed that I won't continue it as is, but I hope this will be for the best: me and my Lily and James are (hopefully) older and wiser now.

Again, I still am so shocked by the amount of love and support I have gotten not only for this fic but my writing in general. You all have my endless gratitude and I cherish every kudo/review/comment I have recieved. While I'm working on 2.0 I will be continuing to publish new works so hopefully you won't be too too mad at me :)

Mille bisous à tous!

Tay

[wildemaven]

meant to be | javier peña

-> pairing: javier peña x f!reader

-> wc: 1645

-> content warnings: 18+ blog; domestic javi, established relationship, unprotected p in v, fluff, talks of starting a family, reader has zero descriptive features

-> a/n: this was posted on my other account and i am moving it here now. it is also a rewrite of an older fic i did with frankie.

masterlist

Fall is settling in nicely in Texas. The days are still warm, but the weekends no longer hold as much daylight as they did weeks ago. 

Everything transitioning into its autumnal journey, your yard drenched in rustic hues and sunshine. 

You and Javier both loved taking advantage of the nicer weather, wanting to soak up as much of it as possible before the shift into a colder season, deciding to spend your evenings on the patio as the days wound down and the sun set behind the pasture on the west side of the ranch.  

Chores were the first thing that needed to be tackled. Divide and conquer seemed to work well for you both. You took on the inside duties of laundry, dusting, and food prep, while Javier managed the outside— mowing, tree trimming, truck washing. 

Bed made with clean sheets, a load of dirty clothes placed into the washer– the previous load hung in the backyard on the clothesline, dinner prepared and waiting– your list of to-do’s dwindling as the day went on. Now you find yourself planted at the sink of dirty dishes, your kitchen window a front row seat to the old barn, your eyes glued on your husband as he washes his truck. 

His striped sky blue shirt encapsulates every detail of his back, sleeves tight around the bulk of his arms, muscles flexing as he scrubs the soapy sponge back and forth across the metal surface– and you thank whoever designed his well-fitted jeans.  A week's worth of dirt slowly slid off the sides of the old ranch truck, a prized possession that had been passed down from Chucho when Javier had decided to take on more responsibilities around the ranch. 

It has been two years since moving into the home Javier grew up in, wanting something big with the hopes of starting a family in the future. Chucho insisted you both move in, stating the house was far too big for just him— he moved into the ranch’s guest house down the dirt road. Memories tucked to every corner of the house, old family photos still hanging in the very spot his Mama placed them.

Javier must sense he’s being watched when he turns towards the kitchen window, catching your eyes on him. His gaze lingers a bit, soap and water dripping from the sponge in his large hand. He shoots you a wink with a smile that makes you instantly weak. 

“Shit!” The mug you had been washing slips from your soapy hands into the water below, water splashing back at you, soaking the thin material of your dress, your attention drawn back to the sink and the remaining dishes. Somehow Javier still makes you flustered after all these years with just a simple look thrown your way. 

Glancing back out the window again to find Javier is no longer there, the suds freely dripping off the truck door and sponge discarded on the ground. The creak of the screen door lets you know exactly where your husband is as you proceed to dry the drinking glasses and place them in the cupboard. His shuffling around in the living room does little to help you know what he’s up to. 

“Javi?” You call out to him as you finish putting away the last of the plates and bowls, wiping the counter off before you go in search of your husband. 

The slight crackle of a record starting makes you aware of his location– the living room. His old collection of records and record player had been boxed away in the attic after he moved away. Last Spring, while you were putting away the winter blankets, you stumbled upon his music collection– something from nearly every genre. You pulled everything down one weekend while he was busy in town with Chucho, having everything set up on the bookcase and a record going when he got home. It became a habit that one of you would slip on a new record, windows open allowing the breeze to carry the songs throughout the house. 

A familiar tune begins, it instantly brings a smile to your face.

“Wise men say...”

The low timber of his voice sends a tingle down your spine any time he sings your wedding song. For such a reserved man, who refuses to indulge in karaoke, he jumps at any chance to serenade you within the walls of your home— one of the many things you love about him.

A set of arms wrap around you, welcoming you back from your walk down memory lane, pulling you against his chest as he begins to move about the kitchen with you. Your bodies swaying together as the music continues, his face nuzzled in close to your cheek as he hums along with the song.

“Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be…”

Your body leans into him, the rest of the chores fully abandoned as you both waver about the kitchen, savoring how easy it is to create new memories in your home.

“You sure know how to get out of chores Peña.” You tell him just as he spins you around so you’re facing him, looping your arms around his neck while his hands settle on your back— Javier singing along completely ignoring your comment. 

“If I’m not mistaken Querida, I’m pretty sure you were hardly putting an effort into yours.” He teases you before grabbing your hand to send you twirling around. You can’t contain your laughter, living for these spontaneous moments of ease with the man you’re so completely head over heels for. Your body is pulled back into his, resuming the energetic flow between the two of you. A sweet rhythm of bliss now strumming through your body as you melt into his arms. 

“Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Hiding your smirk into his warm neck, knowing full well what he’s referring to. 

“That wasn’t you gawking at me through the window—“

“I was not gawking, Javi!” As you playfully pat his chest. “I was just admiring the view.” 

“You were in fact gawking. I think I clocked you at 10 minutes from the first moment I noticed you hadn’t moved.”

“You are so exaggerating!” He’s definitely not wrong though, it’s hard to pull your eyes away from such a thing of beauty. 

“How about we take this to the bedroom, Querida– and I’ll show you exaggeration!” He taunts into your ear. 

 “Javier! Your truck is half washed in the driveway— and I know you’re going to be pissed about the soap drying on it right now. Plus, I already made the bed.” 

He’s dragging you back towards the stairs that lead to the bedroom, his infectious smirk displayed across his stupid handsome face, your body doing little to stop itself from his magnetic pull. 

“I’ll just wash it again. I’ll even set a chair up for you to admire up close. Get you one of those ice cold beers too.” He says as he falls back into the bed, pulling your body on top of his. 

“And I’m pretty sure this won’t be the last time we dirty these sheets this weekend…” His voice muffled against your neck, his lips planting kiss after kiss as he pleads his case– you easily succumb to his antics.

His hands work at the line of buttons that trail down the front of your dress, your own undoing his buckle before working at the button and zipper of his jeans– he hisses as your hands hastily move over bugle straining behind his jeans. 

Your dress is open and hanging off your shoulders as you slowly sink down on Javier’s cock, the stretch of him a welcomed adjustment, his length hitting something delicious as you settle at the base of him. 

“Fuck, Javi!!” Hands splayed over Javier’s firm chest for support, your head thrown back as a rapturous whine pours out into the room, a slight bounce to your breasts as you move— the cups of your bra pulled down, the cool air has your nipples pebbled and tight. Javier is taken by your angelic state— you're a sight to be seen. 

Javier’s fingers are digging into the meat of your thighs, the slow stuttering roll of your hips as you move over his cock has him worked up faster than he has anticipated. 

“Querida— Shit! Baby, I’m not gonna last— you look so good riding my cock like that!” His hips bucking up at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him. 

“I’m right there with you, Amor!” 

A few swipes over your throbbing clit and a string of quick thrusts, both of you cresting the euphoric peak in unison. 

You collapse on top of Javier, a strong arm wraps around your waist, a hand cupping your neck, Javier determined to keep you as close as possible— you fully melting into his touch. 

Breathing ragged and hearts racing— bodies perfectly satiated and filled with an intense love for each other. 

“I should probably get up and get dinner started. That should be plenty of time for you to rewash the truck.” You don’t show any signs of actually doing so, too relaxed to care about finishing the rest of your chores. 

“Or— we can just lay here a little longer. Save the food and truck washing for tomorrow. We can go into town later and get dinner instead.”

“A man after my heart. I’d marry you if I wasn’t already.” He rolls you off him onto your back, hands roaming over your dewy skin as he kisses you slowly. 

The lull of the record player echoes through the house as the music fades out, clothes and sheets are thrown about the bedroom, the day’s plans forgotten as you both seek out a more exhilarating afternoon. 

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @alwaysurvalentine! alwaysurvalentine has 11 fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

@dame-zoom-a-lot recommends the following works by @alwaysurvalentine:

bad days were meant to be shared

three strikes and you're out!

aquariums and sweethearts

"If I had to put an image to their fics… I'd say a warm blanket and a piece of cake.

Their slices of life fics get cooked with so much care and thought. A lot of them are my go-to when I'm feeling kind of off or lonely. They approach conflict with so much empathy and realism. No one's just shitty out of the blue with zero reason, and characters talk things out in a way that feels like how real people would talk. There's rarely clear villains or clean-cut forever happy-ending type resolutions in real life, and their fics shine at showing the beauty of that." -- @dame-zoom-a-lot

Below the cut, @alwaysurvalentine answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

Honestly, I just really vibe with both of them as characters. It’s easy to draw some of my own parallels with how Eddie sees the world and Steve’s fall from grace within my personal life - so it’s nice to play around with characters who I can understand. Plus I love taking the “protectors” from the narrative and forcing them to allow others to care for them.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I’m a sucker for any type of soulmate au, the ones with soulmarks are my guilty pleasures. Just something about knowing there’s someone out there destined to care about you makes me feel all warm and fuzzy

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

Anything slice of life or found family - I just love getting to give characters all the love and care they deserve. Especially when canon has put them through the ringer!!

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

With no cross to bear (these words just come out) by hitlikehammers https://archiveofourown.org/works/45052120/chapters/113340064 I come back to this fic again and again. Love their Eddie POV and all of the reactions from the party feel authentic and I just love a fic that really shows how much everyone cares about Steve (even if he doesn’t see it).

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve had a big idea about a possession type fic starring Eddie. It’s gonna be a big project though so it may be workshopped and shelved for another time while I work on some other stuff!

What is your writing process like?

Music is my biggest inspiration and I listen to Spotify all of the time (my spotify wrapped is about to be WILD), but usually I’ll get a spark of an idea from a song, scribble down a quick interaction I can see, and then once I get home it’s getting it all out on a doc. It usually takes me a few days to a week for me to get a fic where I want it, especially when the characters take things into their own hands for the narrative (I’m looking at Eddie and Robin here)

Do you have any writing quirks?

I actually write everything in red text until I decide I like the section. I have so many documents that have different colored text based on how I feel about it. Black means it’s ready to be proofread/don’t change, purple or blue for things I want to rewrite, and then red for what I’ve gotten down but isn’t edited/reviewed yet. Besides that I also go in thinking I’m going to keep it short and sweet and then I blink and we’re 2k in - but it’s been fun nonetheless!

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

If I’m doing a prompt challenge usually it’s as soon as I’m done (totally not because I finish the day of…totally not that) but other than that I have a personal schedule to have certain things done by, otherwise I’ll nitpick forever.

Which fic are you most proud of?

Three Strikes and You’re Out! It was super fun to play around with connecting baseball terms to DnD in a way that still made sense and wasn’t just a block of info text.

How did you get the idea for aquariums and sweethearts?

It was actually a little followup I did for another fic, where Eddie visited the aquarium with Uncle Wayne but wasn’t able to get the souvenir he wanted. And I wanted Steve to kinda complete that circle, plus I wanted them to have a moment where they could kinda be kids again.

When writing aquariums and sweethearts, what was something you didn’t expect?

I honestly didn’t expect it to be so long, I was just going to write a tiny follow up but got carried away with my own aquarium memories and research so I just kept wanting to add more and more

What inspired three strikes and you're out!?

I feel like I’ve seen a lot of fics where Steve meets Eddie halfway with his interests and I wanted to see the opposite. Like it’s one thing for Eddie to concede that being a jock isn’t so bad, but it’s another for him to go out and learn about a sport/something that doesn’t interest him at all, ya know?

What was your favorite part to write from three strikes and you're out!?

Oooh! Such a hard question, for me it’s a tie between the conversation Eddie has with Lucas and his conversation with Uncle Wayne. I just liked putting Eddie in a situation where he was the one learning, instead of being the one in charge/control.

How do/did you feel writing bad days were meant to be shared?

It was a little hard starting out, I knew a couple things I wanted to happen but besides that I really went in kinda blind. Once I got into the groove though, it felt like it just wrote itself. Steve knew what he was feeling and just guided me along.

What was the most difficult part of writing bad days were meant to be shared?

So fun fact, I actually wrote the first draft completely from Eddie's point of view. I was trying to find his voice (still feel like I’m working on this but progress is progress) but it just wasn’t flowing right and Dame-Zoom-A-Lot actually helped beta for me. They’re the one who suggested the point of view switch and it worked so well!!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

A favorite scene I’ve written has to be in aquariums and sweethearts when Eddie and the Mime gang up on Steve to poke fun at him, it just felt like something Eddie would play along with and enjoy.  These couple of lines from Three Strikes and You’re Out! Make me really happy, like sent my friends a dorky screenshot because I liked them so much: “Eddie’s world narrows to the smell of Steve’s cologne, something that smells like rain on freshly cut grass and a hint of vanilla. Just as soon as Steve leaned in, he leans away, the sun painting orange and pink highlights in his hair when he tilts his head grinning.”

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’m working on a Steve Harrington ‘character study’ from Hopper’s point of view currently and might be starting on an Anastasia AU starring Chrissy as Anya and Robin as Dimitri - super stoked for both of these!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Endless thanks to my nominator!! I just started posting for Steddie this August and it’s been unreal. So thankful for all of my new friends and can’t wait to share some more of my little ideas and chat with other people about their art and stories! <3

Thank you to our author, @alwaysurvalentine, and our nominator, @dame-zoom-a-lot ! See more of alwaysurvalentine's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[invested-in-your-future]

Kingdom of Atlas

(This is a lore post for my RWBY rewrite.)

History

Years leading to the Great War, in its place stood the Mt. Atlas Research Station—a project bankrolled by one of Mantle's oldest families, The Schnees.

Built upon their land, the project, often dubbed a fool's errand, existed for a singular purpose—to survey and research the depths of the tallest mountain on Remnant. While most corporations and wealth had turned their eyes towards Menagerie, The Schnees, believing its roots to contain insurmountable deposits of Dust, had poured all of their generational wealth into The Atlas project. And on the eve of the Great War, they hit the jackpot.

After the Great War, with the Kingdom of Mantle in shambles and the world economy falling apart, the Schnees rose to prominence as the prime suppliers of Dust worldwide. In an effort to rebuild after the war, Vale, Vacuo, and Mistral signed lucrative trade deals with the Schnee Dust Company. In return, the Research station saw an influx of money and resources from all the Kingdoms.

As years passed, the decision had been made to expand the station into a full-fledged city.

The scale of The City of Atlas in comparison to how it had begun.

With the near infinite resources right near it and the climate that the Creatures of Grimm had trouble adapting to, The City of Atlas had slowly transformed into the primary settlement on this unwelcome continent as Mantle continued to wither.

Eventually, the Kingdom's elites had made the decision to migrate the capital there, establishing the Kingdom of Atlas with Mantle as its secondary manufacturing city.

To this day, the City of Atlas is considered a miracle. Its expansion had propelled the Kingdom to new heights of technological advancements and progress.

Indeed, Atlas's development rate might seem impossible, far exceeding other post-war projects like the City of Argus.

As of 790 E.A., ninety years after the Great War, and since its inception, the Kingdom of Atlas had surpassed the other Kingdoms—standing decades ahead in sciences, technology, and living conditions.

Structure

The City, etched into the side of the mountain, consists of three separate zones of elevation—The Military Complex, The Upper Level, The Lower Level, and the Boundary Zone.

Atlas Military resides within the Military Complex—a massive megastructure carved into the mountain itself. Within the Complex, most of the Atlas weaponry, mechs, and military technology are manufactured and tested. The Complex also extends beneath the city, elevating the Upper Level above the rest. The actual size of the Military Complex is classified.

The Upper Level is the newest and most luxurious zone where the nouveau-riche reside. Most of Atlas Government, the higher ranks of Military Personnel, and the upper echelons of the major corporations reside there. At the center of the Upper Level stands the Cross-Continental Transmit System tower. Even after the towers had gone down, due to elevation, the systems within still provide most of the inhabited areas of Solitas with access to the local network and communications. Right next to it stands the main building of the Atlas Academy. The Upper Levels also contain a variety of combat schools and arts academies, The Ercol Academy of Arts and Combat being one of many.

Below it lay the Lower Level, the sanctuary of commerce and science, where most of the Kingdom's population lives. The Lower Level also contains most of the corporate headquarters, as well the city's manufacturing and research districts.

At the very bottom, on top of the City's foundation, lay the area commonly known as The Boundary Zone. Its official, under-used name is “The Immigration Customs and Processing District”. Originally the ground zero of Atlas expansion, this zone is now primarily used as a buffer area for those traveling from and to Atlas and Mantle. Those desiring admission into the city proper—whether they were businessmen, foreigners, or Mantle's citizens having received the invitation to the Academy—are expected to await judgment there. As the process usually takes years, the buildings here are primarily used as living quarters. The entrance to the other levels of the city is strictly forbidden. However, the Atlesian Citizens and those with visitor passes can freely move back and forth between all Atlas zones, as well as Mantle.

[mahomadjicks]

Been seeing some posts about the Q and A the clash writing team did and man…

((WARNING: light rant below; mostly me rambling about worldbuilding aaaa))

I’m not fond of what the writing team wants to do, especially since it seems like they’re hyper-focusing on the kudos/street managers. It’s this section in particular that’s got me thinking and worried.

MAN does this phrase here have a lot of food for thought. Not just because of the horror fanfic i’m making, but now things clearly seem to be taking a large turn into the ‘Manager-focused plot’ I feared Clash would write themselves into.

Idk. The way i’m thinking about it, it’s a bit self destructive writing wise for suits to be in inherent ‘tiers’. (Grunt cogs have less personality/free will than managers, ete.)

If one of the goals is to show how COGs Inc exploits and mistreats their workers, isn’t it shooting yourself in the foot saying ‘COGs inc is a horrible company to ALL its workers’, but then turning to say ‘oh yeah, all those cogs aren’t as sentient compared to THESE ones’—

Like, in the case of ‘grunt’ cogs, wouldn’t these cogs be the ‘ground zero’ of the atrocities the company commits? Literally built for one purpose in life, in a cycle of being destroyed and rebuilt constantly without any say or agency. Being held under the thumb of a dubious company that in all technicality owns you, so you can’t really leave unless you’re fired?

If the grunt cogs were just as self preserving and sentient as the managers, then the message would be hammered in better. THEY’d be the ones constantly put under all the pressure for virtually nothing. Instead, the writing team has introduced the dilemma of ‘who is aware/deserving of company rights’.

If these (grunt) suits are inherently ‘lesser’ than their manager counterparts, then it changes the gravity of the situation from ‘discriminatory company practices’ to ‘changing a piece of machinery.’ No real loss, and its business as usual. The very problem i’d imagine the writing team wants to warn and help players to recognize in the story.

While not treated much better, it’s been shown/implied that manager cogs (specifically kudos/street and Litigation) get a lot more benefits and free time than anyone else besides bosses.

Removing personality/preservation from ‘grunt’ suits changes this element in the story from ‘They have higher positions, thus better work benefits,’ to ‘They get those benefits because they KNOW that they have them in the first place.’

In general, lot of the managers seem to have the luxury of being built without a specific company in mind, having childhoods, and ultimately CHOOSING to work at COGs Inc. Many seem to forget the whole reason the kudos/street managers were hired in the first place was in response to Atticus Wing’s death.

They weren’t randomly ‘dropped in’, and now the story needs to be changed to accommodate them. There already was an explicit reason, and it doesn’t seem to conflict with any manager lore after the fact. Why bend over backwards to force them into the story rewrites more?

I understand the managers are super popular, and have been a game changer in terms of story and gameplay, but I honestly feel they’re also blinding people in terms of prior lore and potential lore avenues. There’s no need to break the story/lore further to make the ‘special’ cogs even more ‘special’.

At the end of the day, I get the writing team wants to add more flavor, and I commend them for doing all this for free! Writing isn’t easy, and this isn’t me hating on them at all. I’m just not fond of this manager-centric mindset gripping people. I’m certainly looking forward to all the future content they wish to add, specifically rewrites in toon NPCS.

Anyway just had this in the back of my mind for a minute, feel free to throw in your two cents if ya like.

[modern-inheritance]

Alright one combo-wombo of MIC character lore because I feel it rn. I’ll rewrite this later.

Heads up for talk of fertility/infertility below the cut.

Even by elf standards, MIC!Arya is EXTREMELY infertile. I didn’t know how else to put it. That scar on her abdomen is from another forsworn run in and the injury itself basically destroyed one ovary and she has a lot of scarring. If she ever did conceive, there is a pretty much zero chance the pregnancy could go to term or even pass the first trimester.

Elves make a conscious decision about conception. They have to consciously decide that they are going to be trying for children. So their first time together, as biologically driven as it is, Arya just tells Eragon that there is no chance for pregnancy because of that.

When they discuss it later, though, Arya is…nervous. She doesn’t know how Eragon as an individual feels about having children in the future, but she’s seen how the people of Carvahall value blood ties and how Roran dotes on Ismira. Arya is, as I’ve shown before, more scared of Eragon disappearing from her life (through death or by finding someone else, though deep down she knows and he knows that they are as forever as it gets) and she’s lowkey terrified that Eragon would leave her if he couldn’t continue his bloodline. He’s the first Rider of a new age, after all.

Well…after cuddling his mate and telling her it doesn’t change at all how he feels, Eragon suddenly gets quiet before asking Arya if, in the future, she would be open to raising a child. Confused, Arya tries to reiterate that it’s impossible but Eragon presses back and just asks again, clarifying that he said ‘raise,’ not ‘conceive.’

She quietly tells him that yes, in the far future, if they survive the war and the Riders work out, then one day she would be open to such a thing as long as it’s with Eragon by her side.

And this man fucking leaps out of their shared cot and gets on his hands and knees to look Arya in the eye.

“Arya, do you know what that means?? We could give a child a family! Like Garrow and Miriam and Roran did for me! We could give a child a family!! Not just an elf child or a human child but ANY child! Arya, we could be parents for someone who needs a family and who needs people there for them, like all our friends are there for us! and if they aren’t from our races or cultures, look at all our friends! We can keep that part of their identity alive and a part of them! Arya, we are like…the best option for foster parents or adoptive parents or just the people they need at the time and I love you so much just so we’re clear on that–”

“How the fuck did I land such a man?”

“Technically, you threw an egg at my head!”

[chaosduckies]

Tiny vampire

But they aren't the helpless one, the human is. The human carries this vampire around like a secret weapon. The vampire could turn into a bat and hang from an ear like an earring at night even...and then there were bullies!!!

You should have both be your usual he/him

Tiny vampire. Yes. I’m not going to lie, I have zero idea how to feel about this since I like it, but not at the same time, so I’m very sorry if this didn’t come out like you had expected. (And if it didn’t, I’ll rewrite it!) I hope you enjoy either way though! (I’m sorry this took so long to post and thank you for the title idea!)

Word Count: 3.2k

CW: slight mentions of death (Doesn’t actually happen), slight bullying

Pocket Assassin

In all my years, I have never seen one single human as gentle and caring as the one I, for some reason, was glued to. 

Hayven was a nice kid. In the turmoil of all the trouble life forces him to endure, he just brushes the dirt off his clothes and keeps on going. Part of the reason I had gratefully accepted his offer to stay with him. It pains me to see such a young being having to suffer through all of life’s troubles alone. His parents were no help in the matter, and I probably would have already murdered them if Hayven had pleaded me not to. Claiming that they really were nice people. Pfft. I doubt it. 

It wasn’t exactly hard to stay out of vision from the humans when you were three inches tall. That wasn’t the part I was worried about. The part that worries me is that every time one of his parents walk into Hayven’s room I can barely hold in the need to strangle them. And I could do it. The amount of times I came close to cracking- Just the thought alone made me want to march over to the living room where his parents were currently residing in and just- agh. But I would listen to Hayven, because he was right. 

So far as I know, humans still haven’t found out my kind’s existence. Not a borrower, but a vampire. Just on a much, much smaller scale, and I guess that was for the best since humans can just be so- irritating sometimes. Like I said, if it wasn’t for Hayven, I probably would have strangled hundreds of people after we had met. I still don’t understand why he won’t just let me… teach them a lesson. By that I mean to seriously injure them. Best part is that they’ll never even know who it was. Or they will and everyone would think they were crazy if they were trying to tell someone. I mean, who would believe that a 3 inch tall person just absolutely made a fool out of someone twenty times their size? I only know two people in the entire world who would actually know. Myself and Hayven. 

Today was no different. His parents stayed in the living room, and at some point I could smell his mom cooking lunch. Hayven was at school, about to come back home in about thirty minutes if the clock on his nightstand was right. There really wasn’t anything to do while Hayven was gone. Usually he would close his door and we would talk until one of his parents walked in claiming that he was talking with someone. Luckily I was always fast enough to hide away behind something. 

The tv was loud in the other room, and surprisingly I don’t think I know this movie. Might be one that recently came out? I remember when I would sneak into movie theaters and get one of the best seats right by the projector. Good times. Now it’s degrading to hearing hallmark movies through a thin wall. I groaned as loud as I could into the pillow, trying to drown out the tv as much as I could. Of course it never works. 

The door opened and closed almost immediately, but I already knew who it was. I dug my head out of the pillows, professionally keeping my composure on the soft fabric below that threatened to falter my legs throw me back down. Hayven didn’t acknowledge me at first, but waved and headed off to the bathroom. I eyed the door suspiciously. Obviously something had happened. 

Why was I sticking around for this human you may ask? Well, for one thing, I was living in the woods for years without any sort of contact with anyone until Hayven came walking along, and for some reason didn’t want to trap or experiment on me like I had always thought humans would. Well, that was if they would catch me. In all honesty, Hayven has helped me a lot more than I’ve helped him which only made me even more shocked. I would’ve figured humans would want to experiment on a three-inch tall vampire that has been here for nearly a hundred years and still looks like they were 18. 

I stealthily made my way to the bathroom, slipping underneath the small crack under the door and watching silently from below as Hayven carefully placed a small bandage above his eye that had almost looked swollen. That was most likely because it was. His skin was a light purple tint from a bruise, and I could smell the faint smell of blood. I sighed, expertly climbing up the cabinet and nearly scaring the life out of Hayven when I stood, arms crossed, on top of the marble countertop. 

We held a silent staring contest for what seemed like forever before Hayven sighed, “I just fell off my bike-“ 

“No point in hiding the truth if I already know what happened.” I glared at him, angry for being lied to. His eyes widened, avoiding eye contact. It still amazes me to this day how he could feel so helpless around me even though I was… vertically challenged compared to him. 

“It looks worse than it is.” He shrugged, carefully placing another small bandaid underneath his eye to try and cover up the dark purple bruises. My heart fell, but only for a split second. 

I would have used this time to scold Hayven for the next ten minutes, but I had a much much better idea. One that had a big smirk on my face and would have me cackling if it wouldn’t have made me sound like a maniac. 

“Take me to your school tomorrow.” I had asked him, not caring if he had said no. What could he do if I just snuck into his bag at the last second? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I had an amazing plan, and no it doesn’t involve killing anyone. Though that does sound pretty nice right about now… but I’ll just be gravely injuring someone if things all go according to plan tomorrow. Which they will because no one can do anything to stop me as I’ve said before. 

“Wh-what? That’s dangerous for you, Atlas! What would happen if-“ Hayven stopped talking as soon as he saw my expression. Did he really think I was afraid if some sixteen year old saw me? No one would believe them if they had said they saw me. Now if there was a group of people maybe, but I think it’d be hilarious to embarrass someone in the middle of the hall where everyone would be watching. 

“Just… don’t do anything. Please.” He had told me, sighing, already knowing what was going through my twisted mind. 

This wasn’t the first time I’ve gone places with Hayven. Most of the time I get sick and tired of doing nothing but wander around his room or sneaking my way outside to enjoy some fresh air, so he goes out sometimes afterschool for my sake. At first I thought there was a catch, since I was new to this whole, “help from humans” thing even though I was the one to help him in the woods all those months ago. I didn’t plan on sticking around with him, but what can I say? He just grows on people. 

“I make no such promises.” I climbed onto his hand, expertly making my way to his shoulder. The view was better up here. Makes me feel like I was taller and not just the 3-inch vampire that sleeps in a drawer in a nightstand drawer.

——————

The next morning, I was woken up by the soft and subtle sound of fabric rustling and the smell of pancakes. I groaned. I never liked pancakes, and I don’t know whether that was because my preferences were… quite literally coming from the heart, or because I just absolutely hated the aftertaste that lingered in my mouth. 

I waited for Hayven to get ready and finish eating his breakfast, already thinking of idea of how to do this. A funny quip to whisper in their ear? Stay hidden while attacking and make them look like they were all just going crazy? Or just lure one them out and  walk off without caring that I would have absolutely traumatized this kid? I laughed to myself at the seemingly endless possibilities before Hayven walked back in, still looking nervous about today. 

“Oh please. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.” I stood up, waiting. 

“Would you prefer the pocket or in my bag?” He had asked before letting his hand down for me. I climbed on, trying to make it look like I wasn’t having a hard time trying to keep my balance. I at least have to show some kind of dignity in front of Hayven. 

“Pocket. It’s better than being thrashed around all day.” I grumbled, remembering when I did choose to stay in his bag one time and regretting everything. I only wanted to see what the inside of a mall looked like without being seen. There was always too many people for me to be blindly running on the ground so of course I had to take any chance I could get. 

Hayven laughed nervously, letting me into his hoodie pocket and very slowly making his way to school. He had told me it wasn’t very far from where he lived, so I guess walking shouldn’t take too long. 

When we arrived, I wasn’t expecting so many loud voices to cloud up my mind. I had to cover up my ears just to muffle some out. How does he even make it through the day here? Something had touched my back, which I had almost bit it away if I hadn’t realized it was just Hayven checking up on me. I would have complained for him to give me a warning next time, but I don’t think he could since well, we were surrounded by other humans. So let’s just try not to make things worse for him in this child prison. 

It had been a couple hours now, it was boring to just stay in the hoodie pocket all the time, but Hayven tried his hardest to keep me entertained. Whether it was grabbing me in a tight fist so I could try and escape, which I always managed to his amazement, or just taking me out secretly when no one was looking so I could get some fresh air. Of course we were in the halls but it still beat having to breathe in the clouded air around me. Not that I needed to breath anyways, but it’s nice to if I don’t want to feel like I constantly have a lack of oxygen going through my lungs. 

From a hidden view in the pocket, I could see a clock hanging above a huge door that showed that there was still an hour until Hayven would take us back, and so far I haven’t found the person responsible of hurting the human that’s helped me more times than I hated to admit. I think he still had one class though… the first seven were utterly boring in my opinion, and I couldn’t stand to listen to his history teacher ramble on about what year Columbus had found new land, then somehow spiral into how his daughter had recently went on a sailing trip. It took everything in me not to scream “Shut the hell up!” In the silent classroom. 

It was amazing how Hayven could even manage a single day in the hell-hole, let alone months on end with barely any breaks. I sighed, feeling the fabric surrounding me move as Hayven prepared to leave. Just another couple minutes, and I didn’t even get to humiliate anyone. I admit, it was a little saddening, but there was always tomorrow. 

The fabric around me stopped moving as Hayven took his seat. He carefully moved his hand into his pocket, checking on me as usual. I leaned against one of his fingers as he stopped moving, but for some reason I could tell that something was wrong. Kind of like an instinct an animal gets when they feel like something around them wasn’t right. 

Hayven’s hand was a little shaky, but I didn’t think too much on that. I peeked out of the little hole of the hoodie were I was sure no one would see me as I spotted a kid that sat right in front of him. I studied the kid for a while, careful not to let anyone see me. He was tall, muscular build, wore one of those jackets that students wear when they think they’re “Cool,” and “Popular,” but really their just people desperate for attention. Well, at least I know who my target is. And I’ll give them the attention that they want… 

I stayed hidden for a while before they were getting ready to leave again. I took this time to peak out, seeing that as soon as Hayven left the room, that guy followed blood behind, a menacing glare that must’ve stung the back of Hayven’s head. I quietly hissed to myself, preparing myself for what I was about to do. Might be crazy for a person of my size, but it would be oh so worth it later what I get the sweet, sweet taste of revenge. Probably almost literally. 

Hayven sighed as he turned the corner where no one was at, the other guy following close behind. Hayven stopped and quickly turned around, already accepting his fate. I started quietly cackling to myself, getting ready to jump out of his pocket and make this jock run all the way home crying. 

“Listen, I did your essay already, can I be left alone?” Hayven pleaded while I waited for this other guy made the first move like I knew he would. Then my world was spinning in just one second. I grabbed on tightly to the fabric surrounding me as Hayven was harshly shoved up against a locker. 

“Yeah, and I failed it anyways. Know anything about that?” I hissed as the human much, much taller than Hayven continued to whisper empty threats. Just before I could lunge at the big oaf, a tight hand gripped around me, and I admit I was only scared for a second, but quickly tried to gain my freedom. Hayven knew what I was about to do, and as soon as I was free, I hurried up to the other guys shoulder and quickly started clawing at it, running away the second his hand came slapping down. I snickered, grabbing a tuff of their hair and pulling as hard as I could, causing his head to fall backward along with the rest of his body and in front of everyone in the hall. I fixed my position to remain hidden, pulling a little harder until his back hit one of the lockers. 

He looked around, eyes wide and locked on Hayven, who stood there in shock. I snickered, moving and started to bite at his neck and shoulders that made him move around like he was losing his absolute mind just as I had hoped. I started hearing earfuls of laughs, but kept on making him move his limbs wildly before his hand had almost managed to grab me. I noticed a few kids with their phones out, taking a video of what was happening and only prayed that I wasn’t caught at any point. 

Sadly, I didn’t have any of the hand-made weapons I had stashed away underneath Hayven’s desk (I promise I only had them there just in case he had tried anything.) But they were also for instances when I used to live alone. They would have been so useful right now. It’s not like I wanted to kill this random kid who’s been most likely terrorizing most people, just… teach him a very valuable lesson. Also, it is pretty fun to just attack people when they don’t know what’s happening. Seriously. It’s incredibly hard to hold in my laugh right now. 

I giggled as I jumped down onto the ground, failing at making a perfect landing, but only Hayven had seen it. I still grumbled to myself about it before quickly making my way towards Hayven, who shoved me back into his hoodie pocket to keep me hidden. The jock guy stared wide-eyed at him, most likely seeing me run off the floor. I watched carefully as he then looked around aimlessly, trying to put the very obvious pieces together. I grinned, happy with myself. Could’ve done a lot more, but alas, I have to play along with the rules when I’m around humans. 

Hayven stayed a while longer, watching as the guy struggled to stand up and started yelling at the other students who were filming the entire thing. “There was a-a tiny thing- uh- person! Yeah!” Everyone started laughing while I made my way to Hayven’s shoulder, we looked at each other with smiles on our faces. 

“You’re going crazy man!”

“Delusional I swear!” 

The jock turned back to us, glaring, then his eyes set on me. I whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear me but just so I can be funny, “No one will believe you.” Hayven clasped his hands over his mouth, struggling to muffle his own laughter as he rushed down the hall and through the doors, carefully keeping me out of sight in his pocket from the other humans that walked along the street.

“Okay we’re good.” He giggled, as he helped me out of his pocket. He had walked back to a bus stop that he always waited at to get home. Surprisingly enough there wasn’t anyone here, but that was besides the point. I could finally let out the unruly amount of laughs I was holding in. Suddenly we were both in sync, our eyes tearing up and abdomens wheezing in pain from the lack of oxygen, but that didn’t matter as much to me as it did to Hayven. 

“Dude, you’re like a pocket assassin!” We both stopped laughing for a while before I wheezed, throwing my head back and falling backwards out onto Hayven’s open palm. 

Our laughs died down after a while, earning a few distant stares from other people, but they didn’t notice me. I stood up, smirking with my arms crossed, “And I’d gladly do it again.” 

——————

Again, I still don’t know how to feel about this little one-shot but I hope you liked it! (I’ll re-write it if you didn’t :3) Thank you for requesting this prompt as well! I had fun writing it!

I am still taking writing prompts/commissions for the next couple of days (For free!!), so if anyone wants a certain writing piece, I’ll gladly write it for you! (There are certain things I will NOT write, and I will let you know if I’m comfortable with it or not) Please keep the prompts strictly sfw if you would like a certain prompt! :3

Thank you all for reading and for 100 followers! :D