#lost opportunities fic

[enne-uni]

I finished ch. 2!! Finally!!

The second chapter of my Ace Attorney Trilogy Wrightworth Hanahaki fanfic (what a mouthful lmao) is done! Very proud of myself, there are many lines I like in this. Here's a link to the fic!

I'm aware that most of my followers don't read my fics (which is completely fine!), but yeah. I'm just very happy :D So happy, in fact, that I have to share something from it with you. Read under the cut if you wish!

For a brief moment in their conversation, Phoenix had believed in him. He had believed that, since Miles knew the truth, he could help the other like he should. Like he was supposed to, as a defender of the law and justice. And Miles had nothing but betrayed him, both as a prosecutor and as his old friend. He had left Phoenix alone to cry. The blood would be on his hands if he succeeded. His breath grew ragged and eyes stung. Symptoms which he would soon learn to precede a coughing fit. Leaning on the wall for support, the Demon Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth coughed his lungs out at the detention center, for he was afraid of the truth and of vulnerability. Yet, the love he was pushing away while also yearning for was the thing making him most vulnerable, and it was the only absolute truth he could believe in at the moment. In the end, not figuratively but literally, there was some blood on his hands.

AAAAA I'm so hype. God do I hope my readers will like this as much as I did. I think I'll just die otherwise ;-;

#my writing #ace attorney #lost opportunities fic #hanahaki disease #wrightworth #narumitsu #narumitsu fanfiction #wrightworth fanfiction #maybe you guys could tell but I am very excited about this

[sodamnbored]

Catching Up

Thalia: So what happened after Juno took you? Where did you go? Were you safe, happy?

Jason, uncomfortably brushing her off: Well, it’s a long story and kind of a bummer haha. You don’t wanna hear that right now.

Thalia, softly: Jason, I’ve waited thirteen years to hear your sad stories.

#this is kind of a bummer. but I love them getting the chance to do the whole sibling thing. not enough of it in canon. #and this boy NEEDS the opportunity to talk about his life to SOMEBODY. let the kid CONNECT to people ffs #pjo fandom #pjo verse #pjo hoo #jason grace #thalia grace #heroes of olympus #incorrect heroes of olympus #incorrect tlh quotes #incorrect pjo quotes #incorrect percy jackson #incorrect hoo quotes #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo stuff #pjo text post #grace siblings #demidorks #sad demidorks #Thalia and Jason #Jason and Thalia #poor Jason #the lost hero #pjo tlh #thundersibs #this is going in a fic #Jason is my favourite #Jason grace needs a hug #jason grace deserved better

[that-girl-glader]

If you guys don't say it. I will. Like father like son. I'm looking at you Will. Specifically TOA Apollo.

Minor tsats spoilers and toa too, if you wanna read that.

Firstly, Flirting. You can just tell Will got he's rizz from his father. The difference is, it worked for Will. Reyna rejecting Apollo, chef's kiss.

Believe it or not. Their humor is very similar. Puns for goodness sake. Like Will power? Lol.

No hate on Will, and this is mostly satire, but they both complain a lot. Except only one of them, spoiler alert will, deserves too. (I DON'T MEAN IT THAT WAY, Anti-Will people, so don't even)

They both made jokes about fricking band names, lol. Nico and the cocopuffs. Nico, Rachel, Will, and the troglodytes

Both Bisexual icons

They are both stupid, Like bringing no weapons to tarturus is giving when Lester and his used to be a god self decided that swearing to never use the only weapons he can use properly and his singing gifts on the styx was a grand idea.

I feel like they both say the most socially inappropriate things. Like they just somehow say the wrong thing.

I'm almost certain they both act quieter when nervous/scared/sad.

They both think they are useless even though they did pretty impressive and quite helpful stuff.

Both had their previous view on things (darkness/being more human) changed. And bla bla development.

Yeah so that's pretty much all I could think up at the top of my head.

#trials of apollo #tsats #toa spoilers #tsats spoilers #will solace #lester papadopoulos #solangelo #recently lost sleep to a groundhog day fic on ao3 and you should check it out if you haven't already #Opportunity Knocks by nikkiRA #will x nico #nico x will #and like I don't mind fic recs

[vinelark]

cant wait for kon and jason working together they were so good in ch 2. i know it wont happen but i have an image of kon accidentally revealing that he broke up with tim for robin and jason does a spit take like "you did fucking WHAT." and then kon's like "why do you care" and jason's like "first of all i don't. second of all i'm not telling you SHIT because you're an idiot" and kon's like "telling me what" and jason's like "EXACTLY". i have fanfic of your fanfic in my head if that's not clear.

in your fanfic of my fanfic jason would nnnneever let kon live that down. ammunition for life

(good news is “why do you care”/“first of all i don’t” is still the vibe for their sequence and i had a blast writing it 💪)

#the lost humor potential due to Imminent Peril is the biggest missed opportunity of the chapter tbh #there is still some humor though #asks #my fic

[flowercrowngods]

*checks time* a prompt for you. eddie's insomnia versus steve the human weighted blanket. 🥺

in which Eddie hasn’t slept in days and feels like he’s losing his mind. fairy lights, music, and Steve lying down on top of him with promises whispered into his skin are what saves him | cw: gets pretty heavy on the insomnia | 2.8k

Eddie doesn’t sleep. Hasn’t slept in a while. He knows it must have been two days. Maybe three. And before that it’s always just been one lucky hour, maybe two, his body collapsing into blissful darkness before black turns red and he’s back in the Upside down, before silence turns into Chrissy screaming at him, for him, because of him.

Eddie doesn’t sleep. And it’s starting to show. His movements are slow, thinking and speaking takes way longer than it used to, than it should, and everything is dulled. Sometimes he hears voices where there are none, sometimes he misses words directed at him before one of the shrimps call for his attention again, annoyed and only a little worried. Only a little, because Eddie is quirky, Eddie is dramatic, Eddie is like that, right? Right?

Wrong. Eddie is just tired. His hands won’t stop shaking, his mouth won’t stop talking, his thoughts won’t stop running. It doesn’t even feel like he’s in control of himself anymore, and it’s beginning to be real scary.

But even when he thinks, screw the nightmares, I just want some sleep, rest won’t find him. The constant thrum of anxiety keeps it all away and he’s starting to get frustrated, angry, desperate.

He just wants to sleep. Please. The laundry already starts talking to him, and he doesn’t remember hanging it up, and almost panics when it’s gone.

This is fine. It’s all fine. His joints ache, his scars itch, sometimes smiling hurts, but it’s all fine. He just needs sleep.

It all comes to a head when he’s hosting Hellfire for the kids two weeks since his last full night of sleep — and a full night is being generous, because his standards have gone so low as to that meaning he got five hours of almost uninterrupted sleep. Magically, the kids don’t really suspect anything, don’t even notice the bags under Eddie’s eyes or find their own completely misguided whiz kid explanations for it without so much as asking how he’s been doing. Part of him is glad, because they shouldn’t know, shouldn’t worry, shouldn’t see.

It also helps that even complete and utter sleep deprivation can’t ruin Eddie’s Dungeon Master headspace — and so what if the traitorous elf that asked the kids for help sounds a bit like the angry cabinet door he left open all day yesterday because he always forgot to close it? That’s between Eddie and his mind that he’s absolutely been losing.

Everything goes by without a hitch, the kids busy discussing each other’s moves and yelling and hollering, than watching Eddie massage his temples one, two, three times.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. Except his skin has started tingling three hours ago and he knows he shouldn’t drive the kids home, knows he shouldn’t even be hosting them in this state, but he can’t… He can’t let the Upside Down win.

They didn’t get him with red lightning and murderous bats, and now they won’t get him with nightmares or the lack of sleep.

Maybe he’s been cursed. What if he’s cursed? Fuck, what if he’s actually been cursed to die the slow, agonising death that Dustin gave Mike’s character in the one shot he hosted last week, his brain rotting inside his skull and the cure just out of reach, so close but so far? Is that possible? Is that a thing? It sure feels like it, and—

“Eddie?”

Wait.

Steve? Why’s Steve asking for him, calling his name, where is he?

Eddie blinks. And blinks again. Only to find himself in the living room, a shaking hand pressing the telephone to his ear.

He’s been calling Steve. He does not remember. Panic is building inside him and he swallows it down.

I’m not going crazy. I’m not going crazy. I just need to sleep.

“Eds? You there?”

“Yeah, man,” he says, his voice too shaky, not at all sounding like him, and he wonders if someone’s taking over his body. If Vecna is back. If he’s been possessed. Fuck, he might really he possessed, and he shouldn’t be calling Steve, he should keep them all safe, he should—

“What’s up?” Steve asks then, and Eddie sort of never wants him to stop talking, because his head is quiet when he does. Keep talking, Stevie. Please tell me I’m not going crazy. Tell me I’m not cursed. “You okay? Are the kids still there?”

After a moment Eddie finds his breath and his voice, hoping it sounds more like him now. “Yeah, actually, I was wondering if you could come pick them up around nine-ish? I’m not…” okay, he wants to say, but doesn’t. “I can’t really drive. Today.”

There’s a bit of rustling on the other end of the line and Eddie listens, because listening to Steve, to his voice and his movements, is easier than listening to all the things inside his house that suddenly have a voice now.

“Sure,” Steve says. “Yeah, I can come pick them up, no problem. You okay, though? Do you need anything? I can come over sooner if you want, grab them and end Hellfire early. Just say the word, okay?”

Despite himself, Eddie scoffs. “End Hellfire early? Peasant. Heathen! Heretic!”

And Steve just laughs that soft little laugh of his and Eddie listens like his life depends on it.

“Alright, Munson, you little shit, I’ll be there at nine. I’ll just do two rounds, grab you, Dustin and Will on the second one, yeah?”

“Sure, whatever,” Eddie says. Then Steve’s words process and he asks, “Wait, me?”

“Yes, you. I’m not leaving you alone when you sound like… Like you could really use a hug but don’t wanna ask for it, alright? Trust me, I know all about how that sounds. And you don’t gotta be alone, okay? We can just hang out here, don’t even have to talk, just listen to some music or whatever.”

And Eddie doesn’t know what to say. It’s not the sleep deprivation this time, though, it’s Steve Harrington and the way he always seems to know when something’s up. Maybe Eddie’s voice really didn’t sound like him just now, or maybe Steve is just really fucking perceptive and sweet like that.

“The things you listen to are hardly music, Stevie.” That’s all he says. All he can say without breaking into tears, because hanging out with Steve outside of these walls that mock him, laugh at him, talk with him, sounds exactly like what he needs right now.

Well, what he needs is sleep, but Steve feels like second best. And isn’t that something he never expected to feel.

“Shut up, Munson,” Steve laughs, and it’s soft, soft, soft. “But that’s not a no. So I guess I’ll see you then.”

**

Just as promised, Steve is there at exactly 9:00pm. Not one minute early, not one second late. Eddie scoffs and shakes his head as he jogs to the front door.

And maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, but Steve looks really fucking pretty with that smug half smile and another stupid polo shirt under his grey jacket. Eddie swallows. It’s probably the sleep deprivation. It definitely is. Because suddenly he wants nothing more than for Steve to come and hug him.

Sleep, hug, hang out. That’s his list now. It’s growing.

He obsesses over that while Steve brings Lucas, Erica and Mike home. Dustin and Will are talking strategies and Eddie busies himself cleaning up, sorting his notes and carefully storing his Hellfire stuff in the little cabinet unter his desk.

When he’s done, because maybe this took longer than it should have after he forgot what he was about to do a grand total of three times, Steve’s just pulling up to come get them for the second round.

Eddie grabs a bag with a change of clothes, a notebook because he doesn’t expect to find any sleep anyway and he wants to keep himself busy with something, even though writing takes precious brain power he’s going to be lacking for basic things such as making himself breakfast or remembering to get into the house when he’s standing by the front door.

Not like that has happened before. More than once, that is.

With his bag packed, he goes to grab Will and Dustin and together they head out to where Steve’s waiting outside his car, just leaning against it like he’s the goddamn protagonist of some shitty movie. Maybe he’s seen too many of those. Maybe Steve should stop working at Family Video, the movies are a bad influence apparently.

The car ride is blessedly silent, the only noise being the quiet music coming from the radio, and Eddie closes his eyes as he lets street lights wash over him. In the back, Will and Dustin do the same. Everyone’s tired after Hellfire, Eddie knows. Sometimes he catches Steve smiling when he comments on how he hates driving the kids home after their sessions because they always manage to fall asleep on the short ride home and he gets to be the asshole that wakes them up.

Eyes closed, the vision of Steve’s fond smile and faux exasperation in his mind’s eye, Eddie smiles. It’s only when the constant, pleasant rumble of the engine stops and the world is cast in absolute silence, that he opens his eyes. Steve’s watching him, but instead of that smile Eddie’s been dreaming of, there’s a worried expression waiting for him.

“You look like shit,” Steve says so, so quietly, and Eddie sags into the seat, twisting around to face Steve completely as he loses every ounce of fight left in him.

“Can’t sleep,” he says, rasps, whispers.

Steve just looks at him. He’s always looking, always seeing. “Nightmares?”

Eddie shakes his head, plays with one of the loose threads where his jeans are ripped at the knees. “Not even nightmares, just… Insomnia, Nancy called it. I love how she has a fancy word for everything.”

“Shit, man. I’m sorry.” Steve sounds like he means it, and Eddie wants to wrap himself up in that. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Tell me I’m not going crazy?” The words leave his mouth before he can hold them back and Eddie hates how small he sounds, how scared, how tired.

But Steve, oh, Steve, he’s not small or scared or tired. He’s none of that. He’s not weak like Eddie, because after looking for five, six, seven seconds, Steve turns to open his door and gets out of the car. Eddie’s heart sinks and he rubs at his eyes — his dry, aching, burning eyes, protesting at never getting to close anymore.

Then the front passenger door opens and Steve is there, kneeling beside him, taking Eddie’s hands from his eyes and holding them in his own.

“You’re not going crazy, Eddie. I promise you, you’re not going crazy.”

Eddie doesn’t look at Steve, can’t possibly meet the eyes that belong to this incredibly sincere and kind voice. He keeps his eyes on the dashboard instead, watching as the unmoving shadow of a tree morphs into different shapes right before his eyes, his mind playing tricks on him without hiding it anymore.

“Sure feels like it, though,” he whispers. Or he thinks he does. He’s not so sure anymore, watching the one shadow become two, then three. He closes his eyes, clenches them shut like it would make all his problems disappear.

Maybe it does, because like this, there’s only Steve’s voice as he’s talking so gently, so quietly, so unlike anything and everything Eddie has ever known.

The words don’t really register, but one moment Eddie is sitting in the car, the next he’s standing, and it’s warm and it smells like Steve and— oh. They’re hugging. Steve is hugging him. Holding him. Talking still like he knows Eddie needs it, like he knows the world will fade and shift and morph if he doesn’t, like he wants nothing more than to talk Eddie down from this brink of madness.

Then there’s a hand in his and the air is cold again, but it’s fine because there’s a hand and its guiding, holding, soothing.

A door falls closed, a lock clicks, and the hand is still there.

They’re in Steve’s house. Then in Steve’s room. And then there’s music. The hand is gone, and Eddie blinks, his eyes aching, so dry and tired and angry him.

Steve gently, so very gently pushes him to sit down on his bed, but Eddie doesn’t have the strength to sit, so he falls backward until he’s lying on Steve’s bed. It’s soft, comfortable. There’s a string of lights on the wall behind his headboard casting the room in warm light, and Eddie wonders if it’s Christmas soon.

It’s not. It’s August.

It doesn’t make sense.

But they’re pretty.

Eddie is only staring for a while while Steve is off doing something or other, and then he’s back in Eddie’s line of sight.

“Can I try something?”

Eddie just stares.

“It’s absolutely cool if you don’t want to, man, but I do this with Robbie sometimes when she can’t sleep. It doesnt work on me this way around, I always have to be on top, I hate having something on my chest, but—“

“Stevie, I have very limited brain capacity right now.”

“Right, sorry,” he laughs sheepishly and then rests one knee on the mattress. That’s when it hits Eddie that he’s lying in Steve Haddington’s bed, and that aforementioned Steve Harrington has nothing better to do about it than to fucking smile at him.

“Tell me if it’s bad. Seriously, tell me. Uncomfortable, bad, panic-inducing or just plain wrong, yeah? Tell me.”

And Eddie doesn’t understand what on Earth he’s supposed to tell Steve, when…

Steve’s lying down on top of him. They’re touching from knee to shoulder, Steve’s head landing on his collarbone. He’s warm. He’s heavy, and for a second Eddie can’t breathe and it’s too much, his lungs can’t fill, he can’t—

“Breathe, Eddie.”

And he does. And it’s the easiest breath he took all day. He takes another. And another. And all of them smell of Steve, all of them are warm, all of them a promise that he’s not losing his mind or his sanity. His heart, possibly, but that’s a problem for a different day.

“Better?” Steve asks, his breath leaving goosebumps on Eddie’s skin.

He nods. His hands coming up to wrap around Steve because part of him is still scared that this is a dream, a hallucination, or that Steve will decide it’s enough, he can leave Eddie to his business of losing his mind again.

But Steve’s not going anywhere. He shifts, getting comfortable on top of Eddie and promises into the skin of his throat, “I’m not going anywhere, Eddie. I’ve got you and you’re safe. Close your eyes for me, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

And, miraculously, Eddie believes him. The weight of Steve on top of him, his promise now eternalised in Eddie’s skin, and the quiet tunes coming from the record player take him where he hasn’t been in far too long.

He doesn’t even have the time to think about the way his past self would scoff at him for letting Steve Harrington lie down on him like this. For holding him close.

There’s only Steve who keeps him safe from the brink of insanity and guides him to a much gentler, warmer, kinder place. It’s a bit like insanity, actually, but at least here there’s someone to take his hand and hold it.

The last thought that crosses his mind is the list he made earlier. Sleep, hug, hang out.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

**

This quickly turns into the only way Eddie can fall asleep, and he’s embarrassed about it at first. Feels like a burden and doesn’t ask for it, spends most nights alone and with the resolution that he just won’t sleep. But Steve finds out and makes him come over again or just kidnaps him in broad daylight.

Every night they spend like this, Steve promises the same thing. “I’m not going anywhere, Eddie. I’ve got you and you’re safe. Close your eyes for me, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Every night they spend like this, Eddie believes him as he winds his arms around Steve in turn and holds him.

And then, over time, words whispered into skin turn into the tentative press of lips there. They turn into kisses, into more promises, declarations, pleas.

Some nights turn into most nights, into every night, and Eddie doesn’t lose his sleep again, not like that. Sometimes it’s Steve who wakes up from a nightmare but Eddie is there to soothe him, to make promises of his own and to hold him until he’s asleep again.

They make it work. And somewhere along the way, somewhere between sleep and promises, underneath the fairy lights Steve never takes down, they fall in love.

It’s a different kind of insanity, and one that Eddie never wants to run from.

#steddie fic #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #the irony of me writing this because i can’t sleep and posting this at 3am is not lost to me #okay actually im posting this way past 3am because sleep deprived ol me forgot what he was doing lmao #THE IRONY #dio words #sorry for taking this wonderful opportunity for mild hurt and big comfort and just. writing insomniac eddie whump #i am a whumper at heart what’s a dio supposed to do #eddie munson whump #steddie hurt/comfort

[gilly-moon]

Looking back on Shattered Pieces, and realizing that...damn....I should've put WAY more whump into it

#so many lost opportunities for physical & emotional harm #should've had even more festering wounds and painful dialogue #and long and agonizing recovery periods!!!! #oh well #time to write a new fic with loads of whump to compensate!

[sprintingficcommentator]

Oh my God, if I had the mental capacity for it right now, I would make a whole Powerpoint presentation titled "Kalim Al-Asim and How his Unique Magic Could Make or Break the World: a Thesis on Underestimated Power" because JESUS CHRIST THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS

#not a fic commentary #twisted wonderland #twst #kalim al asim #*fangirls and theorizes about powers Midoriya-Style* #because OMG THE UNTAPPED POTTENTIAL #IS EVERYONE BLIND??? #I need a BNHA-Style Character Study!Fic that talks about this #because I am NOT kidding when I say this boy could make natural disasters big enough to wipe everything out or solve world thirst #if he plans it correctly #and trains both his magic and his creativity #I am speechless because of the lost opportunity #gdi I need more character study and mental development in the game

[skitskatdacat63]

I have to write a relatively long German paper, and man its just so difficult for me. The pro side is that I can pick any topic I want, so of course I picked Charles VI. But I've literally not written any German in months, and I'm almost 100% sure our prof doesn't actually read them. I should just write and submit boy king fic....

#i wish it was in English #bcs i would be very happy about it #but i have lost so much capacity for any German writing #bcs he sucks so much as a prof and has dropped the ball on actual language learning imo #how am i supposed to suddenly write a 7-8 pg paper after youve spent all our class time just lecturing at us #and giving us no real opportunity to really learn or test our skills #i shall.. probably just cheat. #LIKE i want to learn german so badly #but what the fuck is the point of even trying when i know im not going to get actual feedback on my writing #why should i even try at that point. put that much effort in and know that he doesnt really care at all #it just sucks so much bcs i genuinely love and am so fascinated w the topic #but the idea that id put so much work into translating it only for him not to read it really kills me #again. just submit boy king fic and see if he notices sjfkgllblb #but do you know what i mean? like im sure ill write a good version in english that i think is actual good content #but translating it is such a lost cause bcs all the effort is reallt for nothing #like atp im jusy interested in the history more than making an effort w the language #ugh i wish i wasnt this way but yknow lack of stimulation anf feedback really kills my enjoyment and interest #like see i can convince myself that thr eng version of teh paper is my typical personal research #<- i mean im making a fucking family tree for funsies so this isnt that far off #but the translation part is so difficult bcs my german has been eroding a bit SOB SOB #lol anyways i say this bcs i was plotting a boy king fic in my head as i was goong to bed #and was like oh i shoulf write it out tmr! and then remembered I HAVE AN ESSAY UGH #well yeah. suffering. we'll see how i feel abt i write the original copy and if i have the capacity to germanify it #i just feel so guilty about it. cheating. I dont want to and it feels so low effort and terrible #but why would i force myself thru all that for a guy who barely reads it #catie.rambling.txt

[sophiethewitch1]

Hi! You've mentioned that 'What We Want' has a playlist. If it's not to spoilery (and you feel comfortable doing so) could you share some of the songs on it.

I hope you start feeling better soon. ❤️

oh my god im so glad someone asked!!! I'll share some of my favourite songs from the playlist, the ones that i think like... summarise the stories feeling the most. Idk. The ones with the highest vibe quality. Some of these you will actually see referenced in the fic later on lmao.

Here's the playlist for your listening pleasure

If you have any more questions, theories (what song relates to which character, where in the story, etc) please send it in! I love talking about this.

#sophie speaks #sophie answers #series:www #also reader canonically likes bastille i feel its very much her favourite band/singer idk #and what you gonna do??? is like. the anthem for the fic basically #u are in this insane situation your life is changed irrevocably you are sad and miserable and embarrassed and lost #and yet you have the opportunity to do so much good in the world #to change YOUR life the lives of the ones YOU love #to change the city you live in to fix the broken system you suffered through #...to get the revenge you so desperately crave? #ALSO ALSO thelma and louise is dick's fallen in love song and werewolf is jason's fallen in love song thank you all have a good day #both have their own future scenes in www and i love love love both of them. theyre both so filled with joy and hope and feeling UGH #edit: wait tims is coffee i forgot. which is unfortunate considering... the themes of the song... #hinted spoilers my beloved #i want that grovel bby we are working on ourselves for our love <3 <3

[enne-uni]

Not me writing a +2k kid flashback into my wrightworth fic instead of progressing the story. No definitely not. (See, the plan was to finish ch. 3 by christmas, but we'll really have to see about that one if I keep pulling shit like this.)

Anyway, sneak peek under the cut >:)

The vendor hadn’t noticed him, so he just leaned on it and hugged his legs. He was whimpering, he noticed. How he always noticed these things after they had started was a mystery to him, but he was whimpering nonetheless. However much time passed, no one came to him. He was to the side, yes, but he wasn’t hidden by any means. They were too busy focusing on their own lives. That’s how it often went. The keychain was probably breaking with how tight his grip on it was. Not actually, but that’s what it felt like to him. “Miles!” He blinked, tears catching onto his eyelashes. “Miles! Finally, I’ve been looking everywhere!” Someone ran next to him, dropping on their knees. “I’m so glad—… Wait, are you okay?” “…Ph- Phoenix…?”

It was certainly strange to write these two calling each other by their first names, you know? Kinda weird.

#my writing #lost opportunities fic #latest update

[yourlocallygrowngay]

Happy Jill Valentine international day everyone

#the only Valentines day that matters to me #jill valentine #also i lost the perfect opportunity of posting my fic today rip #i just dont have the energy to write lately but i promise im going to finish it

[daisychainsandbowties]

Yes hello just wanted to step by and say that I love your Wolfwren fic so far thanks have a great day

🥺🥺🥺 oh wow thank you!! that fic is so much fun to write & getting to delve into sabine’s gay little head and explore the absolute tragedy of her life (being used as a child soldier by the empire, falling in love with her best friend who then left her for dead, finding a family and then losing it in pieces, one by one to this war she can never stop fighting) has been such a painful and rewarding experience but so good…

i’m 🫡😭 about giving sabine this slow-dance of blood and tension and longing into something raw and healing and beautiful with shin. it’s what she deserves!!

#sabine is an incredible character 🥹🥹 #this chapter is a bit about her & hera & after the war #sabine making prosthetics for guys on the docks in coruscant and getting shitfaced and kissing girls in bars #just how lost she is. her life all tangled with regrets and missed opportunities #how all her bleeding has left her with nothing but blood (and hera and zeb who love her and try their best but.) #this fic was NOT supposed to be a slow-burn but BY GOD it’s getting there #i feel like 30k is still #reasonable though. not exactly slow #but yeah ty so much for the kind words. the next chapter should be soon! #wolfwren #anon

[thebluestbluewords]

I love how organically weird conversations can get sometimes. Walked in on my husband writing an email to his dad where he was listing out the optimal size to cut potatoes, and then ranking them by how often we cut each size (mashed is apparently a cutting method here)

#I have got to remember to make my dialogue weirder #in a working world of older women #I forget the joy that autistic men can find in just #ranking potato sizes #not descendants #but I will 100% be stealing this concept to put in a fic #because I find joy in the silly inane conversations sometimes??? #and I feel like this a great opportunity to make a silly little something about my pirate cooking opinions #(Gil and Uma can both cook. Harry cannot.) #(they are doing better than the ot4) #it’s not that Harry can’t cook. It’s just that he doesn’t think. And tried to deep fry an ice cube. #he was shocked by the oil burns #if you ask him about the scars he’ll say he fought off a horde of adult pirates armed with boiling buckets of oil #but the real lost revenge crew know the truth

[sosclancy]

Are any of the fics you put in your rec list yours???

Nooo none of the fics on that post are mine lol But here's a link to my TØP fics :P

I also realized I didn't have my About Page linked on mobile, so I also fixed that too, I have my AO3 profile there lkajdaad

#I also realized I could've pluged my own fics on the rec list -_- #Lost opportunity ig #Joshler

[nandorisms]

The writers really missed an opportunity for Freddie to be caught cheating and for Nandor to mirror what Guillermo did in season 3 and get ready to fight for Guillermo's honour (or rip his head off, a part of me really wants Nandor to use his head ripping gloves)

#I actually wrote a fic in which Guillermo and Nandor are at the vampire club #and Nandor had ripped a vampire's head off that had been dancing with Guillermo #without even realizing what he had done until he had done it... #this is after Derek when feelings are still a little raw... #and Nandor is drunk on drunk blood #anyway I lost that wip when my pc gave out #missed opportunity to make Kayvan Freddie

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

The prologue of my Jak and Daxter: Splinter Cell au (well, more a first chapter than a true prologue) is the Demolition Trio versus The Tomb of Mar and Original Mar's Interior Decorating. Since that's a bit...long, I'm only putting the first bit.

“So what, then we just send this poor kid into a meat grinder?” 

Samos put a hand on Mar’s shoulder. “You must be cautious, child,” he said, too blithely for Jak’s taste, “The tests of manhood are sure to be fraught with peril, and Mar’s heir must face them alone!”

Jak tightened his grip on the little heir’s shoulders and pulled him close, away from the leader of the Underground.

“No. No way, not happening.”

Kor touched his arm gently. It was no doubt meant as a grandfatherly gesture, but unexpected touches still caused Jak to flinch violently. He jerked away from the old man, tugging Mar with him.

“Jak, believe me: there is no other way. Without the Precursor Stone, I fear the Baron will bring destruction upon us all -- especially the child! Only the Precursor Stone can save us.”

"And only a descendant of Mar can get the Precursor Stone," Samos added.

Mar trembled and turned to lock his arms around Jak’s legs. He looked up with wide, tearful eyes. Jak didn’t need to see the boy’s hands to know what he was saying.

Please, please don’t make me go in there.

Kor, Samos, Onin…they’d gone right ahead and plotted out this little kid’s fate without so much as giving him a notion that he had a choice at all. Jak’s blood boiled when he measured the child’s experiences up against his own: they were entirely too similar, he and his tiny tagalong.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair! I won’t let them make another “hero” to sacrifice.

Mar sniffled and nodded. “Stay with brother,” he agreed. 

Jak knelt and looked Mar in the eye. At least he knew their conversations remained private; it wasn’t like Samos had ever bothered to translate what Jak and Daxter used to talk about back home.

“You stay close,” he said in short, simple signs for the preschooler to see, “I’ll keep you safe. Don’t go with them. Don’t listen to them.”

If the Precursor Stone really was their only hope, Jak would find a way to get it.

The Oracle’s eyes flashed to life the instant Jak stepped close. Had it sensed Mar, or were the Precursors still friendly with him, even after the dark eco?

He had a sinking feeling that at least one of the men had counted on that.

Breathe. Just Breathe.

Jak stepped up to the door, keeping Mar just behind him. He stared up at the visage of a Precursor Oracle on the door and wondered how he was supposed to get out of this.

“Welcome, heir of Mar.”

Behind them, Samos overcame his awe for the briefest of moments, shooing Mar out from behind Jak to face the Oracle. Before Jak could express his irritation, surprisingly, the Oracle did it for him.

Well, that answered that question.

“Finally, the Chosen One stands before me! Enter and prove yourself worthy to claim your ancient birthright!”

The great stone door began to close once more, cutting off any hope of retrieving the stone.

“No!” it snapped, “These children are too young to face the tests!” 

Children?! Jak didn’t know whether he was more confused or insulted. There had to be some mistake.

"No!" Kor gasped, reaching out a spindly arm.

"Jak!" Samos squawked, "Do something!"

Time seemed to slow down, if only for a moment, and Jak saw three paths before him. He could play the obedient little hero, like always, and go get the Stone for Samos. Little to no thanks would be forthcoming, and being a "hero" wouldn't save him from more suffering on their behalf.

His second option was to refuse. If the Precursors said it was too soon for Mar to go in there, he'd uphold that tooth and nail. The only problem with that plan was that the Baron still wanted the Stone too. Jak had the advantage for now, and wasn't willing to lose it.

That left just one path before them: hoping that, relatively speaking, it was safer inside the tomb than it was outside.

Jak took a deep breath and crouched. Daxter instinctively bunched up and dug his claws into the leather straps of Jak’s holster and pauldron. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but he knew he wasn't going to like it one bit.

He was right.

Tucking Mar into his chest, Jak launched forward like a missile. He dove underneath the door, which was over halfway down, and rolled across the floor on the other side. 

"Did anyone ever tell you that you have impulse problems?" Daxter asked acerbically as he dusted himself off.

The door slid into place with a hollow boom, sealing them inside the tomb. Samos and Kor’s muffled voices sounded distressed on the other side, but no distinct words could be made out.

Not that Jak would have listened anyway.

"Why would you bring Junior into the scary black hole we already established as sure to be filled to the brim with death?!"

He took two steps, then jolted. "Hey!! For that matter, why would you bring me into the scary black hole we already established as sure to be filled to the brim with death?! Jak?! Jak?!! Are you listening to me?!"

Jak knelt on the stones, staring up at two massive braziers on either side of a stone staircase. The fires within them burned an unnatural green -- unless they were eco. The vast space beyond the stairs was lit in a sickly hue that went far past what he would have expected a tomb to look like.

"This is huge," he whispered.

It was more hypogeum than tomb: a sunken temple beneath the streets he raced over every day.

Daxter eyed the glitter of water down below with trepidation and swallowed hard.

"So, uh…y-you go ahead, and I'll watch the kid?"

Jak unwrapped his scarf -- it was the first time he'd done so since Daxter stole it for him, months ago -- and shook it out into one long length of cloth. He eyed it critically, then nodded.

"C'mere, Mar."

Jak wound the scarf around the little boy's back and legs. Then he turned around and hoisted Mar up onto his back. Carefully, Jak took the ends of the scarf; one went over his shoulder, the other around his side. Both ends were knotted several times around his channeling ring. It was far from an elegant solution, but if he had to make any big jumps, it would keep Mar from falling off.

"Try running into traffic now, pipsqueak," Daxter snorted.

Mar responded with a very rude gesture he most assuredly hadn't learned all by himself.

"Hey!" Daxter sputtered, "Who taught you that?!"

Innocently, Mar pointed to Jak. 

Jak did not look even the least bit sorry -- although this could have been because he was focused.

"Alright." He stood with a grunt and started down the stairs. "If the trials are meant to end with the Stone, there's got to be a way out at the other end, right? We'll just get through whatever is in here as quick as we can, get the Stone, and get out."

#free day thursday #jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #jak and daxter mar #splinter cell au #snippet #tomb of mar #jak 2 renegade #booby-trapped tomb is a terrible idea for a rite of passage geez just teach them how to pay taxes #Kor is fuming because his opportunity to spirit Mar away and his opportunity to snatch the Stone have both been lost #Samos is of course oblivious #both Daxter and Mar are going to have nightmares about the Tomb for weeks #Mar runs into trouble so much a moby-wrap was required for him to survive this tomb #fic prompts #writing prompts