#I refuse to post an incomplete fic next week

[ofduskanddreams]

I solemnly swear that I will write today.

#it’s gotta get done #I refuse to post an incomplete fic next week #because there are exciting things on the horizon #fanfic writer problems #writerly woes #writerblr

[quoth-the-goldfinch]

Week 1: Going Nanners

My decision to blog this November came out of nowhere and with unyielding intensity. I brainstormed for most of the morning on November first. As usual, the exercise left me energized, ecstatic and severely scatterbrained; which seems to encapsulate my ongoing relationship with Nano. All of this is perfectly normal. I start the month with a towering dirty laundry list of what I plan on accomplishing, overwhelm myself horrendously and spend the remaining weeks doggy paddling against the breakers until I reach calmer seas. I have something to show for myself at the end of this struggle, sure, but the story that I long to tell and I remain oceans apart.

Last year was no exception. However, it was as challenging as it was wonderful. The “end” result was a new story in my series that I had been chomping at the bit to tell for several years now. Burnout, too. Terrible, depressing, unrelenting burnout- but what is writing if one refuses to take the good with the bad? I am happy with last year’s project and happy with my series, despite its many, many, many glaring deficiencies.

So what is next?! What point am I trying to convey with this gobbledegook of a blog post?! I’ll try my best to explain with minimal rambling. (There will be rambling.)

After clumsily cobbling together the final chapter of “The Joy that was Mine”, I stepped away from Waterford for maybe a month. The bug hunted me down soon after; biting me extra, extra, extra hard on my butt. I had no other choice. I started writing again, but it was different this time. Since January, I have been working on a new story, sort of an alternate reality that stems from a chapter in “Joy”. It is messy, incomplete and written entirely by hand in my horrific cursive scrawl. Parts of it are more than salvageable and eventually, it will go live. It is important to note before proceeding that it is not my Nano for this year. Next year, maybe. But not this year. This story, unofficially titled “The Great Hummingbird Rescue” was penned in solitude. That comes with reward and merit, certainly, but writing is such a communal endeavor for me. Writing about writing is the point here. Writing about writing gives me introspection beyond introspection. Hopefully in reading my writing about writing, I can reach out, beyond my obscure little world and help others. To inspire. That is my ultimate goal and why these weekly blog posts will be part of my process this year.

Speaking of goals…

I have so many ideas for this series. While I am taking my time exploring those avenues (mostly through journaling) there is so much work to be done on the foundation. Yes, these stories are more about the process than any finished project. I honestly don’t know if it will ever be finished and I know for a fact that it never has been and never will be perfect. I wouldn’t have in any other way! So, my goal for Nano this year is to do some serious work on the first story (“Only Through Victory”).

The first draft was written five years ago when I was brand new to the fandom and right around the time I changed universities (transferred) and switched my major from Theatre Performance to Creative Writing. All that I knew was that Colonel Tavington is dreamy and I needed to write a self-insert stat! I had no idea how many other projects this blatant wish fulfillment fic would birth. I had no idea what the creation of Annabelle Casey would unlock inside of my heart. I had no idea that I would build Waterford- my beloved little river town, a deeply sentimental conglomeration of the city in Arizona that raised me and wonderful, gentle, neighborly Portland- who loves so fiercely and shines so brightly that it is now imploding, collapsing in on itself like a dying star. Waterford has been my solace through the destruction of my previous life and the construction of my current one. It is the heart and soul of this ongoing series and the reason why my well of ideas and inspiration has yet to run dry. “Only Through Victory” needs revision. Annabelle needs to be fleshed out more and so does Waterford. That isn’t because the story is a total train wreck (although my inner perfectionist constantly argues otherwise.) These stories are a treasure to me and they deserve to be polished.

So, that is where I am right now. Happily going Nanners just as NaNoWriMo intended. Weekly blog posts about the revision/rewriting process can be found here on my Writeblr. Snippets and poems will be common occurrences, too. There is a lot in the works right now, so if it seems like I’m being elusive, I’m not. Just all over the map and terribly, terribly scatterbrained. Happy Nano to all and to all a good write!

#nano 2022 #the old river town series #only through victory #the caffeinated hummingbird

[aftgficrec]

any super domestic slice of life andneil? love your blog so much, thank you for singlehandedly running the aftg fandom

YES. My favorite for this is ‘Small Angry Gardeners’ here. - A

some previous recs

short & sweet post-canon oneshots here

post canon long domestic andreil here

minor hurt/comfort + soft Andrew here

fluffy sickfics here

andreil cuddling or hurt/comfort here

andreil cheek/forehead kisses here

so in love it’s corny andreil here

caring andreil here

domestic with kids here

parents!andreil here

‘falling in reverse,’ ‘oh, this life I choose,’ and ‘something like home��� here

‘Home Is Wherever You Are’ here

‘until the end of the world’ here

‘always you’ and ‘It’s the Thought that Counts’ here

‘Holly On Your Own Front Door’ here

‘Picking Up Stitches’ (pov outsider) here

‘the one with all the ships’ series (the kevaaron is also packed with domestic andreil) here

‘you would treat it tenderly,’ ‘careful hands, mended hearts,’ and ‘careful hands, mended hearts (the fever remix)’ here

Andreil, just chilling in bed. prompt fill by @kevindayslefthand [Tumblr Fic, 2019]

It was their first day off after what felt like years, and Neil couldn’t be happier. His excitement and joy practically radiated off of him and Andrew supposed he didn’t mind. He could deal with Neil looking at him with that expression (love) on his face and he could deal with Neil’s breath taking smile and his disgustingly affectionate eyes just as long as Neil didn’t make them get out of bed. Andrew absolutely refused to do anything today.

Just Because by one_black_coffee [Rated T, 3064 Words, Complete, 2021]

Rolling over in bed on a lazy morning when both he and Andrew had breaks, to find Andrew still asleep, pushed into Neil’s space by Sir and King who were sharing Andrew’s pillow, made Neil feel so incredibly real. They had nowhere to be, no practices nor games. Just them. No need to rush, no need to wordlessly surge on with the day with the sole purpose of making it back to bed alive. None of that anymore because when Neil leaned forward to kiss Andrew’s nose, the only response he got was a content sigh.

The smell of burning cigarettes by Just_Gee [Rated G, 2158 Words, Incomplete, Updated March 2021]

Snapshots of Andrew and Neils life after they both join the pro-team, when they get the cats, meeting up with the foxes, making new friends etc.

Crocheted with Love by idontknowhattochoose [Rated G, 741 Words, Complete, 2020]

10 years post-canon sees Andrew and Neil spending the day off crocheting and relaxing ft. hot cocoa, the cats, cuddling, and a little reminiscing.

The Domestic Life of Neil and Andrew by Funsized152 [Rated M (we say T) 945 Words, Complete, 2020]

'Andrew could tell how comfortable Neil was by the clothes he’s wearing or lack thereof.'

Major Fluff.

Andrew and Neil are the softest people on this earth and that is a hill I will die on.

the problems with cats by justdk [Rated T, 892 Words, Complete, Andreil Week 2019]

Andrew & Neil's thoughts on owning cats

I Just Need a Minute by adaintywomanofmystery [Rated G, 1628 Words, Complete, Andreil Week 2019]

Andrew just wants five minutes alone. Neil and the cats have other plans. Written for Day 5 of Andreil Week, prompt: cats.

andreil + cuddling + “I want to do something nice for you.” by @praylane [Tumblr Fic, 2018]

Andrew, Neil realises, is in a lot more pain than either of them anticipated. Which is preposterous, really, because Andrew doesn’t lie.

cute domestic andreil headcanons by @aftgandreil [Tumblr, 2016

Imagine:

- Neil wearing Andrew’s clothes (not just at home)

- Andrew being jealous of the cats

- But not showing it

- Andrew and Neil wearing their matching jackets

Domestic fluff hcs by @dkafterdark [Tumblr, 2018]

Art

Don’t be assholes art by @rainbowd00dles

‘Lets get cats,’ he said. 'It’ll be fun,’ he said. comic by @c-dragon-art

Taking a break while moving into their new apartment art by @lnmei

oh to wake up next to the love of your life art by @poijys

A shoulder to lean on art by @ijustneedmorespace 

morning coffees art by @danzeebee

#fic #neil josten/andrew minyard #universe: post canon #theme: domesticity #theme: fluff #theme: cuddling #theme: established relationship #theme: olympics #theme: kissing #theme: cats #theme: pro exy #theme: injuries #theme: massage #theme: hurt/comfort #theme: clothes sharing #andreil week

[katnissmellarkkk]

I *DEMAND* part 3 of shattered pearl. I repeat. I *DEMAND*.

Hahahahaha omg. Well, I decided to legitimately dig through the archives of my writing drafts and found chapter three of the Peeta-Wasn’t-Hijacked fic. It’s been given like 1,000 different names on different sites. I’ve never loved any of them. And I don’t really think this is my best writing ngl. But I also figure ... why be so stingy, ya know? If I have an incomplete draft, that I probably won’t finish, why not post a little bit? Especially since I literally left everyone and their brother who were reading this fic on a cliffy for over a year.

With that said.... I wrote this part like ... 15 months ago? 14 ? 13 ? Something like that. And I haven’t edited it since so ... yeah! Here’s a small chunk of chapter three! 🥳🥳🥳 Hope it’s better than I remember it being!

But it’s lacking something and it’s only then I realize, what I’m searching for inside Gale’s mouth, is the spark that only Peeta’s ever ignited in me. I keep waiting in vain for the warmth that started in my stomach and then rose up and exploded in my chest, for the craving that no matter what I couldn’t manage to satisfy, for the thrilling, almost hysterical, tingly feeling, to overcome me and leave me lightheaded in a completely foreign way. A way that couldn’t be attributed to lack of oxygen.

But it never does. I pull back and wipe my mouth carelessly on my arm and sigh, already sensing Gale’s demeanor taking a nose dive at my lackluster reaction.

I’m not disappointed when I look to see his expression. His eyes are frustrated, his mouth is downturned, his eyebrows are pinched together. And I feel as bad as I knew I would. Because no matter what, I’m hurting someone I deeply care for.

But how I feel upon seeing Gale’s face isn’t even comparable to the amount of remorse that fills me, that overtakes my entire being, when I see Peeta standing in the doorway, having watched our entire exchange.

/

I yelled his name as he disappeared down the hall. I tried to rip out all the needles and wires connecting me to the machines and the stiff, sterilized bed but Gale used all his strength to push me down flat. I was overpowered and exhausted and my left side was screaming mercilessly, and I don’t even know what pain was the bruised lung and what pain was my hurt ribs and what pain was my heart violently smashing into the pit of my stomach.

All I know is that if I had been able to reach Peeta before he evaporated, I have no clue what I would have said to him.

What I could have said to make it alright.

Gale tried to talk to me again after that but I entirely tuned him out, no longer caring if I wounded his feelings, or anyone else's for that matter.

It seems like no matter what I do, no matter how careful or cautious or preemptive I try to be, someone still got hurt in the end.

I wish I could just shut out the world, like I did during those first few weeks in Thirteen. Hide inside closets when I had a flashback. Shove myself into a minuscule crawl space with every nightmare. Refuse to speak to anyone who wasn't Gale or my family. Only eat when my mother nearly forced me. Show no remorse for how rude or how clinically insane I came across.

But now there was an agreement in place, an agreement I made to protect the victors—namely the one who just disappeared down the hall on me—and the people who had no voice on their own. The people who’s only chance was a half-crazed, shell-shocked, battle worn seventeen year old girl, who was just gunned down on national television.

Even if I wanted to retreat to some safe haven inside my head—if such a thing even existed for me—like Annie Cresta, I knew it could never happen.

For me, that wasn’t an option. If I don’t fulfill my duties to Coin, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and probably countless more people will suffer. The districts would undoubtably suffer. Gale would suffer. My mother and Prim would suffer.

I was proven right when later that same night Plutarch came to visit me again. I'd been lying on my side to avoid having to see Gale, who was still soldered to my bedside. My good side was thankfully opposite his seat.

When the Gamemaker spoke I thought I would be forced back to work. Forced to head back to the rebels and engage in their plans.

And I was resigned to it, well aware all along that I wouldn't be given the luxury of time to grieve the hurt I just caused Peeta. Or even the pain I knew I was inflicting upon Gale. The constant seesaw my heart was bouncing up and down on.

I was endlessly thankful that I was still pumped with morphling when Plutarch said that I was needed in Coin's office, because it heavily suppressed any real emotion I had brewing deep inside.

Morphling can cause you to let down your guard sometimes, make you say or do things you wouldn't otherwise or allow things to happen you'd ordinarily have the sense to stop. But it also causes all your severe emotions, all your heightened feelings, to dull as well. And for that, in light of everything that had just transpired, I was eternally grateful for.

When the doctor had removed all the needles from my arm, and I had been given a robe to go over my hospital gown—which, shockingly, was even uglier and thinner and itchier than the gowns they gave in the Capitol hospitals—Gale escorts me down the halls, through the corridors and to President Coin’s office.

I don’t speak to him the entire time. Looking at him makes my stomach churn with remorse and regret, though I’m not even sure who those feelings are directed towards. I’m not even sure how to articulate the way I feel right now.

And, as much as I try to force him out of my mind—as much as I do my best to rip him out from wherever he crawled beneath my skin and flooded into my veins—I inexplicably miss Peeta.

In more ways than I even know how to decipher. Even inside my own head.

I thought that feeling of longing would have ebbed away once he was rescued from Snow and his twisted mansion, but even knowing he’s safe here in Thirteen, I still crave his presence next to me.

I still want him next to me almost all the time.

It’s at least partially attributable to the fact that for so long, it was me and Peeta against the world. He has been my partner in this whirlwind rollercoaster since the first games and, even when I feel like every single aspect that could potentially go wrong has, sometimes it seems like I couldn’t have gotten luckier with who was chosen that fateful reaping to stand by my side the entire horrific ride.

I wipe my eyes as inconspicuously as I can but Gale sees and almost instinctively puts his hand on my shoulder. And proves he knows me better than I give him credit for. “I’ll talk to him, Katniss.”

“Don’t,” I immediately hiss. “You’ll just make it worse, Gale. He-he,” I struggle with explaining what I want to say and I curse my best friend for even addressing my moment of weakness because now I have to go talk to Coin, looking like an unstable mess—with a near bullet wound—and I blurt out the very first thing I can think of. “He doesn’t even know you, okay? You’ll just-“

There’s no malice in Gale’s voice as he softly replies, “Well, he was fine when I went and saw him before you woke up.”

I stop now, dead in my tracks. “You saw him? After I was shot?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I felt like should check on him. I know...” He pauses and looks upwards and I recognize, once again, this whole thing isn’t easy for him either. “I know he means a lot to you. And I heard what happened when he saw you go down. So I went and checked in on him...” He stops again before shrugging nonchalantly. “He was calmer by the time I saw him. He was nice. He’s always been nice.” At that Gale rolls his eyes. “Too nice. Probably why Snow wanted to hurt him.”

I start walking again, moving ahead of him a few paces. “You’re not helping,” I state, my voice a monotone.

“I’ll talk to him,” Gale offers again, running to catch up.

“Please don’t, okay? Just let it be. I don’t even know if he’ll speak to me, I don’t want to have to worry about what you’ll say to him.”

I vigorously shake off his hand on my shoulder when he tries to comfort me again, and feel him root into place as I make the rest of the way to Coin’s office.

And I wonder if I hurt him now too.

I wonder if I managed to completely annihilate them both from me in one night.

/

Much to my surprise and, to be completely honest, my utter disappointment, Coin doesn’t want me to head back out and fight for the rebellion. She doesn’t want me to even film more propos.

Plutarch does, but his ideas now are pretty frivolous and have more to do with him being still stuck in the fantasy of putting on a good show and less to do with fighting for the good of the country.

Coin simply says, “You did your job, Miss Everdeen. You united the districts,” in her calm, disingenuous—completely unsettling—tone.

And argument I put up is met with a simple shake of the head and a pursing of her lips. All indisputable rejections, her cold, blank eyes telling me wordlessly that in no way could I sway her once her mind was made up.

Still doesn’t stop me from trying though.

“I want to help the rebels,” I plead, looking to Boggs behind Coin’s chair, his face still stoic but his eyes giving me a look that isn’t altogether dismissive.

That was something. It was more than I was getting from either Coin or Plutarch.

Coin though brushes off my words and cuts me down infuriatingly quick with a single sentence. “Plutarch wanted to see Peeta earlier, talk about some propos. But when he sent for him, one of the doctors working with Peeta said he wasn’t having a good day.”

Her tone is smooth and pleasant enough but there was an undercurrent to her words that she knew I would hear. “Do you know how Peeta is? I would have thought with your waking up this morning, he’d be in better shape than he was but if you two aren’t getting-“

“Me and Peeta are fine,” I snap, not liking whatever she’s implying.

She nods, slowly at me, choosing her next sentiment carefully. “Well, let’s hope so. We need both of you now to remain the faces of this revolution. And I wouldn’t want you to do anything rash because of... problems between you and your... between you and Peeta.”

I’m shaking my head, feigning certainty, before she even finishes. “That’s not why I want to help the rebels,” I insist firmly.

“Irregardless, Miss Everdeen, we don’t have a job for you. You aren’t qualified to go into the fight and we no longer need your propos to unite the districts. Your job is done. Thank you for your help.”

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I’m being definitively dismissed now. Indefinitely.

I don’t make any effort to keep my cool, instead choosing to storm out of the room, slamming the door cacophonously behind me and wonder why I let that woman get to me so much. Why her words and implications slice me open like a knife.

Why no matter how much I try, I just can’t like her.

Something about her rubs me the wrong way and, once again, I wish Peeta was here with me in the room, because he of all people could understand what about Coin felt off and strange and so familiar.

I curse myself again, as I suddenly miss him even more than before.

Unable to force myself to put my focus elsewhere—especially now that Gale is surely angry too—I change directions and head towards the recovery room.

I don’t even knock before entering. I push the door open, only to find him sitting on top of his bed, a sketchbook in hand, a lot more tranquil than I pictured.

He looks up as I enter—and then, simultaneously freeze in the doorway, like the coward I truly am inside. Before he can speak though, I blurt out, “I know you’re mad about me kissing Gale and I don’t know how much you saw or heard, but it wasn’t... it wasn’t exactly...” I stop because once again, I’m unprepared and out of my element and have no rhyme or reason in what I’m trying to say. I don’t know the right thing to say. I never know the right thing to say.

Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t screw always everything up. “It wasn’t,” I finally force myself to continue, off his patient and somewhat bewildered glance. “It wasn’t what I wanted... I didn’t want it to happen. I don’t, I don’t even know what-“

He finally puts me out of my misery now. “Katniss,” he speaks my name along with a sigh. I watch carefully, feeling a lump build in my throat, as his blonde brows furrow over his baby blues.

He shakes his head, slow and calm. Far more reasonable than I ever anticipated. “I’m not mad at you, Katniss,” he promises, with all the genuineness in the world.

I bite my lip, befuddled by his words. “But... where have you been then?” Why did you leave me? A small voice in the back of my mind demands.

He shrugs, his gaze falling down to his bed now. His demeanor is almost embarrassed, I realize with a start.

“I wanted to give you and Gale space. I’ve been practically mauling you since you woke up so I thought-“

“But I didn’t want you to leave,” I abruptly burst out, unable to shove the words down any longer.

A pang of embarrassment shoots through me though, for the pathetic crack, evident in my tone. And I mentally berate myself.

Not for the embarrassment. For the pathetic crack itself.

And for the fact that somehow I’m the frenzied one here and Peeta is the voice of reason.

Which used to be our norm but after everything that’s transpired, I would have thought things would be reversed by now.

He just stares at me for a long moment, carefully considering his next words.

Finally, he opens his arms slowly and utters, “Come here,” in a tender murmur and I practically fly into his arms before I can second guess the offer.

I feel my injured side screaming as I curl up like a ribbon in his arms, but I surpress the wince to the best of my ability and instead bury my face in his shoulder, breathing in his sweet scent like a mad girl.

He softly presses his lips to my messy locks, carefully massaging the back of my head soothingly. “I’m sorry I ran away,” he whispers, barely loud enough for even me to hear. “I was just embarrassed. I know—I’ve always known deep down—that it’s not right for me to constantly hold you to the things you said in the games. Or to project my own feelings onto you.”

“You didn’t,” I refute venomously, my brows knitting together.

“Katniss, I know you and Gale have had something between you for a long time.”

“Gale was just a friend until me and you came back from our first games. Maybe he wanted to be more even before, I don’t know, but I never felt anything romantic for him. I swear.”

“You don’t have to defend your feelings to me,” he states softly.

“I know, it’s just...” I sigh, moving to sit upright across his thighs. “No matter what I do, it’s wrong. If I say I’m confused, you’re both hurting. If I say I want to kiss you or sleep with you or just be with you, I’m leading you on because I can’t-I can’t make any promises about my feelings right now, because I don’t even know up from down anymore. And if I say I do or don’t want to kiss Gale or be around him or hunt with him still, I’m hurting him or giving him the wrong idea or telling him the wrong things, and it all gets confused and there’s an entire rebellion that I’m the face of, and now I don’t even know if I’m a part of that, but Snow and his followers all hate me still so I know family still won’t be safe until this is all over. And you. You and Johanna and Annie went through the ringer over me. And Gale gets upset whenever he sees us together—it hurts him to see us—but I can’t always seperate you two from one another and I just-I don’t know what I can do. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Peeta lets me rant the whole entire spiel out, his hand slowly moving in circles to rub my back, from the top of my spine down to my backside. “Katniss,” he whispers once I’m done. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I get it. You’re under immense pressure. The last thing I want to do is make things harder on you.”

“You’re not,” I say, shaking my head insistently. “You’re not making anything worse, Peeta. It’s-it’s not you.”

“Okay,” he concedes and unconsciously wraps me up tighter in his arms. “Just relax, okay? Relax and breathe.”

I quiver and quake against him. “I don’t think I can.”

I barely realize I’m crying until Peeta leans down to kiss my tearstained cheek softly. “Katniss, it’s okay. I’m not mad. And Gale shouldn’t be. If he is, then that’s on him. The rebellion isn’t just your responsibility. Do not let them put all that weight on your shoulders. I know they already have but it’s not all your responsibility. And no one is going to let anything happen to your mom or sister.” He pushes my hair away from my forehead, pressing his lips there for a long moment. “Or you. I promise I will not let anything else happen to you.”

I swallow hard as he rests his forehead against my temple. I squeeze my eyes shut in hopes that it will make my head stop spinning somehow. Deep breaths to center myself fail miserably and in the end, I feel my bruised ribs and lung disagree with the movement and ache worse than before.

Peeta feels me cringing against him in pain and remains careful as he shifts, reaching for something off his bedside table.

I’m in too much pain to react as pushes off my robe and tugs my hospital gown down in order to slide against my skin, his hand holding it firmly to my side.

The icy temperature brings some sort of relief to me almost instantly, and I let out an audible sigh of relief, feeling my rigid body relax even a minuscule amount for the first time.

“I don’t blame you for having feelings for Gale,” Peeta murmurs, drawing my attention back to our conversation and away from my painful left side. “And if you want to be with him, I won’t hold it against you. I’m not going to lie, I’d be ... sad but... it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be your friend. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t still be at jere for you however you needed me. There’s no ultimatums here, Katniss. I’m still here for you, even if you’d rather be with Gale.”

I pause for a long moment, absorbing his words. He’d be willing to be my friend, even if I hurt him? Even if I chose someone else over him? Even after everything we went through, even after all the ways he’d been abused because Snow could see how much I care for him? How much I need him. He’s still willing to put it all aside and be there for me, no strings attached.

And I try not to compare but my brain draws the conclusion almost involuntarily, and I can’t stop myself from realizing that, in the same position, Gale would likely not be telling me the same thing.

I burrow my face deeper in his shoulder, shutting my eyes in exhaustion.

Peeta catches me off-guard, moving my hair aside to kiss my neck, eliciting a flare of heat in the place where his lips brush my skin, and I may not know exactly how I feel, but I know in that moment exactly what I want right now.

“The only person I want to be with tonight is you,” I whisper honestly, looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him to somehow understand an emotion I don’t know how to admit. “The only person I want right now is you, Peeta.”

#everlark #thg #hunger games #my writing #asks 🦋 #everlurked 🌸✨

[sneezefiction]

you’re my adventure

Nishinoya x Reader - Scenario

desc: engagements and soft moments

a/n: a request from @curlykoo for some fluffy, sweet Noya! i’m sorry I couldn’t pull off a sequel to the angsty noya fic, but I hope this makes you smile <333 thank you so much for requesting + waiting ! (my titles get cheesier every time i post lmao)

warnings: none! (legit, you’re gonna b smothered in fluff)

wc: 1500

---

“Keep your eyes covered, y/n.” Nishinoya says, leading you gently by your hand to a destination in the open air.

Midsummer nights are never chilly, but you wouldn’t have minded a small jacket or cardigan.

He’d planned for your ultimate comfort and, with your eyes still closed, envelops you in a light, fluffy blanket. He knows you well.

So you trust him and keep walking, one hand in his, the other grasping the blanket on your shoulder.

Your feet finally tap the side of a small curb, and with that he says,

“Now open!” In a nervously, excited whisper.

---

Noya exists for the purpose of adventure. To know and taste every sensation. To feel ridged mountainsides. To hunt for new experiences. Capturing every living, breathing thing in a mental photo. Documenting each distinct memory.

Novelty is forever fleeting, but some are born to find it. Again and again and again.

And that’s Nishinoya for you. Always finding, forever searching.

But for so long, he’s done it alone.

And, he supposes, alone isn’t… bad.

It’s true, there’s freedom in venturing by himself. He’s free to do as he pleases, whenever he pleases.

No one to look out for, nothing to tie him down.

Just endless journeys for him to explore.

But there’s a point when “alone” simply becomes “lonely.”

And that shift was a hard pill to swallow… because to settle down and stifle the “lonely” seemed to mean he had to lose his true love. Adventure.

Little did he know, the true adventure was about to start as you made your entrance into his life.

---

It’s Friday once again.

And Fridays are deemed exploration days by your bubble-machine of a boyfriend, Nishinoya.

Thus it makes sense that the week is incomplete, if not absolutely suffocating to him, if he hasn’t had a chance to leave your snug apartment to feel grass below his feet and the rustle of wind through his hair.

You usually give him space to go off, self-examine, and explore by himself. It’s something he’s always needed to do and it’s never gotten in the way of your relationship.

If anything it made you love him and his unique spirit even more.

However, every once in a while, he’ll want you to join him.

Tonight just happens to be one of those nights. No rhyme or reason to it.

It’s not the most unusual request, but as you asked “where to,” he refused you an answer.

Yet, the sparkle in his eye told you that he was hiding something.

Something significant.

Something special he just had to share with you.

So you let him take you by the hand, pulling you toward this secret destination.

---

“And open!”

It takes you a moment to realize where you are.

It’s exactly where you had your first date with this spiky-haired boy. The roof of the parking garage.

You fondly remember blue tongues and sugary, sweet lips from the slushies Noya had bought you back then. How he chased you after you ruffled-up his hair, letting you think you could get away, but catching up with you in no time. How when he caught you, he cupped your cheeks, staring into your eyes adoringly.

You shared many long, devoted kisses that night. Delicate touches. Conversations about passions and desires.

Since then, you’ve been attached at the hip.

Y’all rarely revisited that exact spot, deeming it a “sacred place” meant only for perfect moments and irreversible discussions and decisions. Your heart is racing.

The lot is comfortably empty, a brilliant full moon above you acting as the primary light source.

Before you are a pile of pillows and blankets, a small cluster of candles, and… of course…

Those truly iconic blue slushies.

You’re at a loss for words.

He leads you to his setup, letting you get comfortable enough to fully take in the scene.

It’s romantic.

Divine.

Unbelievably thoughtful.

For someone so carefree, you forget just how much beauty and ambiance matters to Nishinoya. Every last detail is there, pristine yet cozy. The location and atmosphere, perfect.

You break the silence,

“Noya, this is… stunning.” Your mouth hangs open slightly, in awe of the scene set before you.

That he cared so deeply for this very moment, for you, to do all of this.

“I just- I- Even the slushies!” You’re laughing, words coming out in jumbles.

So you slouch down into the pillow, legs curled into your chest, hands resting on your knees.

The stars overhead are completely outshone by your wide, sparkling eyes.

“So what’s all this for, baby? It’s not our anniversary, y’know?” You smile, genuinely curious and a little nervous.

Your usually chatty, animated boyfriend is completely silent.

He wordlessly gets down on his knees in front of you and sets his hands on top of yours.

Taking both of them into his own, he waits a minute, stroking them with his thumb.

He then takes the deepest breath he can muster,

“Y/n… all my life I’ve wanted to be free.” He starts, voice shaky.

“You know how much I love adventure...” 

You nod slowly, your eyes shining as they meet his, 

“and I’ve had my fair share of them.” He expresses with a smile on his lips, picturing one of those precious moments right now.

And suddenly, his words gain strength and confidence.

“But I never realized that I could feel this free. Especially not with someone else by my side.”

Your heart skips a beat. 

This isn’t any old conversation anymore.

No, this pertains to you. Your relationship. Your Noya.

“Y/n… you should know, my old life pales in comparison to these past two years I’ve spent with you.” He states boldly, no longer wavering.

“Those 22 years don’t match up to the amount of life I get to share with you now.”

He can hear his heart beating out of his chest.

“You’re my adventure, y/n.” He reveals, his face warm, but heart even warmer.

And the happiest of tears are dripping down your chin, onto his hands.

“I want you to know that out of every amazing mountaintop I’ve climbed, you’re better than it’s peak.”

“Not even the bluest, clearest ocean, the steepest waterfall, or the most beautiful flower can compete with all the wonderful things I’ve experienced with you.”

He shifts and shuffles to grab something out of his pocket.

But, of course, he drops it first.

Nishinoya let’s the most comical gasp you’ve ever heard, escape his lips.

You laugh, tears falling faster, but youe smile growing so wide your face begins to hurt.

He recovers the item quickly and mentally kicks himself for ruining the vibe like the complete goof he actually is.

But it’s clear what’s going on.

It’s barely made visible by the moonlight and the subtle glimmer of candles...

but there’s a small, velvet box in the palm of his hand.

Even though you’d already begun to expect it, you can’t help put both of your hands over your mouth in shock.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need your hands back, please.” He laughs, knowing his secret is out now.

“Because, you see… I have this ring…” He pauses,

“...and I kinda want you to wear it for the rest of your life.”

He gazes at you for a moment longer, soaking in your reaction.

“Please marry me, y/n!” The words fall out his mouth in the most Noya way.

It feels just like a movie.

Where the whole world ceases to spin and gravity releases its hold on the both of you for just a moment. 

Because you suddenly no longer feel anything but his touch. His gaze. His nearness.

You remove the shaky hand from your mouth and reach it out to him.

He wraps his fingers around your palm tenderly, carefully placing a simple, but beautiful diamond-studded engagement band on your ring finger.

Of course, you take a second to examine the ring... but your eyes slowly drift back to admire your real treasure.

Your eyes meet his again.

But this time, it’s not just your boyfriend.

This is your future husband.

And the pent-up energy is too much for Noya, so he moves on to what he does best:

He full-on tackles you in the biggest, most life-giving hug you’ve ever received.

You’re thrown back onto more blankets, your head guarded by his hand so it doesn’t touch the ground.

You’re both giggling and gasping for air from, the tears you just spilled leaving you breathless.

And you lay there, chest to chest, his head laying on your shoulder.

It takes a moment, but Nishinoya lets out one last sigh before shifting to lay down next to you.

In your eyes, he sees everything.

He sees endless opportunities. Countless journeys.

And he cannot wait to pursue all of it.

He does his best to express this with simple, but bold words,

“I can’t wait to explore every part of life with you.” His head tilting to face you, your fingers now interlocked with his.

Your heart is bursting, unable to contain the joy you’re experiencing…

Yet all you can say is, 

“Yes… me too, Noya. I love you so much.”

---

tags:  @cherryonigiri

#haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x you #nishinoya #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu scenarios #hq fanfiction #hq scenarios #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya fanfiction #nishinoya scenarios #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #sneezefiction

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas2020 Day 1: Anathema

It’s that time of year again - when I bombard you with fic I’ve written over the year and haven’t posted, whether it is an outtake, part of a WIP, or something that ended up going sideways but still had some cool bits I was proud of. 

Everything will be tracked under the ‘TwiFicMas2020′ and ‘FicMas2020′ tags. Most fics are incomplete scenes - “--” is a scene break, “//” means that there’s a cut - it’s probably not yet written. 

--

First up is Anathema, the fourth or fifth attempt at the ‘Alice works in a mortuary/funeral home’ idea that refuses to solidify itself - though I think I’m getting closer. I enjoy the idea that Charlie Swan is in on Forks’ secrets (before Jacob strips in front of him, lol) and I am always here for the supernatural world being more than just vampires and shifters. 

I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

The day the Cullens arrive in Forks, two things happen.

The first, I draw both Death, and the Wheel of Fortune. A combination that, frankly, sounds time-consuming. I lie in bed and contemplate them for awhile. The cards are soft, from lifetimes of passing from hand to hand (my dearest and most beloved Great-Aunt Jeanne passed this set to me when she died. At the time, I was too young to understand the true gift in cards that had never before been touched by Brandon hands - before mine.) The cards are illustrated so carefully, so detailed. They smell like dried lavender and the scrap of linen that I wrap them in, and there is something so reassuring about each and every card.

I draw my cards every few days before I get up. I find it calming, the shuffle of them against my fingers, as I let my dreams fade. It’s a quiet time, and one I savour.

Eventually, I do have to get up, though. No rest for the wicked. The cards go back into the wooden jewellery box some young man carved for some young woman in Jeanie’s family long before I was even a glimpse of a thought, and back into my nightstand drawer.

I - we - live on the first floor of the Brandon Funeral Home, a perfectly respectable converted Georgian house at the end of Main Street, where it sweeps around to Cedar Road. It’s a shit place to have a corner, and more than once speed racers have spun out; whoever’s scraped off the road and our front walk usually end up in the freezers in the basement.

But I digress.

Breakfast is mundane. Dulcie is there, hair in curlers, and a frown on her face when she realises I am not dressed. I sit crosslegged across two thrift-store chairs in my camisole and booty shorts, spooning jam onto toast with the precision of a good scientist and ignore her reminding me of my dressing gown (a sturdy pink-flower print flannel that is buried in my closet. My preferred robe, a thin grey kimono, is currently in my laundry pile) and ‘common decency’, as if my elderly great-uncle is looking to leer at the decided lack of anything I have up north or down south.

Dulcie is… Dulcie. No replacement for Aunt Jeanie, but a good woman. I find it funny that Uncle Freddie is an old man now, and he still reels ‘em in. Or he would if Jeanie’s death hadn’t broken, shattered, and wrecked him. Dulcie worked for us for a few years before she set her eyes on the top bedroom and changing ‘Dulcie Dunn-Stanley’ to ‘Dulcie Brandon’.

Oh, that sounds very jaded. It’s mutual, Freddie and Dulcie. Their courtship was glacial and it’s really only recently that Dulcie’s been hinting about heading to the court house. And, honestly, whatever makes Uncle Freddie happy. Dulcie’s kind to me, we mostly get along, and her attempts to mother me are so far inconsistent - but she is usually pretty respectful.

My uncle lingers over his food; he’s got a new book open at his elbow, and no one can pry my uncle away from his books. They’re usually hardcover, non-fiction. Most of the boxes stored in the third floor are my uncles books.

After breakfast, I am banished to get dressed for work, which is in the basement today, where I am to be the hands as we prepare one Lewis Fletcher for his Saturday morning funeral. There’s a sack of bagged organs resting in the chest cavity, from the autopsy (elk or deer attack, the report says), and I get to stitch Lewis back together, get to fill him full of chemicals, seal things with putty, and get to face painting. The Fletchers are a pretty ordinary family locally, and the service will be simple - they were very agreeable when Freddie met with them last week.

I put my music on and hum as I prepare my kit. It’s no secret that an unqualified teenage girl doing this work probably breaks a lot of laws, but Freddie’s hands aren’t as steady as they used to be, and he’s old enough to remember when a family business meant that the younger generation was trained by the older at home, no degrees or certifications necessary.

Sometimes I wonder what Jeanie would have thought, me working down here like this. Would she have understood? Would she have been mad or upset or disappointed?

We’ll never know.

Freddie fetches us both a cup of tea, and hovers at my shoulder as I piece together Mr Fletcher’s chest cavity.

“Smaller stitches, Alice,” Freddie says, inspecting my work carefully. “Redo that section, stitch closer together, and small stitches.”

I nod, turning around to grab a scalpel from the tray beside me to cut the wonky stitches free and start again, and I freeze as the ice-cold feeling envelopes me. No, no, no it’s been so long…

For a moment, I am unfixed in time and space. I am still in the basement, with the buzzing fluorescent lights, and smooth metal drawers and cupboards, the stink of formaldehyde. But instead of a clean, bare second table, I am lying there. But I’m not dead, and I’m not alone. It’s him. The boy - man? - I’ve been seeing for so long, in visions and dreams. He’s hovering above me, a veritable sculpture of pale flesh as he peels off his shirt, our mouths still fused together, my hands gripping his hips. I am a much less collected figure, with my tights around my knees, one shoe still on and my shirt hiked up over my bra. Vision-Me pulls away to say something, and He laughs, and it’s then the light catches his eyes. Dark gold.

Golden-eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Real-Me says, and somehow Vision-Him knows I’m Seeing and looks right at me, where I’m standing with a scalpel in my hand.

“Alice?” My uncle’s hand on my shoulders brings me right back to the right point in time and space.

It’s at the point I hit the floor, manage to stab myself quite viciously with the scalpel and my uncle starts cussing.

It’s been a while between visions.

//

The Council was basically the reason Freddie and I stayed in Forks. It was a fifty-fifty split between honouring Jeanie’s wishes, and keeping me safe and out of sight - as if my aspirations were towards a Vegas nightclub act or international pop star. I wasn’t entirely clueless.  

Forks was built in a special place. A place where the barriers between the ordinary and the extraordinary were a little thinner, where the supernatural were drawn to. Jeanie had theorised that was why the Quileute were able to tap into their spirit wolves so easily, and why the gene remained so strong, father to son without a constant presence of their enemies. I didn’t know enough of their history to have an opinion, but Forks was definitely a place with an interesting history that very few people knew - even I only knew a fraction of everything that happened, past and present. There were very few written accounts; most of the histories were oral and passed down on a strict need-to-know basis.

The Council were definitely in the know, and had been for generations. There was Billy Black, Sue and Harry Clearwater representing the Quileute tribe, there was Charlie Swan representing Forks and everyone not in the know, and there was Freddie and I. Freddie, was technically Jeanie’s representative, and was the Mediator between the Ordinary and the Others. Jeanie’s family had been Mediators for generations, but she’d never had children, so all of that had somehow fallen onto Freddie - and me.

It was extremely useful to have the Police Chief and a Mortician working the Council - we’d had to fudge more than a few deaths. There was always someone or something passing through the Olympic Peninsula, and we’d negotiated, challenged, threatened, and banished more than a few creatures over the last few years.

Technically, all parties were allowed to bring their apprentice representative, but I was the only one of the next generation who attended. Charlie Swan had made it clear he didn’t want his daughter involved in any of this, and both Billy and the Clearwaters had decided that their kids were too young to know exactly what went on around here. I figured in a decade or so, it would just be me, Seth, and Jacob Black (no way would Leah hang around just for this shit show), drinking beer in the woods and deciding whether to burn or bury.

But tonight’s meeting was Special. Despite the fact I’d been drawing nonsensical cards for days now - the Star, the Tower, and Justice - no visions had appeared beyond a dream about a locket with ‘W’ engraved on it. I’d expected a fairly normal meeting, until Freddie had let me in on the plan - we were, apparently, meeting with the Cullen family. No one had informed me exactly what or who the Cullens were, only that they had a ‘fourth seat’ in the Council that they’d been entitled to since the ‘30s. I’d have to go through Jeanie’s diaries again - there were boxes of them in storage, and Jeanie had useful tidbits dotted throughout.

So that was why I was in the forest with my grandfather, shivering underneath two coats and in my new fleecy boots, standing around a fire pit that didn’t really do much more than illuminate the burning wood; the lanterns we’d brought were more effective.

Some days I really wished Leah or Seth or Jacob Black would attend these meetings; they’d certainly liven up these meetings a bit.

“They’ll be here soon,” Billy Black said grimly. Billy Black had it worse than the rest of us - getting out to this part of the forest was awkward and time-consuming with his wheelchair. Since these meetings were clandestine, we couldn’t build a proper track.

“The terms are staying the same?” Charlie asked, sipping from a paper cup of coffee Sue had pressed on him.

Billy frowned. “We aren’t here to renegotiate, but we will listen to their petition if they have one,” he said finally.

“What are the existing terms?” I asked, nudging a mossy rock with my toe.

“We’ll go over that later on, Alice,” Freddie said, watching the woods carefully.

Fine, obstruct my completely transparent attempt at finding out what was actually going on. I was definitely intrigued by the idea this clan had a ‘seat’ at the Council, but it involve negotiations? The only creature I could think of that would fit that kind of profile would be some kind of shifter.

I was bored.

And then the mysterious Cullens arrived.

They came out of the woods like a mist; slowly but all at once. They kept a respectful distance away from the fire pit, clad in pristine new clothing that was a touch too light for the cold weather but was good quality. There were three of them - a blond man, a brunette woman, and a red-haired boy - all three of them taller than average, and pale as snow. And they were lovely, as if Grecian statues had climbed down from their plinth and wandered off.

“Hello,” the man said, nodding at us politely. “Thank you for welcoming us to this meeting.”

“You’ve a right to be here, as outlined in the treaty,” Billy Black said sternly. “This is the current Council - Charlie Swan for Forks. My self, Billy Black, and Harry and Sue Clearwater for the Quileute tribe. Fred Brandon as Mediator. Carlisle Cullen for the Cullen Coven.”

Coven meant vampires. That dampened my spirits a little; my history with vampires was messy. Plus the few vampires that had ventured into this area had been unpleasant experiences. But as I stared at the Cullen coven, I noticed their eyes.

Golden, like liquid light.

Was He one of them? Was the Cullen coven only these three, or where there more?

“And the young lady?” Carlisle Cullen said, looking in my direction.

“My niece,” Freddie said in a no-nonsense tone. “Shall we begin?”

“I assume Ursula Altis has since passed? My condolences to her family,” Carlisle Cullen said. “I had a great respect for Ursula.”

“Yes. Ursula’s apprentice passed on several years ago, and she named Fred and Alice as her successors,” Harry said.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Carlisle Cullen nodded at Freddie and I. I half-smiled back at him. Jeanie had been gone a long time but I still missed her.

“This is my wife, Esme, and my oldest son Edward,” Carlisle gestured to his two companions.

“Oldest son?” Charlie Swan said sharply.

“Yes - I have three others, but we did not want to overwhelm you,” Carlisle said. “They are here, if you would like to meet them?”

“Yes. We want to know the entirety of your coven,” Harry said bluntly.

Carlisle grimaced and nodded. “Of course. My other children - Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper.”

Three more Cullens materialised from behind Carlisle Cullen - a tall blonde girl who was utterly breathtaking to look at, had a displeased expression, and was wearing the genuine designer version of my knock-off winter coat. The second was a bear of a man, with the friendliest face, and curly black hair, who winked at me as he wrapped an arm around the blonde girl’s shoulders.

And then a lanky blond boy with a dark expression and wavy blond hair, who hovered in the shadows, his features mostly obscured. All of them had the same golden eyes, the same pallor and dark under-eye circles. But they didn’t look or behave like other nomads that had passed through. They looked… like a nice family.

Maybe in a decade, Jacob, Seth, and I would be joined by Emmett Cullen for the ‘burn or bury’ booze up. He looked like he’d be the most up for livening up these meetings.

“Your family has grown.” Billy’s voice was accusing, and I turned to look at his stern expression.

“My son, Jasper, joined us in 1965,” Carlisle Cullen said politely, “Looking for a different lifestyle. We have abided by your terms, and would not have returned to this area if we were not prepared to continue to do so.”

The Quiluetes weren’t thrilled with that news, and Charlie just looked kind of tired. Freddie was taking notes on his phone, and I was just cold and getting bored again… until I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye.

Jasper was prowling away from the others, closer to me, where I stood at my uncle’s side. Both eyes were on me, like liquid amber, and I finally got a good look at him.

Jasper was Him - the boy hovering over me, half-dressed on the gurney; the boy kissing my scar, and sliding in behind me in the shower. The boy that had hovered at the edges of my visions and dreams since I was young, with adoration in his eyes and gentle touches.

The boy I’d love so fiercely and deeply…

Talk about a terrible time to finally meet.

“Oh fuck,” I said, as I looked at him, eyes wide. All those wretched cliches that terrible books write about happened at that moment. I was enchanted, besotted, and absolutely irrevocably attached to this Jasper Cullen. He was mine.

“Step back!” Harry barked out, but Jasper Cullen ignored him, watching me carefully. I couldn’t help myself; I smiled brightly at him, and he kept moving towards me. Flashes of knowledge were appearing in my head, and for some reasons I kept seeing the Lovers card, still in my deck at home. I could hear people talking, getting angry, but it was like the buzz of insects as Jasper Cullen got closer to me. His hand reached out slowly, to stroke the curve of my cheek, studying me with the strangest look on his face.

And then the pain hit, like someone had shoved an ice pick through my left eye and into my brain. The visions were folding over and over, like origami, before I could decipher them. Choices being made, minds changing, so fast I could keep up. I heard myself cry out as I fell, and then everything was dark.

Then I was seeing things in real time. The way I fell, blood running from my nose, to everyone’s utter horror. My eyes were rolled back in my head, and my body jerked in a seizure a few times before I was still.

But no one could get near me. As soon as I had fallen, Jasper had crouched over my prone form, with a horrified look on his face. Everyone was yelling and trying to get closer, and Jasper let out a snarl that was, frankly, terrifying before refocusing on me, taking my hand and plucking my glove off it, to rest against his own cheek. Whatever that was supposed to achieve did nothing, and whilst everyone else was yelling and bickering, he let out a low whine that was so pathetic, if I’d had any control over my body, I would have sat up and given him a hug.

Then Carlisle Cullen placed his hands up to the Council in a gesture of peace and nodded to Emmett before approaching Jasper.

The conversation would have been too low for anyone else to hear, but not me, in whatever kind of vision this was.

“Jasper, I understand,” Carlisle Cullen said in a low voice. “But she’s got a medical condition, you need to let her people take care of her.”

Jasper growled low, Emmett’s hand on his shoulder.

“Bro, c’mon,” he said. “You’re scaring them,” he nodded over his shoulder. Sue’s face was white with fear, and I was scared that Harry was going to stroke out on the spot.

And I was there, Sleeping Beauty, with a smear of fresh blood on my face.

“I can’t,” Jasper seemed to force out between gritted teeth. “She’s mine.” It was said with determination and desperation, and a deep tenderness.

I was pleased that whatever my embarrassing collapse had been, at least I knew we were on the same page -that we knew each other and we knew each other.

And just like that, like they were magic words, my eyes open and I was back in reality, staring up at the man-boy who was staring at me like I held the secrets to the universe.

“Alice, did he hurt you?” Freddie called out in a strained voice.

“No, that was me. Too much new information,” I said, as I began to sit up, Jasper sliding my glove back on my hand before I realised it was still missing. He held out his hand to help me up, his touch so careful and gentle.

“Okay, good. Come over here,” Freddie motioned for me to move to where the group seemed to have bunched across from the Cullens. Charlie Swan looked murderous. “She’s nothing to you, boy, just let her go.”

I winced when Freddie said that, realising immediately it was like a red flag to a bull, and all of a sudden there was a lot of motion. Jasper growled, attempting to shove me behind him - to protect me? - whilst Emmett and Carlisle Cullen decided it was time to get Jasper physically under control, and pulled him back towards where the rest of the family was standing.

I tripped over a rock and stumbled but righted myself as Jasper was bodily dragged back to where Esme, Rosalie, and Edward Cullen were waiting, looking worried.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Mrs Cullen asked as I moved back to Freddie’s side, where he quickly clasped me to him, giving me the once over.

“I’m fine,” I said before catching Emmett having bent Jasper’s arms behind  his back at a hideous angle, his knee digging into Jasper’s spine. “Oh, don’t hurt him! Please!” I made a move towards them but Sue grabbed my arm, and Jasper turned to stare at me with what I can only describe as hope.

“I think this meeting is done,” Charlie Swan said finally. “You agree to maintain the existing treaty - that’s all we need. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we don’t want to cause any issues,” Mrs Cullen said, and Freddie snorted, shielding me with his body.

I felt like a prisoner being frog-marched back to the car.

“Back at the Brandon’s?” Charlie said, as we arrived at the cars.

“Of course,” Freddie said. “Coffee and debrief.”

//

#twificmas2020 #ficmas2020 #jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #cullen family #fandom #my writing #fan fic #my fic #wip #charlie swan #my fic: anathema

[bronte-deserves-better]

What is UP, fuckers? Today I present to you: 12.5k words of pure self-indulgence by Auriel, posted by request of my discord friends who i've been bothering about this fic for like a week. Massive shoutout to y'all for tolerating me i have NO idea how you do it.

Title: Can’t find my way home (but it’s through you)

Wordcount: 12834

Warnings: flashbacks, panic attack (neither of those are from the POV character though), misgendering, injury, kidnapping, not too-graphic torture, brief mention of hospitals, mentioned abuse, annnnnd I think that's all.

I’ll link the AO3 in a reblog, but since I know AO3 is blocked for some people I’m also putting it here.

"How are we supposed to get to him?" Gisela was practically snarling in frustration as she paced. "Bronte is a cornerstone of the Council- and seemingly as unbreakable as one!"

"You're the people person, not me," Vespera reminded dryly. "I'm not the master of manipulation. Experimentation is my field."

"Well, fuck." Gisela flopped in a chair next to the other. "I was so certain Fintan was what would cause him to fall apart. Fintan turning against him, Fintan's supposed 'death', and then of course that dramatic reveal at the announcement."

"Fintan does have style, I must admit."

"He does. But even he hasn't been able to touch Bronte. Bronte barely even hesitated to speak against Fintan!"

Vespera sighed. "Gisela, I have no idea why you're telling all this to me."

"I'm brainstorming. Shut up."

"Brainstorm away, then."

"Right." Gisela resumed her pacing. "We had a weakness- we had his brother. But Fintan's starting to lose the will to fight him any longer, which is a dangerous liability. Not to mention that Fintan doesn't seem to be able to hurt him."

"I don't see why we can't just torture him," Vespera said, sounding bored.

Gisela glared at her. "In order to torture him, we'd have to kidnap him, Vespera."

"That can be arranged, you know."

"I know. But it's easier to break him from a distance. Or to..." She trailed off.

"To what?"

"Oralie!"

Vespera frowned. "What about Councillor Oralie?"

"Oralie is how we get to Bronte. You see, Vespera, from what Fintan has told me, I've been able to discern that Bronte fancies himself a protector. You can see it in his votes on the Council, too, always out to protect as many people as he can. Now what better way to crush his spirit than make him very aware of the fact that he cannot protect one of the people he cares about most?"

“Clever. And cruel. I like it.”

-

The announcement had come without warning, the elves of the Lost Cities assembling in Eternalia to hear some sort of Council plan to do something or other with the registry. Sophie hadn’t really been listening, and now she kinda regretted that since she was staring off into space when the first black-cloaked Neverseen members glittered into view.

“Shit,” Grady hissed.

“Language,” Edaline hissed.

Sophie stared at the Neverseen members. “Fuck.”

Everyone seemed to move at once, rushing to confront them. Even the Council made a move, Bronte raising his hands in a familiar gesture that Sophie knew meant he was preparing his inflicting, while some of the others rushed forward. And when all the chaos cleared, the duo of Neverseen members were levitating in the air, holding Oralie between them. Sophie watched as one of them shook back her hood, revealing Lady Gisela.

“Good evening, Councillors.”

Bronte, unsurprisingly, was the first to act, surging forward with a call of "Oralie!"

"Take a step closer and she dies," Gisela hissed, digging the knife she was holding a little further into Oralie's neck. "We wouldn't want that to happen, now would we, Miss Pyren?"

"My name is Bronte," Bronte spat, but he took a step back.

"Good."

"What do you want with Oralie?" Emery demanded.

"She's the kindest of us," Bronte agreed with a glare that could shatter steel. "Leave her alone."

Gisela threw back her head and laughed. "You want to know what I want with your pretty colleague here? Well, Pyren, I want to show you how absolutely and utterly powerless you are. Look at you. You're an ancient, a wielder of one of the most dangerous abilities in our world, and a Councillor for so long most people can't even remember when you were appointed. And yet you can do nothing to save your very best friend."

"Don't listen to her," Oralie pleaded. Sophie was close enough to discern genuine terror on her face. "She's just trying to get in your head."

"Silence!" Gisela slashed the knife lightly down the side of Oralie's throat, and Sophie watched blood begin to bead there. "You will say nothing, you pathetic excuse for a Councillor."

Oralie went silent at that, but her eyes blazed with defiance.

"You see?" Gisela directed a smirk at Bronte. "This is what happens when you're not careful enough with the people you love...people will take them away from you, Miss Pyren."

Sophie watched Bronte's hands clench and unclench helplessly. "Don't call me that."

"What, your last name? You want to keep your heritage a secret? You always said you were proud to be a Pyren, even when pyrokinesis was banned."

"No-"

Gisela smirked again and slashed a second line on Oralie's throat, causing the empath to hiss in pain. "I don't suppose anyone else feels like being stupid and trying to stand against me? You say this ancient is the strongest of you...but she can't even save her best friend."

"Stop calling him tha-" Oralie was cut off by a slap across the face from the other hooded figure, who Sophie recognized as Vespera.

"Stop your uppity commentary. Gisela and I will be leaving shortly, seeing as none of you have anything interesting to say."

Sophie could see a few tears forming in Oralie's eyes as she silently raised a hand to the red mark on her cheek.

"My associate is correct." Gisela's voice was triumphant. "It is time we leave- and show all of you just how weak your Councillors truly are." 

Vespera raised a crystal to the light. The elves of the plaza scattered. Gisela stepped into the beam with Oralie. The Council and bodyguards rushed to try and stop her. Sophie stood paralyzed. And above it all, a single, desperate scream rose.

"Oralie!"

The silence left in its wake was devastating, broken only by a soft, shuddering sob. Sophie turned to see Bronte's face crumple, tears dripping down his cheeks. Meanwhile, the rest of the Council just stood and stared awkwardly. 

Sophie was about to go running on stage herself when Emery quietly stepped out of the line, extending an arm and pulling Bronte into an embrace. To everyone's surprise, the ancient Councillor put up no resistance, instead burying his face in Emery's shoulder as his small frame shook. 

"We will find Councillor Oralie, and we will bring everyone responsible for this to justice," Emery addressed the crowd. "The Neverseen will not get away with this. In the meantime, we ask that everyone return home and remain calm, and the eleven of us will rule provisionally."

"What does that mean?" Sophie whispered to Grady.

"Technically, the Council isn't allowed to act on anything without all twelve of them," Grady whispered back. "It's called provisional rule when an incomplete Council takes action in urgent situations."

"Oh."

Elves were starting to leave, murmurs abounding as people reached for home crystals or pathfinders. Sophie decided not to follow the rest, instead grabbing her parent's hands and dragging them through the crowd towards the Council. All eleven remaining Councillors had now broken rank, the rest surrounding Bronte and Emery with varying levels of helpfulness. 

"There there," She heard Clarette say as they got closer. "We'll do perfectly fine at hunting those motherfucking orc-faced sons of dipshits down."

"What did you just say?" Alina demanded.

Clarette repeated the sentence, and Sophie realized she had been speaking in dwarven before as the rest of the Council sputtered. Bronte was the only one who didn't react at all, completely motionless in Emery's arms. 

"Hey," Terik said quietly, and it took a moment for Sophie to realize he was talking to her.

She waved awkwardly. "Hi, I guess."

"Did you need something?"

“I- no, I just wanted to...” Sophie trailed off. What did she want? “I wanted to talk about what just happened and check on the Council.”

“Well, we’re-“ Terik shot a glance over his shoulder to where Clarette seemed to be violently cussing out the Neverseen in multiple languages as Liora patted Bronte on the shoulder. “Well, arguably not fine, but we’ll solve it.”

“The Council will find the kidnappers and bring them to justice,” Emery agreed. Both of his arms were now wrapped around Bronte, who was still silent.

“Yeah, I mean, but I can help, right? I’m the leader of Team Valiant.”

“This is a matter for the Council.”

Sophie refused to give up so easily. “Well I also wanted to check on Bronte. He’s my inflicting mentor, and one of my points of contact on the Council.” 

“I’m sure Bronte will be fine,” Terik said, but he didn’t sound convinced. 

His words were made even less reassuring by the fact that the short Councillor was shaking and didn’t bother to make his own statement. 

“Bronte?” Sophie asked.

Nothing.

“Bronte?” 

He didn’t even look over at her.

“Bronte,” she tried one more time.

Bronte was still silent, and Emery sighed softly. “He’ll be okay, Sophie. We’ll get Oralie back, and in the meantime, we can certainly rely on his stubbornness.”

“Promise me you won’t let anything bad happen?” Sophie was aware she sounded childish, but some things were more important than her pride.

“Promise,” Emery told her, and she wanted to believe him. “Bronte‘s more than capable of physically defending himself, and as for the rest...well, Councillors support each other.”

"No we don't," Ramira muttered.

"Ramira!" The rest said in unison.

"I think we're going to leave you guys," Grady decided. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go home."

Sophie didn't have the energy to protest.

-

Meanwhile, in the Neverseen hideout, Oralie, Gisela, and Vespera had just shimmered into view, only to be met with a furious Fintan. 

He stalked towards them with murderous intent on his face, and Oralie flinched back. 

"GISELA-"

"Fintan, what in the world are you so worked up about?"

"You kidnapped Oralie? Without TELLING me??" Fintan was practically snarling. "You fucking idiots! What the fuck do you expect kidnapping Oralie to get you?!?"

"You see, my dear Fintan, there is such a thing as 'using others to strike at your true target'," Gisela sighed.

"And who the fuck are you trying to strike at? Sophie Foster? There are far more effective ways to do that!"

Gisela rolled her eyes. "Why would we kidnap Oralie to get at Sophie? No, we're trying to get at your sister."

"I don't have a sister."

"You know who I meant."

Oralie felt like throwing up at the misgendering, but she didn't dare say anything with the knife at her throat.

Fintan's expression didn't change, but Oralie thought she caught a hint of disgust in his voice as he spoke again. "You two have the planning skills of a carrot, collectively. My brother wouldn't give a fuck about some quiet empath. Besides, look at her now! She's bleeding and hurt. What do you expect that to get you? It certainly isn't going to win you the sympathy of the elven world."

Gisela opened her mouth, but Fintan cut her off, stepping closer. "Listen, Gisela, Vespera. You've made plots work before. But when it comes to the Council, you need to listen to me." He reached out an arm, tugging Oralie to his side with surprising strength. "Now I'm going to go fix up her wounds before these get infected and we lose our only valuable prisoner."

"As you see fit," Gisela muttered bitterly.

Oralie tried to pull away as Fintan tugged her down the hall, but the diminutive ancient was remarkably strong, and she was forced to remain by his side. 

"What do you want with me?" She hissed, trying to ignore the pain in her neck.

"Shut up," Fintan hissed back.

"No."

"Shush!"

Tugged close to his side as she was, Oralie could feel that he was truly angry, red-hot rage on the surface of his emotions, but below that was...fear? No, that wasn't quite right. Focusing in on the emotion, Oralie realized that Fintan was worried. Concerned, even. Startled by that, she was quiet all the way to their seeming destination, an unmarked door.

Fintan turned the knob and then kicked the door open, revealing what looked like a crude medical bay. "Come on."

Oralie winced as he yanked her inside none-too gently. "What do you want?"

"I want to fix those damn slashes." Fintan pointed at one of the cots. "Sit, let me find the cream we have for this."

She obliged, wary of what Fintan might do if she didn't.

To her surprise, he did precisely what he had said he was doing, retrieving some nasty-smelling ointment. "This hurts like a bitch, but it will disinfect those."

Fintan reached for her, and Oralie flinched away, remembering how he had looked the day Kenric died. "Don't touch me."

"But-" Fintan sighed. "Here. Put this on your neck, please, and a bandage too."

Too startled by the fact that Fintan Pyren had just uttered the word 'please' to disobey, Oralie did so. He hadn't been lying; it did hurt quite a bit, but she could feel the sting fade after a moment. "Why are you being kind to me?"

Fintan wouldn't meet her eyes. "Bronte cares about you."

"I didn't realize you cared so much about him still."

"I don't!" 

It didn't take her ability to know that was a lie. "Then why would you help me?"

He sighed, seemingly realizing the corner he had talked himself into. "Fine. I care about Bronte far more than I should, and he cares for you in turn. I helped you out of love for my brother. Nothing more."

"You sound just like Bronte when he's trying not to care," Oralie mused quietly.

Fintan's expression shuttered. "My brother and I are nothing alike. I'm a killer, he's a Councillor."

"You were a Councillor," she pointed out.

"That was a long time ago." Fintan shoved a tin of something in her face. "Here. Bruise stuff for that slap on your face."

Oralie recognized the deflection, and let it slide. "How do you know so much about wound care?"

"The Neverseen aren't exactly careful with themselves."

That didn't quite answer her question, but she let that slide too, applying the bruise cream. "What do you plan to do with me?"

"I don't know, Gisela doesn't tell me shit. We'll probably hold you hostage or something."

"If you plan on interrogating me, you should know that I won't break," Oralie murmured. 

"Anyone breaks with enough pressure," Fintan said, but he didn't seem like he meant it. "Come on, let's get you to a cell before Gisela gets on my ass about 'security'."

His flippant tone reminded Oralie of the Fintan she had known before the pyrokinesis ban, but she was wise enough not to say that as Fintan dragged her through the halls of the hideout. 

The cell Oralie was placed in was freezing cold, and she was already shivering as Fintan locked the door. His gaze was apologetic, but he said nothing as he turned and left. 

Knowing she needed to keep as much of her skin off the cold metal floor as possible, Oralie stripped off her thin Councillor's cloak and set it down as a barrier. She took off her circlet too, not wanting cold metal on her head, and tucked it into her dress. Then, she shed her heeled shoes, in case she needed to run, and tucked her feet under her dress in a futile attempt to keep warm, shivering all the while.

After that, there was nothing to do but wait and try to keep warm. By the time she guessed it was nine pm or so, she was curled up as tightly as she could manage. And by an hour after that, she had given up on sleeping at all that night.

Just when her tired eyes were finally starting to close, the cold seeping into her bones, she heard the door of the cell click open and light footsteps move across the floor. Deciding it was best to remain still, Oralie kept quiet as she felt a heavy, warm piece of fabric settle onto her. Through her half-closed eyes, she could see wavy, ice-blond hair fall into her vision when the person bent down to lay whatever it was over her.

The footsteps retreated, and the cell door closed. Only then did Oralie dare sit up and see what the person had left her; it was a Neverseen cloak, warm and smelling vaguely like wildfires and the serums from the medical bay. She recoiled at the smoke smell, but ultimately her need for warmth overcame any disgust. Laying back down, she found that the cloak was a little shorter than she really needed. It was warm, though, and if she curled up she could fit under it well enough. 

With the added warmth of the cloak, she was asleep within minutes.

-

In the Lost Cities, Emery and the other Councillors had long since given up on getting anything productive done that night and were collectively having a variety of arguments that ranged from how to best rescue Oralie to what the hell a 'clam chowder' was. 

Personally, Emery was well aware of what clam chowder was, but he had bigger concerns than watching Zarina and Clarette debate it. Namely, Bronte, who was sitting next to him and staring off into space. 

"Bronte," Emery tried one more time. "Bronte, please."

He said nothing, so Emery turned to Liora. "What the fuck are we going to do?"

"Why would I know?" The conjurer didn't wait for an answer. "Let's take him back to one of our castles. Bully him into getting some food and sleep, and in the morning we'll try to handle the rest."

"We can go to mine," Emery decided. "Bronte, is that okay with you?"

Bronte continued to stare past Emery's head, but he nodded slowly, and Emery counted that as a victory. 

"Right." Emery stood up, making his voice louder to address the rest of the Council. "Bronte, Liora, and I are heading out for the night. We're getting nothing done, and we all need to sleep or we'll get nothing done tomorrow as well. I know it's tempting for us to spend all night on the search for our colleague, but we need to rest or we won't be ready to continue tomorrow."

"I agree with Emery," Noland signed from the corner, shooting Emery a tiny smile. "We need to rest."

"Emery is right," Clarette agreed. "Let's go."

The Council split off, leaving the room in groups of one or two. It was both heartbreakingly familiar and heartbreakingly different from how the usual routine went; it was almost always that Councillors walked back to the castles in groups, discussing with their political allies or friends, but with Oralie gone, those groups had already shifted. Usually, Terik walked back alone, but today he was signing back and forth with Noland. Derek, who usually walked with Noland, looked rather put out by this, and had chosen to team up with Alina. Meanwhile, Clarette, Velia, Ramira and Zarina were all walking together in a tight-knit little clump, which wasn't too unusual; usually those four stuck together and left in some configuration, sometimes duos or trios. 

Usually, Emery walked with whoever he wanted to talk to that day, having no defined group. For the past few months, he had made a point to walk back with Alina so she would feel welcome on the Council. But Alina and Bronte despised each other, and today Bronte needed Emery more. So Emery had fallen into step with Liora and him, heading back to Emery's castle. 

Liora reached the door first, and pushed it open without even asking Emery. "Well, your front room is...ostentatious."

Emery sighed and decided it wasn't worth fighting with Liora over interior design today. "I know."

He almost wished Bronte would make a blunt comment about it, as would be typical for him, but the other was silent as he stepped inside. 

"Food first," Liora said, and Emery nodded along as she wandered into his kitchen and started banging around.

"Liora is a shit cook."

Emery whipped his head around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, finding Bronte hadn't changed posture or expression at all. "What did you say?"

"Liora is a shit cook," Bronte repeated. His voice was hoarse, quiet, but Emery had never been so relieved to hear an insult in his life.

"I am not," Liora called from the kitchen.

Bronte just snorted quietly. 

Liora did turn out to be fairly awful at cooking, but they all ate it anyways. Afterwards, Emery found spare rooms for the other two, down the hall from his, and settled down to sleep. 

He woke up again at maybe one am to a near-scream from down the hall, leaping out of bed and immediately hurrying to see what was going on. Liora's door remained shut, and she was still somehow asleep when he peeked in, so he hurried to Bronte's room and pushed open the door.

"Bronte?"

The other scrambled backward, pressing against the headboard of the bed. "Don't- stay away."

Emery flinched back from the words. "Are you okay?"

Bronte didn't answer him, instead pleading under his breath for something Emery couldn't hear. 

Emery took a step forward. "It's okay. It's just- it's just me."

Bronte didn't reply once again, but he didn't flinch when Emery stepped forward again. So Emery started talking again, quietly, offering up whatever reassurances he could manage as he slowly made his way across the room. Talking had always been his skill, ever since he was in Foxfire and talking his mentors into teaching him more advanced subjects. Always speaking, always deflecting and lying and persuading, never part of the action. Opposite from Bronte, he guessed. Now he was grateful for all that, though, his words allowing him to reach the other.

"You're safe," he told Bronte quietly.

Bronte's gaze was still filled with terror when he looked up at Emery, fear mingling with sorrow and guilt. "They- they tried to hurt Fintan. They tried to get him but I got in their way and I tried to get them to stop and-" he choked on a sob. "And I lied to my inflicting mentor when she asked about the bruise, I said that- I said that we were playing tackle bramble even though I've never played tackle bramble, but- but they hurt him. They hurt Fintan."

For once, Emery's voice failed him. "Who?"

"Mother and father," Bronte choked out. "Don't let them hurt you, don't let me hurt you."

Emery still didn't know what was going on, but his heart was breaking for the other when he knelt by Bronte. "Shh. It's okay. No one's going to hurt me, and no one's going to hurt you. I promise."

"I promised too, you know." The older Councillor laughed bitterly, and his voice was lighter, younger, when he spoke again. "I promise, Fintan, I'll never let anyone hurt you." He dropped the tone. "But they did."

"I'm sorry," Emery murmured. "I'm sorry."

Bronte's laughter turned into sobs, and before Emery had time to comprehend what the fuck was going on, he was holding a sobbing Bronte for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. At this point, it wasn't even close to the worst thing that had happened this week. So Emery knelt on the hardwood floor- why oh why had he never gotten a carpet for this room- and let Bronte cling until the other had gone quiet.

"I'm sorry," Bronte said finally. His voice was still rough. 

"For what?"

He didn't answer. "Go back to bed."

"Okay, but are you sure you're okay?"

"Go back to bed, Emery."

Worried and a little hurt, Emery had no choice but to retreat to his own room.

The next morning, Emery and Liora found that Bronte was gone, a note left on the kitchen table that said "Thank you for the hospitality. You were very kind. I will see you at the Council meeting today." It was signed with a scribbled "Bronte.". 

Emery and Liora glanced at each other.

"That's abrupt," Emery said, although he suspected he knew why Bronte had left.

"Typical of him, really," Liora remarked. 

"How much do you know about Bronte?" So Emery was curious, sue him.

"We don't get along very well. But we have worked together for a very long time." Liora frowned, stepping over the doorstep. "'Don't get along' might be an overstatement. It would be more accurate to say that Bronte is deeply guarded, and I am deeply introverted, and as thus we simply never got to know each other." 

"That makes sense. You're rarely one to speak to the others outside of our work." Liora was one of the few who always walked back to her castle alone.

"Indeed. But I have known Bronte for long enough that he is not such an enigma to me."

Emery started towards the Councillor's meeting building. "What do you know of him?"

"I know he is grumpy, introverted, and guarded. I know he has resisted any and all efforts for anyone to get to know him, but he loves his brother and his best friend more than anything in the world. He would kill and die for Oralie without hesitation.”

“We all know that one,” Emery muttered.

Liora laughed quietly. “True. You see, Oralie was appointed not long after I was, and Kenric at the same time. But Oralie and Kenric were much, much younger than I. Besides even the commonalities that Bronte and Oralie shared, it was natural for him to take on an older sibling role to the two of them. Meanwhile, I was quite independent when I started on the Council, and the only person I asked for advice was Carsil- I believe you met them? While Oralie instantly bonded with the Pyrens, I have always been more reclusive.”

Emery nodded, pausing at the door. “From what I know of Oralie, Kenric, and Bronte, that seems right. Do you know why Bronte is so...reluctant to make friends?”

“I have no idea. But I would expect his ability and his past have something to do with it.”

Don't let them hurt you, don't let me hurt you. 

Emery stepped into the building after Liora.

-

Oralie woke up the next day half-wondering if the cloak laid over her had been a dream, since she was shivering slightly, but when she sat up, the Neverseen cloak fell to the floor.

“Not a dream, then,” Oralie murmured to herself. 

Her next move was searching for weaknesses in her cell, which there appeared to be none of, followed by pacing futilely and trying to think. That was followed by sitting hopelessly on her cape thinking about Bronte’s face when Gisela had leapt her away, which turned into thinking about Kenric, which turned into thinking about Sophie. 

Sophie. Oralie had never before wished to be a telepath, but now she would have chosen abilities as strong as her daughter’s if it meant being able to contact her friends- her family- even one last time. 

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Gisela arrived in time to pull Oralie out of her depressing thoughts spiral. Most certainly unfortunately, she proceeded to drag Oralie through the halls, tie her to a chair, and begin asking a ridiculous amount of questions.

“No. No, I don’t know. Why would I know who Sophie’s biological parents are? I’m not a member of the Black Swan.” Technically, that was the truth, so Oralie stuck to that story. Thankfully, she had long practice at lying and getting away with it, despite the weakness all Empaths shared. Much as that had made Sophie hate her, it came in handy when being tortured by the Neverseen. So Oralie lied and lied and deflected and refused to answer, and Gisela got steadily madder and madder. 

“Is there nothing that will phase you?”

Oralie stared up at her calmly, trying to ignore all the cuts and bruises that were now scattered across her body. “Nothing.”

Gisela smirked. “Is that so? Well I know your looks matter to you, so…” She flicked open her knife again, slashing it across one of Oralie’s cheeks and then the other. Slash slash. Two agonizing cuts, two streams of blood dripping down Oralie’s face.

Silence.

Oralie broke the quiet, taking all of the pain she had been repressing and letting it go, letting the cry trapped in her throat and the tears in her eyes go free.

Gisela looked startled. “Pathetic. So easily broken.”

Oralie let out her most pathetic sob in response.

“Honestly. So weak,” the polyglot sniffed. “Now tell me what you know.”

Instead of obeying, Oralie started crying even harder, feeling tears sting the cuts on her cheeks.

“Stop that! You’re supposed to be a Councillor, not a pathetic mess.”

“I- I-” She shuddered weakly, unable to muster the energy to respond even if she had wanted to tell Gisela anything.

“Stop your crying!”

The snap reminded Oralie distinctly of some less than lovely people she knew, and she took that emotion and turned it into even more tears. Fragile, she might be. Easily broken, she might be. But shards of glass were even more dangerous than the whole they once had been, and Oralie had learned to take her brokenness and make it a weapon.

So even as Gisela kept asking questions, Oralie just cried and cried until the other finally gave up and dragged her back to her cell. 

“Sit here and think about your pathetic life, Councillor crybaby,” the other hissed.

Oralie just shuddered again, letting a sob shake her entire body. 

Gisela stomped away in a huff, and Oralie gave herself two more minutes to cry before she wiped her tears, got up, and started trying to figure out how to stop her face from bleeding. She could still hardly believe that had worked, but she would take whatever scraps of time to herself she got.

Her solution to her face ended up being pressing the Neverseen cloak to her cheeks until the bleeding had mainly stopped. And while she did that, she tried to brainstorm ways to get out. Sophie. Sophie! Knowing Sophie was the only telepath powerful enough to reach her, she tried calling out with her mind, to be met with only silence. It seemed that Sophie wasn’t listening- or hadn’t found her. Defeated, Oralie sat back on the floor and started trying to break her circlet to turn into a lockpick or make-shift weapon. Every part of her body ached, but if she could focus on survival it became easier to ignore that.

-

In Eternalia, Emery watched something new in Bronte’s expression break each day, the circles under his eyes getting steadily darker and the pain in them persisting. The Council’s search for Oralie had been mainly futile, as it seemed the Neverseen had somehow disabled the tracking device in her cloak. And even Alina, who had never liked Oralie, was feeling the pressure. Oralie was beloved by so many, and to have her gone was a devastating blow. Especially to Bronte.

The Senior Councillor had been especially distant from Emery ever since the day of the kidnapping, when he had completely broken down in Emery’s arms. Emery half-suspected he was embarrassed, but it hurt anyways when Bronte snapped at him. 

Despite their distance, it ended up being Emery who found Bronte crying in the Councillors’ meeting room a good hour after the rest had gone home. Emery had lingered in the building, checking on one or two last things, and when he wandered back into the meeting room to grab his stuff, he found the other sitting there. 

Despite his usual eloquence, the first thing he could think of to say was “Well, this is awkward.” 

“Fuck off,” Bronte snarled, but he looked too much of a mess for the words to really be impactful.

“It’s not the end of the world if I see you upset.”

“I know. But I refuse to let you get hurt.” 

“What is that even supposed to mean?”

“I’m an inflictor. Put the fucking pieces together, Emery.”

“You’re scared of...hurting me?” Emery was strangely touched, despite the other’s harsh words.

“Yes. Now leave me alone.”

“No.”

Bronte stared at him. “What?”

“I said no.” Emery took a breath, steeling himself. “Listen, I know you care about Oralie most. Everyone knows she’s the only one you’ll ever talk to. But Oralie isn’t fucking here right now. We might be working on getting her back, but that doesn’t mean you get to just- just push everyone away and refuse any help in the meantime. And I know you’re scared of hurting me, or scared of vulnerability, or whatever the fuck it is, but please just let me fucking help, Bronte.” He was startled when his voice broke on the last sentence, words coming out all jagged and torn-up.

Bronte’s expression hadn’t changed much, but Emery thought he caught shock on the other’s face. “You actually care?”

“Of course I do! Isn’t it obvious?” Emery found himself rubbing at his eyes to keep from tearing up. “I was fucking worried, and you just up and left and- and stayed away. Because you’re scared or whatever.”

“I was just being cautiou-”

“Well fuck that! You’re the elf who goes charging headfirst into danger and didn’t even falter when King Dimitar threatened to rip your head off that one time. And somehow you’re too afraid to let anyone help you? You’re a coward, Bronte.” 

For a second, Emery thought he was going to get absolutely destroyed, but Bronte’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Emery.”

“It’s fine,” Emery whispered, turning his head away. 

“No, it was shitty.” Bronte stood, holding his arms out awkwardly, and Emery took the embrace. Bronte might have been a full head shorter, but Emery felt very small compared to the other’s ancient presence. Emery was made of gold, soft and malleable but loved and charming. Bronte was made of steel, sharp and unflinching and plain. Which one of those was better, Emery couldn’t say. But, for just a moment, he allowed himself to be soft, leaning on Bronte’s steely presence. 

-

Meanwhile, in the Neverseen hideout, it had been a full week since Oralie’s capture. Every day, one of the Neverseen members had taken a turn trying to interrogate her. Giesla had given up after the second day. Fintan had asked some questions and done a little half-hearted threatening, but Oralie could tell he wasn’t actually prepared to follow through on his threats. So she had told him nothing. Vespera had been the worst, cruel and calculating, but Oralie had kept her mouth shut. Somehow. And now she was back in her cell in a haze of exhaustion and pain, staring blankly at the corridor Vespera had left via.

Finally, her blank stare landed on a set of keys that had fallen from Vespera’s belt, and that was enough to break through her numb tiredness. Keys! To her cell! She reached through the bars, finding the keys only inches from her fingertips, and swore under her breath. The keys glittered just out of her reach, taunting her.

Oralie rummaged around in her dress, retrieving her circlet, and slammed it against the floor. 

Once. 

It didn’t break. 

There was something symbolic, maybe, about Oralie not being able to break the object that was a physical representation of her responsibilities. The embodiment of her duty to the Lost Cities, encased in a circle of metal that was heavier than it looked. 

Twice.

The circlet began to crack. 

But she was more than her responsibilities. She had gone beyond the Council seat she held. She was not just Councillor Oralie, she was something beyond the title that so often preceded her name. 

Thrice.

The metal snapped entirely. 

Oralie wasted no time into bending it into a straight line with a slight hook on the end, reaching out again and snagging the keys. 

From there, it was fairly simple to reach around and unlock her cell. Oralie tucked the keys into a pocket of her dress, and bundled up her Councillor’s cloak into a small enough ball to fit in another pocket. The Neverseen cloak, she donned, and the broken circlet went into her right hand, ready to fight if need be. She left her heeled shoes behind in the cell, knowing they would be of no use in a fight, and slipped into the hallways of the hideout.

Oralie realized fairly quickly that she now had no shoes, no idea where she was going, and an entire hideout of Neverseen members to evade. Nevertheless, she refused to squander her chance at freedom. So she crept along, making her way towards the healing wing she and Fintan had been in earlier. Thankfully, she arrived there without incident, pushing open the doors and shutting them with a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, Fintan happened to be in the healing wing currently, bandaging his hand.

Oralie froze, hoping he hadn’t seen her.

Fintan turned at the noise of doors shutting, and gaped at her. “Oralie?”

“Fintan,” Oralie said quietly. 

“How did you get in here?”

Oralie shrugged apologetically and tried to look innocent.

Fintan wasn’t buying it. “You escaped your cell somehow, and somehow managed to navigate to this wing.”

“I remembered the way.”

“Clever.” Fintan’s smirk seemed almost impressed. “As a leader of the Neverseen, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to escape, however.”

Oralie’s heart clenched in fear, but she refused to let it show on her face. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Well, I’m obligated to tell you that you should absolutely not go into the storeroom of this wing. That would be a terrible idea. And you should definitely not kick open the panel behind the burn cream boxes. That would hurt. And definitely not help you escape.”

“I will definitely not do that,” Oralie told him. She would have been smiling if she was any less exhausted.

“Good, good.”

“Thank you for the cloak, by the way.” She held it out. “You can have this back, sorry for bleeding on it.”

“No, no, keep it. But remember, you should definitely not be wary of the ways it might be similar to your Council one.”

Ways it might be similar...ways it might be similar...trackers! Oralie nodded. “Thank you, Fintan.”

“Don’t mention it.” He stepped aside to let her pass. “Oh, and…tell Bronte I said hello, will you?”

“I will. He misses you,” Oralie added impulsively.

“I’m afraid he’ll have to continue missing me.” Fintan’s sorrow was genuine, and Oralie didn’t need to brush her hand against his as she passed to know that.

She did anyways, needing to know if Fintan genuinely cared about helping her. She found nothing but mild concern, sorrow, and a hint of fear at what the other Neverseen members might do, which was more than enough proof that he cared. Much like Bronte, Fintan was not as subtle as he thought he was.

So Oralie headed into the storeroom, looking around for the box of burn cream. It appeared to be near the back wall, and when she scooted it aside, she found a loose panel in the wall. So she followed Fintan’s advice and kicked it as hard as she could, hissing an “Ouch!” under her breath as her bare foot made contact. The panel fell outward, though, and Oralie was able to crawl outside. The dirt felt wonderful after a week of cold metal floors on her bare feet, and she allowed herself a moment to breathe before putting the panel back in place and running from the hideout.

The Neverseen base had appeared to be in a deciduous forest, as the tree leaves were currently red, orange and yellow, and it was populated by what Oralie guessed were birches and maples. The setting didn’t really matter, though, only getting away from her captors. So she ran until she was out of sight of the building, and only then allowed herself to flop onto the ground.

Remembering Fintan’s words, she took her broken circlet and used it to cut open the seams of the cloak, looking for trackers. She found a little disk fairly similar to the ones in her Councillor’s cloak, and set it on the ground. Over that, she put her Councillor’s cloak, and took a moment to breathe and brace herself for what she was about to do.

Shing! The broken circlet slashed through the soft skin on her left index finger, and Oralie sprinkled the blood all over her discarded cloak. There. That should throw them off her trail. 

She wiped her bloody finger on Fintan’s cloak, got up, and started walking. 

Her walk turned out to be a very long one, stumbling over seemingly endless tree roots and pushing through seemingly endless bushes. Even as night fell, Oralie forced herself to keep moving. She couldn’t afford to be caught. She couldn’t afford to be caught. That was the chant that kept her on her feet, even as her entire body ached. Her legs and feet ached from walking, her arms and hands ached from what Vespera had dealt, and her face ached from the slashes Gisela had given her. Still, she staggered onward until it was nearly dawn and she was able to see a little settlement on the horizon. 

As she got closer, she could tell that it was clearly a human town, with quaint architecture and a few humans bustling about. Still, if she concentrated, she could read the signposts, which were in one of few human languages she knew. The one Sophie spoke. Well, Sophie spoke all the languages. But the one Sophie had grown up with. English! That was the word. Language? Noun? Oralie shook her head, trying to clear it, but it only made her more dizzy. Blood loss and sleep deprivation probably had something to do with that, she reflected, which was evidence that she had been friends with Bronte too long. Only Bronte would be so clinical about something like this. Fuck, she missed him. And he was probably worried about her, seeing as she had gotten kidnapped. Sure, Oralie had bigger problems than Bronte’s worry, but it was easier to think about her best friend than the fact that she had staggered into the human town and humans were staring, or the fact that she felt like passing out.

Which was what she proceeded to do, right on the doorstep of one of the houses. 

-

Around that time, Sophie was getting a hail from Bronte. It might have been the middle of her Elven History session, but Sophie picked up the imparter anyways, ignoring her mentor’s indigent sputtering. 

“Miss Foster, history is a very important subject!”

Sophie rolled her eyes to herself. “Bronte? What is it? Is there word of Oralie?”

“Slow down, Miss Foster,” Bronte grumped. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, which were rimmed with red, but his grumpy voice was as steady and familiar as ever. “We do not have word of Oralie, but I am hailing about her.”

“Are you- are you talking to a Councillor?” Sophie’s mentor sputtered.

“Yes, I am, so please let me talk!” Normally, Sophie would never be so rude, but this was not a normal time. “What about Oralie?”

“We need your help. Emery has an idea.”

“And you’re agreeing with Emery?” Sophie couldn’t help but ask.

Bronte sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “In this case, his idea isn’t completely idiotic.”

“I heard that, Bronte!” Emery hollered from offscreen.

“Fuck you, Emery!”

“We’re Councillors!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Bronte huffed another sigh. “Anyways. Please come to Eternalia as soon as possible. You can tell your mentor- who sounds rather disgruntled- that this is extraordinarily important Council business. I’ll send you a signed note or something if you need.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Sophie turned to her mentor. “Excuse me, sir, but I have to go. Extremely important Council business.” 

“Really?”

“Yes,” Bronte called from Sophie’s imparter. “Trust me, the Council knows the importance of education. But this is more important.”

“Oh- oh okay, then. See you next week,” He said, but Sophie was already grabbing her bag and running for the Leapmaster.

“Bronte, where do I go when I get to Eternalia?”

“The Council secret meeting building- I’ll give you directions.”

She barely even thought to concentrate as she threw herself into the beam of light, re-forming near the Councillors’ castles in Eternalia. “Where now?”

“To your right,” Bronte directed. “That plain building about fifty feet from the end of the row of castles.”

Sophie hurried over there, forced to stop running by the stitch in her side, and banged on the door. 

Bronte opened it mere seconds later, gesturing at her to come inside. He looked even worse in real life than over the imparter, short hair sticking every which way and tunic wrinkled, but his strides were determined when he led Sophie down the hall. 

The rest of the Councillors looked only somewhat less frazzled as Bronte pushed open the door to their meeting room. Even Alina’s hair was out of place. But the determination in Bronte’s strides was mirrored in all of their eyes, and for the first time, Sophie could see how they were truly leaders. 

“So, what’s Emery’s idea?” She asked, wandering inside as Bronte shut the door. 

“Well,” Emery started, “You remember how you’ve been able to use telepathy to call for help? Oralie isn’t a telepath, but if we can reach her, we might be able to figure out where she is and coordinate rescue efforts.”

“Okay, but...we don’t know where in the world she is,” Sophie argued. “I don’t know her mind well enough to reach her from a huge distance, not like Keefe.”

“And that’s where I come in. You see, I’ve been the spokesperson for well over five hundred years,” Emery explained.

“And he gets to poke around in everyone’s heads because of it,” Zarina contributed.

“Exactly. I know my fellow Councillors’ minds as well as I know my own. But I’m not strong enough to reach all the way across the world.”

Sophie was starting to see his strategy. “So if we worked together, I might be able to help you reach Oralie, and you could help me find her mind?”

“Precisely.” Emery’s gaze was piercing. “I haven’t been kind to you in the past, and it might be difficult to trust me. But I’m hoping you’ll try.”

The hope in the Council’s gazes was almost disquieting. 

“For Oralie’s sake,” Sophie told him. “But I want my cognate here.”

“Very well,” Emery said before anyone else could say anything. “Bronte, could you hail him?”

“Why is it always me?” Bronte didn’t wait for a response before he pulled out his imparter again and set about hailing Fitz. 

Fitz arrived ten minutes later, rather out of breath. “What’s going on?”

Emery gave him a quick rundown.

“That’s insane,” Fitz informed him. “But...Sophie is pretty amazing. So I guess it’s worth a try.”

-

Oralie drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing worried voices around her but not having the presence of mind to translate their words. She felt hands lift her, people moving her from the ground to something else, then to a place that smelled sterile. After that, she was conscious for only brief snatches, sometimes feeling hands on her injuries or needles prick her skin.

“Bronte,” she tried to cry, not knowing what was happening only that she needed her friend. “Bronte!” 

He didn’t come.

In her most blurred moments, Oralie found the name on her lips was “Kenric!”, but by the time she was completely unconscious, she remembered his death. 

She woke up fully to sunlight streaming in the window of a room she didn’t recognize, falling across the comforters of a bed she didn’t recognize. “What...what happened?”

No one responded, and Oralie realized she was entirely alone. Naturally, she scanned the room to try and discern where she was. Floral wallpaper, stained. Hardwood floor, somewhat old and warped. Lacy curtains, very dusty. It was clear that this was not the Lost Cities, nor any of the lands of the intelligent species. Which left only one place: the Forbidden Cities.

Oralie blinked, and her memory of last night- last morning, really- came flooding back. Right. She had escaped and walked to the human town. Which meant one of the humans had picked her up and brought her here. 

Just as Oralie was wondering where that human might be now, the door swung open to reveal a rather elderly human woman with smile lines around her mouth and eyes, and hair streaked through with silver. She bustled over to fuss with the comforters, and then startled. 

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Oralie tried to summon up the correct English words, cursing herself for not practicing enough. “I am.”

The human smiled and said something about eyesight and leaving that Oralie didn’t quite catch. “Anyways. What’s your name?”

“I am Oralie. What is yours?” Oralie knew her speech was probably a little stilted, but she cut herself a little slack, given what she had just been through.

“Brenda,” the human- Brenda- answered. “How are you feeling?”

“A little… fuck,” Oralie muttered under her breath. “Tired? English is not my first language.”

“Ah, that’s okay, dearie. Now, the doctor said you should have some food and water.” She said something else that Oralie didn’t catch and hurried out the door.

When Brenda returned, she was carrying a tray of some human food, and there was another human with her. “This is my wife, Susan,” she explained to Oralie.

Oralie nodded, grateful for Brenda’s clear and slow speech allowing her to catch the words. 

“Have some food,” Susan told her, and despite the unfamiliarity of the food, Oralie was happy to obey. 

The duo stayed in the room while she was eating, chattering to each other in English too fast for Oralie to catch. The food itself was not bad, but Oralie would have eaten it even if it was. Finally, she was finished, and Brenda grabbed the tray and hurried off.

Susan turned to Oralie, and Oralie could feel pity and concern radiating off her. Still, Susan’s voice was steady and gentle when she spoke. “Brenda and I did not go to the police. We took you to the hospital, and told the doctors we did not know how you got injured.” 

Despite not knowing what ‘hospital’ or ‘police’ meant in the Enlightened Language, Oralie understood enough to know that there was a ‘but’ coming.

“But,” Susan added, “your wounds look deliberate.” 

“Deliberate?” Oralie asked slowly, trying to get the English syllables through her mouth.

“Done on purpose,” Susan told her. “We were hoping you would tell us who hurt you, so we can make sure you’re safe.”

Oralie took a moment to process the sentence, and then another moment to come up with a lie. “My- my boyfriend. I...ran from his house.” She let the memory of Vespera’s tormenting turn her eyes tearful, selling the lie.

“I’m so sorry. Brenda and I will make sure he never hurts you again, okay?”

Oralie nodded.

“Can you answer two more questions for me?” Susan asked.

Oralie nodded again.

“Who is ‘Bronte’? You were calling for him.”

She didn’t have to think much this time. “My older brother.”

“And ‘Kenric’?”

“My…former boyfriend. Not the bad one. He....” Oralie hesitated, trying to remember all the polite human euphemisms for death. “He passed away.”

“I am sorry for your loss.” Susan stood. “Brenda and I can let you stay here for a bit. Until you’re back on your feet.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

-

Back in Eternalia, Sophie was nervously linking hands with Fitz and Emery, hoping it would work.

Hello? Fitz’s voice asked in her head. I’m past your blocking, and I think I’m past Emery’s too.

He is, Emery’s mind murmured.

Hi, Sophie said to both of them.

Fitz sent her an image of him waving, and she smiled.

Emery offered a polite mental hello.

Right, so, should we get started? Fitz asked.

We need Sophie to do that, Emery told him.

Sophie’s stomach knotted with nerves. Right. Yeah. Okay. I’m going to reach out. If you guys could like, guide me and send mental energy, that would be great.

Fitz sent her a thumbs up.

Emery nodded mentally, somehow. 

Sophie’s first try was utterly overwhelming, humans’ and elves’ thoughts pouring into her brain and any sign of Oralie lost amongst the chaos. She lost contact with Emery maybe five seconds in, and Fitz had to reel her mind back in.

“Ow,” he said out loud. “That was overwhelming.”

Emery was frowning. “I think we lost touch.”

“We’ll try again,” Sophie told the other telepaths.

Thankfully, they both nodded.

Two tries later, they had established that the problem seemed to be that Sophie simply couldn’t keep touch with Emery’s mind. 

“Aren’t there any other telepaths that know Oralie’s mind well enough?” Sophie groaned in frustration, and then winced as Emery looked offended.

“The ideal choice would be Kenric,” Bronte told her. “But…”

“That’s not an option,” Emery finished. “And I doubt any other living telepath has read Oralie’s mind as many times as I have, at least of the ones you’ve worked with.”

“Don’t you lot do like, trust exercises?” Zarina asked. Her feet were propped on the Council’s meeting table, earning her glares from everyone else. 

“I mean…” Fitz glanced at Sophie. “Worth a shot. Although I don’t know how much I trust Emery to catch me falling off a table.”

“I’ve caught Bronte falling off a cabinet,” Emery argued.

“Yeah, but Bronte’s like, four feet tall,” Sophie told him. “Wait, you’ve caught Bronte falling off a cabinet?”

Bronte glared at Emery. “Fuck all of you.”

“Maybe you could try some ones that don’t involve tables,” Terik suggested. He looked faintly amused.

“Only if they involve hearing the story of Bronte falling off a cabinet,” Sophie joked.

Emery shrugged. “I mean, that story does involve one of my secrets. But it wouldn’t be fair to Bronte.”

So five minutes later, they were back to trying trust-falls. So far, Fitz and Emery had both caught Sophie, and Sophie had caught Fitz and then proceeded to fall on her ass.

“I think this is a really bad idea,” Emery informed her, but he toppled off the chair anyways.

To her own surprise, Sophie didn’t immediately drop him, although she did lower him to the floor very quickly.

The rest of the Council seemed greatly amused by all this. At least, until they took the exercises back to being mental.

Okay, so we’re all telling each other one non-illegal secret? Fitz asked.

Emphasis on the non-illegal, Emery told him.

Right. Gotcha.

There was a moment of mental silence, and then, I’ll go first. 

Sophie silently thanked Emery for that as he went on. You all know about the miniature ball at the end of the Elite Towers, yes? I went with someone not on my match list. 

Fitz audibly gasped. That’s like, a huge scandal.

I know. Nothing bad ever became of it, obviously, but...it was a big deal to the few people who knew about it then. 

Why? Sophie asked him mentally.

It was a big deal because I went with another aspiring regent, who- well, I won’t tell you his name, but at the time it was quite the scandal for a young and promising Foxfire graduate to be going out with another man.

Sophie didn’t know the elves had homophobia. That’s iconic, honestly.

I wish I could say it was, but only a few people even knew we were together. Emery’s mental voice sounded pensive. And, of course, it’s been a very long time since I last saw him. 

Well I was going to say that one time I put fart a la carte in Biana’s breakfast so she would be gassy for the opening ceremonies, but now I feel kinda silly, Fitz told them. Um. Wait. If we’re being gay….

Sophie tried for a joking tone. Don’t tell me you’re actually gay and not into me. 

No, but Keefe was my first kiss. 

...Do I have permission to tease him about that?

Ask him, not me.

Emery sounded like he was smiling mentally. That’s sweet, actually. 

And I have a lot of questions, Sophie added. But I guess I should say my secret now.

Probably.

Right. Uh. Keeping with the theme, I’m just going to come out now and say that I’m bi. 

Whoa, Fitz said, but he didn’t seem like he thought that was a bad thing. 

Right, Emery told them both. Now that we all understand each other a little bit better, should we try again?

This time, Sophie felt both of the others’ minds right alongside hers as she searched. Fitz was mainly there for support, but Emery’s mind guided her strength across the world until they brushed against a mind that felt both soft like silk and hard like glass.

This is Oralie, Emery’s mind whispered. His mental voice was faint, stretched over the massive distance. 

Sophie made the extra leap to touch Oralie’s mind. Oralie. Oralie!

Silence. And then, a faint, almost disbelieving Sophie?

-

Susan had left the room a few moments before, after Oralie had asked which town she had made it to (some small town that Oralie didn’t recognize, but she memorized the name of just in case). And so Oralie was once again alone with her thoughts, which once again turned to the people she had left behind in the Lost Cities. Sophie, Bronte, even Emery. And of course Kenric. Even now, he never seemed far from her thoughts, although her emotions had become a little more mixed and muddled as the initial surge of grief faded. Still, Oralie supposed she would be missing him forever. Which was a rather depressing thought. While she was making herself sad, she might as well think about Sophie and the hatred radiating from her daughter when they spoke. Oralie had been an empath long enough to know that rage most often stemmed from hurt- but the fact that she had hurt Sophie did not wound her any less than the thought that Sophie hated her. Maybe she would ask Bronte for advice on how to fix this whole damn mess.

Bronte. It had been so natural to say he was her brother, beyond even needing to lie to these humans. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t close enough to qualify, a brother in everything but blood, but Oralie had no idea how he’d feel about having another blonde disaster of a younger sibling. 

The first time a familiar voice entered her head, Oralie thought she had imagined it. She had clearly just been thinking about Sophie too much. 

But the second time, she couldn’t ignore the desperation behind the call. Sophie?

Oralie! There was genuine relief in Sophie’s transmission. Where are you? Are you safe?

I’m safe, for now. I’m in a little town called Wetherby- it’s a human settlement, but it was the closest place to go when I escaped the Neverseen, since I didn’t have a leaping crystal. 

You can get by in a human town?

I speak a little English, Oralie explained. And the people who helped me are very kind- they’re a human couple who lives here. I told them English was my second language and they didn’t question it.

Okay, hang on. I’m transmitting all this info back to Emery. We’ll come get you, Sophie said, and Oralie had never felt more reassured by a sentence from a much younger elf in her life.

Thank you.

Of fucking course. It’s not like we’d leave you there. I mean, for one thing, Bronte would kill me.

Is he okay?

Depends on how you define okay. Sophie sounded like she was choosing her words carefully. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week but he’ll probably be fine once you get back.

Thank you, Oralie thought again. 

I mean, you’re welcome. I’m going to go update everyone else and look for the town you told us, and then we’ll update you again. 

Okay. Tell Bronte and the rest that I said hello?

I will.

-

Sophie blinked her eyes open in time to see Emery face plant onto the table.

“Ow. Fuck.” He sat up, rubbing his head. “That hurt even more than having these idiots scream in my head. Is this what it’s like for you all the time?”

Sophie shook her head. Sure, she had a bit of a headache, but that was more from hearing humans' thoughts while looking for Oralie than anything. “When it’s someone that I know well, it’s not bad.”

“Then I admire the strength of your telepathy.” Emery ground his palms into his eyes for a moment, looking pained, and then straightened up fully. “But! We know where Oralie is.”

“Where is she?” Bronte demanded.

“Some human town in Britain,” Fitz told him. “She escaped from the Neverseen and somehow made her way there.”

Bronte looked almost proud. “That sounds like Oralie. Anyways, how are we going to get her back?”

The rest of the evening was spent finding human maps, researching human clothing, and getting a leaping crystal to the exact coordinates made. Sophie, as primary human expert, had to be present, and the rest of Team Valiant was summoned as well. So while Dex, Fitz, and Biana went to the Forbidden Cities for human clothes and Wylie and Stina pored over the map, Sophie was charged with checking in on Oralie one more time. This time, she didn’t need Emery to guide her as she reached for the other’s mind again.

Hey.

Hi, Sophie, Oralie offered. Any word?

Bronte says ‘you’re a damn idiot and I’m going to fight anyone who hurt you’, and we’ve got a plan to get you home.

That sounds like Bronte. And what would the plan be? 

Well, we’re working on a leaping crystal to where you are, Sophie explained. I’ll go into the city itself to find you, if you describe the house you’re in. 

That sounds smart, with one caveat: why would a teenager be picking up a fully grown adult?

I don’t know, I’m your daughter or something. She almost regretted that when she felt Oralie’s mind flinch.

How do you feel about being a niece? It’s... a long story, but people have been asking questions and my current story is that I ran from my boyfriend- you’ll see why when you get here. But I haven’t mentioned any children.

And you have mentioned a sibling?

I may have had to lie and say that Bronte was my brother. 

Sophie sent a mental groan across the connection. I don’t want to be his kid.

Oralie’s mental voice was too amused for her liking. I know, but you don’t look exceedingly different, and we need a story.

Fine.

Okay. I’ll tell Susan and Brenda- the human couple- that I’ll be going to live with my brother and his kid.

Gotcha. We’ll be there tomorrow morning at nine.

 -

Sophie’s voice faded from Oralie’s head, and Oralie stared at the fluffy comforters, trying not to think about the words ‘I don’t know, I’m your daughter or something’. Rather unsuccessfully. 

Thankfully for her, Brenda came bustling back in. “Hey there! Susan and I are going to eat dinner, do you want to eat with us?”

Oralie considered for a moment and then nodded.

“Great! Let’s go on down.”

So Oralie sat with the human couple, trying the human food cautiously. Brenda seemed happy to carry the conversation with occasional input from Susan or Oralie, which she was grateful for. Even if she didn’t quite catch some of what the human said, she could nod along. 

Eventually, the conversation came around to Oralie’s situation. “I was able to...call? My brother,” Oralie told them. “He says that it is okay for me to live with him and his daughter.”

“Oh, excellent!” Brenda beamed at her. “When will you move in with them? No pressure to leave, of course.”

“He said he would be here tomorrow at nine.”

“That soon! Well, we’ll have to get you some better clothes than that hospital gown.”

Oralie glanced down at the thin fabric and nodded. “Thank you very much, I owe you a lot.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. The bill from the doctor is the worst of it. You’re not covered by our insurance.” 

“How much do I owe you for that?”

Brenda radiated worry, biting her lip anxiously. “Worry about that when you’ve got a stable place to live.”

Oralie made a mental note to tell Sophie to pay these two back with a ridiculous sum of human money. “Okay.”

The next morning, she woke up early to golden sunlight falling across her bed. For a second, she almost thought she was back in Eternalia, since her room there was always lit by dawn, but the stained floral wallpaper soon dispelled that notion. 

Susan came in perhaps a half hour later, setting some human clothes on the bed. “Here you go. These used to be mine, but I think they should fit you okay.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. There’s a shower in the bathroom at the end of the hall, the one with a blue door, if you want.”

Oralie nodded and got out of bed slowly. Her legs still ached from all the walking, and the rest of her body wasn’t in much better shape, but she was determined to take a shower and stop smelling like the Neverseen hideout and the human medicines. 

That turned out to be easier said than done, but if she avoided the largest wounds, she could get mostly clean. And it helped that Susan’s old clothes smelled mainly like dust. 

Oralie turned and glanced in the mirror, and she hardly recognized herself. Even after only a week with the Neverseen, her face had become leaner. Tougher. There were bruises scattered across every visible section of skin, and several gashes. Her cheeks were bandaged with large bandages, and her hair was wet and tangled. In the human clothes, she looked almost human, but she could also see why Brenda and Susan glanced at her with such worry radiating from them. 

Snapping herself out of her reflection, Oralie borrowed the hairbrush on the bathroom counter to try and de-tangle her hair, which was easier said than done. She mainly managed it, though, with a lot of wincing. At least it didn’t seem like such a rat’s nest.

Once she was done with that, there was nothing to do but wait for Bronte and Sophie to arrive.

-

Bronte and Sophie were currently having a muttered argument over having to pretend to be father and daughter.

“Well it's not like I really strongly desire to be your kid,” Sophie muttered to him as she fumbled through the pile of human clothing the others had brought. 

“And it’s not like I have a strong desire to have you as a child,” Bronte muttered back, but he didn’t seem actually that grumpy.

“What about ‘I’d be proud of you if you were my daughter’?”

“I’m just saying that you’ve accomplished incredible things.”

“That sounds pretty fucking kind to me.”

Bronte huffed. “I am not kind, I am very mean. But...I would be very proud of you.”

Sophie tossed a t-shirt at him. “Here, you can wear this. My human dad had a literally identical one. Plus, can’t you be a proud mentor already?”

“Well yes, I am a proud mentor. Now shush, stop making me look nice in front of the rest.”

“Ha, I’ll ruin your evil reputation.”

“Everyone knows I’m the Councillor not to fuck with,” Bronte grumbled as he took the jeans Sophie was handing him.

“Haha no. That’s like, Emery.”

“Emery has the backbone of a chocolate eclair.”

“I heard that!” Emery shouted from the background.

“Good!” Bronte shouted back.

Sophie, meanwhile, was picking up a beanie. “Here, you can use this to hide your ears.”

“I hate modern human fashion,” Bronte grumbled, but he left to get into the clothes anyways. He looked very strange in jeans and a t-shirt, the bright orange beanie hiding his pointed ears and the casual human clothing greatly reducing how intimidating he was.

“Hi, temporary dad,” Sophie told him. She had gotten into her old human clothes before even coming to Eternalia, and was surprised at how strange the jeans felt after years of elven clothing. 

Bronte just sighed. “How am I doing at the whole ‘looking human’ thing?”

“You gotta slouch a little more. And stop glaring at everyone. You’re a chill dad.”

“I am not,” Bronte muttered, but he softened his stare and posture a little bit. 

“Great!” Sophie told him. “Let’s leap there, shall we?”

“Let’s go.”

-

It was almost ten minutes after nine when a knock sounded from the front door.

Brenda went hurrying over to open it, shooting Oralie a smile as she did. “Oh, hello! Would you be Oralie’s brother and niece?”

“That’s us,” Oralie heard Sophie say in flawless English. “I’m Sophie, and this is my dad, Bronte. He doesn’t speak English super well- we’re an immigrant family.”

“Ah, and you’ve lived in the UK most of your life, Sophie? That makes sense. Anyways, I’m sure Oralie is eager to see you.” Brenda turned back to Oralie. “Your family is here!”

Oralie stood up, giving Brenda her best reassuring smile as she hurried over to the front door. “Sophie! Bronte!” The others may have been dressed in strange human clothes, worry on their faces and tension in their stances, but they were here. They were here.

To her surprise, Bronte rushed forward and threw his arms around her tightly, solidifying for Oralie that he really was real and here. 

“Bronte!” Oralie hugged him back just as tightly, letting herself relax for the first time since Gisela had grabbed her that day. 

“I was so fucking worried,” he whispered. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Why would you fucking apologize for being kidnapped by the Neverseen?” Bronte pulled back, and Oralie noted the tears glimmering in his eyes. “It’s not your fucking fault and it’s never been your fucking fault. I am going to hurt every one of those dipshits, though.”

“It’s okay, Bronte. I’m okay.”

“Your face is covered in bruises.”

She winced. “Yeah.”

“I’m still going to hurt them.”

“Okay.”

“And you’re going to be okay,” Bronte added quietly. “I’ll make sure none of them lay a hand on you ever again.”

Oralie could feel herself tearing up a little at that, so she pulled him into a hug again. Bronte didn’t protest, only hugged her tightly and let her fall apart for a minute. 

-

Meanwhile, Sophie was having an awkward conversation with an older human couple. “Yeah, we were really worried about my auntie Oralie.”

“Her injuries were pretty bad,” agreed the small, round-faced one who had introduced herself as Brena. “I do hope you’ll bring her ex to justice.”

“We will,” Sophie assured them. “Br- Dad will make sure of that.”

“He sounds like a sweet brother,” the other, Susan, said.

“Yeah, he and my aunt are really close. We don’t really talk much with grandma and grandpa because they live so far away.” “Do you just live with your dad?” “Just the two of us,” Sophie agreed. “It’ll be nice to have my aunt around.”

“I can imagine.” Brenda smiled fondly.

Sophie glanced over at Oralie, who was absolutely covered in bandages. “Are we going to have to pay you for medical bills?” “Well, they put her down as Jane Doe. And we offered to pay the initial fees, but they’ll probably bill you for the rest once they figure out who you are.”

“Gotcha. I’ll tell Dad, we’ll see if Auntie is covered by our insurance. We can pay you back for the initial stuff too-”

“Don’t worry about it, hon,” Brenda told her. “We’re happy to help, and it’s a good thing that Oralie is safe now.”

“Thank you so much.” Sophie made a mental note to have the elves help these two out in some way. 

“Of course, dearie.” 

Susan handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s my phone number, contact the two of us if you need any extra help.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said again.

“Sophie!” Oralie’s voice called. “We are heading home!”

“I better go, but thank you again and I’ll keep in touch,” Sophie promised.

Susan and Brenda waved as she hurried away. 

-

The trio arrived back in Eternalia to a lot of commotion and excitement. 

First, Oralie got swarmed by the other Councillors, who she was surprised to realize were genuinely glad to have her home. They looked in varying states of frazzled, ranging from Alina (perfectly groomed as ever) to Terik (whose hair was sticking straight up). And they greeted her with maybe less dignity than was generally required from the Council. 

“Oralie!” Clarette called. “You absolute fucker!” 

Oralie knew that was her way of showing worry. “Hello, Clarette.”

“Thank goodness you’re back,” Terik said. 

“We were all incredibly worried,” Emery agreed. “Especially Bronte.”

“Shut up, Emery,” Bronte grumbled from next to her.

“I’m not wrong, and you know it.”

Even Liora waved hello, and Noland signed enthusiastically to her about how good it was to see her safe.

Finally, Elwin cut through the commotion, shoving through the Council very politely. “Excuse me, excuse me, but if Councillor Oralie is hurt than you’re going to need a doctor!”

Oralie smiled over at him. “Elwin!”

“Oralie!” He pushed past Emery, looking her up and down. “Oh dear, oh dear. Did they take you to a human hospital?”

“Yes, they did.”

“Right, well I’ll have to start undoing some of that damage, then.”

So Oralie sat on the grass outside of the castles in human clothes as Elwin gave her what felt like a million different elixirs. “Sophie, is this what it’s like to be you?”

“All the time,” Sophie told her with a laugh. 

“This is probably my comeuppance for the time I laughed at Bronte after he got stabbed on accident during a diplomatic mission to the goblins and had to drink some truly disgusting sludge,” Oralie mused.

“I’m still mad about that, you know,” Bronte huffed.

“I know, you hold a grudge.”

“With good reason.”

“I only laughed a little bit,” Oralie protested. “And only after I was certain you were going to be okay. His face at the medicine was so funny, you should have seen it,” she added to Sophie. 

“Oh, I bet.”

Bronte threw his arms up with a huff. “None of you respect me.”

“Nope!” Elwin said cheerfully. “Plus, you turned down an emotional support stuffed animal.”

Oralie made a shocked face, causing Sophie to giggle. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can.”

“Hmm. Well I’ll just have to get you one and sneak it into your castle.”

Bronte grumbled under his breath. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you the key!”

Oralie couldn’t help but smile at the familiar grumbling. “Too bad, you did.” 

“I’m happy to provide the stuffed animal,” Elwin told her. “I have an alicorn named Mr. Sparkfluff if you want him.”

“That sounds perfect, actually.”

“I should warn you, he’s sparkly.” Elwin handed her a very sparkly stuffed alicorn, and Oralie giggled. 

“He certainly looks it! Alright, Bronte, am I sneaking in at 3 am to leave him on your sofa, or are you just taking him home?”

“It’s not like you won’t show up at 3 am if I don’t,” Bronte grumbled, but he reluctantly took the alicorn. “Does his name really have to be Mr. Sparklefluff?”

“Yes,” Oralie, Elwin, and Sophie all said in unison.

“I guess this is just my life now. Do remember to knock if you come over at some ridiculous hour of the night. Sometimes I’m even asleep.”

“Rarely,” Oralie murmured to herself. She tried to smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll knock when I come bother you about whatever paperwork we’re doing this week.”

“Lovely. If it’s more about ogre-troll relations, I vote we give it to Emery.”

“Is it going to be?”

“Probably.”

“Just going to betray me like that, Bronte?” Emery asked as he wandered over.

“Yes.”

Emery sighed and turned to Oralie, shaking his head in mock-sorrow. “It’s a cruel world out there. Betrayal by your own friends.”

“Cruel indeed.” She laughed, finding it easier to forget the darkness of her Neverseen cell in the bright sunlight of Eternalia.

After a minute, Elwin and Sophie joined in, and Emery chuckled. Even Bronte smiled. It wasn’t really that funny, but they were all here and alive and somewhere near okay, and that was reason enough to be happy right now. 

#Councillor Bronte #semp writes #councillor Oralie #sophie foster #caps tw #keeper of the lost cities #councillor Emery #Fintan pyren

[wangxiangiftexchange]

Lunar New Year Gift for vedrividia!

Pairing: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji; past Wei Wuxian/Other (implied) Rating: Mature Warnings: brief depiction of sexual harassment, brief instance of misgendering, implied/referenced past suicide attempt, implied/referenced past sexual assault (off-screen), implied/referenced past forced pregnancy (off screen), implied/referenced underage sex & pregnancy (off-screen), alcoholism, coming out, implied/referenced homophobia Other Tags: trans male character, disabled character, gay male character, open ending, unreliable narrator, angst, tender, chance meeting, confession, reunion, character with incomplete spinal cord injury, iSCI, it probably sounds darker than it is

Summary: On the last eve before spring Wei Ying finds himself at the end of a road. What awaits him on the other side depends on the steps he takes to cross it. Someone walks beside him.

Disclaimer: I am neither Chinese, trans nor disabled. All of the portrayal in this fic is based on research. It's not my intent to offend and I'm open to critique as long as it's respectful and constructive. Wei Ying's journey is his own and does not represent all of the disabled or trans community. The fic is set in a world that closely resembles ours, but where corona never happened and maybe China's laws are just a little less restrictive (but still very phobic), so bear that in mind. I do not own any of the characters.

Notes - Beginning: The idea of trans male Wei Ying had been stuck in my head for a while now, and I've been wanting to try my hand at a trans story, because I've never done that before. This assignment was an opening to do that in a darker, more serious setting. I have also wanted to explore Wei Ying's suicidal issues while translating his story into a modern setting for some time (it was supposed to be a coffee shop AU, only the coffee shop never appeared hah). It was simultaneously hard and fun to write, and I'm grateful for it. @vedrividia​, I hope you like it!

In the past I didn't feel like I could do a good job at representing anyone of an identity I couldn't quite empathize with. Since then I've surrounded myself with trans inclusive media, and followed transgender blogs and channels, and I hope that this fic does right by all of them.

I am aware of some of the potentially problematic topics, but I also didn't want to ignore all the challenges and abuse and trauma that trans folk are forced to endure on a daily basis. (Did you know that trans people have some of the highest suicide rates, and likely to have alcohol issues? Making everyone happy and nothing hurt felt all kinds of wrong knowing that.) I believe that representing both - an ideal world alongside the real and flawed one - is important.

Positive stories are also important - this is one. Or at least I hope I was able to make it one.

On a more cheerful note, there are pictures that served as an inspiration for this story, namely this photoset (especially the pic in the leather jacket, the one on the couch and the close up) done in faceapp by a genius, this brain-frying picture, and of course this picture from the Harper's Bazaar Photoshoot that none of us are over. I completely blame Xiao Zhan's androgyny.

Last but not least, I owe a massive thanks to Laura for the amazing beta they did on a rather short notice and brought this fic to another level. Thank you for your hard work!!! :)

End notes: Wei Ying has an incomplete spinal cord injury in the lumbar area (at L1 or L2). I didn't realize that I played myself when I gave him an incomplete injury, because the lack of references and information is in terms of quantity a total opposite to everything available on complete SCI. Which in turn made the telling of such a story feel even more important. If any of you know of a good resource for the daily life of people with iSCI, I'm all ears.

Even researching the walking aides was a challenge, since most information is on wheelchair dependent people, which Wei Ying is not. He has a wheelchair but he refuses to use it, for several reasons, one of them being image, another being worry of atrophy. He likes a good walk, and there's progress thanks to physical therapy, most of which is covered by insurance. I was debating an exoskeleton/brace for him, but from what I gathered they aren't really useful for SCI (I welcome any additional info about this), and those that would be cost a ton and aren't covered by insurance - which is a big factor for Wei Ying. The toss ended up being between forearm crutches and a walking frame, but in the end I decided on crutches, because it seemed like Wei Ying would prefer them? For now? With crutches he can pretend, and I also didn't know to what extent a walking frame would be insurance covered (in China), and whether he'd be at a point where he would accept one. (I imagine the simple ones would be covered by insurance, the question is whether they make a huge difference to crutches, and whether a rollator - with wheels and a seat is something that would count as 'necessary' in this case.)

However, once again, I am not adequately educated on all that goes into the decision making here. No one ever mentions things like these in success stories. In the end I left it as a room for future development. I'm pretty sure Wen Qing is trying to convince him to get one.

I was debating whether to tag dysphoria. While it is not explicitly stated in the fic, Wei Ying does experience it, although this has gotten better since he realized being trans, came out and started testosterone. His decision to not transition fully is one that many trans people make at a point in their lives, for any number of reasons. This does not mean he'll never change his mind, or won't explore other forms of expression. It's a choice that the current Wei Ying is making, completely independent of future Wei Ying.

It's possible in China to get a gender confirmation surgery, but the requirements sound like a nightmare. The first thing you have to do is get diagnosed with 'gender disorder', be five years in (unsuccessful) therapy for it, at least 20 and unmarried. If he decides to transition fully to a male presenting body he can only marry someone who is biologically female in the future, under Chinese law. (Imagine having to divorce your significant other in order to be who you are. Imagine having to make this decision. It makes me want to write fic about it.)

It also costs a ton, as none of it is covered by insurance. You can only start hormone therapy in order to get surgery, which leads a lot of trans people to acquire hormones illegally and without medical counseling. I purposefully did not decide where Wei Ying gets his T from. I didn't want him to not have it, but I left the how undecided. For the most part I headcanon it as one of the things that make my world a little different, since hormone therapy is a thing that exists outside of transitioning as well. E.g. many female athletes use testosterone to boost their performance, and many other women take it for various medical reasons. I feel like WWX could find ways to acquire some. Now, whether this would be legal or not is left open.

By the way? Never, EVER deadname. Just don't. The moment someone comes out to you as trans, tells you their pronouns and name, that's what you use. You forget everything that came prior to that, wipe it out of your memory, it's ashes on the sands of time unless stated otherwise BY THEM, got it?

Now, Wei Ying's case. I was hesitant about how to approach this, but from the start I knew two things. I wanted the same kind of intimacy of WWX & LWJ calling each other by their birth names as in canon, but I also didn't want to go the way most authors go in this case i.e. splitting the names to pre- and post- transition. It is my understanding that most Chinese names are unisex (if anyone has more info on this, I'd love to have it), or can be used for all genders, and I didn't want to force a gender issue where there wasn't one. However, I also wanted something parallel that could be used in a similar way. What I came up with is what you see in text. While Wei Ying did change his name, the only reason why it's still somewhat okay to use 'Wuxian' is because he explicitly says he likes it. In fact, in my head somewhere in the imagined future of this verse, he and JFM have a conversation about it where JFM tells him if he wants it, it can still be his name - he didn't give it to an image, but a person. IDK how well any of this works, or translates to actual trans or Chinese (or trans and Chinese) people, so if you have words for me, let me know.

On a side note, in 2015 China lifted the one-child policy in favor of a two-child policy. A-Yuan was born in 2017.

Wei Ying attempted suicide between the 4th and 8th week of his pregnancy. During the early weeks the probability of a fetus surviving a major fall (even a fall from stairs) is significantly higher than later in the pregnancy, and the scaffolding he jumped from wasn't actually that high. I'm also considering that there might have been something to cushion the fall that he hadn't noticed (a stray rope, or a net) or been aware of (like padding on the stage), but that's a detail I decided to leave to your imagination. On the other hand, sustaining a SCI during early pregnancy is likely to have fatal consequences, as I found out a week before the deadline. In the end, they both got very lucky. Wei Ying spent the next 3 months in a coma. When he woke up it was too late to terminate. Jiang Fengmian had been adamant that the decision not be made without Wei Ying's consent, which was nice of him, but also ended up making the decision for Wei Ying regardless.

Last but not least, if you've read this and feel like you have something to add, I love any kind of comments, whether you wanna review the fic, have some useful information for me, would like to discuss a point or just like to say hi! :)

*****

Transverse

If asked, Wei Ying wouldn't have remembered how he had gotten to the bar. He didn't remember taking a different route on the short walk back home, he hadn't even been aware there was a bar in the first place. He only remembered suddenly standing in front of it, aching to his bones, limbs leaden with a familiar exhaustion, morose and longing for nothing more than a little break. His back was on fire, his leg was throbbing, the skin underneath his binder wouldn’t stop itching and to top it off his stomach had been cramping in a way it wasn't supposed to anymore. His body had decided to give him a wonderful gift for the holiday. Wei Ying wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy, and that spoke volumes to anyone who knew who occupied that position.

Needless to say, he was desperate for a drink.

The bar was almost empty so early in the afternoon, and shortly before the holiday, all the regulars had likely gone home to see their families. It was the time of reunions, the golden week of spring knocking on the door. The whole town looked empty, seemingly asleep and abuzz at the same time, a strange kind of liminal space born in the atmosphere of the coming celebrations, quiet with contained impatience. He had been painfully aware of it the entire week, the turning of another year leaving him nothing to do but watch people go where Wei Ying couldn't return anymore.

The Lunar New Year always made him hurt worse than usual, in more ways than purely physical. Wei Ying had felt that strange air peak today, even in the confines of his tiny office at the back of the Pacific Coffee branch he had been working at for a little over two months. It was a tiny thing on the busiest street of their small town, smelling of comfort in the wee hours of the morning and of salvation late in the evening. The staff had needed support with handling the supply chain, so that they could focus on serving the staggering amount of customers that came in all day.

It had seemed perfect when Wei Ying had first limped inside on his forearm crutches, with a letter of recommendation, feeling smaller than an ant but significantly less tough. The reintegration program had been a lifeline thrown to a drowning man when he had first heard about it. It had been the opportunity to restart his life. Earn an income. Be independent. In time maybe even repay his friends for the kindness they had shown when he had nowhere to go. Now? Now he wasn't sure that he'd still have a job after the holiday was over.

"This really can't go on," his boss had said, midway through the most gruesome shift the shop had ever witnessed. "Half the supplies came in wrong, for the third time this week!"

Sometimes, Wei Ying wondered why he still bothered. He could probably survive on aid and love for himself, and the Wens made enough to take care of the rest. It just… It could have been nice. To be the one to take care of the people he cared about, for a change.

He really needed that drink.

The whiskey looked enticing from where he was half-sitting, half-leaning on a stool, crutches stashed between his legs. He could almost taste it, the phantom of the sharp flavor burning his tongue.

"Hi, darling." An unfamiliar voice startled him out of his thoughts, causing him to tense. He had been aware of the middle-aged man at the counter, but he hadn't been paying him much attention until now. "Can I buy you a drink? How about Sex on the Beach?"

It was difficult to control himself at that tasteless, juvenile joke. Wei Ying could almost taste the bile rising in his throat and the beginnings of what would no doubt become a pounding headache throbbing in his temples. Great. Just what he had needed.

The whiskey bottle called out to him again, beckoning him to the bitter burn.

A drink. That was what he needed - a drink.

Do you really? Need it? The voice of his therapist came to his mind, sudden and uninvited.

"Hey bartender!" The man called out in the most unwelcome case of accidental telepathy in the history of mankind, sneaking one arm around Wei Ying’s waist, a sweaty hand settling on his hip. "One Sex on the Beach for the miss, on my tab!"

There was the rising bile again, tension squeezing his muscles, and the flash of a haughty smirk at the furthest back of his mind. This wasn't what he wanted. None of it. Neither the touch nor the drink, no matter what his mind wanted to convince him of.

It's easier to need than the things that take hard work, the ones you have to earn. It had taken him a long time to admit that.

"I don't drink." Wei Ying said, angling his head as much as the muscles of his neck permitted to look at the guy invading his personal space squarely. "Remove your hand now."

The guy bristled.

"Hey, chill out, sweetheart." He was quick to regain his composure with an awkward laugh and not enough common sense. Wei Ying supposed he must have been used to rejection. Too bad. "You're so tense… Maybe a virgin cocktail then."

His crutch shot up before the full sentence was out.

The man stumbled back with a startled yelp as the rubber point connected with his chest in a sharp jab.

"Hey! What's your problem?!"

"I said I don't drink." Wei Ying was completely unapologetic, still holding his crutch like a sword, but the guy was already walking away, muttering ‘fucking bitch’ under his breath.

"You alright there, girl?"

His gut clenched at the words.

He looked up to meet the only slightly worried, but otherwise unbothered gaze of the bartender and told himself it wasn't her fault. She probably wasn't even aware. He knew he didn't… There was no way for him to pass. There was nothing he could do about that, had already decided not to, not at this time, not in this country. Wei Ying didn't expect people to know on sight. He didn't. It didn't change the fact though that every single misnomer felt like someone was peeling his skin off.

"I'm not a girl," he said to her almost too quietly, but he knew she heard when he met her gaze. A strained silence passed between them in which Wei Ying watched her frown in confusion, then sputter with the loss of words, before awkwardly shuffling off. He smiled wryly. How funny. It really wasn't anything complicated, and yet… So few were able to comprehend.

Wordlessly, Wei Ying slid off the stool and made his way out of the bar as quick as his crutches let him be.

Once outside, the crisp air mercilessly purifying, he realized how close to the edge he had gotten once again. He had to stop doing this. He couldn't afford another fall, another spiral back down the drain. Not when he had just clawed his way out. Not when he had people depending on him now. Tiny people with curious gray eyes, so much like his own. Waiting for him at home.

Something icy touched his face and instinctively he looked up only to find it snowing.

That explained the ache.

The cold always made him feel sore, although he knew at least some of it was phantom pain. He hadn’t retained a whole lot of feeling in his left leg, beyond a tingle that had become almost constant and the occasional twitch. His right leg was fine, it just tended to ache a lot, to a point where Wei Ying sometimes found himself wishing it wasn't better off than the other one. But then he wouldn't get away with 'forgetting' his wheelchair at home, so he quickly dismissed that thought. Besides, there were plenty of people who had it worse. He, at least, could still walk. He could still stand. Kinda. He had no room to complain.

After all, he had done this to himself.

'It's better this way.' He remembered thinking, standing on the top of the catwalk stairs backstage of the high school auditorium. 'A-jie, Jiang Cheng,… Lan Zhan. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you. I love you. I'll get out of your hair now.'

In the end it had been easy to tip backwards and let himself fall.

Waking up had been the hard part. Not only had he failed, but every reason that had pushed him to end it all had only been made worse. Worse still, after. He had lived though, so that was that. There was no utility in regret. He couldn't go back. The only way was forward now, step by painful step. Standing around and staring at the snow falling was nice, but it wouldn't make the walk shorter. Home wasn't far away. He'd take it slow. He'd be there before he knew it.

He barely took three steps before he felt someone's broad shoulder bump against his, his equilibrium yanked roughly from under his feet.

He remembered falling.

Not the act of it, nor every thought and feeling that preceded it, but he remembered the soft pressure at his skull as he tipped backwards, the endless instant of the free fall, a moment frozen in time. Not the impact, but the inevitability of it, coming, coming, almost there. The loss of control. The frightening, exhilarating realization of his absolute surrender. Not the oblivion that followed but the fragments of muddled awareness afterwards. Disorientation, rock bottom and the overwhelming sense of failure.

It had felt nothing like now.

He felt the loss of ground beneath his feet, the scrape of concrete against his palms, as he all but starfished onto the pavement. A sharp pain. The frustrated annoyance of another thing gone wrong in the long list that made up the day.

Only the failure felt the same, funny that.

"I'm sorry!" Said a deep voice. "I wasn't looking."

"Yeah, no shit." He chuckled, because really, who could have guessed.

"Here, let me help." There were hands on his arm, just as he propped himself up, but he yanked it away.

"I'm fine!" He wasn't helpless. He wasn't, dammit! He had his arms, his abdominals, and most of his legs. Getting up from the ground wasn't such a herculean task for him as for those who depended on a wheelchair. He didn't have to call an ambulance just because he starfished. He didn't need any help at all here, especially not the help of some ditzy stranger with their head in the clouds…

"Wei Ying?"

Wei Ying froze.

Few people on this Earth called him that, and none of them had a voice like that. He looked up to see glowing amber on a face carved out of a dream.

"Lan Zhan?"

Of all the people to be in town today of all days, the least likely would have to be Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan, his former senior, Lan Zhan, his best friend. Lan Zhan, whom he had told his secrets, Lan Zhan, who he… who he…

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan… Can I kiss you? I understand you don't like me that way, and it's fine, I'm fine, really, but… uhm… It's supposed to be special. The first kiss. I… I want it to be yours. Just one kiss." A child he barely remembered had wanted and wanted, never satisfied. "Ah, it's okay if you don't want to. I get it. It's fine. I'm just being selfish."

But that had been a long time ago. A person he didn't know, a past life that had never truly been. Not for him in any case.

Lan Zhan was looking at him like a ghost had appeared in front of him.

Although, ghosts didn't need crutches. Honestly, Wei Ying did wish he could float quite frequently.

Face twisted in sardonic amusement at that childish wish, he pulled himself up with some maneuvering and a lot of effort. This seemed to wake Lan Zhan from his daze as he quickly followed. Wei Ying didn't miss the sweeping gaze as his once friend took him in, wondering what he saw. A stranger, perhaps? A new person? Him? Wei Ying knew he hadn't changed much on the outside, aside the obvious and maybe in his weight distribution, but Lan Zhan had always had the ability to look past the surface. Was he still able to do that? Or was he just taking in his appearance, assessing his matted, worn out body that seemed to show every year that had passed multiplied by ten? Wei Ying was aware that time had not been the kindest to him, but he was hanging on. He was past the worst now. He was doing better. He was!

He wondered if Lan Zhan still could see that too.

"Wei Ying." His name again, spoken with enough wonder to give Wei Ying the courage to meet his gaze. There was an unspoken question in it.

"Yeah," Wei Ying answered and felt the cusp of a smile pull at the corners of his lips. "Long time no see, Lan Zhan. Fancy meeting you here."

"I really like you, Lan Zhan," the person he didn't know had said, red faced with embarrassment and a shaking voice. "I mean like… like like."

Back then he had believed that moment to be the most nerve-wracking experience he was ever going to survive. Today he missed his naivety.

Lan Zhan gave him a look like he just realized it was really Wei Ying standing in front of him. Like he still could barely believe it. It unraveled a completely different ache in Wei Ying. They had been close once, and though they had always shared their secrets, Wei Ying had seen him so open and unguarded but once.

"I...like...boys," had been the answer. The refusal so, so gentle, unable to accept, thus giving something of equal value in return instead. A truth for a truth, a secret for a secret. "Wei Ying, I'm gay."

Lan Zhan, always figuring things out so quickly, always willing to accept reality no matter how hard it was. Wei Ying hadn't known back then. If he had known… Who knew what would have been then. It didn't matter anymore. It was a life long gone. What remained of it were a few good memories, some of them he wasn't sure were real.

Now, chance had made them cross paths once again, at a liminal space transversing through time.

"Are you hurt?" Lan Zhan's voice brought him back from his thoughts, and Wei Ying looked where he was reaching for his scraped hands and knees.

Lan Zhan, always the same Lan Zhan… "Not selfish."

So wonderful and kind and warm.

"Eh, I'm fine. Nothing Wen Qing can't fix." He brushed his former friend off, noticing how Lan Zhan's eyebrow seemed to go up infinitesimally at the mention of his old classmate and promptly changed the subject. "What brings you to Yiling, Lan Zhan? Shouldn't you be with your family for Chun Jie?"

"I…" Lan Zhan looked away. "Didn't get an earlier flight."

That sounded suspicious, especially since the Lan Zhan Wei Ying knew liked to plan ahead. But Wei Ying wasn't the same he had been, maybe Lan Zhan wasn't either. People were allowed to change. It also didn't answer what he was doing in Yiling in the first place, but Wei Ying wasn't forcing him to tell. Wei Ying had never wanted to force Lan Zhan into anything, he wasn't going to start now.

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan looked at him again, this time meeting his eyes squarely. He paused. "How have you been?"

Wei Ying felt the loom of a shadow over him, and his gaze dropped to the ground for a second.

"As you can see." He put a reassuring smile on his face as he summoned enough will to hold Lan Zhan's gaze. "Still alive and kicking."

Which was probably much more than the last time Lan Zhan had heard of him.

"I was looking for you. I wanted to see you. After." The what remained unspoken. Lan Zhan's kind heart hadn't changed. Wei Ying sought comfort in it, warmed by the thought of his best friend trying to get in touch even after everything went to hell. "I was told you… left."

Wei Ying made a soft sound of affirmation through the small smile that had spread on his face. "I moved out on my eighteenth birthday. Aunt Yu… I was supposed to stay till graduation, but... ah. I fucked up. Colossally."

"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan remained the only person Wei Ying knew who managed to frown without a single crease on his face. "You were recovering."

"It was fine, Lan Zhan." Wei Ying chuckled even as he held back a sigh. Lan Zhan didn't know half of it. "I moved in with the Wens."

There was a pause.

"With Wen Qing?" Lan Zhan asked and Wei Ying realized that small detail wouldn't have been immediately clear to him, all things considered.

"With Wen Qing and her family." He nodded. After a moment of thought he added. "Not Wen Chao. I know nothing about that douchebag."

"Mn," Lan Zhan agreed and it sounded so wholehearted that it startled a laugh out of Wei Ying.

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying said, feeling truly light for the first time in a long time. The smile he gave Lan Zhan felt warm and genuine. He hoped Lan Zhan saw it too, and didn't think Wei Ying was trying to shake him off, when he spoke next. "It's so good to see you. You're the best thing that happened to me today. I would love to catch up, but they're waiting for me at home and I'm already late."

"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. There was a pause. Then, just as Wei Ying was about to ask for his number, "I could. Walk you. If you like."

"I thought you had a flight to catch." Wei Ying wanted to smack his mouth for how hopeful he sounded.

"Mn," Lan Zhan said. "In the evening."

"Lan Zhan!" He startled, amused and surprised at the same time. "And here I thought your bedtime was nine! Don't tell me you crossed to the dark side."

"It is Chuxi." Lan Zhan's voice was soft with a playful note, and Wei Ying felt his heart turn all over again even as he laughed.

"Aiya, Lan Zhan…" A smile spread on his face. "Alright then. I'd love to have your company. If you're sure."

"I am," Lan Zhan answered. "I would… very much like to… catch up with you."

"Well then." Wei Ying's smile broadened and started again in the direction he was heading earlier. "Right this way, sir. But I'm warning you. I'm basically a snail now."

For a beat there was silence, in which Wei Ying figured that Lan Zhan was probably looking for a proper response. He still didn't know how to handle self-deprecating humor, then. Wei Ying chuckled quietly to himself. The more things change…

"That is alright," Lan Zhan finally said. "I have time."

"Oh, do you? That's great!" Wei Ying grinned from ear to ear, marveling at how easy it suddenly was. "Aah, Lan Zhan I really missed this!"

"Mn," Lan Zhan agreed but didn't say anything else.

For a few moments silence reigned again, of a comfortable kind. One that allowed Wei Ying to bask in the startling, almost miraculous presence of his best friend. Or it would have been, had Wei Ying not been keenly aware of Lan Zhan's intense stare.

"Do I really look that bad?" He teased, hoping to give Lan Zhan the opening he probably needed to ask whatever questions he had. "I've actually gained weight over Dongzhi you know."

Lan Zhan blinked, as if startled to be called out. Wasn't he aware that he had been staring? Or had he not expected Wei Ying to say something?

"You look…" he started, then swept his gaze over Wei Ying.

"Tired?" Wei Ying offered, keeping the humor in his words. The last thing he wanted Lan Zhan to think was that he needed to sugar coat his words around him now. "Stressed? Battle worn?"

"Different," Lan Zhan finished.

"Ah." Wei Ying breathed out, something in his chest tightening. "Good different, or bad different?"

Lan Zhan looked at him for a long moment.

"Different you," he finally answered. A pause. "More you."

Wei Ying's breath stuttered, a small questioning sound dragging itself up his throat.

"Wei Ying…" Lan Zhan hesitated for a brief moment, unsure. "May I know your pronouns?"

Always so straight to the point.

"Pro… Pronouns?!" Wei Ying chuckled but even he could hear the nerves buzzing through that sound. "How did you figure that?"

Lan Zhan just kept looking at him. Wei Ying swallowed.

"I…"

He had to know. Since he actually asked, he had to already know. Or at least suspect. Be aware. In general, or about Wei Ying? Had he realized in their years apart, or was there something about Wei Ying now that made him guess? No one has ever been able to tell upon glance. No one.

Something fluttered deep in his chest, like the jingles of a tambourine reverberating. It gave him courage.

Wei Ying took a deep, steadying breath. "He, him, Lan Zhan. It's he, him."

He managed to swallow the thousand words that dragged themselves up his throat instead of that one, simple truth. To his credit, Lan Zhan let him, waiting patiently and with complete silence for Wei Ying to say his part.

"I'm trans," Wei Ying added, finding it easier to say after the initial confession. "As in full time, on actual testosterone, trans male."

Their eyes met. A heartbeat of silence.

"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. "Makes sense."

Wei Ying had not expected that.

In his defense, no one had ever replied like that to him coming out.

"What?" He choked out, bewildered. Lan Zhan was giving him a gentle look, a diametrical opposite of Wei Ying's wide eyes. "Why does that make sense, Lan Zhan?"

"It didn't before." Lan Zhan's gaze dropped. "Now it does."

"What? Why?" Wei Ying repeated, not comprehending a single word his friend had said. At the back of his mind he knew he should be happy and relieved that as dear a friend as Lan Zhan accepted him, and he would be later, but now he was just confused. "Lan Zhan, what are you saying?"

"You confounded me. Before. I didn't understand. It didn't. Add up." He didn't even expect an answer beyond a shrug and an 'It just does', and yet Lan Zhan gave him one, trying to explain like he wanted Wei Ying to understand something important. Important enough to bring it up at their first chance meeting in years. It still didn't clear anything up. The way he was dragging his words out seemed odd too, for how upfront Lan Zhan usually was.

"What didn't add up?" Wei Ying asked again. What about him had confused Lan Zhan?

"I didn't know you were a boy. So it didn't make sense," Lan Zhan answered without looking up and Wei Ying felt dread tighten his stomach into a knot. "But now it does."

"What?" He frowned, the rush of blood pounding in his ears. "Lan Zhan, what are you talking about?"

Lan Zhan finally looked up at him and Wei Ying suddenly felt light headed. The grip on his crutches must have gone knuckle white from how firmly he was gripping the handles. It couldn't be…

"I was confused why I liked you," Lan Zhan whispered, dropping his gaze again. "Why I enjoyed kissing you."

Wei Ying's brain was white static.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, "No!"

His whole body wanted to recoil with shock.

"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan pleaded but was cut short.

"I confessed to you! I told you I liked you!" He saw the bob of Lan Zhan's throat, how his eyes fell shut as he swallowed. Wei Ying despaired for words that could express the entire scale of emotions he felt, from betrayal to hope, but mostly just... shock. "You said you… You've never… And now, after everything… Do you even… Lan Zhan!!!"

"Wei Ying," he said his name like it was all he was capable of saying, with a hitch of sudden hesitance on the last syllable, a minuscule frown around his eyes, like he realized something important. "Do you still call yourself Wei Ying?"

The quiet question conjured up another memory, of an occasion much kinder.

"It's my birth name," he heard his youthful voice, still too high although most had described it as low. Lan Zhan had raised an eyebrow at him, even more puzzled than before. Wei Ying had laughed as he went to explain. "Same character as in 'infant'. Wuxian is the name uncle Jiang gave me so that I have a better name than, you know, 'baby'. It's a cool name! I mean, 'no envy' come on! Like I have no match in the world! Totally rad, you know, uncle Jiang's naming sense is A+."

"But you prefer Wei Ying." Lan Zhan had looked at him then, searchingly and Wei Ying had looked away with a snort, to hide his swallow.

"It's a terrible name. Who the hell names their baby 'baby'?"

Lan Zhan hadn't replied anything to that, and Wei Ying still remembered his next words, and how they had burned on his tongue, how he couldn't hold them back.

"It's what the people who loved me had called me."

In the present, Wei Ying found himself laughing in spite of the utter shock. Only Lan Zhan. Only Lan Zhan would give him a heart attack first then go make sure he wasn't deadnaming him on top of everything.

"Lan Zhan!!!" He cried out. "That's so not the point right now! But, yes, I do. I changed it back, actually. Officially, I mean."

"You dislike it." It sounded more like a question than a statement, so Wei Ying answered.

"Don't get me wrong, I still think Wuxian is way cooler, and my siblings still call me that, but…" His gaze fell away from Lan Zhan to something more distant, beyond his focus as he struggled over his words, drawing them out only with great difficulty from where they were rooted deep inside of him. "It's the name given to the image of a person that never really existed. Like… the painting of a person you met in a dream. And I sorta… I like to imagine that, regardless of who I am… They would still love me."

They. The people who gave him that horrible, unimaginative name.

"Mn," Lan Zhan agreed like there had never been any doubt about it. Wei Ying snorted.

"Wei Ying," there it was again, his name, spoken so kindly, if not hesitantly as Lan Zhan too seemed to be struggling for words. "I would like to apologize. I hurt you. I have been looking for you to tell you this."

All at once, Wei Ying felt his shock settle into something more profound, like the wave that had swallowed him revealing the depth of the ocean. There was nothing Lan Zhan had to apologize for. Not for the lack of awareness, and certainly not for his feelings. Even their conflicts had always stemmed from a place of deep care.

"No." Wei Ying shook his head. "Not more than I hurt myself, Lan Zhan. Even when you scolded me, you never hurt me."

Had Lan Zhan broken his heart? Yeah, he had. So what? Did that mean he could be held accountable for it? Wei Ying's feelings were his own shit to deal with, not Lan Zhan's. Returning them wasn't Lan Zhan's duty. Even if he returned them, would it be fair to fault him for running away from them? For feeling insecure and anxious about his own attraction? For not knowing these things weren't as clear cut as all the adults around them had wanted to make them believe? It wasn't like Wei Ying had known either back then. He had, perhaps, understood himself even less than Lan Zhan. Most importantly, it was all in the past now. It couldn't be changed. What they made of it now was what mattered.

"None of my bullshit is your fault," he added. "You didn't go and tell me to fuck up my life. That was all on me."

"You wrote," Lan Zhan started, then paused, hesitating, then started again. "In your letter, you wrote…"

Wei Ying picked up on the question immediately.

"Not you," he said, the same words he had penned all those years ago in what was one of only two letters. "Never you. I had my reasons, but none of them were about you. In fact, I thought of you as the last good thing in my life at that point. The one true friend I still had left."

Lan Zhan's gaze fell on his crutches, but he didn't ask. Wei Ying was grateful.

"Come on, I need to get a move on," he said, starting to walk again, smiling at the surprised expression Lan Zhan had given him, when he realized he was still welcome to accompany him. Maybe it was something about that look that made Wei Ying add, after another second of thought, "There are people waiting for my return."

"Mn," Lan Zhan hummed, falling back in step next to him. "That's good. You should have people waiting for you at home."

Wei Ying couldn't help but smile.

"Say, Lan Zhan,…" he said after a few seconds of silence, when all what Lan Zhan has confessed slowly sunk in. "When you say you've been looking for me… You mean all this time?"

"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. Wei Ying watched him gather his thoughts, the snow fluttering all around them. "I wanted to see you. Ask how you were doing. See if… If you needed support. Apologize. For not being a good friend to you before."

"Lan Zhan…" Wei Ying listened to him, and when Lan Zhan finally looked up at him his gaze was so sincere that his heart ached with it.

"I wanted to tell you the truth." Lan Zhan didn't let himself be interrupted. "That I liked you back. Without any expectations. That I didn't understand, but that it didn't matter. That I could like you without understanding why. That I wasn't asking for anything, just wanted you to know. That I wanted to help, in any way you'd let me."

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan…" Wei Ying sighed, vision suddenly blurred. He drew a deep breath. "But I wasn't there."

"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded. "I asked your sister where I could find you…"

"But she didn't know," Wei Ying finished for him. No one knew, except one person. "And Jiang Cheng wouldn't give you my address if you held him at gunpoint."

"Your brother knows you're here." It had the structure of a question but it was spoken as a statement, the same kind of incredulous as the look Lan Zhan was giving him. All things considered, it was kinda fair, Wei Wuxian thought as he barked a laugh.

"Yeah," he said, shoulders shaking a little as he snickered. "He's the designated secret keeper."

Lan Zhan just stared, wordlessly.

Wei Ying's smile gained an edge at the unspoken question. He had to clear his throat before he answered. "We're… not quite alright yet, but… Ah, how do I say this? He's the better judge of the situation? With, uhm, aunt Yu, I mean. It's… complicated."

Honestly, when wasn't it?

"I… see." Lan Zhan really didn't sound like he did, but didn't press, continuing his story instead. "Your sister was able to tell me which city you were in. So I… applied for a job."

Wait. Pause. Rewind.

"You work here?!" Wei Ying felt his jaw go slack.

"As an attorney. At 'Xiao and Song'," Lan Zhan confirmed, then looked back at Wei Ying. "Civil law. With focus on LGBTQ+ rights. I passed the bar last year."

"You…" There was so much to unpack in that statement that Wei Ying couldn't quite get the words together fast enough. At the back of his mind he was aware he should probably congratulate Lan Zhan on his degree but he was too stunned by the other, more important implications. "You've moved here? For work? All because… Because… You were looking for me?"

"Mn."

"Lan Zhan!" His amazing friend who, for some reason, in spite of having a great new life had been desperate to find him. "But you… But I…"

"Wei Ying," he spoke so, so softly, but with clear intent to stop any protest Wei Ying might have wanted to utter. It worked. Wei Ying's mouth fell shut, taking his friend in with a bright, wide gaze. "I missed you. I have no expectations. I just… missed you."

Warmth spread in Wei Ying's chest over the tender words, like a dying flame rekindled.

"Lan Zhan..." He didn't quite know what to say, oddly touched. "It's how you knew, isn't it? I'm not the only trans person you've met."

"There was a client," Lan Zhan admitted. "They made me think of you. I have wanted to ask you since. I wanted to know if… If I made a mistake."

He didn't specify what mistake he feared being guilty of. He didn't really have to.

For a while Wei Ying just looked at him.

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan…" He sighed, a small but genuine smile stealing itself onto his lips. "You… you're something else, you know that?"

Lan Zhan didn't reply, but there was something vulnerable in his expression.

"I missed you too."

Lan Zhan's eyes snapped back to Wei Ying's face, full of naked hope and a surprise so honest and pure that Wei Ying's heartstrings almost snapped. He could accept it. He could accept a friend longing for his company, even as his heart hammered against his chest like it was trying to escape its utter desolation.

"I couldn't have expected you to know something I didn't realize until much later." He hadn't realized there was tension around his friend's eyes until it relaxed.

Wei Ying took him in, his entire appearance and noted that although perfectly poised and immaculately dressed, beneath it all there was an exhaustion, a tension he didn't recognize. He thought about their meeting – the collision of two bodies launched out of their orbit – and everything else Lan Zhan had told him and a question dragged itself on his tongue that refused to be swallowed back in.

"Say, Lan Zhan… Since we are being so honest..." He asked before he could have thought better of it. "Why aren't you in Suzhou yet, for real? You always went home at least two weeks ahead of the festival. Did something happen?"

If there was something happening with Lan Zhan's family… Well, Wei Ying had missed enough opportunities to be a good friend in all the years they had been apart, or even before that. If Lan Zhan wanted to be his friend, Wei Ying was returning that tenfold. A secret for a secret, a truth for a truth.

If Lan Zhan wanted, that was.

For a second Wei Ying wasn't sure, but then the broad shoulders slumped, heaving like a weight was being lifted off them.

"I didn't always intend to go," Lan Zhan admitted. "Brother convinced me at the last moment. I wish he hadn't."

Their eyes met and Wei Ying felt a sudden heat spread through his cheeks at the intensity of Lan Zhan's gaze. He didn't take the bait, waiting patiently instead.

"I came out to my uncle. After the bar." Lan Zhan's gaze fell to the ground again, and Wei Ying already knew what he was about to say, aching dread settling painfully in his chest. "He did not… react well. He tried to set me up immediately afterwards."

"Aw man..." Wei Ying tried to sound both gentle and sympathetic without being too pitying. In his experience that never helped. "Yeah, I get that you didn't want to go home after that."

"Mn." Lan Zhan nodded, but said no more.

"Was she at least pretty?" Wei Ying tried to joke, unable to bear that forlorn expression on Lan Zhan's face and incapable of thinking of anything better to cheer his friend up. It would have been easy in the past, but now, with years containing entire lifetimes between them he didn't know anymore how to make Lan Zhan laugh.

But then Lan Zhan's lips twitched a little, so maybe not all was lost.

"Luo Qingyang," he answered, like Wei Ying was supposed to know the vaguely familiar name. Lan Zhan responded to his confused frown with his own and went on to explain. "You were in the drama club together. She was… Juliet. To your Romeo."

Very few guys had been in the drama club at that time, so Wei Ying had usually gotten the main male protagonist. He had loved it. It had been one of the reasons why he had joined the drama club in the first place. His co-star in all of that...

"Mianmian!" He exclaimed, eyes bright with delight. "It's been ages since I've last…"...Seen her. Seen anyone, he didn't say, schooled his expression and laughed instead. "I can't believe they tried to set you up with Mianmian! How is she?"

"Mn," Lan Zhan made a small sound out agreement that amused Wei Ying, before he answered. "She is well. Studying. Also law. She will take the bar next year."

"All of you are so smart…" Wei Ying chuckled, fond with more memories. "You know I made out with her once?" He promptly laughed at Lan Zhan's expression. "Relax, it wasn't as good as with you."

Their eyes met again and Wei Ying saw something like hope spark in Lan Zhan's eyes, which…

Wei Ying stopped. He let his gaze wander around, collecting his thoughts. He startled as he realized he was almost home, the agonizing minutes he usually needed reduced to nothing in the presence of his friend. The ache that had gnawed at his limbs earlier had all but disappeared, replaced by a longing ache in his heart.

"Lan Zhan," he found himself speaking without the input of his mind. "You said you liked me, so you should know… I don't intend to have surgery." He saw Lan Zhan open his mouth, probably to assure him once more of his pure intentions, which Wei Ying didn't need to hear. "I know, I know, you have no expectations, and I'm not saying we have to, but… My feelings for you never changed. I still like you, but I'm also… I'm a man Lan Zhan, but I'm not adjusting my body. Not to that degree."

"Is it a financial issue?" Lan Zhan asked after a pause and Wei Ying cut him off before he could continue with something ridiculous like an offer to pay.

"It's… not not about money, but…" He thought for a moment about how to say what he wanted to say. "Regardless of that, I refuse to go through all the legal hoops that this government would demand of me, like I'm supposed to beg them just to be who I am. And... Besides that…" He took a deep breath. "I think I'd like to have another child."

"Another…" There was a strangled sound, which he ignored, forcing himself to voice what he'd been struggling to put into words for a while now.

"I want to give it one more try. Voluntarily," Wei Ying found it difficult to say, despite the thought of a baby in his arms filling him with a warmth he wouldn't have expected mere years ago. "With someone I actually like this time."

"This time." There was something very wrong with the tone of Lan Zhan's voice, and as Wei Ying looked up at him, realization hit him with the force of a freight train.

"Oh! Oh no!" Lan Zhan's eyes were akin to saucers, and Wei Ying vaguely thought he had never seen his friend express shock so openly. "Fuck, I'm so dumb! Of course you don't know! How would you know?!"

Of course that very same moment, before Lan Zhan had any chance of collecting himself, a cheerful shout echoed through the street in an all too familiar, youthful voice. "BABA!!!"

Wei Ying winced. In the way life usually was – his life in particular – before Wei Ying could come up with a single word of explanation, there was the flurry of movement, and a warmth enveloping his leg – the better one.

"Baba, baba, you're home!"

Wei Ying's eyes fell down to the source of the excited noise to have two mischievous gray eyes reflected back at him. An unbidden smile spread on his face.

"A-Yuan!" He shifted around a little until he could safely run his fingers through the child's hair, even as he was keenly aware of the man next to him. "Have you been waiting for me?"

There was a twinkle and a nod, his very own baby's face beaming up at him with unabashed adoration. A tiny hand wrapped itself around his wrist and just like that the last of the day's stress fell away. He looked back at Lan Zhan. It was difficult to describe the expression his friend was giving him, frozen with disbelief, shock and something too close to horror, as his mind seemed to be rearranging and reevaluating every piece of information known to him. Finding no point in delaying the inevitable, Wei Ying braced himself and went for it.

"Lan Zhan, this is a-Yuan. He's mine. Gave birth to him and all." He made a point to smile, although Lan Zhan's expression remained unchanged. Deciding to give him the space he needed to get himself together, Wei Ying turned his attention back to his child. "A-Yuan, this is Lan Zhan. He's an old friend of mine from school. Want to introduce yourself?"

"Hello!" A-Yuan said before Wei Ying even finished the sentence. "I'm a-Yuan and I'm already four years old! I like butterflies and bunnies! Baba gave me Radish and a coloring book for my birthday. I was four last month! I love my baba bestest! But I love xiao-shushu und Qing-guma and granny and uncle Shi lotsa too!"

It was an altogether perfect introduction, and Wei Ying felt pride and love thrumming through his heart with a strength he hadn't believed to be possible. He watched the mental math behind Lan Zhan's eyes, a complicated expression spreading on his friend's face. He decided to give him another moment to complete the mental calculations and focused on something else that a-Yuan had reminded him of.

"Speaking of, where's your xiao-shushu?" Wei Ying looked around, then with growing suspicion back at the child still wrapped around his leg. "Did you ditch him again?"

Mischief spread on a-Yuan's face as he hid in Wei Ying's thigh.

"A-Yuan." Wei Ying narrowed his eyes at him, gently scolding. "We've talked about this. No walking around on your own. What if something happened?"

"But I'm with you," came the simple answer. "I have to help you walk. You said! To help you walk I have to take your hand. I saw you and gege wasn't holding your hand, so I came to help."

"Ah, so filial, a-Yuan…" Wei Ying looked up to the skies, silently begging the heavens for strength while fighting a ferocious blush. This child of his was as much a blessing as he was a huge trouble. The best kind of trouble, if Wei Ying was honest.

"A-Yuan!"

He was still busy trying to change his smile into something more stern, when as if on cue the uncle in question appeared around the corner, calling for his nephew, looking just as frantic as Wei Ying expected him to be. He waited for Wen Ning's eyes to find them, before he looked back down at a-Yuan.

"See how worried Wen Ning is? You can't do this, a-Yuan." The child's expression fell. "Go tell him you're alright and apologize for running away."

A-Yuan didn't waste a single second, rocketing towards his uncle with an excited call.

With his child safe in the most dependable arms that there were, Wei Ying turned to Lan Zhan again. His friend's eyes were closed, face pulled into a tight expression, lips pressed into a thin line, all of which told him what conclusion Lan Zhan had reached.

"It was part of the reason," Wei Ying said, because he knew Lan Zhan would never ask and he wanted his friend to know. "But it wasn't all of it."

Lan Zhan's eyes opened, his look agonized but not pitying, Wei Ying realized.

"There were many things going on," he said. "It was all so fucked up… I knew I couldn't keep him, and somehow I figured… Might as well go together. In the end we both survived, funny that."

"The father. The father is…" Lan Zhan trailed off, couldn't bring himself to say the name, but he didn't have to. Just as Wei Ying didn't have to answer other than with a rueful smile. After all, there was only one option. Lan Zhan drew a deep breath. "Was it… Did he…"

Here too, Wei Ying knew what he was asking, felt it like the edge of a knife against his skin.

"I don't want to talk about it." He swallowed, a prickling at the corners of his eyelids. "Not yet, at least. I'll tell you the story another time."

Lan Zhan nodded. Worried his jaw. Wei Ying waited.

"Was that why you… left?" His voice was so quiet that if Wei Ying wasn't paying attention, he probably wouldn't have noticed he had said anything at all.

"To put it in the words of aunt Yu, whores aren't welcome under her roof. She threatened to leave uncle Jiang, if he kept supporting me. It's fine," he added quickly when he saw Lan Zhan's face darkening. "Uncle Jiang gave me the trust fund he had for me, which wasn't little, I have a job and I get some aid from the government too. There's also granny's pension and everyone else is working. You don't have to worry, Lan Zhan, we get by."

Lan Zhan looked like he wanted to say something cutting, but luckily they were interrupted by Wen Ning joining them, a-Yuan in his arms. He was probably getting too big for that, but he knew first hand that Wen Ning could lift a full-sized adult without breaking a sweat so he wasn't very worried for either of them.

"Wei-ge, welcome home," Wen Ning greeted him. His eyes wandered to Lan Zhan for a brief moment, then to Wei Ying's hands which were still scraped. "Is everything alright?"

"More than!" Wei Ying ignored the look, grinning and watched a-Yuan beam at him. "Everything's perfect, look who I met in town! You remember Lan Zhan, right? He was in the same class with Wen Qing. Turns out he works here!"

Wei Ying managed to say all of that in one breath before he even realized he was doing it, yet consciously leaving out the bar and without bothering to detail exactly how the 'bumping' went down. Wen Ning took it all in, then gave Lan Zhan a polite smile, his dark eyes meeting Lan Zhan's squarely.

"I know of Lan-xianbei," he said slowly, cautiously polite, before his expression settled into a smile and he inclined his head in greeting. "We've never met officially."

There was a brief round of long overdue introductions, which Wei Ying was happy to ignore in favor of watching a-Yuan grow increasingly fascinated with Lan Zhan. It etched the lines around Wei Ying's smile deeper into his features, in a way he hasn't felt for a long time.

"A-Yuan." he couldn't help but pinch one of the chubby cheeks, after a little shifting of weight. "You keep looking at Lan Zhan like that, he'll think you like him."

"Pretty gege," was all a-Yuan had to say to that, a smile splitting his face, while Lan Zhan's ears turned red. Wei Ying laughed, alight with surprise that the one tell-tale sign of his shyness still remained. Lan Zhan was looking at a-Yuan with increasing curiosity, that pained line from earlier disappearing from his features, slowly replaced by wonder instead.

Wei Ying only looked away when he felt a tiny finger poke at his cheek, angling his head towards a-Yuan to listen to whatever secret his son wanted to share.

"Will pretty gege stay for dinner?" A-Yuan whispered through his hands, causing a complicated set of feelings to run through Wei Ying's chest.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but Lan-shushu can't stay." Wei Ying mock pouted at his son. "He has a flight to catch later."

"Why?" A-Yuan asked, as he did all the time.

"He has to visit his family," Wei Ying answered.

"Oh…" A-Yuan's face fell. There was no doubt in Wei Ying's mind had the answer been anything else, he would have kept asking, but if there was one word a-Yuan understood better than anyone, it was 'family'. It didn't mean he liked it. "But… But I heard! I heard that we will have a party tonight! I cleaned my room, and I did a picture for teacher, and helped granny bake! I was the bestest and uncle said I could stay up extra long tonight 'cause then baba would live forever!"

"I didn't say forever," Wen Ning corrected him timidly, but neither of them paid attention to him, the poor soul. A-Yuan only heard what he wanted to hear, and Wei Ying was too busy making sure his heart didn't burst. He still sometimes couldn't quite believe how much he loved this child.

"Me too." It came unexpectedly from beside him, and when Wei Ying turned to look he found Lan Zhan looking almost as surprised as he felt. "I mean, I also usually stay up longer on Chuxi."

A-Yuan's smile eclipsed the sun. Lan Zhan returned it with an expression so impossibly soft that Wei Ying's heart almost did burst then.

"Pretty gege can stay, and his family can come too, and I will draw everyone a picture!" A-Yuan all but vibrated with bare excitement that Wei Ying felt bad that he had to chide him.

"A-Yuan, do we tell people what they can and can't do, or do we ask?" He had picked the gentlest way possible, but his son still hid his face in his uncle's neck, utterly dejected.

To be fair, Lan Zhan looked rather stricken himself. It was adorable to watch and Wei Ying… Wei Ying knew that no matter whatever feelings he might be harboring, he only came as a set with his son. There was no possible way of heaping that responsibility on another person from the get go, on top of everything else, and yet. And yet. Lan Zhan was regarding a-Yuan with such fondness that it did strange things to Wei Ying's heart, and just like that courage bloomed in Wei Ying's chest.

"How about a compromise? Lan Zhan," he asked carefully. "You still have a few hours left until you have to be at the airport, don't you? Would you… Would you like to come inside?"

"Yes, yes, yes! Please, pretty gege, pretty please." A-Yuan loved the idea, immediately reaching his arms out in silent demand to be held. Wei Ying could only watch as Wen Ning oh so carefully leaned forward and tightened his hold so that a-Yuan could safely launch himself into Lan Zhan's open, waiting arms. He bet Lan Zhan hadn't even noticed how he held them out in a response that had seemed completely automatic.

"A-Yuan," Wei Ying reprimanded him gently, doing everything he could to ignore the adorable pout that pressed into Lan Zhan's shoulder. It was difficult to do with his heart singing like that.

"I would hate to intrude," Lan Zhan replied hesitantly, his eyes not leaving a-Yuan for a second and Wei Ying felt his heart constrict.

"I don't think anyone would mind," Wen Ning said, smiling gently.

"It won't be an issue, Lan Zhan, really." Their eyes met. "We still have a lot to… catch up on."

There was a spark that darkened Lan Zhan's eyes briefly, something heavy settling in the air between the two of them. Chance had brought Lan Zhan back into his life, and Wei Ying wanted to hold on. In any way he was allowed to. As long as he was allowed to.

"And you could meet… You could meet my family." Warmth spread deep in Wei Ying's chest as the word 'family' echoed in his mind, before he added in a whisper. "If you like."

"Wei Ying…" Finally, after what felt like an entire eternity, Lan Zhan spoke, the softest of smiles spreading on his face, gentle as the first rays of the sun on a misty morning. "I would very much love to meet your family."

"Great!" Wei Ying felt the smile split his face from one ear to another and amidst the cheers of his child that echoed the ones in his heart and started towards the door that Wen Ning held open for him. "Come on in then! Let's give everyone the shock of their life that I brought home such a handsome man!"

"Wei Ying…" It was spoken as a reprimand but it sounded like a chuckle.

"Hi, handsome! You're Lan Zhan, right? I've heard all about you!" Somewhere in his memory a cheerful voice greeted the most beautiful youth that there ever was. "I'm Wei Wuxian. I'll let you call me Wei Ying."

The door fell shut to the sound of Wei Ying's laugh.

#vedrividia #wangxianLNY21 #*LNYfic21 #*LNYgifts21

[faindri]

Raspberry Summer Semi-Hiatus

So...I’ve had to make a tough decision to put RS on hold. Posting it, I mean! Not writing it! I’m still going to work on it, but I won’t be posting it to ao3 for a little while. (Ch 8 will still be posted tho!)

Here’s why.

1. I hurt my wrist/arm. 

I (most likely) have Carpel Tunnel, but have had general wrist problems for 10+ years. My wrists are really weak, particularly the right one, and I’m prone to flare ups and injuries. Last week, I hurt it while drawing, and I took that as a sign to TAKE A BREAK.

2. Insecurities. 

I’ve been really insecure about my writing lately, especially this story. As much as I love it, I get into my own head and worry a lot about what other people want from me/it. I keep comparing myself to other fic writers and worrying I’m doing something wrong. It’s just not been fun??? Lately??? Every time I open my doc I get so nervous and just close out of it. >___<

I also think it was the wrong decision to start posting it before I was finished writing it. I know that works for plenty of other writers, but I don’t function that way. I knew this would backfire, but I was really craving validation at the time I started posting--and I had a schedule! a PLAN!--but RL has messed up my plans so badly argh

I’m hoping that if I stop posting (and therefore worrying about people’s expectations so much), I’ll find my drive to finish it again!

3. Real Life/My Job

I work night shift as a package handler. This means I wake up between 1 and 2AM to go to work, I come home, and almost immediately go back to bed. (Most days.) These “naps” range from 3-5 hours and even after I get up, I still feel groggy and have no willpower to work on fanfic. It’s only going to get worse once Christmas season hits, and I want to conserve as much of my energy as I can. Like, y’all, it sucks. I can’t describe to you how much it sucks rn. I’m so tired all the time I HATE IT, I’m lucky if I can concentrate on a YouTube video.

4. Workaholic

I’m a workaholic and always have been. I constantly feel like I have to hustle, and I struggle to “relax”. After getting hurt again, I think it’s the universe’s way of saying, TAKE A BREAK ALREADY. 

Conclusion

So yeah. I’m so so sorry to have to do this, but I value my health more than I do fanfic. I know this is going to disappoint some of you, and I understand that, but please know the fic isn’t going to remain incomplete! I WILL finish it! You have no idea how much it hurts me to disappoint you all, and I refuse to give up on this story. Thank you for the support on the fic so far, of course!! I know many of you are silent readers or you send me kind messages on twitter/through anon messages. <3 Thank you thank you thank you.

PS. pls don’t send me messages like “whERE’s ThE nEXT uPDaTe” or I’ll come for your kneecaps.

#raspberry summer fic #allie writes fanfic

[camilliar]

I've just reread ~get the wine pairings~ which is one of the best zimbits fics I've ever read and I was wondering if you're currently working/planning any new omgcp fics? I really love your writing 🙈

Ahhhhhhh wow thank you, there are so many Zimbits fics to choose from, and you chose the one I wrote while my OMGCP AO3 account was still a sock I never planned to link to because it was too many kinks pasted together. I’m very flattered. I’m still weirdly pleased with that fic!

To answer you question -- which I’m also very flattered anyone would ask? -- I've got two OMGCP fics that’ll be going up in the next, like, month:

You may have seen me insanely blogging about this AU where everyone’s getting MFAs at Samwell. In theory, ideally, I guess this would be like a loose collaborative series me and @tomatowrites both write in? (If she wants to/has time to?) I’ve very near done with the first fic in this series, like, one to five paragraphs away from being done and passing it on to a beta. It’s a PBJ sex fic set over Labor Day weekend; Bitty thinks he’s getting into one thing (group sex) but he’s actually getting into something else. It doesn’t get that much into the MFA part of things but I hope it does an okay job introducing the general themes around the Parse + Bitty stories in the AU? Lots of ???? because I’m just so excited about this entire thing. Please send me + Tomato asks about MFA stuff, I’m obsessed with and I want everyone else to be, also.

I’m also doing @omgcpheartbreakfest, and that fic is due on August 5 and should be posting ... a week later? Ish? Because it’s a blind fest I ought not divulge too much about it, but it’s an idea I’ve wanted to write out for a while, so I’m looking forward to finishing this over the next week or two.

and then OH GOD this list continues:

After those two I’ll probably switch gears to finish up this infamous South Park fic. Further afield, I did start an Ollie/Wicks fic that could be conceptually interesting but a) what is the audience? and b) do I really want to expend energy on digging into the tone and keeping the tone on point? More problematic is that these characters do not have personalities or even biographical information to transform into a story, so it’s tough to know what their relationship would even be like? I guess what I’m saying is I’m not sure if I want to follow through on this. Earlier today, actually, I took a look at it convinced I was going to scrap it -- but I also felt like there was something there that made me almost wistful for whatever conviction I had for this story when I started it. We’ll see where that goes.

Two big fics I have wanted to write in this fandom for a long, long time, like nearly as long as I’ve been in the fandom:

An AU where Jack’s OD is fatal, and a few years into the future his mother has established a foundation in his memory, to which she’s recruited Parse to sit on the board, which requires that he help fund the foundation. The foundation creates a scholarship for a hockey player at Samwell, and Parse is asked to advise the selection process, which results in Bitty being offered the inaugural award. The problem, however, is that Bitty is terrified of checking and if he doesn’t make it on this team, there’s a chance SMH might ultimately reject the gift -- and if this pilot program fails, Jack’s mom is gonna, like, have a breakdown. So Parse decides to intervene to make sure Bitty doesn’t get cut? Long story short, endgame Bitty/Parse, with the basic tension coming from what everyone’s lost if Jack isn’t in their lives: the team dynamic is totally different! Bitty thinks Jack is a selfish monster who ruined the lives of everyone around him, but Parse maintains that Bitty didn’t know him. The Bob/Alicia relationship is almost irreparably frayed and Parse finds himself in the middle of it because they both refuse to let him go! In a lot of ways it’s a story about Jack, although Jack is very dead for all of it. If done properly I would love to get into some of the tough politics around, like, money in US higher ed and some politics around wealth generally.

I have mentioned a few times that I want to write a “normal” not-edgelord Zimbits fic, and that would be an AU where Jack gets a PhD in history instead of going into the NHL -- so it’s basically canon-divergent from the start of Y2, where Jack decides that, for his own mental health, he can’t do professional hockey. The fic is set over the summer of 2017, at which point Jack is preparing to take his exams, write a dissertation prospectus, and start teaching in the fall. He’s at an impasse with his advisor, however, who doesn’t want him to write a social history of hockey because that’s a second book project, not a dissertation. While that’s happening, Bitty’s just graduated college and moved back in with his parents while Jack tries to find them an apartment in Boston -- which he’s having some trouble doing since Bitty doesn’t have a job lined up and Jack’s income is like, a graduate stipend. The conflicts in this story come from circumstances external to the Jack/Bitty relationship, and center around Jack’s doubts about his ability and desire to follow through on his stated goals, especially considering he’s deeply uncompromising. I’ve seen so many arguments that Jack would be so great at grad school or being a professional academic and it’s like, yes, in some ways, he would be; I can see him doing good archival research, or moving through the degree requirements in a PhD program, because he’s goal-oriented and willing to put the work in. But! He’s fucking awkward and so much of this field is just ... networking? Collaborating? Taking advice? Listening? Taking social cues? He had this idea about what kind of dissertation he was going to do, and why is he being told no? Can Jack take “no”? Can he adapt? A random woman has been showing up to his beer league games -- maybe this degree wasn’t the right path after all?

Then, all the way down at the bottom here, it’s like, I have sooo many incomplete Greerverse and lady Jack fics, many of them in the 500-3k range, but some of them in the 15k range, which is like, wow, that’s a lot of unfinished fic! The most profitable of these would be Jack and Bitty taking a 15-year anniversary vacation traveling around Europe for six weeks, which Jack unceremoniously kicks off by announcing a desire to transition--and then saying nothing about it for the duration of the trip while Bitty tries to work out how he feels about this, never mind what Jack even wants.

Aaaand last and probably also least, I’ve got like 15k each of an a/b/o fic I tried to write for Tomato and another 15k of a fic where a career- ending injury leads Jack to reassess his entire relationship with his body and therefore he winds up getting a little drag-curious, and it was fun writing about like, Jack moping around the house on crutches feeling sorry for himself, but also the fic has an OC who’s a big part of the story and I just didn’t feel that guy or care to write about him so I quit! Maybe I should scrap those things, along with the rest of this mpreg fic.

So that’s where I’m at ficwise right now! Who knows a) when the things further down this list would see the light of days, and b) which other crazy ideas will crop up that I have to write in the interim?

Thank you so much for asking! I love chatting about my fic, please ask any time.

[toloveawarlord]

Author Interview

Eeeek! I was tagged by @alloveroliver and @claire-maccarthy Thanks for the tag!

Name: My blog name is listed as Ruka, but my real name is Bekah so you can call me either. When I first made this blog, I wasn’t comfortable sharing my name online but now, I don’t mind.

Fandoms Now: 

Ikemen Revolution, Ikemen Sengoku, Ikemen Vampire, Obey Me, Nightmare Harem, Several Shades of Sadism, Midnight Cinderella, Romance MD, Star Crossed Myth, Kings of Paradise, Scandal in the Spotlight, Kissed by the Baddest Bidder, My Wedding and Seven Rings. Probably a few more that I’ve got on my phone and log into once in a blue moon.

Want to do in the future:

Any of the Cybird games (they own my soul and wallet), So many voltage games I plan to start in the future, too many to name.

Where you post:

Mostly tumblr but I have an Ao3, Fanfiction and wattpad account (under the name moriartyswife)

Most popular One-Shot:

“The Cost of War” I wrote this one for the Ikemen Discord Writers and it’s definitely one of my favorites as well.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:

“And So They Met” which stars my little baby Alara at 6 years old coming to the mansion under bad circumstances and being adopted by Comte and the boys.

Favorite Story You Wrote:

Can I choose? As far as one shots go, Made a Made is by far a favorite of mine. Multi-chapter... how can I choose between my babies!? Personally, I love The Red Army Princess and The Black Army Mischief Maker. I have to name them both because there made as two sides of a coin, my first ikerev next gen. Eden and Finley will always have a special place in my heart.

Story You were Nervous to Post:

All of them  I could probably say Telling Luka. It’s a mini series about Emery dating Luka and getting pregnant with Jonah’s baby. I was afraid of how it would come across. It seems to be pretty popular so that’s good.

How You Choose Your Titles:

It’s a roulette, I throw a dart and just go with it... Just kidding. I try to make all my titles have some meaning within the story. It might be a description of something that happens, or have something to do with the character themselves. Most of my titles tie in to the story. Sometimes with one shots, it’s just word association, but typically, I try to make them mean something.

Completed:

I have 141 One Shots completed.I do have other things for other fandoms posted on my other writing accounts, but for this blog, that’s all I have for now.

Incomplete:

I have posted 77 chapters of various multichapter fics. All of those and add in the amount of OC’s I have in the works which is over 100 (not including all the ikerev next gen babies). Plus, I have some one-shots and requests to fill so I have a lot coming up. 

Do you outline:

Yes and no. Most of the time, I wing what I’m writing. I jot down ideas and things that might happen in the future of the story when they come to me. It’s less of an outline more like a pile of notes that I forget that I have until after I’ve written it. I do get ahead of myself when I’m writing, so I’ll grab a little piece of paper and write down some dialogue or scenes that come later in the chapter. And there are rare occasions were I’ll write out an entire chapter, but that’s very rare.

Coming Soon/ Not Yet Started:

I have 3 new Ikevamp Ocs coming in the next few weeks. Amelia Earhart, Mina Van Gogh, and Asha. I’m not sure what order they’ll come in, but they’ll be making their debut soon.

As for Ikerev, Atticus Kingsley is getting his story, which I’ve been nearly completed with for a few months now. Also, my witch Sage is going to be having her first chapter published.

Also there are some Voltage fics I want to publish. I have a romance md first chapter for Hosho’s daughter but I’m unsure if I’m going to post it. Some star crossed myth and Kings of Paradise are on the backburner but I want to post them as well.

AND OBEY ME! I’ve already made 12 ocs for the game and I have a few stories started. My little succubus is definitely my favorite.

Do you accept prompts?

Yes, but I rarely do them. Sometimes if I get in the mood, I’ll start working on them but I just have so many ocs and stories to work on that requests get forgotten about. That doesn’t mean I’ll never do them, it just means that it will take a while. I used to stress about requests a lot. Please feel free to send me a request as my box is always open but I don’t fill requests often. It’s a little hit or miss, because I switch between what I’m obsessively writing, so you kind of have to catch me with whatever I’m posting the most about at the time.

Upcoming Story You are Most Excited About:

Mina Van Gogh! I’ve worked super hard to make the story as accurate as possible, doing research. It’s a story more focused on platonic relationships at first, although she does have a suitor (Charles) but that is not in the foreground in the beginning of the story.

What do you use to edit?

A human being. I don’t do near as much editing on these fics as I do with my original writing. Unless something needs a major overhaul, I simply write what I want and check for mistakes before posting. If I’m looking for a word, I’ll google and search through the Thesaurus for a synonym. Nothing fancy here.

As for actual program that I write with, I used to exclusively use word. Now, I tend to use Tumblr and save the post as a draft. It’s super easy to access from anywhere and I can type on my phone if I want to. I’ve made the mistake more than once of tumblr glitching and eating my posts, so it’s not the most ideal situation..

Writing Set up:

Up until July of 2019, I exclusively sat at my desk. I get distracted very easily, so having a workspace that I only used for writing worked wonders for me. Now that I can’t sit for very long in hard chairs (thanks herniated discs), I usually sit in an arm chair with a little box to put my feet up on.

Most the time, I write with headphones in and listen to piano/instrumental music. Occasionally, I’ll pick one song that fits the story but I find myself singing along and getting distracted if there are words.

Do You Use a Beta Reader?

I have my best friend read over for any mistakes, so I guess, yes. Sometimes if she is busy, I’ll let Word read it out loud to check for missing words.

Where Do You Get Your Writing Inspiration?

From everything. Reading, other writing, tv/movies, real life. I’ve said before that a lot of the speech and actions of the children that I write are based on things I’ve witnessed while working for 10+ years with young children. Talking about the fics with friends also helps. They can help to figure out an ideas.

I would say that a lot of the time, it just comes to me. I’ll be writing something completely different and then an idea will come to mind about another character or story. Like poof, it’s there.

Can we get a quote from an upcoming WIP? Have a few!

Obey upcoming fic:

Verena knew how incredibly lucky she was to have his attention, his touch. Though he cared for all his incubus and succubus but never had he done this. Observing and critiquing, but not joining. “Lord Asmodeus, I-um-”

“No, no. All I want coming from these lips are those sweet, delicious sounds of pleasure.” Golden eyes were filled with delight. This was new, a succubus a completely blank canvas begging to be painted in his colors. Her mind lingered in a muddled state of uncertainty. “I’ve not used an ounce of my charm and yet you’re grinding your hips against mine, clinging to me tightly. You don’t want me to let you go.”

Her cheeks flushed red. It was like she had turned on autopilot, unable to stop her own body from wanting to drown in him. “Please…“

The word drenched in absolute urgency for more.

Ikemen Revolution New OC: Wren Blackwell

“Uncle Fenrir! Uncle Ray!” The ten year old’s voice echoed through the small building laced with surprise and joy. Abandoning his schoolwork for a chance to spend time with his two uncles. Amber eyes sparkled up at the two. Rarely did he get a visit from his family.

Fenrir beamed a grin at him, accepting the welcoming hug. “Reece, ya got taller!” He stopped by any time he came down to the ports, pitching in to help if Wren needed it.

Which meant today must be business. Never did Ray come by her work without warning. Placing down the files in their proper piles, Wren maneuvered through the chaos to emerge from the office. “Reece, you can go out for a break.” She didn’t want him to hear any military discussions, lest he want to join.

“Come on, I’ll buy ya a treat if it’s alright with your mom,” Fenrir offered to the eager boy, glancing to her for the okay.

It was like looking at two needy puppies. “That’s fine.” As Reece raced out the front door, Wren called to the ace with a serious tone. “No guns this time. I’ll kick your ass if you even think about it.”

She received a salute paired with wicked grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“This time?” Ray questioned, emerald eyes moving from the vacant doorway to his sister.

Ikemen Vampire New OC: Juniper Haywood

Juniper tugged at the door handle, heels digging into the plush carpet as she put all her strength into trying to open the door. It refused to budge. Locked? Unlikely. It must have something to do with why the door only appears at certain times. Now, she was surely stuck until the stars aligned again.

Here’s what she knew.

The hallway led to a mansion. How? Unclear. Why? Also unclear.

In hindsight, there was very little that she actually knew.

**********

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @rikumorimachisgirl @mythiica @emeraldtawny and anyone else who wants to do it! ^_^

#author interview #i write things #sometimes #ikemen revolution #ikerev #about me #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #obey me #other otome games

[d3-iseefire]

To Chase The Rising Sun

First Off: CHECK IT OUT. I MANAGED TO CREATE A TITLE WITHOUT THE WORD “SHADOW” IN IT. :D :D

Second: This is a prompt request from @lottelorelei asking for a dragon trainer Bilba. A story popped into my head and I tried really hard to make it a oneshot but it was like “No, I am a full story, WRITE me.” I sent the idea to my beta and she wrote back with “That sounds like a full story, not a oneshot.” SO, full story it is and now I have five going BUT I draw the line at that cause I don’t want a ton of incomplete stories on my account, but five it is! :D

I’m going to be posting a Christmas related fic next week (I’ve posted a snippet it on here - called “A Very Frosted Christmas” so if the beginning sounds familiar it’s cause you saw it when I posted part of it on here!). After that I have one more prompt request I’m super excited to do and then I shall be switching Writing Wednesdays to Writing Updates Wednesdays so I’ll be back to updating my ongoing stories and you’ll all know when to look for them! :D Thank you all for your patience and kind words as I got everything all sorted out! :) :)

Bilba sat on the edge of her desk in her late father's study and tried to think of a single reason why she shouldn't kill the idiot dwarf that Gandalf had insisted she speak with.

So far, the only thing she could come up with was said wizard, who was currently standing near the door looking increasingly exasperated, might not like it.

That reason was becoming less and less of a deterrent with every word the idiot spoke.

As if he knew what she was thinking, the idiot heaved a sigh that was probably intended to be insulting, as if he hadn't already been doing that from the moment he walked through her front door. "Axe or sword?" he asked derisively. "What's your weapon of choice?"

Bilba allowed her lips to slowly curve into a slow smile. "Teeth."

The idiot, Thorin as Gandalf had introduced him, looked to her shoulder, where Mandar currently perched. The small, mottled brown dragon tilted his head and hissed at the obnoxious dwarf. His tail uncurled from where it had been loosely wrapped around Bilba's throat for balance and he started to move forward to stop when Bilba held up a hand.

The dwarf chuckled in derision. "Looks more like an oversized lizard." He turned his gaze on the wizard. "I was told the Shire held those who trained dragons, not exotic pets."

Bilba propped a foot on the edge of the chair the dwarf sat in, earning her an entertaining look of annoyance, and deliberately turned her attention to Mandar. "Did you hear that?" She retrieved a strip of dried meat from a pocket and held it up for the tiny creature to delicately take from her hand. "He thinks you're a pet."

That earned another hiss from Mandar, but he obediently curled back up across her shoulders and settled for glaring at the dwarven idiot.

The dwarf crossed his arms and his lips twisted. "This was a waste of time," he complained to the wizard. "We should never have come."

Bilba rose fluidly to her feet. "Then I suppose you should leave, Your Majesty." Her tone was purposefully mocking, and she could see by the glint in his eyes that he'd caught it. Honestly, the sheer audacity of his behavior when he'd come to her for help.

She went to her living room and dropped into her armchair set before a roaring fire in the fireplace. Heat from the flames soaked into her skin and she sighed, relaxed into the chair and lightly flexed her hands against the armrests in relief. Her head throbbed and she closed her eyes with a grimace.

Mandar carefully picked his way down to her lap and pushed up on his hind legs, bracing his front claws on her chest. Bilba could feel his face mere inches from hers and absently lifted a hand to scratch the small ridge between his eyes. "I'm all right. Having to deal with outsiders just gives me a headache."

Usually, the Thain dealt with them, on the rare occasion there were any to deal with. Living in Hobbiton, at the heart of the Shire, Bilba rarely ever had to see them, much less speak to them and she preferred it that way. She'd only agreed because Gandalf, an old friend who was soon to be an ex old friend, had asked her and had caught her in a generous mood.

She cracked her eyes open to mere slits as Gandalf sank into the armchair next to hers. "I'm not accustomed to being insulted in my own home, Wizard. He behaves as if I should be honored to be in his very presence."

Gandalf sighed, staring into the flames. "Thorin has been sorely tried this day, and his mood is foul."

"That's no excuse." Mandar chattered at the wizard, adding his own opinion, and Bilba put a hand on his back to settle him. "He should have better control.

Gandalf chuckled. "This from a Shireling?"

Bilba's eyes narrowed. "I'm not the one throwing my rank around. If the dwarf cannot master his own emotions, how can he expect to master anyone else?"

"At the moment he cannot," Gandalf admitted. "As his own lords have refused him the aid he needs to retake their home."

"Given his temperament, it's little surprise." Bilba grumbled.

Gandalf stayed still for several long minutes, studying the fire.”The share of treasure you would inherit is quite substantial,” he finally said. 

Mandar's head popped up, but Bilba remained silent, eyes on the flames. It was true that the Shire could use the gold. The fact the dwarf was so openly offensive proved the Shire's reputation had fallen of late and treasure would go far to rectify that, restore them to what they had once been.

But even so...

"Whatever gold there is has undoubtedly been contaminated by that worm." Bilba's lip curled in distaste. "It probably reeks with his stench." She frowned, remembering some of what Gandalf had told her. "Did you say the thing speaks?"

Gandalf nodded. "He does."

Bilba closed her eyes and dug the fingers of one hand into her temple. "A high dragon," she muttered. "I'd thought they were gone."

"He appears to be the last," Gandalf said but Bilba scoffed.

"You've no idea if that's true. Those in the Withered Heath clearly protected him, or were simply too terrified to give him up." She sighed. She'd always hated the speaking ones. Not only were they a pain to deal with, but they were forever prattling on about their own self-assumed importance. Bilba was quite certain they could bore someone to death just as easily as kill them with flame, tooth or claw.

"It isn't worth it," she decided. Having to deal with the dragon would be bad enough, but having to deal with a mouthy dragon and a petulant king-in-exile? No one should be made to endure that.  

A knock on her front door reverberated through her house, and Bilba ground her teeth together. Why had she agreed to host his entire Company again?

Oh, right. Gandalf. The wizard had been a friend of the Shire a very long time and had come to their aid on more than one occasion. Bilba couldn't remember him ever asking for a thing in return so when he'd come to her and requested she hear out this Thorin and host his company for a night she'd felt duty bound to agree.

Next time she'd send them to the Thain no matter what. He had little enough to do as it was. The Shire had no need of anything outside its own borders, and interaction with outsiders usually didn't make it much past a polite "thank you, but no."

She heard the heavy bootsteps of the dwarven idiot heading toward her door and then the loud chatter of far too many dwarves. "How many did you say again?"

Gandalf's look was far too innocent and Bilba grimaced. "You try my patience, Wizard."

"At least speak to them," Gandalf insisted. "You might find yourself surprised."

"I spoke to their representative," Bilba growled. "And I'm considering allowing Mandar to eat them."

In her lap, Mandar lifted his head and puffed out his chest. He was tiny, but motivated, and would do his very best to eat all the dwarves if she wished.

The idea was deeply tempting, but might also give Mandar indigestion so, instead, she stayed silent while Gandalf went to deal with her barely invited guests. She'd prepared food, because she had manners even if they did not, and could soon hear the clatter of dishes and cutlery. The thought she might end up with chipped or broken dishes had her curling her fingers back into the armrests again.

They were invaders, her mind informed her, bursting in and touching her things without permission, disrupting her quiet home with their obnoxious chatter. The insult from earlier rose back in her mind but now it made her even angrier, to think that anyone could feel they had the right to come into her home and disrespect her and...

Another knock sounded on her door and Bilba twitched.

There were more?

Just how many was she expected to put up with?

Mandar gave an unhappy peep as she lifted him and set him on her shoulder. She rose from the chair and headed toward the door, fire flickering in her eyes. She sensed the idiot and the wizard approaching and sped up, intending to reach her door before either of them could.

She was going to throw them all out, starting with the ones on her stoop. They could go on their stupid quest without her and, a few months from now, she'd enjoy hearing all about how Smaug had eaten them.

She reached the door steps before the dwarf or wizard, grabbed the handle and flung it open, still picturing all the horrible things that would happen to the idiots, and how utterly entertaining she'd find the retelling.

Granted, the downside would be Smaug becoming even more insufferable, meaning she'd probably have to deal with him at some point but, even so --

Her thoughts trailed off as her mind registered the dwarves standing on her steps. The first was young, dark haired and resembled the idiot far too much in her opinion. She shifted toward the second, planning to dismiss him as quickly as the first -- and her mind went utterly blank.

He was young and well built as most dwarves were, but that was where the similarity to other members of his race ended. Rather than the shades of brown, black or white hair she was used to seeing, this dwarf featured golden blond hair that settled about his shoulders and face. A beard and mustache of the same color covered his jaw, creating an almost halo like effect about him and, Yavanna, why had no one told her dwarves could look like that?

Did any others, or was he just an aberration?

He had to be an aberration. She'd seen dwarves. The Blue Mountains were right there. The snarky bastards were forever using the paths that skirted the Shire's boundaries to get from place to place. Bilba hated outsiders, rarely interacted with them, but she did enjoy walking the paths from time to time and had seen them over the years.  

She'd never seen one like this.

A low heat began to snake through her veins, leaving fire in its wake. Her heart began to pound and her breaths grew short.

Dimly, she felt Mandar slowly rise from her shoulder and, ever so carefully, begin to inch his way down her arm. He paused about halfway down, readied himself, and then leapt -- only to squawk in protest as she caught him around the middle with both hands.

The dwarves were talking...someone was talking at least, but she had no idea who or what they were saying over the roaring in her ears. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the dwarf who stood on her doorstep.

On.

Her.

Doorstep.

In the open.

Where anyone might see him.

Where anyone might have already seen him.

Bilba let out a low hiss, transferred Mandar under her arm and then reached with the other to grab his sleeve and yank him in. It was full night outside, which meant everyone was probably inside, but all it would take was one night owl wanting to watch the stars and she'd end up with half of Hobbiton on her doorstep.

Mandar was complaining loudly under her arm and squirming to get out. Suddenly she felt his body puff up and looked down in time to see him throw his head back and open his mouth wide.

Quickly, she grabbed his jaws between her thumb and forefinger and pushed them closed. He glared at her, but she simply stepped fully inside the house and kicked the door closed.

When she turned back he was still there, as were the rest of the dwarves who'd apparently come out to greet the newcomers. It was the first time most of them, aside from the idiot and the wizard, had seen her and, as she continued to stand there holding Mandar, the chatter slowly died off until they were all staring at her.

Mandar was complaining, the sound muffled with her still holding his jaws closed, but the meaning clear enough.

"That what passes for a dragon in the Shire?" A balding, tattooed dwarf asked. Mandar hissed, not appreciating the insult and, normally, Bilba might have responded to it as well but her mind was still stuck on her recent revelation.  

"Apparently so," the idiot-in-exiled rumbled. "I don't believe she will be joining us, however." He crossed his arms and fixed her with a blank look. "We were unable to reach terms."

Bilba twitched, mind suddenly snapping back into focus. She smiled at him, broadly. "That was before I realized you were providing surety. I've changed my mind. I'll take the job."

The dwarf king's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "Surety?"

Bilba settled Mandar back on her shoulder to sulk over the closed door and his lack of opposable thumbs, and pointed to the golden blond dwarf. "Him."

For a few seconds dead silence reigned in the small foyer.

Then bedlam, and Bilba found herself wishing she'd simply let Mandar eat them after all.

Well, almost all of them.

Mandar heartily agreed.

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839575/chapters/52120591

#My Writing #Writing #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Hobbit #The Hobbit #Tolkien #Alternate Universe #AU #Female Bilbo Baggins #Romance #Dragons #Woot!

[colorofmymindposts]

The Deviance of Two English Gentlemen Chapter Three

Chapter Title: The Unyielding Interim

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie films)/Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mary Morstan/John Watson Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mary Morstan Rating: Teen and Up Status: Incomplete, chapters are posted weekly Word Count: 1514 for this chapter, 4291 for the entire work thus far Summary: Set post Game of Shadows. When Sherlock Holmes is given a case by none other than Mrs. Watson, he has no idea that he cannot fix the unsolvable for the couple. Intimate truths are exposed in the process, leaving all three irrevocably changed. Tags: Case Fic, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Secrets, Bickering Notes: The entire work can be read here on ao3. You can also read chapter one here and chapter two here. Note that this is not Brit-picked, but I tried my best.

Story:

The next two weeks passed in such an odd succession that Holmes began to wonder whether he was indulging too much in the comfort of his seven percent solution. After that first night, Watson had not come down for many hours, not until late afternoon, all dressed in clothes appropriated from Holmes’ wardrobe, though neither of them addressed the subject. He had given a curt thanks and goodbye before departing.

The next time Watson deigned it worthy of his time to visit, Holmes had just finished conducting his experiment on the potency of various chloroform formulas. When Watson burst into his rooms, unannounced, he scolded Holmes for not leaving the flat in a span of time which had lasted four days apparently. In a fit of frustration, Watson left in search of food, insisting Holmes was going to “lose half a stone at this rate” if he continued in his totally reasonable, reclusive behaviours. Later, they chatted over dinner about the day’s newspaper, Holmes’ findings in the last seventy-two hours of intense dedication to the differences between trichloromethane and ether while Watson contributed an anecdote here or there about an unruly patient in the clinic.

They did not talk about Mary. They also did not speak of Watson’s domestic, precipitating him to storm off and drown his sorrows in cheap ale. Holmes had suspicions, however, even if he didn’t voice them.

One possibility was infidelity. “Three continents Watson” would imply to a simpleton that he was dissatisfied in marriage, but Holmes knew his Watson better. A man as loyal as he, who followed Holmes into the thoroughfare of the European criminal underworld with revolver in hand and no questions asked, would not be a husband who would lie with another woman. Especially not when Watson was clearly enamored by his Mary’s charms and said wife was understandably in love with Watson, a phenomenon Holmes could not explain but inherently knew was truth.

The second situation was problems with money, hypothetically. For some unknown reason, Watson had adopted a rather Draconian ideal of finances and women’s place within that (being nonexistent) much to Holmes’ chagrin, particularly as he knew undoubtedly Mrs. Watson would manage transactions far better than that gambling boy. But for such a violent reaction to occur those six nights ago, when Holmes had repeatedly criticized Watson’s handling of his funds in the past, this hypothetical seemed, just as the previous one, highly unlikely.

The third scenario Holmes could not feasibly wrap his head around without feeling prone and ill inside. Simply put, the consummation of marriage...was known to have its difficulties. The desired product of a match between man and wife as desired by a Christian God would only solidify the reality of Watson’s world apart from Holmes’ own isolated one, never again to amalgamate together but at short, infrequent intervals. If this were really the case though, some kind of disagreement had brewed between the Watsons, interrupting idyllic sentiment leftover from honeymoon bliss. The baseness of sex could very well have that effect on a standard English gentleman and lady.  

Watson’s eyes had been upon him for some time, he could tell. He met his friend’s gaze head-on, finding concern and something else indescribable mingled in between. Upon reflection, he should make a study of Watson’s eyes, if nothing else than for his private records.

“You haven’t spoken in two hours,” Watson remarked casually.

Holmes blinked rapidly, readjusting to the settings. Seated in his chair, tea gone cold. Disposed of his waistcoat, Watson slouched in what was once his designated chair, brown suspenders rolling off his shoulders slowly but surely, his top button undone. Thoroughly distracting. Holmes sniffed the air.

“Have you been smoking?” He inquired, recognizing the scent as that of a Cuban cigar circa 1889, approximately.

“Yes, I thought it might make you more alert. I fear it may have made you fall deeper into that stupor of yours you just came out of,” Watson admitted as his fingers idly tapped against the cigar resting in the ashtray on the table. “What has addled your brain so?”

“Watson, you know my methods. My periods of introspection provide clarity to my work. My thoughts are in perfect working order.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed back. After straightening his braces, Watson began to loop his arms through his coat previously draped across the back of his chair. “Perhaps I should leave you to your thoughts, in that case.”

“Back home again?” Holmes mused.

Watson, as ever, corrected him. “To Mary.”

Perhaps the lovers’ quarrel was not as serious as he supposed at all. Nonetheless, he felt he had to offer: “My door is always open.”

An affirming smile answered him with a quality of sadness to it, the only thing preceding Watson’s familiar tread on Baker Street.

Another week was to be endured before Watson’s presence graced him once again. In this particular instance, Watson seemed more at ease. He suggested to Holmes that they go for a stroll in the city. Watson always liked it when Holmes would make and share observations of passersbys, one of their favourite activities to engage in from the earliest point in their friendship. If Holmes himself was in worse spirits he would have refused such a triviality, but knowing it might help his friend, he acquiesced cordially to the offer, fortunate enough to still spend time with the man as he was.

There was nothing out of the ordinary at first. An oversized clerk bumbled down Manchester Street obviously having taken too late a lunch break; an older American couple conversed loudly about the spectacles and filth of London to distract from the all too personal topic of the wife’s dying father; a paperboy shouted the newest headlines, limping as he did so due to a factory accident which likely cracked most of the bones in his left foot that never healed properly. Watson smiled along to most of these descriptions but frowned at the last, almost bent on offering his services to the boy, but by Holmes’ observations the accident had occurred years ago and no doctor’s attention would help him now.

At last, they reached Hyde Park, a perfect spot for observation of both animals and nature alike. As it was a Sunday, many families were out and about, relieved to send their children to attend to their own amusements. Their shrill cries and laughter was certainly no symphony to Holmes, but Watson appeared slightly perturbed, glancing at his fob-watch for the time and requesting that perhaps they roam somewhere else. Holmes himself was growing tired of this charade his friend was putting on and scoffed loudly.

“Really, you could just tell me that you prefer the company of your wife to my own, and we’d be done with it,” he ground out, kicking his one boot against the pavement as he did so.

“What?” Watson had the audacity to appear flummoxed. His attempts at treating Holmes with decency were driving the detective mad.

“I know you’re inventing excuses to be around me now that you’re married and yet still feel obligated to maintain our partner—pardon me, friendship,” explained Holmes, in a manner not unlike when he told Lestrade off for one of his idiotic theories. “But you’re bored because there are no cases for me to amuse you with, so you’re regretting the whole outing. I’d prefer that you just be honest with me instead of relying on me to deduce it for the both of us.”

He refused to look Watson in the eye after his statement and proceeded down the footpath without his friend in tow. It thus surprised him as he was about to turn out of the park when running footfalls made their distinct approach. Watson’s all too familiar ragged breaths were there behind Holmes, on his neck, and then he was being spun around by his shoulders, Watson having a firm grip on both his arms and a dazzling intensity in his gaze.

“For once Holmes you have no idea what you’re driving at, but my problems with Mary actually have nothing to do with you this time. I can’t explain. It wouldn’t be right to you or Mary—”

“Sirs!” The voice of a young lady, no older than in her twenties with a crying babe in her arms. “Please, if you’ve anything to spare good sirs, my child’s life be saved. You’re honorable gentlemen, fathers? Think of the poor children, gentlemen.”

Damn her timing, just as he was getting something out of Watson. Though much as Watson’s readers of The Strand might have insisted otherwise, he was not heartless.

“3 shillings, madam,” he said as he withdrew the change from his pocket into her grateful outstretched hand, pins and pricks visible on her fingertips. A factory seamstress then, paid a pittance for her work.

She issued great thanks, politely scurrying away in the opposite direction from whence they came. He likely would have mused more on her upbringing, physicality and motivations too, had Watson not suddenly fallen out of consciousness into his arms, helpless as a babe.

#holmes x watson #consulting husbands #john watson #sherlock holmes #rdj holmes #sherlock holmes movies #my writing #fanfiction

[fiive-second-cookies]

A Logince bullet fic thing based off dodie’s “Arms Unfolding” song

I wrote this like a month ago and said I’d post it and then never did, but here it finally is!

Hope I’m not tired of rebuilding ‘Cause this might take a little more •night before The Meeting •a few months after they broke up •Roman is crying because something reminded him of Logan, his ex boyfriend, and it’s just one of those days •Ro calls Patton over and Patton is lovely and helps Roman feel better with supportive back rubs and Disney movies I think I’d like to try look at you And feel the way I did before •*fast forward to the next morning* •To say Roman was having a bad morning was a major understatement •he woke up late, missed an audition, his manager called to tell him he didn’t get the part in one of the plays he auditioned for, he was completely out of his favorite jam, and he had forgotten to do laundry the day before so his outfit plans were ruined •could his day possibly get any worse?! •he goes to his favorite coffee shop for some coffee •if Roman had been less frazzled, he would have seen Remy’s subtle panicked glance to the corner of the the shop by the window where a certain bespectacled nerd was sitting and reading a book •but Remy recovers quickly and Ro remains oblivious •Remy the barista is a snarky but lovable sass queen •”wow, Ro, bad morning?” snickering •”shut it, Rem. I’m not in the mood” •Roman turns around to leave, coffee cup in hand, and instantly locks eyes with Logan across the coffee shop •*sharp intake of breath* •yes. apparently his day could get worse.

(the rest is under the cut because this is pretty long)

Oh, our fire died last winter All of the shouting blew it out •flashback to fights and arguments towards the end of when they were still together •they both kept getting mad over stupid, unimportant things •Logan was staying up all night to work •Roman was coming home late from rehearsals •Roman was leaving a mess on the kitchen table from a craft (“there is glitter all over the table, Roman!”) •Logan wouldn’t stop studying to eat or sleep or focus on Ro •Logan forgot their two year anniversary •neither of them could remember how the last argument had started, but it was the worst one by far, and it ended with untruthful things (“maybe it’d just be easier if we weren’t together!”) being said and they were both crying and Logan stormed out of Roman’s apartment •needless to say, they had broken up •(all because of about a month of like two or three trivial arguments a week) •Ro collapsed to the floor as soon as the door slammed shut, chest heaving as he sobbed You know I could live without or with you But I might like having you about •Roman took the breakup… really hard, to say the least •he refused to answer calls or texts from anyone for nearly a week •and in that week he barely slept or ate food •finally, Patton had Enough™️ and got extremely worried •with the help of Virgil, they figured out a way to get into Ro’s apartment (aka calling Roman’s moms cuz they have a spare key to his apartment for emergencies) •the place was a mess, to put it kindly •and Roman was even worse •Virgil wasn’t sure how to help, so Patton took control and went full Dad Mode with Ro. Feeding him, making sure he took a shower and changed clothes, tidying up his apartment, and letting Roman cry his heart out •Patton is literally the sweetest person and the bestest friend ever •after about two weeks, Roman is finally feeling better •(he’s not actually better (his heart is still shattered and sometimes he still cries himself to sleep) but at least now he’s able to get back to work and talk to his friends and family) •Roman seems mostly fine to the outside world (except Patton and occasionally Virgil) and life returns to “normal” •Roman will still cry to Pat about missing Logan occasionally tho, usually during their weekly sleepover Yes, these new walls are pretty hard to crack And it might take a while until I trust you won’t attack •*back to the present in the coffee shop* •Logan is Shook for a moment and his eyes go wide •then Logan takes a deep breath and relaxes somewhat, putting on a neutral facade •Roman knows he can’t just leave now, so he walks over to Logan’s table •both of them are definitely feeling a bit awkward •”uh, hey, Logan” •”salutations, Roman” •a few beats of awkward silence •Lo: “so… how’ve you been?” •”uh, I’ve been… fine” (lie) “how about you?” •”I… I’ve been busy with work and my studies, but things have been going… great” (now they’re both lying) “I suppose you’ve been busy, too, with your successful attempts at professional make-believe?” •”oh, uh, y-yeah of course. I’ve been super busy with lots of auditions and rehearsals and… and performances” •that’s only half true •Roman has been busy with lots of auditions •but he’s been a little… lackluster since the breakup, and hasn’t gotten any big roles •Logan lifts an eyebrow slightly, obviously picking up on Roman’s hesitance and lie •”are you quite sure?” •Roman’s eyes narrow “of course I’m sure!” •Logan is closely inspecting Roman, and can clearly see the walls the boisterous man has put up against him •”well, it has been enjoyable to catch up with you. but you probably have places to be, and I have must leave for work soon” •Roman is grateful for the obvious attempt at providing an escape •”yes, of course. Great, uh—great talking to you, Lo” •Roman misses the slip-up in his haste, but Logan’s breath hitches at the use of his nickname •Roman is already halfway out the door by the time Lo recovers enough to lift a shaky hand in goodbye •a few hours later, Ro calls Patton in a lowkey panicked state •the two go out for dinner and Ro tells Patton everything Oh, I apologize, but it was only self-defense Running away just made sense •*flash forward about a week maybe* •Roman is in a rush because his manager is going to kill him he can’t be late for another audition •and Roman quite literally runs into Logan •Roman spills his coffee and drops the sandwich he was trying to stuff in his mouth between whispered curses as he was walking •Logan drops a few papers he had been reading through, only narrowly keeping hold on the laptop bag slung on his shoulder •”oh my goodness I’m so sor—Logan! I— uh, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!” •”no, Roman, it’s alright. I apologize about your drink and food. Perhaps… you’d let me repay you?” •Roman does a double take •”um… sure” •his manager was so going to kill him •Logan leads the way to a nearby park and buys them each a pretzel ((don’t ask me why, I couldn’t thing of anything else)) •they walk in a mostly awkward silence •Logan stops at a park bench right underneath a big tree •and of course it just has to be one of their favorite spots from when they were dating •they sit down and now it’s really awkward •after a few minutes, Roman speaks up •”I… I’m sorry for… running away last week, y’know, at the coffee shop” •”you don’t need to apologize, I understand” •more awkward silence •”actually… I’d like to apologize as well” •Roman finally turns towards Lo with a questioning look •”the way things… ended between us… was not… was not, um…” •Roman is shocked to hear Logan at a loss for words •”I just— I am very sorry, Roman. That was not a good way to end our relationship. And… honestly… I— I wish our relationship hadn’t ended at all” •Roman’s breath hitches and he goes to say something •”no! Sorry, but, please, just listen to me” •Roman, reluctantly, stays quiet •”Roman, I miss being with you. Right before we broke up, I was extremely stressed and my temper was unbelievably short. I should not have taken out my… emotions… on you. Looking back, most of our arguments were… pointless and petty.” •Roman goes to interrupt, but Logan keeps going •”of course, I do not take full responsibility for our disagreements. We both know that the fault lies with both of us. But we should have communicated better to solve our issues, rather than yelling over silly problems and allowing the other to stay angry.” •Logan has been staring forward the whole time, but now, he glances at Roman •”while we were dating, Roman, I was the happiest I’ve ever been. And since we’ve broken up, I’ve felt… incomplete. Almost… hollow. You helped me learn how to accept my emotions, but without you around, I’ve locked away my feelings, once again, into a metaphorical box and completely ignored them” •tears form in Logan’s eyes •”all this to say… I hope that, one day, we can… try again. Not dating! Not necessarily, of course. I would never, ever force you to do something you don’t want to do. But, at the very least, I’d like to try being friends again, Ro” But here I am with arms unfolding I guess it isn’t quite the end •Roman has tears running down his cheeks now •”Lo“—his voice cracks with emotion—“Logan, I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry we fought like that, and I’m sorry we broke up. You’re absolutely right, we should have handled our emotions better and not let them take over. I’m just— I’m so so sorry, Lo” •Roman is fully crying now •Logan grabs Ro’s hand, and Roman holds on almost painfully tight, but Logan doesn’t mind at all •”it’s been so hard the past few months without you. There hasn’t been a moment where I haven’t missed you. God, I’ve missed you so much, Lo” •The tears fall silently from Logan’s eyes now too •”you are absolutely right. We should have communicated better instead of getting into arguments. We shouldn’t have let a few petty disagreements ruin our whole relationship. I deeply regret not fixing that problem and just letting it get out of hand. I’m sorry” •Logan holds out his arms and Roman doesn’t even hesitate to collapse against the other man’s chest •Logan wraps his arms around Roman and the two sit there, Roman holding back sobs and Logan silently letting his tears fall Old partner in crime, I’m going to try To fall in love with you again •After a few minutes, both of them have calmed down a bit •Roman leans back, but makes sure Logan’s arms stay wrapped around him •”about your offer—” •Logan’s eyes widen ever so slightly and he tightens his arms around the other •”I’d love to be friends again, Logan.” •Logan lets out a relieved breath •”in fact, I’d love to try dating you again. Only if you want to though! And we’d take things slow, of course! But I just feel like we’ve both learned from our mistakes and grown in the last few months. We know now that communication is extremely important, especially when our emotions are at extremes.” •Logan smiles •”I would also love to rekindle our relationship, Roman.” •Roman smiles back •”would you like to accompany me on a date to… say, dinner at your favorite restaurant?” •Roman’s smile gets impossibly wider •”that sounds wonderful, Lo. Meet tomorrow at seven?” •”that’s perfect, Ro” •these two nerds in love just stare at each other, smiling and happier than they’ve been in months •until Roman’s phone rings, his manager’s name showing up on the screen •”oh, shit”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #logince #thomas sanders #fanfic is great #munchkin writes

[sorcerusdragonbionics]

Reading list 6/22-6/29

So I got this from a few places, such as the FanFic Summer Reading Challenge as well as one of the profiles I’m following mentioning that they wanted to do a reading list of every fanfic they’ve read. I read A LOT, hence why wanted to do the Summer Reading Challenge, but I also wanted to share fics with people, so I’ve decided that every Sunday I’ll post the fics I’ve read in a Reading List for the week.

Fic ratings range from G to E, but all of them are labeled so if something isn’t your cup of tea, don’t read it. Since this is my first list and I want to see how it turns out I’ll keep them all together for now, but depending on how it turns out I might start dividing them up by fandom and possibly by Rating.

For Now: Tell me if this Sharable Link works for you Google Drive Folks, or Read More if you feel so inclined.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/19Py4njs7UTYOijl3TkGAB2MouJ4uiTa4e3uB6ThpMjs/edit?usp=sharing

Revenge of White Rabbit

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: TiBun, UnknownPaws

https://archiveofourown.org/works/4832390/chapters/11067851

Status: Complete

Series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/329461

Complete

Three works

Chapters: 14/14

Summary: They say that bad things happen in threes, but they never specify just how Nightmarish "bad things" can get.

Rating: E

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Major Character Death

Words: 45091

You’re All I Need

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: towokuwusatsuwu

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565637/chapters/19636612

Status: Incomplete

 Last Updated 2016/11/17

Chapters: 2/?

Summary: In a world where you only see in shades of gray until you meet your soulmate, Barnaby has his literally fall into his arms.

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 2891

 Of Tigers and Bunnies Series

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: MarchWindsAprilShowers

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1332236

Status: OnGoing

Last Updated 2019/6/25

Works: 7

Home Sweet Home Summary: Barnaby wasn’t sure exactly what it was that made his partner’s home feel like...home. At least, he feels more at home there than anywhere else, including his own apartment.

The Group’s Couple Summary: Every large friend group has at least one honorary couple and this one is pretty annoying. (A short and completed drabble series of how the other heroes deal and interact with TaiBani.)

Already Perfect Summary: If there’s one thing Barnaby actively avoids in interviews, it's the subject of children in his future besides Kaede.

Fried Rice and Promise Summary: In which Barnaby decides to return the favor and kick down Kotetsu's door unannounced with some fried rice to cheer up the old man.

My Hero! Summary: Okay, alright. Social media has even pointed it out at this point. Barnaby will admit it. // He can be a little protective of Kotetsu. // Maybe even unreasonably.

For the Last Time, Go to Bed! Summary: Keith is sick with a cold and keeps bothering Ivan who is currently making him some soup.

Betrayed by the Heart Monitor Summary: Barnaby is injured on the job and is in the hospital. Kotetsu is with him and refuses to go home. It's 1AM, so that's the perfect time for confessions (obviously)!

Rating G - T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 7424

The Prophecy

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Author: VikingSong 

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10463682/1

Status: OnGoing

Last Updated 2019/6/22

Chapters: 79/?

Summary: Uther learns Arthur is the Once-and-Future-King of prophecy and declares him a traitor, forcing him to flee with Merlin. The catch? Arthur has no idea who Emrys is and no desire to fulfill the prophecy. Reveal!fic. T for action sequences/some deaths; no slash, no smut, no language. Cover art by AlexandarCho on deviantART (used with permission).

Rating: T

Different Tagging System so not marked for whole work, but Author is vigilant to point out moments of violence that will be coming up in the chapter.

Words: 110584

The Only One

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: Rinienne

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7085107/chapters/16103044

Status: Complete

Chapters: 8/8

Summary: There was nothing funny about a NEXT ability which made some people lose their minds to lust, especially while it had such deadly consequences. Others were not affected by it the same way, but what was the difference between the two groups was a question yet unanswered.

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Warnings

Words: 46668

Zero to Hero

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: ryrybread

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323073/chapters/45963673

Status: OnGoing

Last Updated 2019/6/24

Chapters: 2/?

Summary: Midoriya Izuku has had a hard time getting through life as long as he could remember. Not only was he quirkless, but he was born in the wrong body, gender-wise. // If it wasn't for his childhood friend standing up for him, he wouldn't even been here, let alone being face to face with his ultimate role model, All Might. // Follow Izuku through his high school experience, dealing with feelings, villains, and transitioning to become the boy he always was meant to me.

Rating: T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 2057

Something To Look Forward To

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: jooniebears14

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206946/chapters/45661945

Status: OnGoing

Last Update Approx 2019/6/25

Chapters: 2/?

Summary: After leaving his horrible middle school Izuku Midoriya starts fresh at a new one. Making plenty of friends and experiences along the way, everything was perfect until… // “Izuku were getting married” // “ Oh that’s great I’m so happy for you guys” // “ Yeah and were moving back to Musutafu” // “Wait what”

Rating: T+

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Words: 3293

Zero: the World’s Best Hero Duo

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: Toboe1087

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548689/chapters/43963657

Summary: There was a next to zero percent chance that it would happen. That two infants would meet each other in the park and have a soulmate connection. That they would grow up together and change the world forever. But that's the thing, the chances were next to zero, but not quite zero.

Status: OnGoing

Last Updated Approx 2019/6/25

Chapters: 24/?

Rating: G

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 40125

Three’s a Crowd

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: ScatteredSounds

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15960185/chapters/37223450

Summary: Izuku wasn't sure if he was ready to find his soulmate, then he found two. He swears upon All Might's abs that he is not ready to handle this shit. Todoroki has had a rough past and finds it difficult to show emotion. Bakugou only know how to show 50 shades of anger. And Izuku is just so happy to have both of them in his life he doesn't really know what to do with himself.

Status: OnGoing

Last Update Approx 20169/6/17

Chapters: 13/?

Rating: E

Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings

Words: 43949

A Suitable Nickname

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: Fujiwara_no_Seimei

https://archiveofourown.org/works/216812

Status: Complete

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Kotetsu and Barnaby have been living together for years with Kaede, and now a teenager, she's pushing her boundries. Barnaby learns what his real role is in this dysfunctional family.

Rating: T+

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 797

Win Some, Lose Some Series

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: Lirillith

https://archiveofourown.org/series/12623

Status: Incomplete

Last Update 2012/2/13

Works: 3

Win Some, Lose Some Summary: Barnaby visits Kotetsu in the hospital after the final confrontation.

Better Late Than Never Summary: Set during the episode 25 timeskip. Kotetsu and Barnaby get their chance to talk before Kotetsu leaves Stern Bild.

Keep Your Chin Up Summary: Barnaby navigates Christmas solo.

Rating: G-T

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 7096

Potential Happy Endings for Tiger & Bunny

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: wickedorin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/308846/chapters/494248

Status: Complete

Chapters: 5/5

Summary: While I was waiting for the final episode, I had a little fun writing the possible endings that were in my head. Many spoilers, but not really for the final episode.

Rating: M

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death

Words: 5326

Seasons Will Change

Fandom: Tiger & Bunny

Author: Tru

https://archiveofourown.org/works/253126

Status: Complete

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: A "what if?" post episode 24.

Rating: T

Warnings: Major Character Death

Words: 1807

Me in You, You in Me

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Author: fromstarlighttodust

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338721

Status: Complete

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: When an experiment goes wrong, Levi and Eren end up in swapped bodies. Unfortunately, existing as each other until they can figure out how to reverse it turns out to be more difficult than they had anticipated. Ultimately, it leads to a journey of hard truths, mutual discovery and a greater understanding of one another--not to mention an appreciation for being themselves.

Rating: M

Warnings: Underage

Words: 9732

Hero Name

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: miarinnes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19364635/chapters/46072966

Status: OnGoing

Last Updated 2016/6/26

Chapters:1/?

Summary: Bakugou Katsuki was visited by a "ghost" girl named Katsumi. The bubbly 5-year-old instantly got immuned by Katsuki's angry outbursts and a wide range of curses. Who was this girl, this -- Katsumi who had curly blonde hair, round ruby eyes, and freckles across her cheeks? Bakugou does not seem to care until she had talked about her Papa that reminded her of spring and the color green.

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 3957

I’m Only Yours (Forever and Ever)

Fandom: Attack On Titan

Author:Siamesepolyporegoat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778020/chapters/36707862

Status: Complete

Series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1164533

Incomplete

Last Update 209/6/20

Chapters: 26/26

Summary: Eren was the second son. He was supposed to be free to love and marry whoever he wanted. So why was he being sent to marry some stranger?

Rating: M

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage

Words: 67781

On the Shoulder of a Giant

Fandom: Attack on Titan

Author: Written By:  Emamel 

Read By: Opalsong

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791343

Status: Complete

Chapters: 11/11

Summary: The Scouting Legion receives word of a rogue titan in the battle of Trost. // They didn't know what to expect - it certainly wasn't Jaeger.

Rating: M

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Podfic- 0 words read

Savior

Fandom: Hero Academia

Author: jaegerackereri

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18077612/chapters/42727589

Status: OnGoing

Last Update 2019/6/29

Chapters: 6/?

Summary: When Izuku's brother Kota becomes gravely ill, the only person that is able to save him is the cruel Dragon King Katsuki Bakugou, but how far is Izuku willing to go to save his brother...

Rating: M

Warnings: Author Chose Not Use Warnings, Rape/Non-Con

Words: 10232

#fic rec list #FicRecList #Reading List 6/22-6/29 #attack on titan #fanfic #list #eren x levi #my hero academia #bakugou x kirishima x midoriya #bakugou x midoriya #tiger & bunny #tiger and bunny #taibani #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #eren jaeger #levi ackerman #kotetsu t. kaburagi #barnaby brooks jr #kaede kaburagi #bbc merlin #merlin ambrosius #aurthur pendragon #knights of the round table #merlin magic reveal au #morgana #merlin x morgana #aurthur x gwen #series au #fantasy au

[uglifish]

Hi! Just wanted to know when are you going to update Otokonoko? Any date??

hi anon!

i see you are probably also the same person who left comments under the fic asking about my update for this story xD thank you so much for your interest!

yes, the update for this story is coming (as always i strive to leave no fic incomplete if i can help it)

it has not been abandoned, i just really haven’t had time to write for it.if you want to hear my excuses what’s going on in my life, here it is:

ive just been incredibly busy with IRL stuff like randomly visiting relatives insisting i show them around Seattle for an entire weekend and a half, (and ofc i can’t refuse), and they visited literally right after midterms, then i died. and came back, still dead.and a certain bunny is being troublesome… (nobody freak out, but…there is another abscess forming underneath the first one…and another one forming above it. so0o0o yeah, im just not…stressed out or worried about it at all i am 100000% fine yes fine very fine mmmhm…kjhdkjhfjh he’s not in pain, and his appointment is coming up this Monday MAY 20th, so im holding out for good news then/ ….and this just seems to be a CHRONIC problem. like i thought taking care of the first abscess would mean that the hurdle has been crossed but apparently he’s just that kind of child that needs constant attention and worry so i’ll be fine yep because i’ll just keep telling myself that its gonna be ok cuz he’s acting ok, so everthing is A-OK!)and car stuff! (am looking at buying my first carrRrrrRrr eeeeeeeee…pray for me!) maybe i’ll post a pic of it when i get it cuz im so dang proud of myself kskskksksdkjsd yay debt! but also yay, no more taking the late-ass BUS or a lyft everywheremy previous weekends (since FEBRUARY actually) have been CONSUMED with going from place to place, looking at a shitload of used/secondhand cars, i swear im going cross-eyed and i dream of getting run over in my sleep for sweet relief.so as for the exact date im posting this chapter…hopefully soon, and before the end of this month i freaking hope LOL i really haven’t had time to just sit down and have a moment to really create, and really write the next chapter down, and i want it to be goodim never gonna post it half-assedly and call it an update, so thank you for your patience.

please enjoy underwater chrysalis or any of my other already completed fics to help tide you over

xoxoxoxo0o0oUgli

P to the E to the ESS–  please consider supporting my not-very-plump-but-can-maybe-pass-as-cute ass on patreon for .00013-ish? cents a day for 30 or 30+1 days (math is clearly what im good at, so you should listen to me when i sound right, and that is basically 10$ a mo.) lol x) pls kill me i didnt know how car loans or interests worked until literally 2 weeks ago seriosly pray for my stupid ass. i’ll survive somehow and com thru! with an update!anyway, thank you for caring, caring enough to ask, enough to pop in to give encouraging messages via PM on here and on discord, enough to send warm happy emojis into my lonely inbox (that is not a sexual innuendo unless u want it to be) and thank you for being my friendos on the internet and ilusmbbys im so grateful to all the wonderful peeps i met in this fandom, ya’ll seriously fuel my fire

#askugli #personal tea