#and if ao3 had this feature i would probably re-read these comments every day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acerathia · 8 months

Text

two birds || Act III

Summary:

Hanahaki: A disease stemming from bottling up romantic feelings, as these decide to grow inside the lungs and the blood system of the sick person, resulting in flowers. Thus the first symptoms are the coughing up of flower petals accompanied by pain and breathlessness, as the flower continues to grow as long as the affected does not confess their feelings. Alternatively, the growing flower can be removed via surgery, but it may affect the ill person’s ability to feel love in various forms. Or How do you react with falling in love with no real chance? Simple, a tragedy in five acts.

Wordcount: 2.5k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Obito Uchiha / Reader

Tags/CW:

features of a tragedy, hanahaki disease, childhood friends, some degree of isolation, No War AU,

Note:

Please note that I choose to not tag some stuff, as it contains heavy spoilers, proceed with caution and with the knowledge that everything is either connected to the tragedy aspect, or the hanahaki disease itself. i forgot, oops

Scene I. – YOU, feverish pillows, the marks of the days in old, where the prediction came true

The scene: Your home, the suffocating air filling your lungs, scratching your insides

The cough wracking your body has gotten worse overnight, even though the rest of your body doesn’t exhibit any symptoms of a cold, no fever, no chills, no headache. Just this immeasurable pain deep in your chest with each inhale, with each exhale. And every exertion leads to a paralyzing coughing fit. So you decide to stay home for the day, sending a message to the Hokage, even if he probably already anticipated that.

After sending the bird on its way, you settle in your living room, after picking a book from the shelf. One of your favorites. Your best friend had given you this edition as a birthday present, and since then it had been your prized possession. Everytime you read this book, you could also read his little comments on the side, his thoughts forever between your hands. And maybe you should’ve realized earlier how much he means to you, how much you cherish everything he ever gave you. Not that your reaction would have been any different, his feelings for Rin unwavering for years to count.

Another coughing fit grabs you, shakes you, You hack and rasp, trying to lodge whatever has gotten stuck in your throat out. After coughing for eternity, and yet only for minutes or seconds, the itch stops, something smooth gliding over your tongue. Carefully you stick your tongue out to grab it with your fingers. A petal. From a flower. And you turn it between your fingers, sticky, yet brilliant, wondering where it came from. You don’t remember swallowing a flower, much less a petal. But it certainly stems from your insides, the itch gone the moment it emerged.

Because you significantly feel better, you decide to visit the library. It surely has some books containing this issue. Because as much as you hope this is the only petal ever, it’s highly unlikely, your breath still heavy, full.

Still, getting rid of that one petal made you well enough for a walk to the library without losing breath. For some reason you don’t ask at the desk, rather you just make your way between the shelves, looking for the medicine section, anything related to that, as you’re assuming it’s some kind of flu.

Grabbing some books you sit down on a table and page through them, careful to not miss anything. Every time you finish a stack of books, you return them to their place to get more.

It took you a couple of hours to finally find something describing your weird cough.

You keep rereading that passage, words not quite registering in your brain. But once they do, you know what you’re supposed to do. What is expected of you. But you simply refuse these two options. How could you lose your love? What is the world without love? And it’s out of the question to just confess, as this would ruin whatever friendship you had been building for all these years. So that means…

Before you could even finish the thought, you notice a shadow lurking over your shoulder, and you continue to the next page of the book, acting like you’re just browsing in this thick encyclopedia of medicine. And appropriately you flinch when that person puts their hand on your shoulders, whipping around with a gasp. The exclamation fitting for the environment, yet expressive enough. You should be feeling bad for this act, but you don’t, it’s simple etiquette, play along.

The moment you lock eyes with Obito, you grin, and that’s barely an act, only the slight modification of it, a hiding game; how much could you conceal before anyone notices anything to be wrong?

You shut the book with a soft thud, putting it on top of the stack, allowing the book to hide between his brethren. Meanwhile, he had taken a seat opposite of you, leaning back in the too-small chair. A bright smile etched across his features, and you have to stop yourself from getting lost in them, rather focussing on a spot on his face.

You place your chin in your hand, resting on the table. “So, did you do it? Did you ask her out?” A knowing grin accompanies your question, the answer as clear as the window glass, as the sunlight shining on his dark hair, illuminating him like a halo.

Almost a thing of the impossible, his face brightens up, eyes squinting, yet sparkling with the enigmas of the universe. He nods. His shoulders shake with hidden laughter, happiness daring to spill over. Only the library silence keeps a hold of the bubbling excitement.

His breathy giggles underline his whispers. Telling you, explaining, detailing how it went. How he took her on a stroll, aimlessly walking through the market, or so she thought, until he led her to a small meadow of flowers, comparing her to the prettiest ones, pouring his heart into her hands, hope filling the emptiness. And that hope erupted into flames the moment she reciprocated his feelings; an exchange of hearts, a silent promise spoken outloud.

A kind of happiness you never could’ve given him, even if these words weren’t rotting on his tongue. This is something you have to keep to yourself, if only to keep the sun shine inside his eyes, to hear the bells inside his laughter.

And this knowledge alone makes your throat grate, this sight alone makes your heart cramp. A sight you’re undeserving to witness, as you’re not the one granting him this blessing. Never a blessing. The words you’ve been keeping inside are nothing but a curse, to you, to him, to the relationship between you. It makes everything rot. That’s why you have to keep it inside you, no matter what happens, you’re burying it deep in your lungs.

Despite your inner turmoil you grin, smile and coo at his behaviour, his giddiness contagious, filling you with a small amount of happiness, glad to see him thrive, to see him fulfil his wishes all on his own. And this spark flares the guilt up, because how selfish of you to think about your own predicament, about your own feelings, when your best friend is sharing the good news with you, all sunshine and breeze, galaxies filling his hopeful eyes, the future, their future as bright as the stars.

So you push them further down, promising to never utter a word, to never form a single thought in his presence. This way you could fully relish in his company, bathe in it, and simply concede.

“Wow, I didn’t know you were so kitschy,” you tease and stick your tongue out in mock disgust. And you barely dodge as he leans in to flick you against the forehead.

His hand immediately retracts and ends up pinching your cheek, pulling slightly. You turn your head to bite him and he retracts his hand to keep his fingers safe.

“What else was I supposed to do? Someone refused to give me proper help…” he puffs and crosses his arms, muscles moving underneath that black material, stretching, telling you how they flex and move.

You clear your throat, before doing the motions of retching. “And why should I? That’s none of my business. Please, don’t tell me you want to consult me about your se-”

He had jumped forward, chair screeching against the floor as he hurries to push his hand against your mouth, muffling your next words, the redness of his neck spreading to his ears.

With a grin you don’t try to bite him this time, rather you just lick his palm, pressed against your lips, callouses against your skin, and he pulls it back, disgust etching itself on his features, and betrayal. And he tries to get rid of the spit by scrubbing his hand against the material of your shirt. A giggle escapes you as you deflect his hand, standing up to gain more room to move.

But before you both could actually start anything, the librarian stepped closer, yanking you both by the hand to stop you. Her harsh glare is more than a simple request, more like a warning. So you both hide your head between your shoulders and tiptoe out of the building, her eyes burning your backs all the way out.

Once a couple of steps away from the library, you can’t help but burst into a laughing fit. And he joins you soon after that. And for a moment there’s nothing but your laughter and the sun above your head. No heartache, no flowers, only you two in giddy misery.

And you wish desperately for it to never end. But every good thing must perish, wether by its own hands or by the choking fingers of someone else. Your fate must be a mix of them both, as before you could invite him to any activity with you, he already seems to have spotted something he liked, as he begins to walk away, barely a glance your way. And you don’t think anything by it, following him without questions, only slightly stumbling as you see the object of his desire.

Of course. And you get yanked back, the leash around your neck reminding you of your place. Never by his side, only behind, in her shadows, catching the bouquet and nothing else. Despite that reminder, you don’t change your attitude towards any of them, why should you? They don’t deserve pain, only because you decide to keep your misery inside of you, to tend to it like a flower, crawling up your spine.

You immediately pounce on Rin, grabbing her arm. “Rin! He got us kicked out of the library,” you whine with an exaggerated pout, well-aware he can’t defend himself or he would risk your rather risqué conversation being brought up.

That’s why he stammers, mouth falling open and shutting again, before adopting a tiny pout himself and shooting daggers your way. And you send him a sly grin before sticking your tongue out and walking with Rin to wherever the way is leading you. He immediately sticks to her other side, acting sneaky when he takes her hand in his, fingers carefully placed between each other.

You tear your gaze away, trying to ignore the caving in your chest, the way your body craves the same softness and carefulness, the silent touches. You swallow the grating in your throat, before marching in front of them, as you have reached the market, marvelling over the new produce and even buying a shiny red apple. As usual Obito asks you to buy him one too, but as usual you refuse, claiming you don’t want to spend any money on him.

“I’m not your sugar mommy, wahh–” He cuts you off by trying to snatch the apple out of your hand, and you barely manage to dodge him. You know holding the apple into the air won’t do any good, so you begin to back off, moving as unpredictable as possible, calculating your chances to escape and deciding on a high possibility. That is until your back bumped against a wall, and your movements restricted suddenly.

Despite that you continue to dodge his grabs, keeping the apple out of his reach. But you didn’t expect him to grab your arms, holding them to just bite into the fruit, taking a rather big bite.

“What are you doing? This is disgusting,” you sneer, a scandalized expression forming on your face.

He lets go of you, making a peace sign while munching with a grin. And you just throw the fruit at his face, it hitting his forehead with a strong sound.

“Damn, that resounded. I guess your skull is empty after all,” you remark with a snort. Your sneer softens a bit when seeing his pout as he’s rubbing his hurt forehead. It gives you the urge to pinch his cheeks, but you refrain. It’s not the same after all. So you only bump into his shoulder as you walk past. And you can’t help but cough into your palm once you took a couple of steps away, the itch growing stronger with each minute. But it doesn’t feel like you’re gonna cough something up yet, so you try to alleviate the grating with a cough, a cool drink from one of the stalls.

“Hey! That was mean, I just wanted to have some,” he complains against your back, as he walks back to a giggly Rin, having watched the scene with amusement. Both of them join you for a cool drink, the juice colorful under the rays of the sun, and cooling of course, soothing your burning insides with a single sip.

While you’re taking a gulp every time you even feel a tickle at the back of your throat, you watch as the two tried each others drinks, a silent conversation flowing between them. And you’re no idiot, even if you like to act like one, you know when you’re supposed to be leaving, when your presence is undesirable, even if words try to deny it.

So you allow the itch to catch up to you, sending you a coughing fit as a present. “Oh, I think I’m gonna be sick… Sorry, but I need to go home and lay down,” you rasp, holding your hand to your forehead, grimacing with the pain flaring between your ribs, even if because of different reasons than they might think.

Rin offers to heal you, to help you, but you refuse, too scared she might discover the real reason behind your ailment. You reason with her, why should she use her chakra for something that can be fixed easily with a good night’s sleep? And maybe you lightheartetly threaten to refuse anything she might offer in the future, before she caves in and just hugs you tightly, explaining the ideal ways to get rid of a cold.

Your best friend is propping his hands on his hips, on the verge of scolding you about going out in the first place if you’re sick, but you pout a bit and open your arms, making grabbing movements to ask for a hug. He just sighs and envelops you. His arms tight around you, and stop yourself from pressing yourself closer than a hug need, even if you wish you could bury yourself between his arms, in his neck. But you do nothing of the sort, rather you break the hug on your own volitions, already craving his warmth.

With a wave you begin your walk home. As soon as you know you’re out of their radius, you keel over, your lungs turning inside out, retching and hacking. This time you don’t even make an effort to pick the petals from the ground, letting them rot outside like they’re doing inside.

#obito x reader #obito x you #obito x yn #obito uchiha x reader #obito uchiha x you #obito uchiha x yn #uchiha obito x reader #uchiha obito x you #uchiha obito x yn #uchiha x reader

22 notes · View notes

vands38 · 4 years

Text

i wish AO3 had a basic kind of pinning feature, where an author could pin their favourite comments to a dashboard-type thing and any time they’re feeling sad they can just be like... oh, look at this, my veritable fridge of love

#ao3 #fanfiction #writing #i've received so many lovely comments recently #and i'm always overwhelmed at the time #but can never find them again #and you know how sometimes when you're sad #all you want to do is remember all the nice things that people have said about you #or like #that might just be me having Issues #but it helps #you know?#and if ao3 had this feature i would probably re-read these comments every day #because i feel shitty about my writing every day #and that would... help #anyway #thank you to everyone who has ever left a comment on any fic whatsoever #you are the joy in this world

9 notes · View notes

penny-anna · 3 years

Text

i was tagged by @handwrittenhello, thank u! <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

i got uhh... 355! that's a lot

What’s your total AO3 word count?

aww don't make me check it. *checks* 988,031.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

i have 12 currently listed on ao3 tho a couple of those are for crossovers. uhh i'm not going to say them all as some are embarrassing. the Big Ones are the Witcher, Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings & Merlin, anyway.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

they are all witcher fics are present!

New Monster Stories

The Price of a Touch

Somebody to Love

sandstorms and hazy dawns

Constellations

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

OH that's a good question! i actually used to but i got out of the habit (oddly) when i moved to a fandom where i get less comments. the reason for this is that getting less comments meant i liked to go back and re-read them as if they were new comments and once i replied that would mean i was 'done' with them. so if i haven't replied to your comment that is because. i am still enjoying it.

i do reply when someone has a question or other comment that i feel warrants a response tho

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

oof so the answer is definitely this merlin series which tbh i can't say i'd recommend as it's genuinely pretty brutal. i don't know if i can say that i regret the bleakness of the ending tho.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

very rarely write 'crossovers' in the strictest sense BUT i do rly like writing fusions & of those i think the weirdest is the merlin/borrowers fusion bcos the whole concept of M-rated borrowers fic is just. frankly unacceptable!! but i did it anyway.

side note i do actually have a bunch more material around that one drabble (a whole au that's like the plot of the first borrowers but a romance essentially)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

uhh kind of? yes. way back when i was about 14 and had just started posting fanfic i got a hm Scathing review on a fic i posted. however i was not especially bothered as i was very up myself when i was 14 and it would have taken more than 1 rude person to make me think what i was doing was anything less than Stellar and also the review was pretty dumb.

a lot of the stuff they didn't like in my story seemed to come down to them having failed to realise it was an AU & what i learned from that experience was you can't trust people to actually read your author's notes. the other stuff they took issue with came down to 'this was clearly written by a teenage girl' and in retrospect i'm like yeah no shit. this sounds like it was written by a teenager bcos i was in fact a teenager. do u have nothing better to do.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

yes. tho not super often these days.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

sorta? once someone translated one of my fics & posted it without crediting the original. it was very very obviously a direct translation even without speaking the language it was written in. they'd been doing it for a while and i believe they got reported but i don't actually remember what came of it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

answered this above lol. yes i've had a few fics translated!! i don't really keep track of them. i used to go through and look at the comments on translations but i don't really bother these days.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

ok so i'm going to go with my gut instinct on this one & say Two/Jamie, even tho i'm not that into it these days. just in terms of. the level of enjoyment i had back when i was shipping it.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

OH you know i was actually thinking about this the other day! i always wanted to do a fourth installment of my Merlin urban fantasy AU that would tie some stuff together (and also feature gwen! who was absent from the entire fic bcos i was saving her for later!! i'm so sorry!) but i just lost interest in the fandom. i remember being conscious when i posted the 3rd part that it was kind of a parting gift to the Merlin fandom as a whole. am still pretty proud of that one.

What are your writing strengths?

dialogue!

What are your writing weaknesses?

basically. everything but dialogue lol.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

i did it 1 time using google translate in an original story & then i ended up actually selling the story so i had to scrabble around trying to find someone who spoke the language who could help me in advance of publishing it and then the process of translating it turned out to be much more complicated than i expected.

i don't remember the usernames of the very kind people who helped me out w it off the top of my head but thank you again!!

anyway no i will not be doing that again probably.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

it was lord of the rings & tbh as lotr fanfics written aged 12 go it really wasn't that embarrassing but it is no longer online.

for some reason (and this is probably for the best) my tastes ran exclusively to crack fic & i also really liked legolas so it was just an extended fic about legolas having really stupid adventures which i thought was very funny at the time. it was co-written w a friend and tbph her chapters were legit funny. go figure.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

i feel like i end up saying this every time this question comes up but the thing i'm proudest of is prolly the LOTR daemon au (if you can count that as one fic lol)

uhh who do i know who writes fic & hasn't been tagged. @thescarletpaperback @uighean

31 notes · View notes

songandashadow · 4 years

Text

Favorite fics

hiya! here’s a list of my favorite fics (as of september 2020) in no particular order - the main pairing is, as always, Louis/Harry unless stated otherwise. If you enjoy, please don’t forget to leave kudos on these amazing works! :)

***PLEASE ALWAYS READ THE TAGS FOR POSSIBLE TRIGGERS***

☯ Relief Next To Me by dolce_piccante | 333k

this is one of the first fics I read in this fandom and I’ve re-read it numerous times since. It’s SO good. This fic is so well paced and the writing is absolutely beautiful. There’s a lot of fluff and angst and to be honest, the smut in this fic is some of the best I’ve ever read.

☯ The Second Hand Unwinds by kingsofeverything | 51k

this author’s writing is so great. I like a lot of their other fics as well, but this one especially. I cried reading this, not gonna lie. The first time, the second time and every time after that as well. Great read.

☯ There's Such a Lot of World to See by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks) | 125 k

I have never seen an episode of ‘Doctor Who’ in my life, but I love this fic anyway. Nice writing and pacing of the story. The characters are wonderfully written as well. Unsurprisingly, I also cried multiple times reading this. You’re probably gonna read that in a lot of my comments on this list.

☯ sometimes green and sometimes blue by itsmiz | 511k

Now, this fic (-verse) is just really fucking stunning. Amazing world building and writing in general (yes, again) that I’ve been reading since it was still a WIP. Though I know it’s not for everyone since it is A/B/O. The wordcount is a little intimidating too but you should definitely give it a try.

☯ Victorian Boy by audreyhheart | 101k

I originally read this on wattpad before I switched to AO3 and let me tell you; you’re in for a ride with this one. Victorian murder mystery with heavy angst featuring a slow burn romance. I’ve read this one multiple times too and it gets me every time.

☯ Red Brick Heart by hazmesentir | 98k

This is the first fic I ever read and I’m pretty sure it’s what pulled me into the world of fanfic in the first place. This fic also encouraged me to improve my english skills. I must admit: I haven’t read it since. I’ll have to though!

☯ Wild And Unruly by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews | 123k

A lot of people have recommended this work to me before, but I just never really got to it. When I finally did though, I fell in love instantly. Great characters. Loved Cowboy Harry and city boy Louis.

☯ Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks) | 114k

Great writing from this author as always. The angst was - whew! But totally worth it. This is also a fic that just has that kinda vibe. Totally reeled me in and made me pull an all-nighter to finish it + I had a good cry. Exes to lovers with D/s undertones and a very happy ending. Writer Louis / Artist Harry.

☯ Young & Beautiful by Velvetoscar | 227k

There’s been a lot of talk about this fic in the fandom over the years. And I’ve come to the conclusion: one either loves or hates it. I happen to love this work. The character development in this is just - wow. Lots of angst too.

☯ Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore | 113k

Do I even have to say anything about this one? Perfect friends to lovers slow burn fic with that vibe I keep talking about. Famous Harry/B&B Owner Louis broke my heart in this one. All in all: absolutely stunning. I also love some of this author’s other works.

☯ my heart is breathing for this moment in time by usedtothebeach | 159k

Another fic that made me cry, but the otherworldly storytelling in this one makes every emotional outburst totally alright. Based on ‘The Time Traveller’s Wife’ Harry keeps waiting for Louis to catch up with him while he’s been in love with Louis for forever. To quote some of the tags: lots of pining, lots of waiting, lots of soulmate talk.

☯ Love Is A Rebellious Bird by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews | 134k

Another fic I put off reading for the longest time. I cannot remember why, seeing as it made it onto this list. The boys make a different kind of music in this one and Louis and Harry have a shared past that keeps coming in the way when they meet again. Angst (as you might have noticed: I love the pain), Hurt/Comfort and Bullying though it is in the past, there are flashbacks and characters talk about it.

☯ Remember Me Fondly by kiddle | 73k

All the boys still make music in this one, though in rivaling bands. Enemies to Friends to Lovers. The plot is very well paced (I know I keep repeating myself but it’s true), as are the flashbacks. The relationship between Harry and Louis is greatly paced as well. Nothing feels too rushed or too slow. I’m only a little sad about there being an end to the story. Could read this for days.

☯ come as you are by stylinsoncity | 77k

A lot of pining and angst with Professor Louis and his Teaching Assistant Harry. Though it isn’t tagged, there’s Louis/Original Female Character(s) in there plus a (tagged) Minor Character Death caused by a Terminal Illness. It sounds all really sad, but it’s a really wonderful fic. There is also poetry and, of course, literature.

☯ To the Ends of the Earth by stylinsoncity | 68k

While the band is on a yearlong hiatus, Louis visits Harry, who spends his time in a cabin in Idaho. During his stay there, long-buried feelings ignite. Very emotional. Some pining/angst and fluff/smut.

+ Susan Boyle makes a cameo. Kind of.

#larry #larry fic #larry fanfic #larry fic rec #favorites #Larry Stylinson #larry fanfic rec #fic rec #larry fanfiction #fic #rec #favorites 2020

374 notes · View notes

diyeoracha · 4 years

Text

IwaOi Fanfiction Masterlist with 90+ Works

Hello! In celebration accumulating over 290 bookmarks on my AO3 account featuring IwaOi, Haikyuu S4 part 2, and @haikyuuweek2020 (Day 7 - Free Choice), I decided to create a masterlist of all of my favorite Iwaoi fics in order to keep myself organized as well as contributing to more traffic for those works! Works are split up into genres such as alternate universe (either not childhood friends or set on Earth), angst, canon compliant (post timeskip with spoilers), canon divergent (childhood friends but divergent timeline post timeskip), high school, and university au

Formatting update: Jan 13, 2021 (spacing is wonky on the mobile app!).

Fic update: Jan 7, 2021

This is incomplete as I got distracted while re-reading a lot of these and have only gone through half of my bookmarks, but feel free to check my own page here for the rest of them! I really do hope you guys enjoy reading these and leave comments and kudos! Please reblog and like so more people can enjoy

Titles marked with (♡) are my absolute favorites and there’s a chance I cried while reading them but otherwise they’re in alphabetical order

Alternate Universe

an allegory of all the things we could’ve been

Word count: 16k

Summary: “I don’t know anything about some red string,” Iwaizumi murmurs into the cracks of Oikawa’s skin, “or even about lifetimes or fate. But no matter where you are, I’ll find you. Gods or otherwise.” Reincarnation AU

And All the Prince’s Men

Word count: 65k

Summary: “Father only loves that which he owns, and I am the one thing that can never truly be his.” Royalty AU

Built a Temple in Me

Word count: 55k

Summary: Up the mossy mountain steps, past the komainu guardians and the faded red gate, and beyond the boundaries of the green shrine—that’s where the forest and the spirit world within it lies. That’s were Hajime met him, and where their story began.But intertwining of destinies can be ugly business, Hajime finds, when their first meeting begins with blood and the too-human eyes of a beast. God Oikawa AU

Quote: It fills his heart anyway, heals the hole in his chest that had been bleeding since he cut Tooru so forcibly from him.

Cotton Breathing

Word count: 13k

Summary: Long-distance and summer only but childhood friends AU

Conquering the Great King

Word count: 105k

Summary: Oikawa's lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi's, "One time thing, Two time thing, what's it matter as long as it's not a Relationship thing?"

Quote: Oikawa's eyes twitched wide for less than a second, his knee pressed in hard against Iwaizumi's thigh, "I may be gorgeous, but I'm not a doll."

dear diary, i met a boy

Word count: 15k

Summary: Iwaizumi's first impression of his upstairs neighbor involves getting woken up at two in the morning to the sound of Oikawa singing along to trashy pop music. He'd thought it would get better, but it all just goes downhill from there. Modern AU

Desperado

Word count: 82k

Summary: Clearly Iwaizumi had a checkered past. Kyoutani has never asked about it, nor has Iwaizumi ever brought it up. He knows it’s a sore spot for his mentor, just like the gorgeous Monte Carlo he keeps hidden away is, so he leaves it alone. Out on the streets, you learn a little something about when to turn a blind eye in order to survive; Kyoutani knows better than most to leave the past of men like Iwaizumi well alone. Heist AU

Even Heroes (have the right to dream)

Word count: 20k

Summary: Oikawa Tooru, ace reporter of the superhero beat of Asahi Shimbun, hates superheroes. Or maybe he just hasn’t met the knight one yet. Superhero AU

♡Infinite Risks

Word count: 8k

Summary: “It’s my fate,” Oikawa responds slowly. He’s crying. “It’s too lonely,” Iwaizumi’s heart sounded broken. “And I’m not there with you. Not really.” Edge of Tomorrow AU

In Defense of Reptiles

Word count: 9k

Summary: In their seventh year, Oikawa is chosen to be the Hogwarts champion in the Triwizard Tournament, and Iwaizumi suffers. Harry Potter AU

Quote: “You are so spoiled,” Iwaizumi tells him, but lets him shuffle down until Iwaizumi’s hand is now running through Oikawa’s hair instead of rubbing his shoulder.

In the Telling

Word count: 6k

Summary: Muggleborn Iwaizumi could not be less impressed with pureblood Oikawa Tooru. Harry Potter AU

♡Lockdown

Word count: 72k

Summary: Within the first few months of his stay, Oikawa gets caught up in a war between cellblocks, becomes a prime target, and must decide just how far he's willing to go to protect Iwaizumi Hajime. Prison AU

♡long nights, no peace

Word count: 18k

Summary: It's the steady knowledge that Iwaizumi Hajime will always be someone that he can rely on, that no matter what the world throws at the two of them, they share in a piece of each other's soul. Pacific Rim AU

Quote: Quiet settles between them softly, like the warm pressure of the blanket, or Iwaizumi's fingers curling to lightly hold the fabric of Oikawa's shirt.

The Long Light

Word count: 36k

Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime's seventh year at Hogwarts begins, and begins, and begins, and begins. Somehow, Oikawa Tooru is always there. Harry Potter AU

Magic Man

Word count: 12k

Summary: Oikawa is named the most desirable wizard in France. Iwaizumi is not impressed. Harry Potter AU

Quote: You keep saying partner or them. Is it rude of me to ask you to clarify?

Meet me in the grey area

Word count: 24k

Summary: Set in a hero/villain AU with Iwa as our trusty hero and Oikawa as our charming villain

Saw You at the Fish Market

Word count: 14k

Summary: In other words, Oikawa befriends hot part-time worker Iwaizumi and tries to impress him both off and on the court, in hopes of more.

♡♡ (sing with me) A Song of Conquest and Fate

Word count: 26k

Summary: When Seijou receives a missive from Aobajousai to discuss a potential peace, its emperor Oikawa Tooru could not have foreseen the series of events that would follow. Historical fantasy AU

Similar Creatures

Word count: 53k

Summary: "What's your name?" "Whatever you want it to be."(Or, Oikawa gets directions from an attractive stranger on a street corner.). Escort AU

♡Something Like Us

Word count: 28k

Summary: Friends since childhood, Oikawa and Iwaizumi now live together, both playing for the National Team. It's no secret that athletes who are bonded perform better. So if the two of them happen to bond...It'd be for the good of the team, right? A/B/O AU

Space

Word count: 44k

Summary: Tries not to think of his rooftop garden, or the apartment he used to inhabit, or Hajime’s broken expression on the night they whispered their goodbyes before Tooru’s launch, attempting to push it all to the back of his mind behind visions of this alien world terraformed. Astronaut AU

Stop the Time

Word count: 10k

Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, 27, E.R. nurse at University of Tokyo Hospital. Hospital AU

♡♡The Loyalty of A Traitor

Word count: 76k

Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime was an undercover officer with a single objective: Infiltrate the Seijoh Syndicate of the Yakuza and tear them down from the inside out. His primary target was the boss, Oikawa Tooru. The job itself was simple enough, until Iwaizumi got in too deep and absconded not only from the mission, but from the city itself. Yakuza AU

These Flowers I Stole For You

Word count: 3k

Summary: ANBU don't cry. They tear themselves apart, bit by bit, and then they stitch themselves whole again. Naruto AU

on shipwreck shore

Word count: 8k

Summary: “I’m going to murder you in cold blood and feed you to the basilisks,” Iwaizumi says conversationally. “You can’t do that, I’m your boss,” Oikawa sings, positively sparkling. “Also we’re partners, which means,” he points at Iwaizumi and leans in, “you’re stuck with me.” Detective AU

Page 305 of 304

Word count: 53k

Summary: “…she called you ‘papa’,” iwaizumi managed. oikawa just stared for a moment longer before relaxing in a smile. “yeah. cute, right? but you can call me ‘daddy’ if you want.”

Temporary fix

Word count: 12k

Summary: “And you’ve shampooed his hair how many times now? Hmm. Yeah, that’s not technically a bromance.” A/B/O AU

Tokyo Boy

Word count: 16k

Summary: He has feelings for Iwaizumi Hajime, who probably has casual lovers just like him in every major city he visits on business. Oikawa is just his Tokyo Boy, just another pit-stop on Iwaizumi’s travels. Businessman AU

Trial by Fire

Word count: 78k

Summary: (lawyer!AU - in which Iwaizumi loves his objections, Oikawa is beautiful, and they have more chemistry than two opposing attorneys probably should.)

Watch Me

Word count: 32k

Summary: Oikawa's a cam model. It’s been a month since Iwaizumi first spoke in his chat. When they meet in person, things get complicated. Cam model AU

Angst

open when

Word count: 1k

Summary: Iwaizumi knew it was coming, but it still hurt. It still hurt when he opens one letter and drowns it in the tears he cannot keep at bay.

Chasing Paper Suns

Word count: 10k

Summary: Post-high school, Oikawa makes it to the national volleyball team but Iwaizumi doesn't. The next three years become an exercise in growing up without growing apart

Quote: “ ‘it’s just—I’m just trying so hard—’‘What, and I’m not?’

Timeless (We Have 30 Days)

Word count: 12k

Summary: Or AU where you're branded 50 days before you die. But Oikawa doesn't tell anyone so now there's only 30 days left.

the weight of water

Word count: 6k

Summary: “Again,” he says, the smallest tremor in his voice, and Oikawa blinks at him a moment before smiling, soft and sweet. “Iwa-chan,” he replies, and Iwaizumi closes his eyes. “Again.” “Iwa-chan.”

Canon Compliant

Are You Listening?

Word count: 4k

Summary: 30 times oikawa said i love you and 1 time he didn't have to

Quote: “Iwa-chan, watch out for the log—!” Oikawa looked on in horror as his best friend tripped and fell flat on his face.

Edge of the balcony

Word count: 8k

Summary: Iwaizumi looks older, he realizes. Oikawa knew he had aged as well, and so did everyone around him, but the thing was when you see people often, you don't notice the subtle changes in appearance. And Oikawa hadn't seen Iwaizumi in four years.

How can this loser ever win

Word count: 2k

Summary: everyone is in stupid love with Iwaizumi Hajime and he has no idea

♡♡♡Lost in Translation

Word count: 9k

Summary: Because misfortune come in threes, Iwaizumi Hajime starts his Thursday having a screaming fight with Shittykawa, spends his lunch break listening to the UCI women's volleyball team gossiping about how Ushijima Wakatoshi had gone public about his longtime love affair with Oikawa Tooru, and closes out the day by drunkenly dropping his phone into a sewer grate.

maybe we could be enough

Word count: 9k

Summary: iwaizumi hums in reply as the car goes silent, frank ocean crooning from the speakers. they stop at a red light when iwaizumi feels eyes at the side of his face, and turns to look at oikawa.

Most people never even get a single high school rival

Word count: 5k

Summary: Team Argentina gets to know Iwaizumi Hajime (27) Athletic Trainer.

Primavera

Word count: 8k

Summary: They say it takes twenty-six years, for certain breeds to fully bloom.

Quote: Did you know that distance is only me, growing towards you?

♡♡♡rest on your laurels

Word count: 4k

Summary: In Iwaizumi’s heart of hearts, untouched by time, they are young and alive, burning with the hearth of home and bright as winter light. Unbreakable. Invincible.

♡♡♡Something Borrowed

Word count: 16k

Summary: In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have always been a foregone conclusion to everyone else, but a massive, unanswered question to one another.

‘Til Infinity

Word count: 2k

Summary: “Hey,” he says, “that cloud looks kind of like a dick.”

Quote: “I got you ladybug”

♡♡♡ You Set Off a Dream In Me

Word count: 15k

Summary: In which Oikawa is 41 and ready to retire. He's at the top of his game and ready to find a new challenge. Turns out his new challenge is pretty familiar. It's high school, round 2.

Quote: A past with an Iwaizumi that wasn’t on the opposite side of the net, monsters on all sides, guiding a setter that had lived the dream left behind in the ruins of Tooru’s past self.

Canon Divergent

a world alone

Word count: 60k

Summary: Iwaizumi has his medical books on the musculoskeletal system. Oikawa has his research papers on parallel universes. It isn't until much, much later that they realize they have each other.

♡Almost a Stranger

Word count: 16k

Summary: Iwa-chan's leaving Kapan. Tooru's not sure he can forgive him, but he's not going to admit his long-held feelings, either. A trip to Miyajima complicates everything.

Quote: There are only two things that have ever broken Oikawa Tooru’s heart. Iwa-chan would say Tooru has no heart to break, but that’s simply untrue.

Count your blessings, it goes 1,2,3, me

Word count: 7k

Summary: He's unsettled by the undefined boundaries of their relationship so it's all his luck that he accidentally wins three wishes to be granted just for him, and all that comes to mind is Iwaizumi.

Quote: Now, as an adult, past convenience of circumstance and the haze of hormonal lust, exactly none of his feelings have worn off

♡♡♡the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle

Word count: 66k

Summary: Tooru is pretty sure he could manage the mating habits of a mosquito. It’s the mating habits of people he can’t seem to get right.

♡days fall away

Word count:17k

Summary: Except now he’s back home, so close to his old haunts and to Oikawa himself, and it's—weird.

Quote: “You and Tooru,” he begins, and then shrugs. “I was just thinking, you look at each other a lot.” And he walks away, leaving Hajime winded, and sort of aching, somewhere deep in his chest. Whatever that means.

♡here comes your man

Word count: 8k

Summary: Iwa-chan, it reads, Have a good day today! Good luck! <3 <3 <3 Suga chokes. It’s hard to imagine anyone calling the scowling and fierce Doctor Iwaizumi “Iwa-chan.” But marriage probably comes with all sorts of liberties. Doctor AU

♡♡In damp earth my body

Word count: 15k

Summary: Onscreen, the nation’s favorite setter has arranged himself so that he’s bowing, forehead pressed to the court, like he’s thanking everyone for their kindness thus far, like he’s asking for forgiveness. Hajime thinks: shit, it’s really happening

In the Business of Love

Word count: 22k

Summary: Meet Oikawa Tooru: He's a best-selling shoujo manga artist, a hardcore romantic and you won't believe where he's getting his lovey dovey fodder from...Enter Iwaizumi Hajime: He's Oikawa's best friend, a realist who also happens to be a wedding magazine writer despite not believing in romance...

Quote: A flare of pride lit in Oikawa as he watched Iwaizumi's eyes crinkle with mirth and in that yawning second, it bloomed into a warmth that bordered on a burn, forcing a bittersweet inhale.

it's been so long (nobody knows me the way you do)

Word count: 8k

Summary: Tooru hums, only half-listening. Somewhere along the way, Hajime’s palm has settled itself over the curve of Tooru’s cheek, thumb tracing over the line of his jaw.

Quote: Iwaizumi blushes even more. “That you’re here, I mean. I’m happy that you’re here. With me.”

♡♡♡Mint

Word count: 19k

Summary: It's the December after Iwaizumi’s last year in university when Tokyo welcomes him with a new ad campaign for Bright Days toothpaste, and Oikawa Tooru—fresh off a run at the 2016 Summer Olympics—has decided to grace the city with his signature grin, a flip of his wayfarer sunglasses, and the most irrepressible tag line for the signboard above.

Quote: "To be able to tell him, in the new year." This comes under Oikawa's breath, so low that Matsukawa and Hanamaki can't hear, and the game continues.

Six-Month Lover

Word count: 89k

Summary: Iwaizumi barks out a laugh. “I’m still trying to get over the fact that you made a PowerPoint presentation about why we should date.” Oikawa doesn’t tell him the file has existed for the last twelve years, constantly receives updates, and that the original copy contained almost a hundred slides before he forced himself to get a grip.

Special Relativity

Word count: 22k

Summary: Time moves differently for people in different inertial reference frames. Oikawa goes on a two-year exploratory mission in space. Iwaizumi's been waiting for a lot longer than that.

♡♡sunset towns

Word count: 33k

Summary: In the summer of 2020, Oikawa Tooru returns home from his first successful stint as captain of Japan’s national volleyball team. In one hand, he holds the undisputed weight of an Olympic medal, and in the other, his unresolved feelings for a childhood best friend.

♡♡Thirty Years and Change (the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad)

Word count: 19k

Summary: It’s July 10th, 2024, and Oikawa Tooru is an Olympian. His smiling face airs on an NHK promo every 45 seconds. He’s captain of the national men’s volleyball team, reigning star of the professional leagues, and he hasn't spoken to Iwaizumi Hajime in two years.

Quote: Oikawa’s grin in the last set of the morning’s game. Oikawa’s grin as they sat on their asses on a golf course. Oikawa’s grin when they were in college. When they were in high school. When they were twenty-two, seventeen, fifteen, twelve, six.

High School

Bet On It

Word count: 13k

Summary: Hajime knows exactly how shitty Oikawa's personality is, and has no scruples whatsover about betting Oikawa six thousand yen that he can't be nice for an entire week.

Quote: The whole instant-compliance thing was seriously creeping him out. Oikawa from a week ago would have made a crack about how if he'd wanted something cold, he could have just put his face on Hajime's shoulder.

Betweens

Word count: 2k

Summary: Iwaizumi is asleep in the club room. Oikawa is blindingly awake in the club room. The sun moves slowly across the sky, and Iwaizumi’s skin is gold underneath it. Oikawa watches the changing shadows on Iwaizumi’s face and thinks about nothing in particular.

Don’t think too much

Word count: 6k

Summary: In which Oikawa and Iwaizumi have a confusing, drunken encounter and then deal with the (sticky) consequences.

Quote: As soon as that thought crossed his mind, though, Oikawa did what he always did: exactly the opposite of what Hajime wanted

Gates

Word count: 12k

Summary: The day after their graduation ceremony, they drive to the beach at Shirahama. Iwaizumi drives, because it’s his car, and as he has told Oikawa on multiple occasions, he’d rather die than let him touch the wheel.

Quote: ‘Yeah,’ he says, because they’re on a beach, and they’re supposed to be on a metaphorical journey, and they’re supposed to be growing up, and completing rites of passage, so it’s honesty, today - just for today, at least.

♡♡i sing the body electric

Word count: 8k

Summary: It was never part of the plan, falling in love with his best friend, but then again, most things in Iwaizumi’s life that involve Oikawa rarely unfold the way he thinks they will.

Quote: But Iwaizumi thinks about Oikawa laughing with that girl in the low light of the gym, a particular kind of quiet intimacy that Iwaizumi’s only ever read about in books hovering in the air, and all it makes him feel is small and petty and spiteful.

it’s better than words

Word count: 3k

Summary: [ or : oikawa makes iwaizumi participate in three bonding activities for new friends, and iwaizumi just wants to know why oikawa's being so weird about this]

Make sure you cross the line

Word count: 4k

Summary: With graduation just around the corner, Iwaizumi knows he has to gather the courage to really ask Oikawa out.

Quote: He’s been asking Iwaizumi to go out with him every single day this past week, increasingly panicked about getting his time and attention now that they’re nearing the end of this season of their lives.

Only the jellyfish know

Word count: 6k

Summary: Their third and final year at Aoba Jousai has come to an end, and the guys decide to go to the beach the day after graduation. That day, the ocean water is salty, the watermelon is sweet, and the people are sweeter.

static

Word count: 6k

Summary: Being snowed in with all of Seijou volleyball in his childhood home brings back a lot of memories for Iwaizumi, because it's kinda Oikawa's childhood home too.

Quote: It's fate that brought them together and choice that keeps them that way. The closest description in Hajime’s vocabulary is partners, but only because Oikawa taught him what its true definition is.

Told before and told again

Word count: 3k

Summary: This is how Hajime and Tooru fall in love, through the accounts of those around them.

Quote: When Oikawa lets out a long, heavy breath, Iwaizumi looks up at him and frowns, and flings a towel over Oikawa’s head to cover his face. Then, he tugs, once, on Oikawa’s fingers, and leads him down the hallway, Oikawa walking quietly in tow.

♡we can do better than that

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa and Iwaizumi go on a road trip during the summer after their high school graduation. It doesn't go as expected, but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.

Quote: Because Iwaizumi’s known Oikawa nearly all his life and never felt anything more than vague affection usually followed by intense irritation for him. But then suddenly at eighteen years old and nearly two weeks into a very badly planned road trip, it’s like someone flipped a switch somewhere inside Iwaizumi

♡when it starts to rain, they go inside

Word count: 33k

Summary: “Where?” starts Iwaizumi.“ My parent’s old lakehouse, silly, didn’t you hear me the first time?” OR: Oikawa takes Iwaizumi to his lakehouse for two weeks, post-graduation.

reassemble it

Word count: 15k

Summary: When Tooru was six years old, he discovered—unbeknownst to him at the time—two of the most important things in his life: volleyball and Iwaizumi Hajime. It was ironic that he had stumbled upon them hand in hand—quite literally, too.

♡things that change, things that stay the same

Word count: 8k

Summary: Oikawa realizes he's in love with his best friend; it sucks for a while. (But only a while.)

Quote: Iwaizumi’s expression right now is less terrified than it used to get back then, but he’s tight-lipped with concern, and his broad body blocks out other passengers as if their stares might be a danger to Tooru too.

University AU

An Archaeology of Affection

Word count: 23k

Summary: For Hajime, it is a riddle and simultaneously so evident. It fills his chest, surging like water, paints heat up his neck. In retrospect, it eats up his days, makes them its own until it feels like his heart has always been in his throat at the smile thrown over Oikawa’s shoulder, the stilling of his fingers on Hajime’s sleeve.

closure

Word count: 22k

Summary: In his first year of university, Oikawa builds a new friendship and upgrades an old one. Or: Ushijima is not a great wingman, but he tries his best.

Quote: “On the first day of his university career, Oikawa Tooru walks into his dorm, spots his assigned roommate, and turns one hundred and eighty degrees and walks right back out. He dials a familiar phone number - the first one he ever memorized - and starts complaining before Iwaizumi even gets the chance to say hello. “Iwa-chan,” he says, “tell me why Ushiwaka is in my dorm room.”

♡♡♡galaxies, within you

Word count: 21k

Summary: Hajime and Tooru move in together at the start of university. Too bad they’re stuck with the two gremlins that haunt their apartment.

Quote: I AM A HEADASS

Hands to yourself

Word count: 11k

Summary: He missed his parents, and he missed Takeru, and Takeru's badly behaved puppy. He missed Aoba Jousai, and he missed the volleyball team. He even missed Karasuno and Shiratorizawa, just a little.

Home, and how we made ours

Word count: 3k

Summary: “No, I like it here.” There’s a rustling as Iwaizumi shifts, inching closer. “I like it here, as in this crappy apartment—with you.”

Quote: “Do your fights end up being like—you know, about actual things and then extending into toddler days and suddenly you’re accusing Iwaizumi of kissing the girl you used to like in preschool?”

in progress to you

Word count: 6k

Summary: The eventuality of Oikawa and Iwaizumi falling toward each other is dramatically lackluster. Still, it's a process to go through.

Quote: “But what if you didn’t eat my pudding all the time?” Iwaizumi asks flatly, ignoring the way Oikawa is slapping his thigh to get out of his chokehold. “Do you think I buy them for you, huh? I buy them for me, you turd.”

Like we’re made of starlight

Word count: 6k

Summary: (a look into iwaizumi hajime’s journey of falling in love with oikawa tooru, from when they’re babies meeting for the first time to young adults moving in together.)

Ninety nine percent

Word count: 14k

Summary: more than anything, oikawa tooru wants to be with iwaizumi hajime, but he's only ninety nine percent of the way there.

Quote: Their ace was lining up for the ball, knees bent and arm pulled back, just as Tooru tosses the ball……to Hajime.

no sleep in the city

Word count: 7k

Summary: Along their journey to find Tokyo's best ramen, Iwaizumi finds himself asked again and again why Oikawa is still single.

Quote: “I was only telling Hanamaki literally yesterday that your personality isn’t as vile as before,” Iwaizumi informs, slightly stiff from the way Oikawa’s got an arm looped through his own. “Why do you make me such a liar to people I care about?”

Out of nowhere

Word count: 8k

Summary: They move in together after graduation and it's doing weird things to Iwaizumi's heart. He's a little in denial about it.

Quote: Oikawa excitedly ran up to him when Iwaizumi came home with groceries the other day. Not about the food but just to say how boring everything is when Iwaizumi's not there, eyes shining, and he couldn't meet his gaze after from blushing down to his neck. He doesn't know how much more he can take.

♡♡shiver

Word count: 16k

Summary: Oikawa was always the brave one. Hajime just followed two paces behind.

Quote: “I’m in love with you,” Oikawa tells him three days after they graduate junior high, head in his lap and hands gently folded over his chest and completely and totally unconcerned that he’d just shattered Hajime’s world.

Terpischore

Word count: 38k

Summary: They’d ended up going to different universities, Tooru and he. The distance was good for them. The confession Hajime dropped in both their laps wasn’t. That’s how it’d ended – a lifetime of friendship crumbled to dust in the space of five minutes. (Or, a lesson in learning to move on from things you can't have, in finding old loves in new ways and in understanding that life is never truly simple... till it is.)

terrarium

Word count: 11k

Summary: At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

these foolish things (remind me of you)

Word count: 3k

Summary: Oikawa helps Iwaizumi move into his new college dorm.

Quote: He’s desperate for something to happen. It must show on his face because Iwaizumi blushes and looks away. The thing is, Oikawa always looks at him like this when Iwaizumi isn’t paying attention.

They say it rains diamonds on Jupiter

Word count: 35k

Summary: "You're in love with him. "Hajime considers denying it. "Yeah," he says instead.

Quote: “Share the weight of your feelings with me, Hajime wants to beg when he hears Tooru's first hitched breath. Let me carry some of your burdens”

to be first, to be best

Word count: 26k

Summary: Hajime is apparently something of a masochist, and as he stares down at the tie-dyed AREA51 T-shirt in his hands, he thinks “I’m totally in love with this asshole, aren't I?”

Undecipherable

Word count: 4k

Summary: "Koi no yokan," he says. "The sense one can have upon first meeting a person that the two of you are going to fall in love."

Quote: Because for all the bravado, for all the flaunting Oikawa does, he wants Hajime by his side, and no one else.

♡we shine like diamonds

Word count: 26k

Summary: "You know Abe-kun from class?" they snicker, hands cupped around their mouths like they're passing along a filthy secret. "I hear his older brother is... gay."

Where you are (I’ll be)

Word count: 6k

Summary: Theirs is a love that starts out like a seed and it takes two sets of hands tending it for a shoot to appear. There are no dramatic declarations of love, only a pair of hands that find each other again and again and again.

Quote: Oikawa broke off into giggles as Hajime slowed the descent of his hand from a slap to the back of Oikawa’s head to a gentle ruffle of the taller boy’s hair

♡♡with every second that you could give

Word count: 9k

Summary: The journey of Iwaizumi and Oikawa going for gold.

Quote: He knows they’re too close. Iwaizumi knows it too, and they both decided to move in together anyway.

Your love is sunlight

Word count: 6k

Summary: It's Iwaizumi's birthday, and they have a talk about the future.

Quote: But Hajime doesn’t think any present could top this: them, kissing in a sun-dappled bathroom, Oikawa’s skin warm under his hands, and the promise of a life together stretched out before them.

#haikyuuweek2020 #iwaoi #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #i spent more time on this than all of my edits combined pls appreciate this

183 notes · View notes

lilydalexf · 3 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Circe Invidiosa

Circe Invidiosa has 11 stories at Gossamer, but there are even more X-Files stories at her website. Some of my favs I’ve recced here before, like Make It Worse and Slap a Goatee On Me and Call Me Evil. She also made a bunch of X-Files collage art, including some cover art for fics (hers and others), which you probably saw if you were reading fic back when authors posted fics on their own websites where art could be shared. Big thanks to Circe Invidiosa for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Well, it would surprise me if people did read my fic. As it happens, I don't hear much feedback from my fic these days. Probably because the bulk of it is on Gossamer and my own site rather than AO3. Also, I was never a BNA. I worked a lot behind the scenes – hosting other authors' sites and making fanart and dustjackets. I think that's what I'd be remembered for, if anything.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience?

I miss the collective excitement and discussions we had as groups. When you got in with a group in the XF fandom, you felt like you knew everybody there. Now the fandom feels a little faceless except for the people I still follow from my old groups.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Most of my experience was on Yahoo Groups. I joined Scullyfic while it was still there and then E-muse when it became an e-mail list, which I'm still a part of. I was part of several Yahoo Groups (can't remember all of them now), where I'd post my fic, RealPlayer slideshows (remember those?!), and collages. I never really took part in discourse because I'm shy and don't think anyone cares about my opinions (still don't!). The e-mail address I used for those groups was purged a couple of years ago, so I've lost all those messages.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

My take away is that fanfic made me a better writer, thanks to having some great betas, and it made me a better professional writer for it (my real-life work is writing but not fun writing) because I learned to take criticism.

I also used to make a lot of fanart, collages and dustjackets for fic mostly. My big take away from that was that I really got into graphics and I got super proficient at Photoshop, which helped my own artistic endeavours and photography. I didn't realize how much skill I had developed until I've had to help someone with their graphics or photo editing.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

My mother was watching X-Files before I was and she was raving about it. I don't have a great relationship with my mom, but one thing she was usually right about was TV shows. It's where I got my love of Sci-Fi.

I think the first episode I watched was Ice, which definitely hooked me. As for when the shipping started, I remember we were watching Lazarus, and when Mulder was yelling at Lula (I had to look that up) about hurting the hostage Scully, my mom said, "Oh, he's so in love with her." And I was all, "What?! Pfff." But then I could not stop thinking about it. And then I thought about it way, way too much.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I was in my late 20s, and it was around the end of S7 and I kept thinking about what if these two dumb idiots actually talked one day. And I kept thinking about dialogue in my head about what they'd actually say. The internet was still in its infancy back then, but I'd seen fan sites here and there. So I decided to search around to see if other people were talking about it and thinking about it like I was. I was such a noob I'd never even heard of fanfic. Imagine my delight when I discovered it. I found a few stories and thought, 'Well, I can do that.' And I wrote up my first story, found a place to post it (wasn't Ephemeral the best?), got some kind feedback, found a really nice person (not sure she wants to be named since she used her real name in the fandom back in the day) who encouraged me a lot and directed me to all the e-mail lists and Yahoo Groups that I needed to be on, and then, Bob's your uncle, I wrote more and more.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Periphery. Most of my experience in any fandom is now on Tumblr because that's where my attention span is. Show me pretty pictures and funny stuff. I am old now and don't want to think hard.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Veronica Mars was my next fandom experience. A number of my XF friends got me hooked on VM. The VM fandom was a LOT younger compared to the XF fandom. When I joined the XF fandom, I was the kid compared to most of the other fans who were all goddesses and royalty in my eyes. But in the VM fandom, I was in my 30s and the rest of the fandom were all in their early 20s if not younger. It often showed, so I stayed out of discussions and just posted my fic once I started writing it. I took a new handle (invida) when I started writing VM fic. Just in case these kids felt like my writing sucked, I didn't want it getting back to the XF fandom that I’d branched out and failed spectacularly.

By then fandom experiences had moved over to LiveJournal. I never really got involved in the discourse or the fandom fights. I knew what people were saying and where the schisms were, but I was all about the fanfic and the pretty pictures. Most of my LJ friends just discussed the episodes and posted their fic and that was good with me.

What got me writing fic for VM was Anjou's brilliant VM fic Into the Blue. Seriously, if you love VM S1, read her fic. Just so beautiful.

VM was also where started writing a WIP, which was a wild trip. I wrote a much-loved WIP called Damn, Damn the Circumstance which people still ask me about finishing to this day. Someday…*wistful sighs*

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Scully. She was everything! Lapsed Catholic, degrees in science, skeptic, always trying to work within the rules but still not taking crap. Yeah, she was the best.

Veronica Mars was great until she wasn't. I have a lot of issues with her beyond S2. And don't even talk to me about S4. For me, S1 was the best, I enjoyed the movie, the books were okay, but nothing else happened after that. NOTHING.

And the first character I ever loved was Princess Leia. She was also everything to me growing up. I wanted to be her. I still do.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

Now and then. Not as much as I used to. I sometimes have it on in the background when I'm doing other things. Back before the pandemic, my BFF and I would have get togethers where we would play Scrabble, eat a lot of candy, and binge several XF episodes. I miss doing that. Hopefully, we will get back to that soon.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I am not an active XF fanfic reader right now. I will read any stories my friends put out. Otherwise, I only occasionally read some I come across on Tumblr in my feed, but I am not seeking them out. I will beta for any XF author who asks me as well.

I am reading fic in other fandoms though – Endeavour, Broadchurch, Sherlock…huh, I'm just realizing that's a lot of British stuff. I have been really into British detective series for the last few years.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I used to run an XF fic recommendation site called How Will It End usually with at least one other person (I went through at least 4 partners on that project because I'm a control freak). We'd compile our recs and then I'd post them on my site. We'd also feature authors we really liked and interview them. Not unlike these interviews!

I'm terrible at giving feedback/comments. So I solved that problem by making a rec site. That way I could tell authors I loved their fics by recommending them. I didn't have to comment, I'd just say, 'I'd like to rec your fic'. And then they'd get promotion. Win-win. Back in those days, the fandom would absolutely roast you for promoting your own fic, so to get on a rec site was a big deal. Not that I had a popular rec site or anything. But I think authors really enjoyed being asked.

All that to say I've liked a lot of fics. I can pull up the archives of HWIE and show you all the faves I liked. :)

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Back in the day, E-muse would hold Improv Challenges, where other members would give you a prompt that you had to include in your fic. I was always really proud of the stories I created from those challenges (No Earthly Means and Elephant in the Room if you want to read them).

I enjoyed writing Dead to Rights which is an XF/Dead Like Me crossover because I loved the challenge of writing a crossover. It was the first crossover I ever tried writing even though I only recently published it.

Otherwise, I like re-reading In a Graveyard, Importuning Life for Life, and Some By Virtue Fall. Of my more recent fic, I like Slap a Goatee on Me and Call Me Evil because the premise was ridiculous and I think it's funny as all get out.

Probably my favourite of my VM fic was Stay Outta Riverdale. Because: 1. The title is a Simpsons reference who doesn't love a Simpsons reference? And 2. I think I was hilarious throughout it.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I'm always open to writing more fic (and, of course, I don't mean my WIPs…don't look at me like that). Lately, my only motivation has been from writing prompts on Tumblr. I haven't had anyone give me a prompt in over a year, so here we are. I have snippets of dialogue in journals and word documents that have never found their way into stories. I'd be happy to dust off any of those and shoehorn them into a new story.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

The last fanfic I wrote was a mini-fic over a year ago (with a prompt from Lilydale!). I've written a bit of original fiction but I haven't been able to finish it. Otherwise, I do have a number of real life hobbies which are where my creative outlets lie now.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Lately, challenges and prompts. It used to be from wanting to see more from a scene. I really had a thing for fill-in-the-blanks or scene continuations. And sometimes my motivation is just plain old spite. :)

What's the story behind your pen name?

Circe Invidiosa is the title of a painting by John William Waterhouse. Love the colours and the absolute malice on the face of the subject. It felt like a good pen name – the envious witch. That's me!

I chose it when I posted my first XF fic (which I cringe to read now, ugh so terrible) without knowing there was already a Circe in the fandom. Whoops. I tried to go by the full Circe Invidiosa or Invidiosa as much as possible after realizing that (invidiosa is my url and my username on a lot of sites, etc.). Now I think that I've been around long enough that it doesn't matter as much but I still like it.

As I said, I took the name Invida for the VM fandom which is just a shortening of Invidiosa.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My significant other knows and that was quite a reveal (oh how awkward). However, the SO has been very supportive and has read all my stories since the reveal and sometimes betas them. The SO also wants us to collaborate on writing some original fiction but we haven't found a project that works for both of us creatively or timewise.

My BFF knows because I dragged her into the online fandom. We've known each other since we were 14, but our love of XF really solidified our bond in our 20s. She wrote some short but sweet fics under the penname Helen Quilley which I bullied her into posting, and we wrote Of Ladies Most Deject and Wretched together. She is mostly embarrassed that she wrote fanfic now but we still fangirl together.

No one else really knows other than fandom folks I've met in real life. And some friends know I've written 'short stories' but I don't elaborate. I work in a stodgy, uptight industry where anything fun or actually having a life is frowned upon.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Over the first lockdown, I got my shit together and got my fic site, invidiosa.com, up and running again. My site houses fic by Rain (now @doctorhelena on Tumblr and AO3), Helen Quilley, ML (who I miss so much), Folieadeux, Shelba, TLynn, Oracle, Piper Sargasso, Diehard, and me. And I made all their dustjackets (except Folie's). The site got hacked a few years back and it was so much work to get running again that I put it off for years and years. I still feel terrible that I did not get the site back up before ML passed away, especially when ML had asked me about it a few months before she passed.

Anyway, all my XF fic is here: circe.invidiosa.com. I have 3 of my newer XF stories on AO3. And my fic-LJ also has some of my stories. Some of the newer stories are on Tumblr but the tagging is so erratic that I'd have to list several tags before you'd find them all. I don't know why I haven't moved everything over to AO3. Probably laziness.

I'm @invidiosa on Tumblr. I'm still on E-muse. I'm still on LJ. I'm always reachable by e-mail (invidiosa at gmail).

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Thanks for reading, writing, and commenting. It is always appreciated.

(Posted by Lilydale on January 5, 2021)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #circe invidiosa

56 notes · View notes

writingbisexually · 3 years

Text

Finally Home

Happy Valentine’s Day! Honestly I’m surprised I didn’t immediately combust after watching Vlamburn’s Valentine’s Day Vlambase story. So rude. So adorable. I love them.

Part three (and final installment) of the weekend’s adventure with @malex-cupid. This weekend has been so much fun and I can’t wait to catch up on my reading and reply to your lovely comments. Y’all are the sweetest. You can also read it here on AO3.

Summary: Alex drew Michael back up to his lips. “It’s Valentine’s Day.” He punctuated his words with a kiss. Alex and Michael spend a lazy Valentine's Day together. Because they can.

Warnings for: tooth-rotting fluff and a brief mention of sex.

Alex woke up slowly. First, he became aware of heat. No, not heat. Warmth. A warm presence next to him. Then he became aware of the fact that the bed sheets were the only coverings that his body had. Finally he became aware of the kisses being carefully placed on his chest. He reached a hand up to tangle in Michael’s curls.

“Good morning,” Michael greeted him.

Alex smiled. “You’re awake.”

“You slept in.”

“I never sleep in.” Alex pulled Michael down to him for a kiss. “Must’ve been the company.”

“Mm, must’ve been.” Michael kissed Alex again before continuing his systematic mapping of Alex’s chest with his lips. Alex combed his fingers through Michael’s hair as he let himself enjoy the attention. “Do you know what today is?”

Alex pretended to think. “Sunday,” he said.

Michael nipped at his shoulder. “Smartass. Guess again.”

“Galentine’s Day,” said Alex.

“Close, but that was yesterday,” said Michael.

“Fine.” Alex drew Michael back up to his lips. “It’s Valentine’s Day.” He punctuated his words with a kiss.

With neither of them in a rush to go anywhere or do anything, they exchanged soft kisses and tender touches with no agenda. Just enjoying each other’s company. Alex let his eyes close as Michael shifted his focus to kissing Alex’s jaw, his neck, and his shoulder.

“Did you know,” Michael said between kisses, “that we’ve never spent Valentine’s Day together?”

Alex furrowed his brow. “Really?”

“Mhm,” Michael hummed. He switched to Alex’s other shoulder.

“Wait, no,” said Alex. “Four years ago I was in Roswell over Valentine’s Day.”

Michael pulled back. “And we fought on the 13th because you had just re-enlisted,” he said.

“So I went to Maria’s and stayed with her,” Alex finished. “I’m so sorry.”

Michael kissed him. “Don’t be.” He rolled on to his back and Alex turned to his side. He trailed a light touch up and down Michael’s chest. “I’ve given up on feeling sorry about our past,” Michael said. “Our past is our past and it’s part of who we are. Also our past is the way it is because neither of us were in good enough places individually to be any kind of good together.”

Alex smiled a soft, secret smile, which people rarely saw, reserved for tender moments like this. “When did you get so insightful?” he asked.

“Around the time I started going to therapy every week.”

“So that’s why I can never find you on Monday mornings.” Alex began his own mapping, kissing across Michael’s chest.

“You try to find me on Monday mornings?” Michael asked.

“What, you thought I genuinely had that many concerns about my car?”

Alex looked up in time to see Michael roll his eyes. “You did have that many problems with your car,” he said. “A man can dream you’d be observant.”

“Oh, well now I’m ‘being observant’ of something,” Alex said.

“What’s that?”

“If I had so many problems with my car, why did you let me keep leaving with it?” Alex raised an eyebrow. “Unless,” he said, dropping a kiss to Michael’s chest, “you wanted me,” he kissed his way up to Michael’s neck, “to keep coming back.” He kissed Michael soundly on the lips.

Michael returned the kiss with fervour and wrapped his arms around Alex’s waist to roll them over. “I think we should start a tradition,” said Michael, pulling away from Alex’s lips.

“What kind of tradition?” Alex asked. He was twisting his fingers in Michael’s curls. When Michael shifted downwards, Alex accidentally tugged on them, and Michael let out a sound that was a cross between a whine and a moan.

“That kind,” he said, still making his way down Alex’s torso.

“Valentine’s Day blowjobs?” Alex purposefully tugged on a curl. “Sounds like a perfect tradition to start.”

Later, when they were satiated and clothed, they drank coffee at Alex’s table. The coffee had taken about three times as long as it should have to make because one or the other of them would interrupt the process in favour of making out against a counter. And neither of them would discourage it. Michael gleefully picked a mug that had been a gag gift to Alex from Maria one year. It featured a silvery-green alien head and the words “I’m a Roswell alien.” Alex rolled his eyes but kissed the Roswell alien anyways.

Both of their phones dinged with a new text at the same time. They each had the same message from Isobel:

I brought bagels! And I left them on your porch cause I don’t need a show this morning. Happy V-day!

Alex giggled while Michael went to get the bagels. As they sat together, drinking coffee, eating bagels, and feeling no pressure from the past, Alex thought to himself that this is probably what perfection felt like. The outside might start creeping in the next day, they did still live in a small town in New Mexico, but for now, he was content to sit with the love of his life on their first Valentine’s Day.

#malex #malexcupid21 #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #valentines day fluff

39 notes · View notes

dramionecommentfest · 3 years

Text

Reader Profile: Kiwi05622

The Dramione Comment Fest is the fest where readers take center stage! We’re excited to feature profiles of some of our readers throughout the course of the fest. First up, we have the most delightful and lovely @kiwi05622!

Location: Middle East Hogwarts House: Slytherin Pronouns: she/her When did you start reading Dramione? How did you originally find fics to read? I started reading in 2017… I think. Or was it 18? I'm not sure anymore. But one of those years lol! So yes, I'm still relatively new to the fandom. But I have devoured so much that it's come to the point where all the stories I've read have started to mingle with each other, and I can't tell you which story is which unless it had a massive impression on me and stood out. How did I find fics? I had this friend of mine, who was a closeted fic reader (I will never forgive her for not introducing me to this world sooner) that kept on dropping these obscure hints my way whenever Harry Potter would come up in our discussions, which was often. She would call me and ask what I'm doing, and my answer would either be, I'm reading HP, or watching one of the movies. She never once judged me or asked me why I'm spending so much time re-reading and rewatching, and I love her for that. One night, she got a little frustrated with me when I whined about NEEDING MORE of it, and she snapped. She was like KIWI JUST GIVE ME TWO CHARACTERS THAT YOU LOVE, and I shyly replied Hermione and Draco? She had the audacity to sigh (she is not a Dramione lover by any means). She sent me a link to Ao3 with a message "Welcome to my life, and I wish you luck stepping foot inside this black hole. Bye.” because I didn't know better. I didn't know what I was getting myself into, I clicked on the FIRST link I found, and this is how Bleak Manor by Pushthebutton became the first story that made me -surprisingly- fall in love with Dramione and fan fiction. How have you gotten more involved in the Dramione community? What platforms/websites have you participated in, and which do you like? I'm not VERY involved in the fandom, if I'm honest. I'm an introvert by nature. Even though I started reading years ago, I only started joining Facebook groups last year. From there, I stumbled onto Tumblr (which was the weirdest platform I've ever been on, but now I LOVE IT), which then led me to Discord. This is where I'm currently stationed. I'm not as active as I used to be on Facebook. I also reached out to many people on Discord and found friends that I no longer call "internet friends," and I find it easier to communicate to authors over there.

Tell us about any reading preferences or practices! Okay, I won't talk about my past habits, because looking back, it was really unhealthy. But I remember I used to read at every waking hour; I would only *sleep* to generate energy to keep ongoing: Goodbye food and social life. However, now, I dedicate time to reading, and it's usually 2 hours before I sleep. So I'll have dinner, and then open up my kindle and read until my eyes can't stay open. My days are usually spent talking to friends and doing many things that need to get done. I started off reading with my laptop until my boyfriend got annoyed by the bright lights emanating from my screen (honestly I didn't even think about reading from my phone). He later suggested reading from the iPad, and I stuck to that for a fair bit, until one night, I ran out of battery, and I couldn’t find the charger, so I reluctantly read from my phone, which I later obviously loved. I could read on the train, while making dinner, taking a walk (because we all need to exercise at some point). Then, after my boyfriend was SURE this wasn't just a phase, and I'll probably be reading for the rest of my life, he surprised me with a kindle, and the rest is history.

Do you like to leave comments? If so, what is your advice for leaving comments? If I'm completely honest with you, sometimes. I'm guilty of moving on from a chapter to chapter without taking a moment to comment. Telling myself that I'll go back and let the author know how much I enjoyed this part or that part. But I forget. Once I'm done with a story, I want to MOVE ON to the next one. However, in the past year, I've made an active effort to write down everything I feel on my phone while I read on my kindle, so I can go back and paste my review. That’s the other thing, I read SO much from my kindle, that it makes it so easy to forget to go back online and submit a review. And with Discord, I usually read with my friends, and sometimes the author will be there while we talk, theorise and flail all over their work. It's a much more interactive experience. I think authors would prefer that over a thank you. This isn't to say that a thank you doesn't go a long way or isn't appreciative, but honestly, how many times can an author say you're welcome? Or thank you for reading? This takes me to the second part of your question. The one advice I would give is, don't expect a response back. Do it because you genuinely liked it. Suppose we keep expecting and wanting the author to respond, especially if a chapter gets SO MANY reviews. In that case, it might seem disheartening to the reviewer, and they're left feeling unseen or that their review was lacking, which isn't the case most of the time. Tell them how it made you feel, which parts did you love, which string of emotion was plucked and left vibrating in your chest. Tell them that. But also, saying a simple thank you is enough. Personally, I would go to the last chapter and tell the author how much I've enjoyed their story if it's a story that was posted years or months back. If it's a story published years ago and they seem inactive, I would slide into their DMs and flail all over the story. You'd be surprised how many actually respond.

What is your all-time favorite fic you’ve read? ALL TIME FAVOURITE is such a difficult question to answer. So I’ll compromise and tell you which one I really really really LOVE but also list a few that I can't be parted with. If my room was caught on fire and I had all these stories in front of me and I had to only choose ONE I would say Risk Reward Ratio by @MissiAmphetamine and its sequel! Okay, I know I cheated, but *sigh* honestly I love it. And I’m not sorry about it either. It's not what you would typically hear because it's not really a fluffy story and there are some questionable actions, plots and let’s not start discussing their relationship. But you see, I enjoy a story that questions my morals sometimes, where I find myself asking “what would I do in this situation?” Plus, as you’ll see below, I have a thing for angst with a happy ending. That being said, I also love love love these stories and they each hold meaning to me, because I've read them at various stages of my life:

Redemption by @anondracomalfoy (wonderfully written story and very enjoyable!!! It’s a memory trope mixed with some suspense)

Revert by SUPRNTRAL LVR (this is when I found out that I can actually cry while reading a story lol)

Remain Nameless by @heyjude19-writing (I will FOREVER love this story and no one can taint it for me. If you ONLY knew how much this story means to me *cough* I spent every moment I wasn’t reading this making her moodboards that's how much it moved me *cough*)

The Art of Betrayal by @hathawaywrites

Across The Hall by @takingflight48 (this one just hold a special place in my heart)

Thirteenth Night by Nelpher (This is the story that changed my mind about memory loss trope which is my LEAST favourite)

Nightmares and Nocturnes by @olivieblake (one of the most creative and unique war stories ever written)

Hindsight by @floorcoaster (This changed my mind about T rated stories)

Broken by @inadaze22 (this taught me a lesson to READ THE TAGS, but the pain was worth it)

Sugar and Spice by @inlovewithforever (ummmm do I need to say more? This is one of the best triads I've ever read)

Looking Glass by @kyonomiko (Every time I'm in a rut I go back to THIS and it never fails to bring me back to life and remind me why I fell in love with these two. It's light hearted, funny and has my second OTP. it's a win-win for me)

Find Your Way Back by @willhavetheirtrinkets (Musyc) (I will forever rec this story to everyone)

Pound of Flesh by @pennilynnovus (HELLO STRIPPER DRACO! This one tore my heart out, I love it!)

Honestly, the list can go on and on and on. There are just SO many good ones out there that I haven't mentioned yet, but I wanted to list only a few that I will always go back and re-read. Also, just because I haven't mentioned the ones that we keep seeing everywhere, doesn't mean I didn't enjoy them or loved them!

What fic gave you the most feels? Definitely “Risk Reward Ratio.” It gave me SO much feels. Some were good, and some were pretty bad. It took me on a wild roller coaster ride. I was happy, sad, angry, happy, sad, angry. I laughed hard in some places, I cried even harder in others, I wanted to pull my hair out MOST of the time, and some parts were oh so good the butterflies wouldn't settle the fuck down. But ehh I like what I like, and I'm unapologetic about it. :D

Who is your favorite side character from any Dramione fic? This one is easy! Theo-fucking-Nott! Without a shadow of a doubt. You want to make him the most awesome sidekick character, go right ahead. The best bro, be my guest. The one that has secret feelings for Hermione? GIVE ME THAT TRIAD!!!!! You dare to make him evil? FUCK YES! I'm SO here for it. Even if he is one, I will STILL love him. I always get slightly giddy when Theo makes an appearance, and I tend to enjoy the story that much more. He's an interesting character to me because he's ambiguous. Canon never gave us much about his personality and reading how everyone interprets him makes him one the most versatile characters in my humble opinion. :D

Last question: Do you really like kiwis?? Hahaha!!!! Yes, I really do. This name was given to me by the people who were worried I had a mild obsession with kiwis. You don't have to ask me what I need from the store, because my answer would always be “we've run out of kiwis, BRING ME SOME MORE.” However, let me just make it clear that I'm not a heathen and I don't eat them with their skin on (no judgment if you do).

Thank you so much, Kiwi, for sharing with us! The Dramione community is lucky to have you <3

Don’t forget, sign ups for the Dramione Comment Fest close February 6, 2021. Check out the rules here and sign up for the fest here.

#dramione comment fest #dramione #dramione fanfic #dramione fest #reader profile #we heart readers #kiwi is the best #we heart kiwi #dramione fanfic recommendations

49 notes · View notes

mariekavanagh · 3 years

Text

20 Questions: Writer’s Edition!

Thanks for the tag @mrs-stubby-boardman :)

How many works do you have on AO3

What’s your total AO3 word count?

179,909

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

1 - Harry Potter

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Circinus

Truth Will Out

This Most Absurd Predicament

Sentence: Pending

A Midnight Vigil

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

At first I tried to commit to responding to every comment, but to be honest, I sort of fell off of the wagon and then I was too far gone to catch up. Occasionally I still do, but also it's a bit of a bother that it looks as if you're artificially inflating your comment count, which I don't want to look to be doing. But also I feel rude if I just ignore comments. Just can't win, can you.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Lord there's a tough one for a Black fandom writer haha. Either An Unwelcome Encounter or It Ended With A Wand, as they both exist to detail broken relationship with Sirius and his mother and brother respectively.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

It's a ti between Comfort and Joy and Lost in the Woods, as both end with Sirius or Regulus getting an uncomplicated affection from their mother (Sirius even gets a hair stroke from his father! What an indulged child).

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Alas, I have not written any crossovers. I can't think what situation I'd cross the Blacks over with tbh. Suggestions?

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Surprisingly enough for someone who writes Black angst and avidly dislikes the idea that they're completely irredeemable child abusers, no, I have not received hate.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I used to lol. But those fics are long-deleted and you will never see them (they were not Black fics, that's illegal)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

A lovely person asked me a few months back if they could translate a couple of my stories into Chinese a few months back. They were nice enough to link me to some reviews as well :)

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Once, a long time ago. A different time, a different fandom.

What’s your all time favourite ship?

Oddly enough, probably Lucius and Narcissa for a canon ship. I just really like the idea that in spite of their dodgy politics and turbulent life, they genuinely love each other and their son. They're excellent characters in the sense that although they are "villains", they have their good traits.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Sometimes I wonder about The Dog Days of Summer. It's taken me almost two years to get this far and I just can't seem to jump the final hurdle. But I also really really want to tell you all what happens in the end :(

What are your writing strengths?

I'm not sure tbh. Planning, maybe? I am my own harshest critic. I genuinely don't think I'm all that great lol

What are your writing weaknesses?

I often worry that my dialogue doesn't sound natural enough, and I've realised that I tend to over use words describing dialogue.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I definitely enjoy different languages written into fics. I think it definitely adds to authenticity when writing scenarios featuring foreign characters or settings.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The very first fandom I wrote for was Merlin, but those fics are long-lost in my dead fanfiction.net account which I can't even access anymore lol.

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

This Most Absurd Predicament probably takes that crown (I don't feel like I can consider Circinus for the title as it's unfinished) as it's one of those rare fics that I can re-read over and over and find very little that I would consider changing.

That being sad, A Midnight Vigil will always hold a very special place in my heart. It was a comfort fic I wrote to cheer myself up, and the resulting fluff still makes me happy to read again.

Tagging: @izzythehutt :)

#A03 20 questions tag #A03 #this was fun to answer #I enjoy questions which make me think critically of my own work

3 notes · View notes

emachinescat · 3 years

Text

The Casket of the Armadillos (by Edgar Allan Nope)

A Psych Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 9 - buried alive

Summary: When Shawn confronts a grad student turned murderer, he learns a very important lesson a very hard way: Don’t piss off English nerds - especially the homicidal ones.

Characters: Shawn, Gus, Juliet, Lassiter, Henry

Words: 5,924

TW: panic attacks, buried alive, claustrophobia

Note: If you liked this classic lit-inspired Psych fic, you can always check out this one I wrote, inspired by To Kill a Mockingbird: The Finch and the Mockingbird

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat!

- Edgar Allan Poe, “The Cask of Amontillado”

Her name was Olivia Hale, she was a twenty-three-year-old grad student at UCSB, and she was working on her doctorate in American lit. She was attractive in a cute librarian sort of way - short and petite, with long, curly auburn hair she kept in a bun and oversized glasses with thick lenses, and a smattering of freckles across her slightly upturned nose. She knew a little bit about everything when it came to literature as a whole, a rather impressive amount about American literature, and absolutely everything there was to know about the life and works of one Edgar Allan Poe.

She was also batshit crazy and currently pointing a .22 pistol directly at Shawn’s head.

“Don’t move,” she growled, disengaging the safety.

Shawn did a cursory glance around the empty classroom, looking for anything at all he could use to his advantage, to distract her or attack her with or - worst case scenario - to use as a shield. But Olivia had found him snooping around on the tiny fourth floor study room that she’d been given to use by the department chair as her thesis headquarters. She’d really made herself at home here, piling books and journals and what seemed like hundreds of loose sheets of paper on every available surface.

But he was stranded in the middle of the room, with nothing close enough to use as a weapon, and so Shawn used the most powerful tool he had, one that had saved his life and many others, wooed women all over the country, and ordered more chili cheese dogs than he could count.

He started talking.

“Look, Olivia, I get it,” he said soothingly. Slowly, in the most non-threatening manner possible, he lowered his hands. Olivia gripped the pistol tighter but didn’t shoot. “I know what happened. You didn’t mean to kill him.”

Her eyes were wide and fierce, her lips pursed into a thin line. “No,” she admitted. “It was an accident. But he was going to--”

“Yeees,” drawled Shawn, slowly raising his left hand and putting it to his temple, very well aware that he was probably pushing the limit with all of this movement after she had expressly ordered, at gunpoint, for him to stay still. “I see it. Dr. Graves was feeling guilty, wasn’t he? A fifty-five-year-old professor with a fancy PhD and tenure, and a devoted wife and three kids and two grandkids, to boot. The perfect life. But oooh, it wasn’t enough for him, was it?”

Shawn immediately answered his own question, something that he had become exceptionally good at over the years since he was usually the only one who could keep up with himself. “Of course not! What’s the perfect job and family when you’ve got a smokin’ hot, super smart student in her mid-twenties who thinks you’re the most impressive man on the planet?”

She sneered, and Shawn noticed with some trepidation that the hand holding the gun trembled just the tiniest bit. When she spoke, her voice warbled with rage. “My age and appearance had nothing to do with it - and even if it did, there was nothing wrong with our relationship! We were perfect for each other, intellectual equals. We were on each other’s levels - he was my soulmate! So don’t you dare belittle what we had like that!”

Ah. So he had hit a nerve. This could now go either one of two ways, in Shawn’s extensive experience in being held hostage: Either she would get fed up and send a bullet screaming through his body, Garth Longmore style, or she would let her emotions distract her, and cause her to make a stupid mistake. Obviously, Shawn hoped for the latter.

Now Shawn had to make a choice, because he could proceed in one of two ways: Either he could back off and try from another angle, or he could further antagonize her into (hopefully) making a mistake. Naturally, Shawn went with the latter.

“Sure, sure,” he agreed airily. “Older men and younger women do it all the time. But to say there was nothing wrong with your relationship? The man was married, and you were his student. I’m not the headmaster here -”

“Dean,” she corrected sharply, and this further proved that Shawn had pegged her correctly as a know-it-all literature wunderkind who had to be right one thousand percent of the time. “This isn’t Hogwarts.”

Shawn gave a tiny shrug. “To be honest, all big schools look like Hogwarts to me.”

“Because you have the mind of a child.” The words were accusatory and patronizing, but Shawn flashed a dazzling smile.

“Thank you,” he said. Before she could respond, he continued his earlier thoughts, “Even though you were the ‘perfect couple,’ you were furious with him for even suggesting that you stop seeing one another. The affair was too risky, and he missed his wife. He wanted to tell her the truth, fix things.”

“It would have ruined everything!” Olivia hissed, and the sound of her voice sent shivers down Shawn’s spine. There was an unhinged quality to it, something raw and dangerous that he hadn’t sensed before. He fought the sudden urge to backpedal as far away from her as possible. “We were perfect together! And if he told his wife and she let it slip, I would be kicked out! All my research, all my time and work here, everything would be gone! He had no right to make that decision for me, to take away my future!”

“Maybe,” said Shawn, and it was like he was watching from outside his body, because he knew that what he was about to say was a big mistake, but he was helpless to stop the words from tumbling from his lips, “you should have thought more about your future before you pursued your married Shakespeare teacher.”

Fury etched itself into every feature of her face, turning her from a beautiful librarian to a feral monster, but her voice was slow and measured as if it was taking every ounce of self-control she possessed not to shoot him where he stood. “He taught Southern. Gothic. Masterpieces.”

Shawn tried to backtrack, to undo whatever damage had been done by his unpredictably big mouth. “But,” he pressed. “Killing him was an accident. You didn’t mean to push him down four flights of stairs.”

She considered this. “No, I didn’t mean to kill him,” she reaffirmed, and then an odd calm smoothed out the angry crevices between her eyebrows - the peace, perhaps, of having come to an important decision that she knew was absolutely right. Shawn recognized the look because he’d seen it on others’ faces before (very rarely, if ever, had he seen it upon his own). “And I don’t think I will kill you, either.”

Whatever Shawn had been expecting, this wasn’t it. Everything about this woman screamed insane and vengeful. If Shawn lived, he would turn her into the police, and she would go to jail for a very long time. She was incredibly intelligent - surely she knew this!

And then she clarified, and the world started to make sense again - though Shawn would have honestly been perfectly content in this alternate reality where the bad guy suddenly has a miraculous change of heart. “Well,” she amended, “I won’t kill you directly. I’ve never shot anyone before - I only have this little guy here because I’m a young, pretty girl on a big college campus, and I have two night classes. Besides, your death shouldn’t be so easy.”

Shawn swallowed. “Olivia, you don’t have to do this. You haven’t intentionally killed anyone yet. If you turn yourself in now and cooperate, your sentence will be a lot shorter than if you kill me - directly or not. Because make no mistake, even if you kill me, you will still get caught. The SBPD has some damn good detectives, and they’ll bring you down even if I don’t.”

She didn’t respond to him directly. Instead, her expression was flat save for the dark gleam in her eyes, and she intoned words that in and of themselves had no meaning to Shawn, but that still managed to strike a chord of fear deep inside of his soul. “‘The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as best I could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge.’” Shawn was utterly unnerved by this point; it was like she had been taken over by something both sinister and incredibly well-spoken.

And indeed, in many ways she had, as Shawn soon found out, she was quoting the beginning of a story by Edgar Allan Poe.

Presently, however, Shawn had no context for her strange words or sudden shift of demeanor. His skin crawled and his heart pumped with more get-up-and-go than he’d ever been able to muster in his whole body before. “Uh, Olivia…”

“Move,” she ordered.

This time, though it was contrary to his nature, Shawn did what she said without arguing. This side of the student, with stolen words sliding evilly from her mouth, was a million times scarier than the enraged Olivia who had very nearly shot him between the eyes.

She marched him out of the room and down the three flights of stairs to the main lobby of the English building. It was dark outside, nearing midnight, and Shawn kicked himself for thinking he was clever for coming to investigate this late. He’d thought she’d be at home sleeping. He should have realized that as a grad student, sleeping was the one thing she wouldn’t have time for! And now he was in very deep trouble, alone, and no one knew where he was. He should have waited until morning, until the building wasn’t deserted, should have at least called Gus and told him what he was doing. But it was a college campus, and she was a tiny little literature nerd - it should have been safe!

As she forced him down one flight of stairs, then two, then three, and finally, into a stairwell off the beaten path that had to be unlocked with a key card - which she had - she continued to encant, her voice slowly losing its flatness and growing into something twisted and sing-songy with every word.

“‘You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point, definitely, settled - but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk.’”

“Olivia--”

It was as if she hadn’t heard him as she shoved him into the basement, and now her voice stilled from a chant to a slow, measured whisper.. “‘I must not only punish but punish with impunity.’”

Shawn wasn’t sure what impunity was, but it sure as hell didn’t sound good.

Their final destination ended up being a small, partially finished storage room near the back of the basement. Dusty boxes and rusted cabinets and archaic old computer monitors lined the walls and cluttered most of the walking space. Shawn was reminded grimly of a school supply graveyard.

Olivia stopped him when they came to a brick wall that had been busted through to fix some issue with the pipes - Shawn saw the water stains on the concrete floor near the break in the wall, and there was a brand new water pipe joined to an old, yellowed one at about eye-level in the small open space between the bricks and the drywall beyond. Shawn also noticed that the new bricks had been neatly piled up near a sealed bucket that almost certainly contained mortar, right outside of the hole. Someone was in the process of walling this section back up.

“Nice wall,” Shawn joked, relieved that Olivia had finally stopped her creepy recitation and desperately trying to lighten the mood and bring things back to some sort of normal - honestly, he’d take being threatened with the gun again to the horror movie stuff he’d just witnessed. “I bet all the other walls are jealous of it.”

It was a lame joke, but her eerie dramatics had him all kinds of messed up. He expected her to tell him to shut up, or to threaten to shoot him again, or to actually shoot him, but instead she asked him a question in that same cold, calm voice as before. “Have you ever read ‘The Cask of Amontillado,’ Shawn?”

Shawn blinked. “I make it a point not to read anything that’s not a magazine from the 80s or WikiHow articles on ‘How to Escape from Dangerous Forest Animals.’”

The corner of her lips lifted in a mockery of a satisfied smile. “Good. Then you’ll get to experience it for yourself, first hand. Just wait until you get to the ending! You’re going to love it.”

Somehow, Shawn doubted that very much.

Still holding the gun on him with one hand, she reached her free hand into the cross-body bag she wore and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Shawn groaned.

“Come on! What college student just carries handcuffs in their school bag?” Then he remembered that this particular student had until recently been having a passionate affair with her teacher. “Wait - never mind. It makes perfect sense.”

She laughed, even though what he said wasn’t even remotely funny. The sound of it was strange and discordant - light and tinkly with a threatening undertone that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Then she gestured at the hole in the wall and ordered, “In.”

Shawn had known it was coming, but had tried to shove that knowledge into the corner of his mind - something that was quite difficult to do for someone with a photographic and eidetic memory - in an effort to convince himself that even she wasn’t that cruel. He tried to appeal to her one last time: “Olivia, it’s not too late to stop this. I mean, are you really going to do this to another human being - seriously, look at this place - it’s dusty and moldy and I’m almost certain there’s no room service! If you’re going to chain me to a pipe, why not do it in a five star hotel?” When she nudged him with the gun, eyes gleaming with something dark and triumphant, he reluctantly stepped into the small space and implored, “I’ll even settle for a seedy motel off a poorly lit backroad. I’m not too picky.”

She didn’t answer him as she stood on her tiptoes and handcuffed Shawn’s wrists around the pipe, cinching them so tight that the metal dug into his skin and he doubted that even his dad’s lessons on escaping handcuffs wouldn’t be much help here. Already he could feel his fingers going numb, and his shoulders and back had started to ache from the hunched position he was forced to take due to the height of the pipe and the awkward angle of his arms.

Well, Shawn thought glumly as she smiled at her handiwork and carefully backed out of the small space, maybe all wasn’t lost. Surely someone would come down here and find him. This place was dusty, but it couldn’t be abandoned - work still needed to be done down here, after all. And he could always yell for help once he was sure Olivia was gone. She was booksmart, but maybe she wasn’t criminally minded. He might be in for an uncomfortable night, but in the morning someone would find him and he could have his vision and the cute little psychopath would go to jail for a very long time.

He waited for her to leave, but instead, she used a crowbar to pry the lid off the bucket of mortar, and the pit in Shawn’s stomach became a whole-ass trench. He should have seen this coming - his heart pounded madly against his rib cage as if trying to free itself, with or without him. He couldn’t blame it. “Olivia, please,” he said, and this time, there was no joke, his voice imploring and terrified. “You don’t have -”

Again, she cut him off. “How would you like to hear a story before you die, Shawn?” she asked in a tone so casual that she could have been asking him if he wanted to grab a taco.

“How about you tell me a story and then I don’t die?” Shawn bargained weakly.

“Mmmm… If you stay alive, my whole life will be ruined,” Olivia reasoned. “And I have worked far too hard to allow that to happen. So. You just stand there - quietly - and I’ll tell you the story of Poe’s most beloved tale of revenge. I won’t tell you word for word, of course - we don’t have time for that - but for posterity, I do have it memorized.” She sounded grotesquely proud of that fact. “It’s my favorite of his stories, after all.”

And so, as she slowly began to brick up the hole in the wall, with Shawn trapped, helpless and in a dissociative state of panic, she told him the story of two men with really stupid names that Shawn somehow managed, despite his raging fear, to file away for later as possible nicknames for Gus.

“Our story starts in Italy, during the carnival, and our narrator is a man named Montresor, who has a grudge against his once-friend, now-foe, Fortunato…”

The story was an interesting one, even to Shawn, who preferred watching over reading and especially over listening any day. And as it turned out, Olivia was a really good storyteller. If he had been in any other position, Shawn might have actually enjoyed the suspenseful tale of revenge.

But as he stooped there and was forced to listen, all he could think about was about how terrified this Fortunato guy must have been, and then he started wondering how long it had been before the man hadn’t been able to hold his bladder or… other things… anymore, and then about what had happened when he was too tired and dizzy to stand up, if the manacles on his wrists had pulled so hard against his flesh that they cut into him, and if lack of water or oxygen killed him first, all the while he knew that he wasn’t asking these questions for the sake of the fictional character. He was asking them for himself. Olivia had made it exceedingly clear - for a literature scholar, she was surprisingly un-subtle about any underlying meanings or motives - that Fortunato’s story was now to be his story.

It wasn’t until she had begun discussing with rapture the brilliance of Poe’s use of the Italian carnival as the setting of a story about murder (because of its abandonment of social order, whatever that meant) and had built up all but the last two bricks, leaving a hole around Shawn’s eye level, that came to the most horrifying realization yet. He’d been so focused on his own thoughts and fears with Olivia’s words washing over him like an acid bath that he’d barely registered that the dim light in the hole had been darkening incrementally with each new brick placed. Now he came to the bone-chilling understanding that once she placed those last two bricks, he would be completely in the dark.

He was going to die, alone, terrified, and in utter darkness with fear as his only friend. He thought in that moment that he might die of a heart attack before he could even think about dehydrating or suffocating. Honestly, it sounded like an easier way to go.

“Well,” said Olivia finally. “I can’t say that it’s been a pleasure to meet you in any way, Shawn, but I suppose I should thank you. Ever since I found out about this unfinished wall down here, I’ve had this unscratchable itch to recreate the titular scene from my favorite Poe story. You gave me the means and justification to do it!”

Shawn was so overcome by the surging sea of fear and early-onset claustrophobia that he couldn’t even muster up the gumption to make a joke about the word titular. Instead, as Olivia knelt down next to her bag, rooting around for something, he jerked madly against the handcuffs, desperately searching for any give in the metal or the pipe he was handcuffed to (or even his wrists, at this point he wasn’t picky). But the pipe was new, and it was sturdy, and so was the fitting that connected it to the old one, which itself didn’t seem too keen on budging, either.

A sick grin teased at Olivia’s parted lips. “Oh, Fortunato tried that too. But then he stopped crying and struggling and chose to die with a shred of dignity. But I highly doubt dignity is something you’re capable of.”

And then, with the finality of fitting a lid to a coffin, she slapped a piece of fluorescent pink duct tape over his mouth and a fresh wave of panic ravaged Shawn’s everything. He didn’t remember this happening in her retelling of the story! Then again, the Fortunato guy had been sealed into catacombs deep underground. Shawn was in the basement of a heavily trafficked university building. Someone would actually hear him if he called for help, so she took his voice away from him too. He couldn’t even sing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” to pass his time or distract him from the inevitable. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he would die in the dark, he would die in the quiet too - and silence was, as his incessant need for chatter plainly proved, Shawn’s worst enemy.

“Goodbye, Shawn,” Olivia said, and she added one brick, layered on the mortar, and then gave her captive one last satisfied glance before adding the last brick and leaving Shawn in total, impenetrable darkness. He would never forget that last, terrible look in her eyes before his world went black - she was no longer human; she had elevated herself to the level of the storytelling gods and she relished in the twisted power she held over the life of another human.

As her footsteps clipped away, her voice, obscenely gleeful, called out, “In pace requiescat!”

***

The next ten hours were the worst of Shawn’s life, and they consisted of five main elements all bundled together into a nightmare that would stalk him for the rest of his life.

Cold. It was the middle of January, and though it couldn’t have been less than forty-five degrees outside, the basement - especially behind the walls - was chilly, and with the musty smell and the dust and the pitch black, Shawn was reminded far too much of a grave and knew that he might as well be in one, because this was going to be his. It was the kind of cold that bit deeper than the skin and wormed its way into the very core and dug its icy fangs in and refused to let go - the chill of death, an open invitation from the dead to join them in their home beneath the ground. He shivered a lot, but he couldn’t be sure if it was the cold, or the panic. It was probably a little of both.

Dark. The darkness that surrounded him had an unreal nature that could easily trick the eyes into thinking that they were already closed. It was oppressive and thick, pressing in from all sides, inky black water dredged from the depths of the sea.

Shawn had never been a fan of the dark, but neither did he exactly fear it. That changed the second that the last brick was put into place and he found himself in a darkness so severe that were in not for the feeling of floor beneath his feet he could have been suspended in the depths of space so remote that not even stars could reach. The darkness swarmed his senses - it had a physical presence, and it didn’t lessen, never permitted Shawn’s eyes to adjust to it in the slightest. It just hung there, surrounded him, assaulted his mind with its infinite arsenal of nightmares.

After experiencing true darkness, Shawn would never sleep without a nightlight again (which unfortunately meant he couldn’t judge Gus anymore for using one, either).

Pain. At first it was just the pull of his shoulders, the ache in his back. Then, about five minutes after he’d been sealed up, he realized his wrists were screaming with agony - he must have torn them badly when he fought to get away, but the adrenaline staved off the pain until now. He vaguely wondered how deeply the cuffs had cut - it felt like the skin on his wrists had been flayed - but quickly remembered that it didn’t matter where he was going.

Then there were the hunger pangs, and they mingled with the cramps from holding his bladder longer than he ever had before, and at some point muscle spasms in his arms and chest and legs joined the choir of suffering. At one point, he shed a few tears, but they could have just as easily been from anxiety or exhaustion, which itself produced its own kind of pain - he longed to sleep, but his body refused to allow him even that comfort until the very end, right before he was rescued, as if he were being forced on pain of death to endure the pain of death right up until the very moment of his painful death.

At least he didn’t have too much trouble breathing. There must have been a crack somewhere in the wall in front of or behind him, because fresh air was entering somehow. He did, several hours into his imprisonment, begin finding it difficult to pull in a full breath, and by the time he was rescued he was giddy with light-headedness, but he didn’t know if it was from the air quality or exhaustion or panic or from being forced to breathe only through his nose for hours, but he really didn’t care.

Quiet. Even worse than the cold and the dark and the pain was the quiet. The tape over his mouth prevented him from doing the one thing that could bring him comfort in even the most difficult of situations. Talking was what Shawn did - he utilized mindless prattle to distract bad guys, to make people underestimate him, to quell fear and panic in himself and those around him, to annoy and wheedle those whose opinions meant the most to him (and who he was most afraid to be real with), and most importantly, to distract himself from all the pain and baggage that his exceptional memory had filed away for him throughout the years. Talking nonsense meant that he wasn’t thinking about or acknowledging the parts of himself that arguably needed the most attention, those bits that were scared and unsure and hurt and vulnerable.

Shawn had always detested silence, and now it had invaded so intimately that even he could not drive it out.

And all of these culminated in a constant, agonizing state of absolute, unrelenting fear.

Panic attacks are horrific things that take your natural instincts in potentially dangerous situations and turn them against you in the cruelest of ways. They suck the air out of your lungs and make your heart pound so fast and so hard that you are convinced it’s going to give out in pure fatigue and never make it to that next beat. It makes your skin crawl like there are thousands of spiders nesting there, and your chest hurts and your breath is short and stunted and you know you are dying, that the next breath will be your last, but it isn’t, and the fear just continues and sometimes you curl into a ball or rock back and forth or scratch at your skin.

Panic attacks generally last anywhere from five to twenty minutes. Shawn was stuck in a state of raw, unfiltered panic for ten hours. When the EMTs at the scene took his heart rate, it was 160, had been the entire time he’d been buried in a collegiate tomb, knowing that he was going to die.

Put simply, Shawn Spencer spent ten hours in his own personal hell.

***

It was nearly three in the afternoon when Detectives Juliet O’Hara and Carlton Lassiter, with the help of a frantic Gus and a worried Henry that tried his damndest not to show how worried he was, made the final connections in the case and tracked down the woman who had slept with and then killed her lover like a hyper-intelligent, book-loving black widow. Juliet and Gus remained on the college campus to continue investigating while Lassiter and Henry went on to the station to question Olivia. She had refused to say where the missing psychic detective was, however, and only offered one bitter phrase, spoken in another language that sounded to the questioning party like a curse being placed on their heads:

“Nemo me impune lacessit.”

It was Gus who figured it out after Lassiter related the cryptic saying over the phone.

“I know that phrase!” he exclaimed to a swell of raised eyebrows. “It’s Latin! It means no one wounds me with impunity!”

“You speak Latin?” Juliet seemed impressed.

“Not much. But I recognize that particular saying, because it’s from a story that gave me nightmares my entire sophomore year of college.” He shuddered. “It’s from the second-most terrifying Poe story.” He didn’t elaborate on what the first-most terrifying one was, largely because he didn’t want to give the others fodder to use “The Tell-Tale Heart” against him like Shawn already did. Then the full implications of the words sunk in and he gasped, “We have to find Shawn, now.” The horror in his expression sent a chill down Juliet’s spine.

“Gus - what the hell are you talking about?” Henry was no longer trying to hide the panic in his voice.

“It’s from ‘The Cask of Amontillado,’ Gus clarified, his own panic making it difficult to express himself clearly.

“Guster, this is hardly the time for you to have a glass of wine,” Lassiter barked. “Now stop talking in riddles and just spit it out!”

But Juliet had now made the connection as well and answered for Gus. “Oh my gosh - isn’t that the one where the guy is sealed into a wall and left to die?”

The dread in Gus’s eyes said it all.

“He’s got to be somewhere on campus,” Henry reasoned, and his voice shook the tiniest bit. “Lassiter and I are on our way back to you now. In the meantime, check with the school and see if there are any places that are easily accessed and under construction.”

No one said it aloud, but the possibility that her words hadn’t been a hint at all and that Shawn was somewhere else entirely hung in the air amongst them. It was funny, Juliet thought - though it wasn’t funny at all - she urgently needed Gus’s theory to be right, because otherwise they would have no leads, but at the same time, she was terrified of the implications if it were true.

Her heart felt as sick as Montresor’s when he placed the last brick as she and Gus raced to the administration building and prayed they weren’t too late.

***

When they broke through the wall, the sight that greeted them was one that would never leave them - any of them. Even Lassiter, who made it his sacred duty to remain unfazed by anything his job threw at him was visibly disturbed.

A moment of silence, a beat where time stood still and everyone was afraid to move, and then -

“Shawn!” The four rescuers surged forward as one, but Henry got there first, his trembling fingers groping for a pulse - thank God, but it was racing, dangerously fast, and in the background he heard Lassiter radioing for an ambulance.

Shawn woke up as Henry gently peeled the hideous pink duct tape (an affront to all duct tape everywhere) off of his mouth. It wasn’t a gentle waking, a flutter of eyelashes or the murmuring of a name - it was violent and erratic, fueled by terror.

Henry had had to deal with panic attacks before - mostly Gus’s when he took the boys camping together, but once or twice when Shawn was really young and he’d had a bad dream. This one was the worst that he’d ever seen - Shawn woke with a muffled yell, panting through his nose, writhing, tears streaming down his face, eyes squeezed shut against the trauma he’d been subjected to, and he threw himself against the handcuffs so fiercely that Henry feared he’d break his wrists.

Soon his wrists were freed, though, and Henry, with the help of Lassiter, helped a weakened Shawn out of the wall and into the basement and lowered him to the floor. Henry sat with him and rubbed his back and spoke quietly to him, Juliet took his hand, and Gus reassured him while Lassiter ran up the stairs to check on the ETA of the ambulance.

Twenty minutes later, Shawn had been placed onto a stretcher and carried up the stairs and out into the sunlight - sensing the warm rays, he opened his eyes only to pinch them shut again as the brightness after so many hours in the dark nearly blinded him. He had been given something to calm him down, and he would be going to the hospital to be checked over and observed overnight, and a psychiatrist would be sent in to evaluate him in the morning, and everything was moving so fast that Shawn leaned over the side of the stretcher and deposited the remnants of the last thing he’d eaten, nearly twelve hours before.

“There’s one thing I still don’t get,” he gasped as he was eased back onto the stretcher. “Where do the armadillos come into her plan?”

The EMTs exchanged a concerned look at the stretcher, probably wondering if there had been some carbon monoxide poisoning after all. Gus, however, just rolled his eyes.

“Amontillado, Shawn. It’s a kind of wine.”

“The story is called ‘The Casket of the Armadillos,’” Shawn argued stubbornly, going so far as to cross his arms over his chest, pulling at the IV in his right hand.

Gus was going to argue, to insist that he’d actually read the story (and why the heck would someone fill a casket with armadillos?), but then Gus saw the plea in Shawn’s hazel eyes, that need for jokes and silliness, and understood that his best friend was clinging onto his last shreds of control.

“You know what - I forgot,” Gus corrected, shaking his head and giving himself a light smack on the forehead for good measure. “It is ‘The Casket of Armadillos.’” He glared out at Henry, at Lassiter and Juliet and the EMTs, defying them to challenge his claim. No one did, but they all shared a similar baffled expression.

Well, they could deal with their confusion, Gus thought protectively as he watched Shawn and Henry disappear into the ambulance. Shawn had been through a night of unspeakable horror, so if it was armadillos he wanted, then it was armadillos he was going to get.

11 notes · View notes

darkblueboxs · 4 years

Text

Heatwave

For the #aftgsummer event

Prompt: Hot Day

Read here or on AO3 (Check AO3 notes for content warnings)

“It’s hot,” Neil says. He shakes the air con so hard the screws rattle, and when that fails to achieve the desired response, he smacks it. “It’s too damn hot. Come on”

Andrew watches from his beanbag, which he has not moved from since he staggered into the living room hours prior. The leathery material is sticking to his back, and he can feel sweat pooling at the base of his spine, but he suspects that any attempt to leave the soft cocoon would result in half his skin being pulled off. Besides, he has no desire to move, not when Neil is putting on such an entertaining spectacle.

Neil doesn’t get hot and bothered often, not in the emotional sense. He had the kind of upbringing that taught him to swallow down everything from mild inconvenience to full-on catastrophe, so the rare occasions when he does indulge in petty irritations are a sight to behold. He’s still, against all logic, wearing his usual shitty jorts and long-sleeved shirt, pacing around the dorm like a tiger in a cage. Andrew has heard of studies on the correlation between weather, mood and behaviour – snow, for instance, was supposedly a hair-trigger for certain types of meltdown, while riots and revolutions were more likely to occur during heatwaves. Andrew can believe that; Neil seems to be only a few degrees short of storming the pentagon. With the pavements outside turning to steaming slabs of suntrap tar, running outdoors is no longer a practical option. At least, not for any sane person. Andrew had kindly persuaded Neil to return his running shoes to their place by the door with a few creative notes about all the places he could hide Neil’s sunburned, heatstroke-ridden corpse.

Giving up on the temperamental air conditioner, Neil resorts to kneeling in front of the open fridge door. The expression he makes as the cool air washes over him is borderline pornographic. A bead of sweat rolls down the back of his neck before slipping out of sight below the hem of his shirt.

“Juice,” says Andrew.

“Huh?”

In lieu of repeating himself, he makes grabby hands at the orange juice in the fridge door until Neil gets the point. Instead of hunting for a glass, he tosses Andrew the entire carton. Andrew has many disparaging things to say about Neil’s intelligence, but he does have his moments.

After draining the carton in a minute flat, Andrew chucks the empty container at the bin, pretending not to be annoyed when he misses. Neil leans forward as though to pick it up, but as soon as he leaves the radius of the fridge he slumps as though the returning heat has drained all of the energy from his body. “I’m going insane,” he says. He stretches for the carton, accidently knocks it further away, and gives up, rolling onto his back. “Andrew,” he groans. It’s a particular kind of groan, one designed to catch Andrew’s attention, and it works. “Andrew, it’s too hot.”

“Do I control the weather?” Andrew replies.

Neil groans again, shifts, and there’s a sticky-things-becoming-unstuck kind of noise as Neil peels himself off the linoleum. “How are you still wearing black? In this?”

“You’re wearing a long-sleeved shirt.”

“I’m covering scars.”

“From who?”

Neil shrugs. “People might come.”

Andrew’s eyes flick to the door. They have been mercifully undisturbed for most of the morning, and the schedules of their roommates that he unintentionally memorised say that they should be left to themselves for the afternoon too. But only should.

Andrew pulls himself out of the beanbag. The sensation is not pleasant. “Come on.”

Neil blinks up at him from the floor. “Hnnn?”

Andrew shuts the fridge door. “Move.”

Even parked under the shade of the tree, the Maseretti is so unbearably stuffy that Andrew considers turning around and giving up then and there. Neil swears as the scorching metal clasp of the seatbelt catches his arm, and it takes a solid minute of mirror adjustments for Andrew to find angles that won’t bounce sunlight directly into his eyes. Soon, however, they are pulling onto the motorway, windows rolled down and the A/C on full blast. Neil’s complaints that the open windows will defeat the purpose of the A/C are duly ignored.

The house in Columbia is no cooler than the dorm, but it has curtains, and a lockable door, and privacy.

Neil watches quizzically as Andrew tugs the living room curtains closed. The faintest tease of a breeze toys with them, while the sunlight hammering unsuccessfully at the other side of the obnoxious turquoise fabric casts cooling blue hues across the floor. “Andrew?” he says by way of query.

“People won’t come here.”

Neil snorts. “There’s easier ways of getting me out of my clothes, you know.”

“That isn’t what I was trying to do.”

“Then what were you trying to do?”

“Shut you up.”

“There’s easier ways of doing that, too.” Neil smiles, heading towards the kitchen as he pulls his shirt over his head. A moment later, there’s a clink as the fridge door opens, followed by a sigh. “Nothing but beer.”

“I’ll shop.”

Neil agrees with a distant grunt; Andrew suspects he has been caught in the hypnotic cool of another refrigerator like a mesmerised anglerfish meal. He leaves Neil with his newfound love and returns half an hour later with most of a supermarket freezer section under his arm. He finds Neil stretched out on the couch, stripped down to his underwear and blankly watching sports commentators bicker on the television. They’re discussing baseball, which speaks volumes to the depth of Neil’s boredom.

Andrew allows himself a moment to take in the sweat-slick stretch of Neil’s body before the condensation seeping into his top reminds him of the soon-to-be-melted goods waiting to be stored. He returns from the kitchen with a bottle of water which he all but forces down Neil’s throat. Neil pulls himself upright as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling in that faintly surprised way of his that prompts Andrew to re-evaluate every decision which brought him to this infuriating man. Andrew leans across him to steal the remote, carefully ignoring the heat radiating off Neil’s exposed torso as he does so. The rare, scar-free stretches of skin are flushed a few shades darker than usual, and the blush spreads all the way across Neil’s chest and neck, right up into his hairline.

Andrew flicks the television off. “Boring.”

Neil huffs, but doesn’t fight him on it. They finish their drinks in silence.

“You don’t have to cover up either, if you don’t want to,” Neil says eventually. “I can go somewhere else if you need me to.”

Andrew considers the idea, turns it around and considers from another angle, weighs the pros and cons and risk and reward, and decides, fine. He pulls his shirt off – a thin, cotton tank which he didn’t realise was such a weight until the weight was gone – and dumps his armbands on the floor beside it. Surprise flashes across Neil’s features before he carefully moves his gaze back to the blank TV screen.

“Neil,” Andrew says. Neil hums, but doesn’t turn, so Andrew catches his chin and turns him to face him. “You can look.”

“Oh,” says Neil, and his eyes drop to Andrew’s chest. “You don’t mind?”

“Not today. Not with you.”

“Oh,” Neil says, and his eyes roam carefully over the flat of Andrew’s chest, then down towards his abdomen, catching on the faint blond curls that trail downwards from his navel. His gaze is slow and studious like a scholar memorizing an ancient manuscript, admiring yet respectful. Andrew never liked being looked at before Neil, but perhaps it was only because no one else looked at him the way Neil did.

Neil keeps his hands fisted in the couch fabric as Andrew kisses him, which is as frustrating as it is endearing. Neil’s skin tastes of sweat and shitty dollar-store shower gel, and Andrew all but licks it off him.

Neil mutters something. Andrew pulls back. “What?”

“I said,” Neil says, “It’s hot.”

“I still don’t control the weather.”

“Not what I meant,” he says, and when Andrew guides his hands to the yeses and the nos of his exposed skin, Neil is quick to catch on.

Somewhere between the couch and the shower and the couch again, the last of the cabin-fever tension leaves Neil’s body. They chew through tubs of ice-cream, limbs splayed around each other but not quite touching - because any skin-to-skin contact outwith the allure of sex is just too damn sticky - and eventually the sunlight gives up on battering at the curtains as the sun collapses on the horizon.

“Do you have measurements for the fridge?” Neil asks vaguely.

“Why?”

“I was thinking, if I removed all the shelves, I would probably fit inside.”

“Hmm.” Andrew drops his spoon into the empty tub. “Another potential hiding place for your corpse.”

“I still say there’s easier ways of shutting me up,”

“Perhaps,” Andrew acknowledges. Neil’s answering smile shines brighter than the sun.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought :)

#andreil #the foxhole court #all for the game #tfc #aftg summer #aftg #aftgsummer #my fic

53 notes · View notes

nikibogwater · 3 years

Text

A Shot in the Dark: Chapter One (Author’s Commentary)

(read the fic here)

General Notes:

(So I kind of stole this idea from my friend @unexpected-possibilities after she made an author’s commentary post on one of her fics, and I was like “Oh. Wait, I actually find this kind of stuff SUPER interesting to read." So...yeah, here’s mine for anybody who feels similarly lol)

I have been dying to write this kind of story pretty much since the completion of my second Wizards/ToA fic back in August, but it took me a while to suss out the plot. I generally try to keep my fics as canon-friendly as possible (not that I have anything against AUs, that’s just not a direction that I usually go in) so it was tricky to create a high-stakes adventure story that didn’t mess with canon too much.

That being said, Chapter 1 is pretty chill, apart from the scene at the end. But it is incredibly important to the plot, because it sets up elements that will be very relevant later in the story. It also serves to re-establish the three-way relationship between Douxie, Archie, and Nari, which will give their interactions in the future chapters more weight.

One last general note before we get to the passage-specific stuff: The song “Protector” by City Wolf has always been my go-to theme for the Douxie-Archie-Nari relationship, but I think it really captures the feel of this story in particular (or at least, it will once the whole thing is posted lol). I’ve never associated a particular song with any of my other fics before, but this one really was a huge part of what inspired this story, so I highly recommend that you give it a listen, if you are so inclined.

Passage-Specific Notes:

Two pairs of luminous golden eyes were hovering uncomfortably close to his head and staring at him fixedly. Douxie yelped and threw off his covers, scrambling upright and fumbling for his magic vambrace nearby. A small green hand held it out to him politely, and after a bit of confused blinking, Douxie finally registered the faces of his companions. Nari and Archie were sitting on the floor next to his mattress, looking at him eagerly.

Two short things: One: I had no idea how I was going to start this scene, and then I remembered that one Calvin and Hobbes strip where Calvin wakes up to find Hobbes hovering over him menacingly, and I was like “Yes, that will do nicely.” Two: I still have no idea what Douxie’s magic bracelet-thingy should technically be called, so I settled on vambrace. I know Merlin refers to it as a bracelet in the show, but Merl, I’m sorry, but you clearly know nothing about jewelry. That thing is NOT a simple bracelet. (Also I had to research the difference between bracers and vambraces in order to determine which word to use. Bracers are apparently protective gear that is exclusive to archery, while vambrace is a more general word for any kind of armor worn on the forearm).

“It’s also the day you promised to bring Nari to Central Park,” Archie informed him.

This is a callback to a previous entry in the series, Home Away From Home. Although each entry in the Immortal Bonds series is written in such a way that it can be enjoyed as a standalone, I do weave tiny threads of continuity throughout all of them.

Mornings for Nari looked very different than they used to, she realized as she set the kettle on the stove, stepping back so Archie could light it (due to her somewhat complicated relationship with Bellroc, she was still wary about anything that involved fire). As a demigoddess who had existed for hundreds of millenia, she had never had much experience with something as human as family domesticity.

The scene where Nari and Archie make Douxie’s tea was originally going to be much longer and feature a lot more introspection on Nari’s part (I even researched the British tea-making process for it, since I’m fairly certain Douxie is the one who taught her how to make tea). I was going to start exploring the idea that Nari is still insecure about her place in this little found family, but I realized after about three paragraphs that there’s no way Nari doesn’t know how much Douxie genuinely loves her--she is already proficient in reading his emotions at this point. So that’s an internal conflict for another day.

“Keep very still for me, Nari.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his aura flowing out and wrapping around her like a warm, familiar cloak. “Celare,” he murmured, and Nari felt a sharp tug on her spirit as the spell washed over it, cool and comforting like the shade of an old tree.

If you’ve read previous entries in this series, you know that I can wax poetic about the physical sensations of magic for DAYS. It is one of my favorite aspects of writing Tales of Arcadia fanfiction. Also Celare (kel-ahr-ay) is Latin for “Hide” or “Conceal.” I had to get outside help for this because I don’t speak Latin, and Google Translate is (as I found out) completely unreliable for even the simplest, single-word translations (it gave me the word for “clothe” when I used it 😑)

The first time she had walked the streets of New York City, Nari had been on the verge of tears. There were so many sensations assaulting her mind at once, the feeling of countless souls buzzing around, a crowd of spirits so thick that sometimes it felt like a wall. Even without tapping into her roots, she was drowning in a sea of tangling energies, as hundreds, even thousands of voices echoed in her soul all at once.

Oooooops, is that a parallel for Sensory Processing Disorder? Well, how did that get in there??? *shoves my own mental health issues under a rug with my foot* I have no clue.

This is probably as good a time as any to discuss auras vs. life energy. Basically, aura is the energy radiated by the presence of magic. Magical creatures who share close bonds can become very sensitive to one another’s aura, and because magic is so inextricably linked to emotion, Nari is able to read Douxie’s aura to pick up on whatever he’s feeling (though this is because she is extra sensitive to magical presence--Douxie is attuned to her aura, but he can’t read hers the way she can his). Life energy, meanwhile, is the energy given off by every living soul, magic or otherwise, and that’s what Nari is able to sense via her powers as a demigoddess. I sometimes interchange the word aura with spirit or soul or something similar, but if Douxie or Nari are sensing one another in any capacity apart from their actual physical senses, it’s their auras. Archie also has an aura, but it’s not as intense as that of a true magic-wielder.

He was fashionably dressed, (“business casual,” the humans called it), with an elegant black trench coat hanging nonchalantly off of his arm. He had dark brown hair, handsomely trimmed and styled, just a bit shorter than Douxie’s, and was wearing a large pair of expensive-looking sunglasses. He looked thoroughly uninterested in the world around him, and had the appearance of someone who was waiting to meet up with a particularly tardy acquaintance. But Nari couldn’t sense that he was waiting. She couldn’t sense anything from this man. He emitted no life force, no aura or energy of any kind. He was like a standing, breathing corpse.

I have had this character floating around in the back of my mind since August, and I was just waiting for the opportunity to use him. Also fun fact, he was originally conceived as a sort of prototype for who I thought Mordred Le Fey would be in the ToA universe. But since canon is technically still ongoing and the ToA writers could still bring Mordred into the picture, I decided to adapt him into the original character Rivan (whose name will be properly revealed in the next chapter).

Beside her, Douxie’s aura was rippling with unease. But a moment later, his spirit stilled, and he put an arm around her to turn her away from the alley...

...A minute later, the crosswalk signal changed once more, and they continued on their way. Though Douxie’s spirit was radiating a placid energy, Nari couldn’t help noticing that he kept his arm around her for the rest of the journey.

It was important to me that Douxie not look like a complete idiot in this scene, which was a little difficult since this part isn’t told from his perspective. Homeboy absolutely knows better than to ignore something suspicious like this. But he is also acting as Nari’s brother/guardian in this scene, so he tries to play it off to keep her from worrying too much. He promised her a fun day in Central Park, and he’s not willing to bail on that just yet. But I’m hoping that the fact that he has to force his aura into a state of calm and physically holds Nari close to him as they walk are good indicators that he has gone on high alert.

And that’s a wrap for this week! Next Friday, all hell is gonna break loose, so definitely come back for that. If you have any questions/comments, definitely hit me up either in my Ask Box or over on Ao3. As always, thanks for reading! ✨💕

#fanfiction #writing #author's commentary #tales of arcadia #douxie #nari #a shot in the dark #the magical siblings #and their therapy cat

14 notes · View notes

cherry3point14 · 4 years

Text

Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 5

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Lusting. Tumblr Meta. Word count: 2,400. Chapter Summary: What’s worse: reading fanfiction about two men you just met, or a narrator who wants to push you into one of their arms? A/N: lol tumblr. You guys should let me know who wants to be in this thing. I kid, I kid... OR DO I?

Ao3 if you prefer

Y/N pushed forward onto her elbows and pressed her fingers into her temples. Outwardly it might look like an attempt to relax but she was actually attempting to massage away the oncoming headache. It had been a tiresome, stressful day that had exhausted her long before Sam and Dean Winchester had arrived. Up until then, her biggest concern had been catching up on her mounting work, something that was now trivial in comparison to the monster roaming her neighborhood.

Her disorientation was not aided by the Winchesters themselves. Or Dean. He was a problem, a curse, and a mystery in one flannel-clad package. Y/N wanted to strangle him, mostly. He’d sauntered into her domain and attempted to take the lead where he hadn’t been invited. He was short-tempered and disrespectful. Yet when she considered what it might be like to wrap her fingers around his throat and finally silence him—a fantasy she wouldn’t have been prone to normally —her mind wandered of its own accord. No, she didn’t usually indulge in flights of fancy, which is why she read so extensively, that is until Dean drifted into her life. Now what would begin as a simple imaginary tirade towards the man, morphed into her nails carding through his hair while she brought her lips to his. His lips that were suddenly so fascinating…

“Erm, Y/N?” Sam interrupts you, well her, causing you to slump into your hands where you’re still leaning on your desk. You could only hope that the way you’re staring at nothing doesn’t appear quite as wistful as it feels.

Your narrator had started this absurd new direction in her story shortly after you’d accepted the men in front of you to be Sam and Dean Winchester. She’s been filling your head with these seemingly endless paragraphs about Dean. Bubbling new emotions and how you notice each of his seemingly perfect features for the first time. So, while you're trying to have a conversation with the two men, you simultaneously have to listen to her pining after Dean on your behalf. And then there's the way your body reacts to everything the voice is saying. You’re not sure if you’re lusting after Dean or if the voice is, either way, you find yourself licking your lips in anticipation or trying to suppress a shiver in your warm office.

It’s exhausting.

“Sorry, you were- I mean you’re telling me that because the first victim's murderer has an alibi, you came to check it out and linked four deaths because they all had life insurance policies?” You pause, unsure, “no offense but that doesn’t sound very, uh, weird. I mean- I have life insurance.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “of course you do, you work at a damn insurance company.”

You’d actually been asking Sam but it’s so easy to fall into the trap of arguing with Dean since it’s been happening for the last thirty minutes now. “Life insurance is very common, you know, maybe you should consider getting some.”

The problem is whenever you do decide to engage with Dean, your benevolent narrator takes the opportunity to inform you of something else attractive about him. Thus neutralizing your annoyed reaction.

She couldn’t help it. Though she fought and struggled to control herself she found herself looping through the same motions again. Warmth bloomed over her chest to accompany the spark of aggression. Her tongue fired off a response like a bullet leaving a gun. As she hit her intended target, marked by Dean’s creased brow or the clench of his jaw, she’d experience a pleasant moment of weightlessness as a small, relieved sigh would leave her body. This petty behavior would be uncharacteristic for her if this were a regular acquaintance whom she simply disliked. He was not any other offender. Dean was both her tormentor and tormented, not just because of the way his tongue peeked out over his bottom lip for a teasing second.

Sam clears his throat, again, “we found the insurance connection after we figured out what it is. The first case, the murder victim? We saw the shifter on video before they-”

You brighten up, interrupting, remembering the fact from your reading, and happy to have no internal monologue. “Oh, the eye thing? Like the shifter who pretended to be Dean in the books?”

“It wasn’t only in the books… how many times, that happened!”

Dean has been getting more and more agitated by your slow realization that everything you’d read was real. Sam, in trying to explain why they needed the information about the claim beneficiaries, has been worlds apart more understanding.

“Right, of course. Don’t worry this isn’t weird for me or anything.” You cross your arms over your chest like you can block out Dean’s negativity with the action. Or stop the flush on your skin from continuing up your neck.

Sam scrunches his face as he gets to the end of even his patience, although you’re not sure whether it’s you or Dean.

“Yeah, the um-eye thing. Anyway, we found three other unsolved cases except these weren’t as big news because no one was arrested for them. But all died the same way, all had sizable insurance policies with First National, and all the spouses practically went into hiding after the claim was paid.”

“Right. And you think Maggie Hall is a shifter who killed her own husband?”

Sam nods, “something like that.”

“Ok, ok. What can I do to help?” You’re not ok with monsters or guns, or all the crime. Although little data protection infraction seems in your wheelhouse. “Do you have the names? I could get you all the information.”

Dean barks a laugh from the chair he’s sunk into, crossing his own arms at some point.

His broad shoulders are slung low, his head bouncing against the back of the chair. She’d be forgiven for thinking that he’s a teenager asleep in class for the way he’s sitting and the lack of interest he has in talking to her. Except he’s not treating her like the dull teacher, quite the opposite. She’s offering to break the rules and so he’s treating her like a child trying to stay up past bedtime. He infuriates her as much as he makes her want to prove him wrong. She thinks she could do it too, given enough time, she could prove everything he’s said wrong and then perhaps he’d show her a modicum of respect.

You’re reminded then of your own strange circumstances. Where you’d had a comment waiting for Dean’s apathetic laugh you stop and consider for the first time if you should tell someone. Them even. Not screaming at Laura to ask if she heard it too, but honestly tell someone. If you’re committing to believing the Winchesters exist does it make sense that they would be the only people to actually believe you?

“And you’re sure that it’s a shapeshifter?” You don’t look up to see their faces, hoping it’ll make this easier.

Dean doesn’t notice the soft change in your voice at first. “ Just because you’ve read a few books and think you know a few things…”

Sam waves a hand in Dean’s face to shut him up, making you wonder where that trick has been for the last forty-five minutes. “What makes you ask that?”

You bring your eyes to theirs now, flicking between them. Both of them are wearing those intense stares, boring into you again, softer now. Something tells you that you could take twenty minutes to gather your courage and they’d still wait.

Sam is looking at you kindly and Dean, for the first time since you’ve seen him, is patient.

You know that lightning isn’t supposed to strike twice but it feels like maybe you have been hit with two realizations at once. Firstly, you couldn’t tell them. As absurd as the voice is it somehow seems too weird even for them. They are hunting an actual monster and you are struggling with possible mental illness. If they didn't cart you off to a head doctor at the very least they'd think you're crazy.

Secondly, and it pains you to prove your narrator correct, but Dean really does have a rugged yet boyish charm when he’s not scowling at you.

Not that it matters if you play along with the voice and her desires for you to fall for Dean. Because you’re going to help them find this shifter and they’ll do what the Winchesters do in every Supernatural book you’d poured over. They’ll get into their car and leave.

“It’s nothing. I’m was thinking-it’s fine. We should get going before security wonders why I’m still here.” You stand up ready to go digging through the filing cabinets. “I guess you need to look at those files now?”

It’s Thursday. A regular and normal Thursday. Nothing out of the ordinary. You hadn’t spent the night before re-reading Skin because shifters are real and there is one stalking your companies’ clients. And you’re definitely ignoring the notification icon on the Tumblr app.

Sure, before you’d met them maybe you’d read one or two, or twenty unpublished short stories written by independent writers. The books had ended and you’d had nothing new to read. You’d already known the fan-created content was out there because you’d glanced at it when you downloaded the books. It had been so easy to retrace your steps.

But knowing what you knew now, knowing that the Winchesters were real, you certainly couldn’t go around reading fanfiction anymore.

Definitely not.

Which is why it’s Thursday morning and you’re at your desk. Jittery from another late night, on edge because what if they are killing the shifter right now and curious as to where the voice has gone. Again. Adding the Tumblr notification on top of that pile was like throwing lighter fluid onto a burning building. Not really going to make things worse in the grand scheme of things, still probably frowned upon.

The notification only bothers you as much as it does because it’s something that should be manageable. Unlike everything else, you can deal with this little red badge.

“Y/N, I brought you a coffee!”

As you search for the source of the voice you see Laura coming across the office with two cups in her hands from the coffee shop down the street.

“Coffee?” You cock your head at her.

Laura makes it to your desk and sets down the brown to go cup directly on top of the paper on your desk as if trying to force you to engage with it before continuing to work. “You seemed a little tired this morning. Thought you could use a pick me up.”

It’s nice of her to have noticed. It’s even nicer that she didn’t tell you to your face this morning since you’d have been annoyed by the comment first thing. The strange thing is that she’s brought you coffee of all drinks. The cozy little coffee shop is where you lunch together when you both decide to treat yourselves and, as at home, you drink tea.

Still, it's the thought that counts. “Thanks, that’s nice of you. My treat next time.”

If she catches the confusion still lingering in your tone then she ignores it, electing to wink at you, unaware. “Don’t be silly. Anything for you.”

Today wouldn’t be the first time that Laura’s perkiness had continued throughout the day so you write off the weirdness and let her walk away. Now would be an excellent time to pick up your phone. You're going to drink the coffee in front of you out of politeness anyway, why not take a break at the same time? You pick up the cup first to signify the start of your coffee break. Unfortunately with actual coffee. Laura did at least add cream so it's slightly more palatable.

Flicking at your screen you open your emails first under the pretense of checking all your notifications at once. There aren't many since you checked at breakfast. Then your Facebook because surely someone in your life has done something horrific enough that they want to share it with you. Nothing except your cousin's pregnancy announcement, which you mom had told you about days ago. Finally, you can't avoid it, the Tumblr app calls for you and click it. The notification was for a message and it's a reply to one you sent.

It's important to note that you'd sent the message before you met Sam and Dean.

Although since this conversation has been started already there's no harm in messaging back. It would be rude not to. You'd only wanted to tell someone that you enjoyed their story, and they messaged back thanking you for your feedback. It was perfectly innocent. It's not like you were choosing to read more stories. And you weren't going out of your way to find the Dean ones.

Hey, thanks for getting back to me. I only read the books last week and I loved your story. Great characterization. Looking forward to reading some more!

It does feel like a cheap shot since the Winchesters are not characters anymore, they're people. Although it's not like they'd find out.

You click send on your reply at the same time as you take another sip of your free coffee and wince. Laura is safely back out of sight at reception now so hopefully you will get away with it without offending her.

The notification is gone. That's one less itch to scratch. Only the remaining laundry list of problems in your life to deal with now.

Starting with the email from Mark that pops up in the corner of your computer screen, asking you if you'd cleared Maggie Halls' file yet.

Continue to Chapter 6.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer StrangerThanFiction tags: @jaylarkson @starsandmidnightblue

#dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean dean the soft lil bean

32 notes · View notes

1-1snailxd-art · 4 years

Text

Libraries are for Meetings

Master List —– Chapter 11

Chapter 12 - Dark Shadow

Warnings: negative thoughts, swearing, implied abuse, homophobic comments, alcohol abuse

Summary: Logan finally has a chance to confront Virgil and the encounter leaves them both shattered.

Word count: 1763

Note: reading on mobile can remove the paragraphing sometimes. Use desktop site or visit my Ao3 page if it bothers you as much as it bothers me.

____________________

It felt like Logan had only just closed his eyes when his phone alarm went off. He assumed he had slept through the night, but his mind and body were still exhausted from the emotional release of the evening. In a chain reaction, they all slowly woke and began cleaning the area in an exhausted but calm silence. Roman, Patton and E were the first to head out, leaving Logan and Katie to finish the cleaning and prepare the library for the day.

“Looks like Tate will be a little late this morning,” Katie commented after hanging up her phone. “That old car is giving them trouble again.”

With a sigh, she ran a hand through her oily hair and sat up on the desk.

“Go home, Katie.” Logan offered, placing a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “I can watch the library until Tate arrives. You’ve done more than enough already.”

The rough sleep on the floor hadn’t served Katie well and she gladly accepted Logan’s offer with a hug before leaving.

Hidden from view, Virgil watched Katie lock the backdoor and waited patiently for her to pull away before going to let himself in. His evening on the street had left him cold to his core and the warmth from inside the library was an immediate relief. Wasting no time, he headed straight to the bathroom to clean up; blissfully ignorant of Logan’s presence at the front of the library. It wasn’t until he came out and found a coffee sitting in the kitchen that Virgil realised he wasn’t alone.

“Katie and I cleaned up this morning, Virgil.” Logan’s voice was calm and pleasant, but it immediately put Virgil on edge. ”I didn’t think you were working today.”

“Just last night.” Keeping his head low, Virgil stepped passed Logan to head to his office. “If nothing is needed, I’ll just grab some things and head out.”

Logan watched cautiously, sensing something off about the other but unsure of the best way to approach. Ben’s message came to mind again as he watched Virgil leave his office with a loaded bag and head toward the back door to leave.

“Did I do something wrong?” Virgil stopped but didn’t turn to face Logan. “I know yesterday didn’t go well but-“

“I told you to let it go, Logan.” The harshness in his voice felt wrong, but Virgil wasn’t going to let Logan get caught up in his mess.

“If something is wrong, you can tell me.” Stepping closer cautiously, Logan noticed Virgil’s shoulders growing tense. “I only want to help-“

“I DON’T WANT YOUR FUCKING HELP!”

Logan quickly stepped away, taken aback by the others sudden anger. “You might not want it, but you clearly need it.”

“Oh, would you take the hint, you fucking moron.” Virgil kept his face hidden by his hood when he turned around, words burning his throat as if each were acid leaving his mouth. “I’m not interested in your fucked up, gay ass. I got my free food, now leave me alone.”

The words stung Logan, but he kept his face neutral and firm; heart breaking as his mind cruelly brought an old fear back to the surface. Once silenced, the dark thoughts re-entered his mind with a vengeance.

“For the record, I am not gay.” It felt like Virgil’s heart stopped at Logan’s words. “I prefer to identify as a Panromantic-asexual. If you are going to insult my sexuality, at least do it properly."

“Whatever,” Virgil turned and headed towards the door again. “Have fun with your dead boyfriend, faggot.”

The air was left sour and heavy with Virgil’s words. Neither man believed the words, but their burn was real enough to have an effect. Virgil carried the last of his belongings away to sell in hopes of spearing everyone from his burden; Logan on the other hand, sat in deathly silence until Tate arrived and mindlessly headed out to get ready for work. The old ghostly fear growing and twisting into a dark shadow, until a soothing voice urged him to return to an old habit.

********************

Nothing but the clothes on his back, Virgil walked the streets with a measly $50 in his pocket. Each step echoed in his ears and he felt disgusted by every breath he took past his cursed lips. Regret and guilt a heavy stone in his gut as Logan’s face and his words echoed in his mind. Staring down at his phone he had the urge to call Logan and tell him everything; his debt and his past, the heavy weight that held him back.

“Virgil Sparks?”

The moment Virgil paused and looked up in response to the voice, he regretted it. The men who climbed out of the black van parked beside him were not comfortingly familiar.

“Get in the van, Virgil.” Ben motioned to Virgil from his position in the back; his expression darkened by bruising to his cheek.

“You said I had till Monday. I haven’t got any-“

“Get in.”

A firm hand gripped Virgil’s forearm and he felt all sense of hope finally fade away before climbing inside. There was no running now. The only way out would be messy no matter which way he looked at it. But then again…it was what he deserved.

******************

Patton was terrified as he ran down the streets towards his home. He had received Katie’s message 5 minutes prior and turned his calming walk into a complete workout.

Kit-Kat: are you okay?

Pit-Pat: fine. Just taking a casual walk home.

Kit-Kat: something has happened. Virgil’s office is completely empty, Logan isn’t answering his phone and his work said he left early to take care of you.

He should have felt bad leaving Katie on ‘read’ but all he could think about was how broken Logan was last night. Even before he had shared Jason's video, he’d seemed more distant than usual, but Patton had been so caught up in his own feelings he hadn’t even registered it until now. Worry gripped his chest like a vice while his feet beat roughly against pavement. Air rushed uncomfortably into his lungs with every breath until he finally reached the doorstep and shoved the key into the lock.

“Logan!”

Patton spotted his roommates bag and shoes roughly discarded in the entry and raced up the stairs; calling again until he reached Logan’s locked bedroom door.

“Logan? Logan, open the door.” He pulled at the door fruitlessly; the silence from the other side feeding his fear with every unresponsive second. “Logie, please, you’re scaring me.”

Hands shaking, Patton eyed the door lock and remembered the same locks on his childhood doors; his mother could always get in when he was sad by using a butterknife to unlock it from the outside. When Logan didn’t respond again, he raced downstairs and decided this was just the situation to invade his privacy.

The knife fell from Patton’s hands the moment the door unlocked and he rushed into the room. Bottles of spirits were discarded and spilling on the floor; the sight alone made Patton’s blood run ice cold. Logan’s glasses were shattered by the wardrobe with what had probably been a full bottle of alcohol. Worried eyes darted around until her spotted his friend crumpled at the far end of the room by his bed; eyes open but unseeing through a blur of tears. Patton was thankful for his shoes as he crunched into the room and cradled Logan’s head between his hands.

“Be honest with me, Logan, how much did you drink?”

Blinking, Logan’s features contorted as his fogged brain processed Patton’s comforting presence and realisation hit like a tidal wave sending sobs through his body again.

“I-I c-nnn-n-t”

“It’s okay. You’re okay, sweetie.” Pulling him close, Patton took in the intense scent of alcohol that he had not dealt with since the first months of Jason’s passing. “I’ve got you now. It’s okay.”

Though Patton would have loved to simply hold Logan, he knew it wasn’t safe to stay in the room as it was. Carefully pulling back, Patton locked Logan’s eyes and kept his tone level and calm.

“It’s not safe here, Logan. Can you stand for me?” With a small nod, Logan carefully rose to his feet with Patton as support. “Okay. There’s lots of glass around so I need you to just stand here while I grab you some shoes. Can you do that?”

Using the wall for support, Logan released Patton so he could retrieve a pair of slippers from the back of the wardrobe. Gingerly slipping them on, Patton guided Logan to the bathroom and sat him on the toilet lid while he went to fetch clean clothes.

When Patton returned, Logan had his face buried in his hands with fresh sobs shaking his shoulders. The déjà vu hit him hard as he felt himself repeating an old routine of helping Logan shower and dress, before shuffling down the hall to set him up in his bed. No one else knew of Logan’s brief struggle with alcohol after Jason. It was a short-lived but intense battle. Night after night of alcohol fuelled sadness and self-loathing was eventually brought under-control thanks to Patton’s support. Sadly, Patton was now reminded that it was a battle they would apparently have to always be aware of. A lingering shadow in their lives that would remain, even after Logan allowed Patton to coax him into an unsteady sleep.

Katie knocked on the door an hour later and Patton carefully shuffled off the bed; thankful that Logan didn’t stir from the movement.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this from the beginning?” Katie asked sadly, moving the wet-vac away so they could scrub the stained carpet further.

“You were grieving at the time.” Bubbles formed on the carpet as Patton began scrubbing, filling his nose with a scent to drown out the alcohol. “You didn’t need Logan’s added burden and we had it handled. For a while, I guess.”

“Had it handled?”

“He’s not an alcoholic, Katie.” His voice was defensive, hoping not to regret pulling Katie into their secret. “You know Lo. He has one drink and that’s it, but after Jason…he went too far. He’s been fine this whole time. I swear this is the first time since that he’s done this.”

With a solemn nod, Katie went back to scrubbing. She believed Patton; he had no reason to lie.

“Something happened with Virgil, Patton. I’m sure of it.”

“Any idea what?”

“No. But I’m going to find out.”

“Me to.”

____________________

End Note

Released at the end of the week, just like I promised.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be removed. It has been so long I understand if you don’t wanna hang around)

@notalwaysthebadguy @thequeensphinx @ollyollyoxinfree @celeste-tyrrell @pumpkinminette @ahyeahisurehopeit-does

_____________________________

Chapter 13 (coming later) — MasterList

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary, healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton)

Writing Master Post

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles

Also now doing Cosplay and storylines on TikTok: 1_1snailxd

#libraries are for meetings #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #Analogical #royality #platonic logicality #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #ts fanfic #ts fanfiction #alcohol tw #abuse tw #negative thoughts #My writing #snail writing

5 notes · View notes