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#also this is my return to fanfic!

cloudzoro · 4 months

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You're cuddled up against your boyfriend, Tsukishima, as a christmas movie neither of you are paying attention to plays in the background. When you look up at him you see he's already staring at you. His soft side is reserved for select people, so seeing the smile on his face as he gazes at you makes your stomach twist.

“You ok?” you ask when he refuses ro look away from you. He answers your question with one of his own.

“When did you first fall in love with me?”

The question shocks you so take a moment to think. There's been so many moments over the last few years when you've realised how much love you have in your heart for this man. There is one, from before you were even together, that stands out to you.

“A few weeks after we first met”

“that soon?” he asks.

“are you saying you didn't fall in love with me quickly?” you responded in mock offence.

“no, I fell in love with you at first sight,” he says, completely serious. The firm statement silences your dramatics immediately. “but I was such an asshole when we first met, I thought it would've taken you a lot longer to warm up to me”

He's not entirely wrong but you shake your head and he wordlessly turns off the television to prove to you that he's paying attention. You shift to get a little more comfortable before you start the story of the day you fell for him.

You set up to start working in the cafe on your university campus, you hear a pair of footsteps approach the counter and turn to see Tsukishima leaning on it.

"I know your shift doesn't start for another 10 minutes but can I please can I get a coffee or something, I'm exhausted" he looks as if he were attempting to look cool and intimidating but he's failing miserably. He stumbles over his words and almost loses his balance as his arm slips on the counter. He turns red in embarrassment but you think he looks cute. The nervous dork is way more appealing to you than the cold asshole - even if the whole tsundere thing is hot.

"Of course, it'll be our little secret," you say, turning to start making his drink. you're not usually this forward but you're enjoying making the stoic man flustered. "So what did you want?" At first, he mumbles, almost ashamed of his order. He usually doesn't care about the opinion of others but the idea of you laughing at him makes his stomach feel funny. When you lean a little closer to hear him, it makes his chest feel tight. He repeats his order carefully so he doesn't completely fuck up his sentence.

"I'll have a caramel iced latte," he says, waiting to see your reactions. His friends like to make fun, saying they expected him to get a black coffee and be done. You smile and nod at him before starting to line his cup with caramel sauce. He watches you make his drink with a small smile. Despite how awkward things were right now, he likes the idea of seeing you every morning.

You turn around with his drink and jokingly ask if he has a sweet tooth but the way he subtly looks you up and down when he says yes makes you nervous and you clumsily drop his drink. His eyes widen at the noise and he immediately feels bad for pathetically attempting to flirt with you. He rounds the counter, wordlessly helping you clean up. He mutters a quiet apology, fearing he made you uncomfortable but he relaxes a little when you laugh it off. You make him another drink and he insists that if you're not going to let him pay for this one then you should let him pay for the one you dropped. You cave and take his money. As he leaves you ask if he'll be here at the same time tomorrow and even though he doesn't answer, his smile says he will.

“that's it? I completely and utterly humiliated myself in front of you!” he says, pulling you from your own imagination.

“Yeah you did but it was cute. You showed me part of the real Tsukki” you coo ruffling his hair which earns you a sarcastic eye roll from your boyfriend. The action pulls a laugh from you which Tsukishima can't help but mirror. Seeing you happy makes him happy. “You are a little nerd tho” you add, provoking the blonde to playfully wrestle you onto your back. He raises his eyebrow as a dare to try pushing him even further but you just simply decide to ask him a question instead.

“Did you really fall in love with me at first sight?” you ask. His cheeks flush red as he averts his gaze.

“As soon as you walked through the classroom door I was a goner” he says, putting his weight on you so he could hide his face in your neck. You're about to respond when the alarm you set buzzes signalling it's midnight. The date flashes on your lock screen and you look up at your boyfriend with a grin on your face. “Merry Christmas, Baby” he says leaning in to kiss you.

“Merry Christmas Kei”

#merry chrismas #also this is my return to fanfic!#hello!#tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukki x reader #☁️.tsukki #☁️.fluff

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cpressmn · 1 year

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i’m about to start gatekeeping interacting with fic authors from a lot of y’all. u need to learn how to behave

“i need more” “pls continue this” “when are you posting the next bit” why don’t you try showing some proper appreciation for what’s already written before you go demanding more!!!

a lot of time and energy goes into each piece of writing and it is incredibly disappointing for the primary feedback to be “give me more!” if you’re trying to motivate authors to continue, this kind of response has the opposite effect.

you know what is motivating? specific praise.

let me break it down for you.

How To Leave A Comment Without (Unintentionally) Sounding Like A Pri- [GUNSHOT]

point out a few specific things you liked about the fic and why. how it made you feel.

highlight a line or two or three that stuck out to you.

if it’s an incomplete work, express excitement at seeing where they’re going — without a demand for more.

it’s quite simple, and it doesn’t even have to be a long thing. this can be done in a hundred words or less.

and yeah, it takes effort. takes a bit of time. but fandom is about mutual support. it’s about community.

fic authors are not celebrities who don’t even see your attempts to get their attention. there is a real person on the other side of that screen living a real life, and if you want to encourage them in their craft and properly motivate them to write, try treating them like a fucking human being.

authors put in hours to create content (that only ends up not being truly appreciated). i think you can spare a few minutes to leave a detailed, thoughtful comment in turn.

idk just a semi-friendly reminder that authors don’t owe you shit actually

#the entitlement is truly staggering sometimes #with all the respect that is due….what makes you think you get to ask for more content? what have you done to deserve it? to welcome it?#also if you’ve studied any kind of human behavior ever then you know that positive reinforcement does HEAPS better than whatever tf these #demands could be classified as.#shine talks #shine vents actually. WHEW #just a little bit worked up!! very upsetting to see talented people put in so much and receive so little in return.#this is my formal request for y’all to start doing better #.txt #fanfics #fanfic comments #and for anyone saying i’m being too harsh: i said unintentionally :/#if this is you then congrats! this is a safe space to fail at it. now’s when you learn and change your behavior. that’s all

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justaz · 2 days

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arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.

the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.

#merlin and arthur are of course at each others side in the end #merlin is curled up with arthur in their bed and says a silent thank you to his king for saving him #arthur returns the sentiment wholeheartedly #bbc merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merthur #fic idea #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon #hc #head canon #merthur prompt #i have my own hc of fate vs destiny in bbc merlin and i like to incorporate that into everything i write #but then i realize that not everyone thinks that way lmao #i like to think that destiny is unavoidable. merlin and arthur are destined to form albion and lead it together #i think fate is like a fragile version of destiny #i think most people are tied to fate and will follow what they are fated to do unless those who arent tied down by fate change course #like i hc that seers are able to see the potential future of what is to happen should they not interfere #and the goddess leaves it up to them to choose. so like seers arent tied down by fate and can change the course of history #since merlin is literally magic incarnate i also think he isnt tied down by fate and can act to change things #kilgharrah told merlin the prophecy that would result in the dragon getting free and ending the pendragon line #and since merlin never got close w like any druids or magic users. no one told him the inner workings of fate vs destiny #so he listened to the dragons warnings dooming him to fulfill the prophecy that brought about one of the worst possible futures #bc the dragon was salty about his whole species being eradicated by uther and vowed to destroy the pendragon line #omg im ranting okay post over thank you and good night

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rawliverandgoronspice · 7 months

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Idk if this is interesting but since you brought up the French versions tu/vous situation: in German ganondorf straight up uses the royal "you" for rauru where you refer to a person with the plural pronoun and calls him your majesty and such, while rauru also uses the informal you (du) and his first name for him. Which kinda had me shocked, because in fantasy media kings usually refer to each other with the royal you! It definitely felt disrespectful. But also in the German version ganondorf says, roughly translated: "we ask to be allowed to return (to our place) under the umbrella of the kingdom hyrule, if you'd allow us this grace." So here it's implied the gerudo used to be a vessel state and freed themselves, and STILL he gives them "repeated invitations "??? It's soo off-putting

Hey, thanks for the ask and the absolutely wild input!!

So I did a post a billion years ago detailing my feelings about the french translation of the Show of Fealty scene, its tl;dr being: it's wild they decided to go for the the tu/vous distinction because it just adds 26 layers of subtext to the entire exchange --and I don't know how this works in german, but using "tu" on a fellow adult during a show of power definitively has racist history if the context does apply (and here it's pretty hard not to see colonialist accents to the whole situation).

But it's absolutely buckwild that they gave the gerudos this notion of previously being a vassal state? but like when???? when did it happen, was it all... extremely recent history? like did Zelda just dropped at the end of some sort of unification war, where Ganondorf became a hero of his people for..... very concerning reasons? Like did they need a hero *in that context*?

(cue I need a hero etc my brain will now be haunted for the next day or so)

Like... I don't know I'm sorry if I go a bit insane, but I feel like the implication is either that Hyrule was founded in 10-15 years, given Sonia still looks pretty damn young, mid-thirties at most; or that Rauru/Mineru were trying to handle everything for far longer, and Sonia was a late addition to the picture? And so, in that time, they managed to convince everyone to do a kingdom about it --and that would mean the gerudos had time to either join first/be conquered first, and then revolt, and then join again? Like was Ganondorf forced to submit a first time as a younger king, and then return later with a Molduga army, zero-ing in on the Secret Stones, and then going all Demon King???

Yeah, from what I've seen from literal translations, that seems to be a german exclusive (unless I'm mistaken? let me know!) But it's pretty wild how such small changes in translation literally change the game's fabric and the story it tells.

#thoughts #asks #totk #totk critical #rauru #zonai #when will my brain return from the imprisoning war...#thanks for the ask!!#yeah truly this scene is.... so much #like it's not even particularly well written #(on top of being oot fanfic)#but it's the most packed with any hope for subtext and depth #so #returning there often #ALSO the timeline of events from the zonai perspective is completely opaque like what happened when!!! how old are you!!!!#“tloz and fucked up timelines that make no sense” name a more iconic duo

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achillesuwu · 4 months

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Well, after many research on ao3 for very specific kind of fic I guess I will have to make my own food.

Hopefully I won’t forget and write the fic but : post canon AU where Arthur, Gwen (*insert awkwardness of Arthur finding out he was in love with Merlin in the last ep and Gwen trying to break the new that she and Leon got married + Lancelot in the background *) and the knights come back but like… 300ish years after their time and like. They get caught with a group of strangers by *insert guys who were ‘just’ doing ‘mildly’ illegal magic things but Arthur &Co walked into it so they caught them*

Anyway, Arthur Gwen and the knights are like stressed + trying to find out what is happening (while being in a cave and chained. What a way to come back to life—)

Meanwhile the others people who got cough a bit after and are now with them are like

Bad dude 1 : *feed up monologue about their mess up work*

Dude 1 : lol

Bad dude 1 : do you wish to die ?!?

Dude 2 : lmao you are such a moron

Arthur, internally : why am I stuck with suicidal people—

Bad dude 2 : how dare you—

Young boy with squire looking clothes but also not really looking like it’s a squire’s clothes : dude, just look *point at a boy* at who it’s

Bad dude 1 & 2 & the rest of the bad dude : ????

Older lady in the background : for goddess’ sake ! The prince, you moron !!!

Arthur & co : ???

Gwen & Leon : *confuse face*

Bad dude 1 :

Bad dude 2 :

Bad dude 3 : when you say the prince you mean —

Another boy : THE prince

The prince in question, last descendant of Gwen & Leon:

Bad dudes :

Dude 1 & 2 : you are so freaking death lol Lord Merlin is going to kick your ass

Gwaine : *mouthing confusingly ‘Merlin’ right behind Arthur*

*door flying open and getting smashed on the wall*

*Insert badass (unwilling) King Regent with eyes glowing who pull out a sword from his heart, blood everywhere, looking totally unbothered as he let the sword fall on the ground and says ‘I will ask one more time. Do you surrender ?’ *

I just think it would be very neat.

Also Merlin had been king regent for like… 130 years. My man want to retire but the 2 first heir just… fucked off to live their lives add the fact that after 60 years people are like ‘another king ??? Wtf that one is very good’ + very few actual heir + magical being not giving a fuck about mortal king and only listening to Ermys and you get an unwilling warlock doing State paperwork for a century

(Arthur new found queerness is making hard to fonction in these conditions)

*this was written at 4 am by a non-native speaker in the middle of his pre-exams session*

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lollytea · 1 year

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My headcanon for bi Hunter is he is very much leaning towards girls but he knows he's bi because back when he was reading Rulers Reach a few months ago, there happened to be one character written by Luz that King approved of because he was edgy and cool enough (although King did cut out all of his pointless romance bullshit) so he managed to survive the final draft. It was a recycled version of this guy.

Anyway everytime he appeared in a chapter Hunter was like "ok. OK. hm. HM. OK!!!!!" He was very normal about it.

The only person he's told about this is Luz during one of their bi-weekly "laying on the kitchen floor at 3am talking about stupid shit" sessions. And Luz, who has grown out of her fixation with edgelord YA love interests just asks "Really? Really?" And Hunter is immediately spluttering like "j-just just just hear me out he's actually-shut up shut up stop smiling right now Luz I said shut up jUST HEAR ME OUT!!!!!"

#he eventually told willow after they started dating #they were sharing their cringe. she told him about her ladybug fear. so he felt like he owed her something silly in return #it is literally ten years later and willow will be like: yes my boyfriend is bi. he also has a boyfriend.#hunter who is now 26 and has developed critical thinking skills and whose favourite book is not an 8 yr old's edgelord fanfic anymore:#LET IT DIE!!! JUST LET IT DIE!!!!

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soup-scope · 1 year

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hey nsfw thoughts move along

(about fred and bright 🧍)

so, bright and fred have made some repairs to their relationship so sam feels a bit more comfortable leaving them on their own more often than not

but he occasionally calls vincent up just to make sure they don’t “burn the house down” (which is said while looking directly at bright. they aren’t amused)

sam is finally able to have a date night with his favorite person (darlin) and the night was going SMOOTHLY until sam feels a pang of anxiety through his bond that seems to be increasing at a pretty fast pace, along with an almost warm, burning sensation under his skin.

immediately plagued by worry he untangles himself from his mate and immediately calls vincent asking if they’re alright.

“they are definitely fine.”

“you absolutely sure? I can come back down and-”

“oh no. you don’t want to interrupt this. I’m sure this has been building for a long, long time.”

“pardon?”

“don’t worry sam i’ll air out the space so you don’t have to smell it when you get back.”

“i-”

realization hits harder than he wants it to

“oh…. oh.. my god.”

“i know right? I didn’t think fred had it in him! Well i guess bright has it in them right now-”

“oh good lord am i gonna know whenever *this* happens?!”

“you’ll just have to wait and see sam. but from the sounds of it…” a brief pause “you won’t have to wait long.”

vincent hangs up.

at least they’re getting along now, right?

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yellowocaballero · 1 year

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I love how your Bruce is traditional but it is also like a mix of different types of traditional. Like he comes across as both "Rich white old money type" traditional AND "member of a marginalized minority group who take great pride in their identity to cope with years of ostracization and going "the world wanted me dead for my culture and religion so i might as well die loud and proud instead of conforming to their unachievable ideals" " traditional

Thank you for this ask, I really love it! I have a shitton to say on this topic, including a lot of worldbuilding decisions on Gotham cultures, immigrant spaces, segregation, how it ended up like 1920s-1930s NYC/Chicago mixed with my own city, Jason "Foil" Todd's Inferiority Complex, but that would make this depressingly long. Long time readers would know that I have, like, really complex and discrete religion headcanons for everybody I write. It's important.

Any decent Batman Story (TM) is about Gotham. It has to be a huge presence. It's like writing Dick Tracy without Chicago, or Cheers without Boston. When he's written well, Batman is a reflection of Gotham, and they metaphorically represent each other.

Most Batman writers get this, so there's always a lot of historical worldbuilding and everything. But I'm a community health person, and I grew up in the inner area of my own very large city, and creating a Gotham that feels real and rich is more complicated than the Court of Owls stuff. For me, cities are the intersection of culture, community, history, oppression/SES/war etc, and the modern day to day lives of people. When I want to make a rich city that was relevant and important to the story, I wanted to focus on immigrants and cultural minorities. You know - the people who create the cities lol. I decided on a history that involved the idea that Jewish families were the oldest in Gotham, and that they were one of the people to help create it and influence its culture.

I read a Daniel Handler quote just now that said "there is something naturally Jewish about unending misery". What is more Batman, Bruce, and Gotham than that, lol. The Jewish diaspora experience - the traditional history just as you outlined it in your ask - is baked into Gotham, it's the foundation. Gotham is a city of unending misery, but it's a city that stands tall. It takes a thousand hits and always gets back up again. People within it experience unending poverty and suffering, but they stand together. Just fucking refuse to die, as a whole. What's more Jewish than that! What is more Batman than that! Gotham should always be allegorical for Batman and Bruce, and through Gotham existing in that traditional Jewish experience, I think that's where you got the impression of Bruce as very traditional too.

Tim and the Drakes are the modern reflection of this. I was extremely explicit that Tim is alone in the world because of the Holocaust. I talk a lot in the story about how war and violence destroy children's lives, and that stretches back to the 1940s. About how war and violence creates violent children, which is what Tim became. His acting out was from the trauma of seeing his family slaughtered in front of him, and like a lot of people he used his religion to justify it.

There's a reason why the very first moment when Tim and Bruce actually connect as a family is when they find kinship and understanding through their shared backgrounds and values. They both saw their families slaughtered, they're both alone in the world - but they found each other, and they'll keep living.

OK BELIEVE IT OR NOT THAT'S THE SHORT VERSION. Seriously, though, I'm not. Uh. Actually fucking Jewish. This is like the fourth time I've talked out of my ass about this. I'm actually really interested in reading about the actual Jewish themes in Batman, because from what little I know they HAVE to be there. Any smart people out there who know about it, or who can link something written about it?

#tw holocaust #my asks #my writing #fwiw I think of Bruce as an atheist and Tim as pretty religious #I always write Bruce as really alienated from his Jewish heritage/culture #and his relationship with Tim (or jason in rr) reconnecting him with that #in nw that generational trauma is also why tim's parents weren't great parents.#heartbreaking! 25 years ago your mom was a survivor!#sucks.#i think i accidentally started thinking of tim as religious #because of that one time i wrote him as having come back from the dead after killing himself #and like anybody would get into god after that. and it stuck a bit for me #new story covid puppy Tim makes like an extremely smug point to call judaism dumb #kid has stuff going on.#hm I think I may have very persistent themes of returning to religion and religious heritage as a method of healing #not gonna psychoanalyze that! bye!#i feel like a fucking fanfic writer conservative for all i talk about masculinity and jesus

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cosmicqvake · 1 year

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Okay, I know everyone is super excited to potentially get to see Daisy Johnson back in the MCU but I’ve gotta be honest here, I get less and less excited by the day. :,)

Don’t get me wrong, Daisy is literally my favourite character of all time, let alone just Marvel, but I’m admittedly getting increasingly concerned with what they might do to her character.

It has the potential to go so very wrong.

With the very recent news of Foggy and Karen not returning to the new Daredevil show (an outrage), I’m worried that the same could be done to Daisy, and the people they’ll be taking away from her will be her beloved team, specifically, ofc, Sousa and Kora.

And I don’t want that, I REALLY don’t want that.

I don’t want them to tear away whatever happiness she FINALLY managed to find after ALL those years, her WHOLE LIFE, of being in a constant state of pain. I don’t want them to rip away Daniel Sousa, who is quite literally the perfect person for her, who supports her and loves her after all she’s been through. And then Kora, her sister, who she literally JUST found after all of those years of never even knowing she existed.

I don’t want them to erase that part of her, her entire backstory, her team, her FAMILY, which is literally what makes up a massive piece of HER.

Not to mention, I don’t want them to bring her back only to torture her further (I mean look at what the movies have done to the likes of Wanda and her pain. Do we really want that for Daisy?)

If they do all that… then what’s the point?

In conclusion, as much as I’d ADORE to see Daisy again, and I really would, at the very same time, I can deal with not seeing her again knowing that she’s out exploring space with her people and experiencing happiness… as apposed to bringing her back to be a totally different person, taking away the people closest to her and/or torturing her even more :,)

She’s been through enough.

Just my thoughts…

#had to get this off my chest because it’s been bothering me ever since the return rumours started #although her return could be amazing it also very well could not be #I’m just vv worried ;-;#look even if we don’t see her again fanfics do more for us than marvel EVER could anyway 🤷‍♀️#agents of shield #aos #marvel #daisy johnson #quake

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smidgen-of-hotboy · 3 days

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Our Angel of Brahma, pt. xi

Hello Travelers, before we begin I need to stress that this part of Our Angel of Brahma contains explicit violence. With that being said, consider this your warning for the following content: kidnapping (mentioned), assault, police brutality, interrogations, and some self-harm. I will be going back to add CW to previous parts and will update when those have been added in. If there are any warnings that you would like added to this part or any others do not hesitate to reach out in my ask box or DMs! Additionally: I am planning on transferring this series over to ao3 in the coming weeks. The google doc is starting to crash and that is my sign that this is no longer a self contained one shot au. It is a drabble. a nearly 19k long (and counting) drabble @ananxiousgenz @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @the-private-eye @demonic-panini

Calypso walks into her office. Coffee mug in one hand, and her comms in the other. She hadn't checked her emails yet and had only briefly skimmed the messages Frannie had sent her early in the morning. Most of which didn’t make much sense and had been sent five hours before she was awake, which was by her standards, five hours too early to be doing absolutely anything important. She booted up the computer and took a long sip of her coffee. Her comms rang and it was un-surprisingly Frannie.

“Calypso Starr speaking–”

“Have you seen them yet?”

“Frannie. Good morning to you too. I believe conversations start with hello.”

“Right– hello, did you see them yet?”

“See what?” She opens her email and smiles reading the subject line “RE: THE CASE OF THE MISSING ANGEL”. Rita was creative. Calypso would give her that. But she also seemed just as scatterbrained as Frannie did at times. They both knew their way around computers and comms. More than Calypso ever learned from her mom, so she was in no position to really judge either of them. If anything, they had every right to laugh in her face for not being able to do all the work on her own. Some shit journalist she was turning up to be.

“The videos!” Frannie huffed and in the background, Calypso could make out the sound of a cabinet door opening and slamming shut. “Listen, I’m hanging up, and when you’re done with the videos and taking notes– and I mean all the videos, and all your notes– call me. Rita spent ninety-six hours trying to hunt all this down for you, kid. You better write the best damn article this side of the galaxy has ever seen! Because she ain’t helping you anymore after this, alright?”

Calypso opens her mouth to argue but the call ends right then. She sets her comms on the desk in its designated spot next to her coffee mug and one of the glass swans. She isn’t a kid. She’s a grown adult just like Frannie. Frannie was however much, much older than her. And it wouldn’t be the first time that she’s let an older lady step all over her.

Without anymore preamble, she takes a seat and opens the first video file.

The video starts with a lone woman sitting at a table. The room is bare and poorly lit with no windows. “State your name.” “Why should I? You already know who I am.” The woman’s dark hair falls out of her face revealing dark eyes and a few freckles. She glares at the camera. “And get that thing out of my face.” “No can do, now state your name.” The woman huffs hanging her head low to the table. “Eve Bell.” “Full name.” “Eevee Bell.” She jerks her chin up and snarls, “Happy?”

Calypso pauses the video. This is Eevee Bell. Eevee the same night she was taken from her home.The same night she tucked Baird into bed and promised nothing bad would happen to her. Calypso flips open her journal thumbing through the pages until she finds her notes on the “Dad” recording. She reads back over them and flips to the next blank page. She rummages around her desk for a bit before finding a pen tucked into her newly acquired swan pen holder. She hits play on the video, and begins taking notes.

“Very,” a figure walks around the camera to stand behind Eevee. They’re dressed in a freshly pressed uniform. Their epaulets are black, with two embroidered stars in silver thread. A Constable of high rank. They place one hand on her shoulder and grip her chin with the other. “Now look directly at the camera, and tell them exactly what you did.” She clenches her jaw and tries to pull away. The Constable keeps her firmly pinned in place. “Not gonna talk, huh.” “Over my dead body.” The Constable tsks and lets go of Eve’s face. Eevee, to her credit, rolls her shoulders as much as she could with her hands cuffed behind her back, and tilted her chin up higher. “You’ll hear me sing and squeal before I tell you anything you want.” The Constable shakes their head and laughs, “We’ll see how you feel after today.” They exit out of frame and a heavy door can be heard opening. Eevee looks over and her eyes go wide as three other uniformed Constables walk into the room. “Welcome to New Kinshasa, Eve.” The Constable says out of frame said. The video ends.

Calypso leans back in her seat. She glances down at her notes. Nothing. Blank. She puts her pen down and folds her hands over one another, leaning to rest her elbows on her desk. Her stomach does a strange thing, flipping up over on itself. The coffee is starting to kick in and give her heartburn.

From her research and based on Baird’s recordings, the Constabulary does not treat its prisoners kindly. Their treatment is not as harsh as Aurinko Permanent Corrections. No, nothing could compare to Palomine Aurinko, and nothing will ever come close to Hoosegow. But there’s a good reason the Solar Planets consider the Guardian Angel System a war crime and New Kinshasa has been charged off and on for committing multiples since the Galactic Civil War ended.

She grabs her comms and searches for anything she can find on the Constabulary on New Kinshasa and Brahma. She wasn’t expecting her quick galactic search to turn up anything. Just like everything else she’s been looking into privately, this too should have been a dead end. Instead, a tourism site hosted on a Saraswatan travelers guide comes up.

One of the main attractions to vacationing to Saraswati it turns out, is visiting New Kinshasa. Vacation to Saraswati, and set time aside for a three days, two nights trip to see New Kinshasa. Shuttle over on day one, and see New Kinshasa day two. Get to meet Constables, shake hands with Sergeants, and rub elbows with Inspectors off duty at hotel bars. Take a tour down main street and stop by the Skydeck: Edge of New Kinshasa and peer down at Brahma from up high.

The photos on the website are orderly and well lit. More than likely staged pieces of propaganda meant to make the average person forget about what happened to Brahma. If Calypso were anyone else even she’d believe it. But Baird’s recordings exist and Brahma has been suffering. Dark Matters can successfully scrub all records from the galaxy but they never stood a chance at stopping something from slipping through the cracks.

One of the photos on the website catches her eye. A Constable in uniform, with epauluets on their shoulders embroidered in silver thread. Perfectly stitched planets with tilted rings. They’re shaking hands with a man with grey hair and a peculiar mustache. A gold brooch with blue jewels is pinned to his suit. His wide smile reaches his eyes.

Calypso scrolls down to read the caption at the same time she reaches for her mug. She takes a long sip of her coffee.

Superintendent Constable Bishop shaking hands with art collector, Osiris Cygnet.

A “cygnet” is a word used to describe a baby swan. So named after the swan-shaped constellation, Cygnus, and -et indicates smallness.

If Calypso were the average person, she shouldn’t know this. As she leans back in her desk chair and stares at the swan pen holder, Calypso is reminded that she is not the average person. As she stands now running through her apartment, digging through a cardboard box for a gold swan brooch with sapphire eyes, she has not been the average person since childhood.

The storage unit came from a deceased art collector. He had an affinity for collecting crystal swans and counterfeit paintings. She sold most of the glass swans back to collectors on Earth while on her visit to her mother’s grave. She held on to the pen holder as a memento and sought out a pawn shop to trade in the brooch when the shop owner said she ought to keep it, “you don’t find jewels like that out there anymore.” Or whatever that meant.

“Shit shit shit shit–” she finds the brooch and races back to her office clutching it tight. Sure enough, it’s a good match.

Osiris Cygnet, art collector that vacationed sometime within the last ten years to Saraswati and took a shuttle trip to New Kinshasa. Just how the fuck did he get ahold of Baird’s recordings?

Superintendent Constable Bishop, Eve’s prison guard, and most likely, her future executioner. And he was promoted. At some point in the last twenty years, he was promoted. Multiple times.

The pin back on the brooch digs into her palm. Calypso clenches her teeth. She should let go before the wound is too deep and forms an ugly gash. She reaches with her free hand and hits play on the next video.

Eevee sits on the stone floor of a prison cell. She stares pointedly at the door. Occasionally her eyes flick up to the camera. Its hard to tell, but her face looks puffy. Her arms have bruises running from her elbows all the way down to her wrists. There are red marks on both wrists from wearing handcuffs. She pulls her knees up to her chest letting out a long groan of pain. The camera zooms in. It is just near inaudible, but the camera's microphone picks up her quiet voice. I hear your tune, like a songbird at noon. What a lovely trill, it makes me feel ill. Eve looks like she would curl tighter around herself if it were possible. Shrink into nothing. Make herself as small as a mote of dust. Like chimes in the wind, we were destined. A full-body shudder wracks through her. Birdie, I’m not comin’ home, I'm sorry to leave you all alone. A figure approaches the cell. They’re not in uniform but the way they approach Eve’s cell is not without confidence. “It’s a good song.” Eve jumps with tears in her eyes as she blinks at the person in front of her. “Hey baby, I came to bust you out.” The figure shoves their hands in their pockets. “Cyrus…” Eve slowly gets to her feet and crosses over to the bars of her cell. She holds a hand out. Cyrus takes it carefully, pressing his lips to her knuckles. She is nearly breathless as she asks, “What are you doing here?” “Like I said: busting you out.” “I–” Eve shakes her head. “No, you can’t. What about Iris? What about Baird? They need you more than I do right now! How'd you even get in here anyways?” Cyrus shrugs and pulls a key card out from his pocket. “Snuck onto a shuttle, knocked out a Constable, stole their key card? C'mon, Eve, it's not that hard.” “Not that hard– Cyrus! That's a death sentence! If you get caught–” “I won't get caught, alright? Peter Nureyev”– Eve flinches– “scared them shitless. They’re scrambling right now and too disorganized to notice me.” She's quiet, staring at their hands. “How long has it been already?” “Day five of the Warden Strike, second day without you. Camilla was the one who reached out to. Everyone else apparently was too afraid to, and the other Wardens are losing steam without someone to keep their morale up and minds motivated.” “And what about Baird? And Iris? You left them alone to try and rescue me? Cyrus, I'm a prisoner, not a princess in a tower.” Cyrus clicks his tongue. “Iris has been alone for a long time, they’ll be fine. And Baird isn’t alone, the Spade’s are taking care of him.” He plays thoughtlessly with her fingers. “You and I only have each other though. I promised your parents I’d look out for you, and I intend to keep that promise, til’ death do us part and all that.” Eve jerks her hand away to grip one of the bars. “Cyrus, look at me.” He lifts his head and flinches in response only slightly. “I came here willingly. And I’m not going to make it out of here alive. Eber and Camilla can barely afford to take care of themselves and Charlie. And Iris lost their family like you and I did. You and I both know what it's like to lose your parents. I don't want Baird to experience the same thing.” Cyrus shakes his head. “Eve you're thinking this all backwards. I'm the one that dragged you into this, let me take your place and get you out of it.” The video ends.

Calypso drops the brooch on her desk to run her hands through her hair. She tugs on the ends of her short bob.

Eevee pushed Cyrus away because he wanted revolution. And he got it. He got a revolution and it took everything from Baird.

These are real people. Not just voice recordings or a bedtime story a mother made up to soothe her distressed child. Baird, Eeve, Cyrus, and Iris. A real family. Charlie, Eber, and Camilla and their daughter, Evelyn. A spare family. Josie and the twins. Hank and Mrs. Darius. The Rats. Brahma was full of life. And it still is. Peter Nureyev is a legend to these people. Even if it turns out the name was fake, he was just as real as any of them.

And despite all their hardships, Cyrus still married Eevee and then Iris. Josie still went on to have twins. Camilla and Eber brought a daughter into the galaxy. Charlie chose to go down singing. Cyrus went out singing. Eve echoed a song. And Baird kept his head high and trilled for their memory.

The recordings from the comms were real. Are real. Calypso knows this. She doesn't have any faces to put to any names except now for Eve and a rough idea for Cyrus. They were alive.

Calypso hesitates to start the next video. She's seen more than enough already. More than plenty. There are still two videos left. She already knows how this ends. Eevee Bell walked out of her apartment in the middle of the night so her son wouldn’t have to wake up screaming and watch her be dragged out the front door. She did everything in her power to safeguard him from a War she never wanted to bring home in the first place. And what did it get her? What good did it do when two years later Baird watched what happened to his father anyways? What good did any of it do when they broadcasted Charlie’s execution?

Taking a deep breath, she hits play.

“Songbird,” Constable Bishop stands in front of Eve's cell. They keep one hand on their blaster. Eve tucks her chin down while pulling away from the bars. “Tired of singing? That's a pity. You know, a few hours ago, I was alerted that someone came to pay you a visit. I had the cameras checked and we put the facility in lockdown. You'll never believe what we found trying to fly the coop.” Two Constables drag a man into frame. It's Cyrus. Eve stands in place, her face drained of all its color. Cyrus tilts his head up. The two Constables flanking his side force him to stand, hoisting him up by his underarms. His hands remain pinned behind his back. . “I wouldn't be all smiley right now if I were in your shoes, Desrosiers.” Constable Bishop pulls their blaster from its holster. They click the safety off and point it directly at Cyrus. “Now then, here's how this is going to play out. Ms. Bell, you're going to admit that you organized the Warden strike, you're going to take the fall and you're going to accept the consequences.” “And if she doesn't?” The Constables holding Cyrus pull on his arms. He hisses through his teeth. “If she doesn't, then we'll blame you both. And then, with you both out of the way, we'll hunt down that Little Birdie of yours, pluck him from the nest, and make him sing us songs about how beautiful it is to be saved by New Kinshasa–” “I did it.” Eve crosses her cell and reaches out as far as she can to grab the Constable Bishop’s uniform. Her fingers just barely reach their elbow. “I organized the strike. It was all my idea to begin with. I knew it was risky and stupid but I did it anyways. I poisoned the watering hole–” “Eevee–” “And Cyrus had nothing to do with it. Joining the revolutionaries and inciting the Dome Wardens was all me. Let him go. Blame me for everything, say that I'm the Revolutionary's mother while you’re at it and publicly execute me. Tear me limb from limb– just let Cyrus go and leave my son out of this.” Constable Bishop holds her gaze. He lowers his blaster and gives her a curt nod, “I wasn't going to go that far, but if that's how you feel, well…” He put his blaster away. “I’m pleased you came around, Ms. Bell.” He turns to the other two Constables and motions for them to leave. “Escort the Pest off of New Kinshasa.” They grab hold of Cyrus’ jaw and force him to look up. “And if we ever catch you sneaking up here again, you’ll be publicly executed.” Eevee looks away as they drag Cyrus out of frame. His voice comes as a muffled shout that grows quieter and quieter. “Don’t look so down Ms. Bell. You made the right choice. New Kinshasa thanks you for your candor.” The video ends.

She lied. Eevee lied to Constable Bishop. Even if half of what she said did hold some truth to it, there were still lies she sprinkled in that they believed. At least they chose to believe them. And choosing to believe in something only grants it more power. It warps reality, and makes it more real.

Baird’s first recording that Calypso heard echoes in the back of her mind. Some say that the legend isn’t true. Some say that Eevee Bell set the Dome Wardens on strike. At least one person believes that she is Peter Nureyev’s mother.

Baird and Iris did not know everything. For whatever Cyrus was caught for finally, Constable Bishop made good on their promise and did eventually come back for him. They did not however publicly execute him.

They got Charlie instead.

With only one video left, Calypso hits play. She’s only slightly surprised to see Cyrus in a similar interrogation room to the one Eevee was in in the first video.

“There will be a free Brahma. There will be a free Brahma. Brahma will be–” “Do you ever, shut up!” Constable Bishop slams their fist against the table in front of Cyrus. His epauluets are different, now instead of two stars theres three. Cyrus winces clenching his jaw, but doesn’t draw away. “No wonder you got a divorce, I’d get one too if I was stuck married to you.” “Charmed, though I don’t find you pretty enough to marry… maybe if you lost the scrappy beard–” “Enough!” Constable Bishop drags a hand down their face, scratches at their stubble, and stares down at Cyrus. “All you have to do, is look at the camera,” they point to the one currently rolling, “and say exactly what you did.” “And then what? You’ll let me go scot free? You’ve already beat black and blue, I think I felt a tooth or two dislodge from my mouth. You willing to pay for my dentist bill?” “There are no dentist left on Brahma.” Constable Bishop circles around Cyrus and stands behind him. They grip his left shoulder, and guide his face up towards the camera with their other hand. “Now go on, tell them exactly who you are, and what you did.” Cyrus’ eyes are a muted green. His face is long and skin a darker shade of brown than Eevees’. He takes a deep, calming breath, and flashes a quick smile revealing a dimple on his left cheek. “My name is Peter Nureyev, and I am going to bring down New Kinshasa.” Constable Bishop lets go of Cyrus to whip out their blaster. They crack the blunt end against the back of his head. Constable Bishop’s hand and blaster come away slightly bloodied, and the shout Cyrus lets out echoes in the small room. “Think you’re so smart, huh? Try again.” “Cyrus Desrosiers-Bell, and when I get out of here,” Cyrus strains against his restraints baring his teeth in a sharp, sadistic grin, “I’m going to rip your fucking throat out!” Constable Bishop clicks the safety off their blaster. They press it to the side of Cyrus’ head. “Go on, keep talking. We don’t need you alive, you serve no greater purpose to your revolution. You get caught in New Kinshasa once and I let you go, shame on you. You get caught sneaking around New Kinshasa a second time and get far enough back home just outside your front door, shame on me.” Bishop tsks rechecking their blaster. “One jolt. That’s all you need.” “Well go on then,” Cyrus lifts his chin. His brows squish together. A small gasp escapes his lips. “You don’t scare me. Not the first time you’ve pressed that thing to my head.” After a moment, a comms goes off. The Constable checks it with a quick glance and relaxes. “You’re right,” they draw their blaster away from Cyrus but do not click the safety back in place. “I don't scare you enough. But she probably will.” A question forms on Cyrus’ lips but dies just as quickly as the interrogation room doors whirls open and close. Heavy bootsteps cross the room. A small shadow falls over Cyrus. His eyes go wide. “Eve, my angel…” Cyrus shakes his head, tearing his gaze away. He grits his teeth. “No. You killed her.” “Did we though? Constable,” the Bishop turns to the new arrival. They pass their blaster off to them. The new arrival walks into frame to accept the blaster. Standing beside Constable Bishop, is none other than Eevee Bell. The same dark hair, dark eyes, and constellation of freckles. A collar of some sort clasps snuggly around her neck. It is as if the soul that bubbled to life inside of her has been snuffed out. This may look like Eevee Bell, it may move like Eevee Bell, but it is not her. Not anymore. No song whistles from her lips as she levels the blaster pressing back against Cyrus’ head. “Eevee, baby,” the Constable places her finger over the trigger. “Now then, any last words, Desroisers-Bell?” Cyrus licks his lips and stares into the camera. “My angel, my angel. Set me free.” The Constable pulls the trigger. Her arm absorbs the recoil as Cyrus’ body seizes and–

Calypso closes out of the video and turns away. She presses her head between her legs gasping for lungfuls of air.

Rita spent ninety-two hours digging through Goddess knows what just to dig up this. The tumbling feeling in her stomach returns full force. Combined a racing heart and the rising bile in her throat, Calypso isn’t so sure anymore if she wants to call Frannie back. Maybe she ought to reach back out to Mister Mercury and try creative writing again. Maybe she ought to quit writing and journalism altogether, shuttle home to Venus, find a nice well off spouse, pop out another fucked up kid like her and her mother, and pat herself on the back for not dying to cancer or radiation poisoning or whatever. It might also do her a whole lot of good to find a therapist. At least looking for one wouldn’t kill her.

She waits until her heart has stopped racing and stomach settled back into place. Her pen feels like it’s barely there as she scratches down quick notes:

Eve gave the constable’s idea for public execution, thus Charlie.

Cyrus Desrosiers-Bell. He took Eevee’s last name? And then kept it after marrying Iris?

Cyrus was beat and taken away because he snuck on to New Kinshasa– twice. First time to try and save Eve (failed to) and second time for unknown reason (caught and tracked down). Could this be why/how Talia’s book club found a way to New Kinshasa?

Don’t know what song Cyrus sang as he was dragged away from Iris. Possibly some version of Charlie’s Lament?

How does Osiris Cygnet connect to all this?

What was the collar around Eve’s neck?

Constable Bishop’s promotions: have something to do with what happened to Eve? With what he did to Cyrus? (SIDE NOTE: I pray to my Goddess that whatever the hell happened to Eve, they did not do to Cyrus.)

… I pray that whatever they did to Eve, they did not improve and inflict upon Charlie.

She puts her pen back in the swan holder and examines the puncture wound in her palm. The injury is small, not a gash like she thought it might be. A bandage and anti-spetic and Calypso will be right as rain. Peachier than an Earthen Sunday morning.

“I need to find a hobby.” Calypso glances at the swan holder. Perhaps– no. Absolutely not.

She dresses her injury and calls Frannie back despite every part of her howling not to. Her coffee has long since gone cold. Normally this woudln’t be a problem. Just drop a few ice cubes in and presto. Or reheat the whole mug and presto. Today is one of those rare days where neither is an appealing option and the last of her six hundred cred coffee goes down the drain. Finally her call connects with Frannie.

“You finished the videos?”

“Frannie.”

“Right, hello. You finished the videos.” It’s not even a question anymore. Calypso hums turning away from her sink to lean her lower back against it. Slowly she lowers herself to the floor. “I’ll take that as a yes, okay! I asked Rita about Peter Nureyev like you wanted me to. And she turned back around within a day to tell me that there was nothing she could find about the man. He doesn’t exist. Just another legend.”

Calypso scoffs, “Well that’s impossible, I just saw the videos. Eve and Cyrus both mention him by name. Baird mentions him in his recordings by name. Camilla mentions him by name at some point. He has to be real.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you, kid, but if Rita can’t find him, no one can. It’s impossible to find something or someone who doesn’t exist.”

“Or maybe he disappeared.”

Frannie hums, “Sure, maybe that. Look, kid,” Calypso bites her tongue, “I wanted to talk with you about asking for help. Remember how I said you won’t be asking Rita for anymore favors?”

“Yeah, yeah actually– Frannie what was that about?”

“Kid,” Calypso does not retain her inward groan, “Rita is a really good friend of mine. Me and her go way back to when we were just little ladies getting our noses dirty and toeses wet with cybersecurity. She went down the HCPD path, I went down a freelance one.

“My point though is that me and her aren’t the same little ladies we used to be anymore. We’re little old ladies now. And us little old ladies need our rest and relaxation. When Rita starts something she doesn’t know when to take a break. She puts her whole body into it.”

“Don’t you mean mind?”

“No, body. Rita has been sacrificing her own health for the better part of three decades now trying to help her Boss. He’s a prick at best and an asshole at his worst. He’s taken her for granted a lot.” Well, maybe she should find a better Boss, goes unsaid. “Their relationship is better now, but I’m not going to let another kid like you come and drag her around the whole galaxy.”

“For fucks sake Frannie– my name is Calypso! I’m not your damn kid!” Calypso pants. The swooping feeling returns. “I’m not you’re damn kid, I haven’t been anyone’s damn kid in over ten years, so stop calling me a fucking child! If you don’t want me talking to Ms. Rita anymore fine. I get it. You don’t wanna hear about my requests to her that’s fine. I’ll cut you out of it and–”

“Calyspo Starr.” Her jaw clamps shut narrowly avoiding biting her tongue. “If you reach out to Rita after today, I will cease to help you myself. You can take your little comms and find someone else willing to help you for free. All I’m asking, Ms. Starr, is that you don’t involve Rita any further. Have I made myself clear, Ms. Starr?”

Ms. Starr, I’m sorry but there’s nothing more we can do for your mother. Your next decisions are going to shape how the end of her life are going to be. Have you got a will lined up already?

Ms. Starr, I can’t accept your solo proposal. Everyone else found partners for this project at the start of the year. Maybe you can join a group and be their editor?

Ms. Starr, that will be a demerit for you. Let’s find you something more suitable in the lost and found. You wouldn’t want to mistaken for a ruffian, do you?

“Crystal.” Calypso ends the call before Frannie can respond. She calls back. Calypso decline the call and throws her comms across the kitchen. She watches as it skitters along the tile.

Alone. Shit writer. Parentless. Jobless. Flying by the seat of her pants and overpriced coffee grounds. She was never cut out to be a journalist. Maybe she ought to go off and find a cold ditch to lie down in. Or a warm ditch. Whichever she stumbles across first.

Just who is Calypso Starr? Who the hell does she think she is anyways? And what gave her the idea that any of this meant something to someone in the first place?

I choose to believe…

Calypso takes a deep breath and starts counting back from ten.

I choose to believe…

As she slowly exhales, true clarity rings through her mind. Baird chose to believe. And it doesn’t matter how, his recordings made it off-planet. And if not Calypso Starr to tell his story, to transcribe every last detail she can capture, then who else? Who else does that leave?

Calypso Starr, the rebel who didn’t wear the right uniform. The orphaned university student who scrapped by without any friends. And now, a Solar based, historical freelance journalist. Scratch that from the record: Galactic, historical freelance journalist. She’s worn half a dozen different hats over the years, but one thing has remained consistent: a Starr burns brightest before they go out. And if Baird Bell and Brahma are the undoing of her, then there’s nothing to be done about it. She’ll get to the end of the recordings and uncover the truth one or another. With or without Frannie’s help.

#our angel of brahma #ask to be tagged or removed #good god this part alone is a little over 5k #i did have a lot of fun writing this part and it answered a lot of questions i had personally about Calypso and also raised some new ones #hopefully some of y'alls questions have also been answered and some puzzle pieces are starting to click in place for ya.#looking at you in particular nyx bc i know you were dying to know what i was being all smart about figuring out #motherfucking swans are the death of me i stg-#a hotboy's writing #the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fanfic #i'm also debating on stopping posting this series in the main penumbra tag just to stop clogging it up #AND ALSO ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR THE RETURN OF MY SCUFFED FORMATTING ON TUMBLR #take that webbedsite!!

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echoes-of-realities · 28 days

Text

Title: and when i’m back in chicago i feel it (another version of me)

Fandom: NCIS: Hawai'i

Relationship: Lucy Tara/Kate Whistler

Rating: General

Chapter Word Count: 8,601

Chapter: 3/5

[read from the beginning]

Chapter Summary: Once they are back in the car, Lucy rests a hand on Kate’s arm, stopping her from starting it. “Hey,” she says, furrowing her brow, “can I ask you something?”

“‘Course, anything,” Kate says immediately, her own eyebrows furrowing as she turns her entire body to give Lucy her full attention. It makes warmth curl in Lucy’s stomach.

“Why didn’t you tell your parents about joining the FBI?” Lucy asks quietly.

Kate’s face flickers through many different expressions before settling on resignation, her eyes drifting past Lucy’s shoulder with a sigh. “It’s complicated,” she says.

Lucy runs her hand down Kate’s arm until she can lace her fingers together, tucking one leg under her and twisting so she can face Kate fully. It’s a little uncomfortable, and she knows her hips and knees are going to be stiff later, but it’s worth it to see the way that Kate smiles a little at the gesture. “I’ve got time,” she says, running her thumb soothingly over the back of Kate’s hand.

#kacy #kate whistler #lucy tara #ncis hawaii #ncis hawai'i #kate x lucy #lucy x kate #kacy fanfic #kacy fanfiction #my writing #this one is my favourite chapter :D #also saw noah kahan live last night #and I feel like it's Very Important to mention that this entire fic is basically fully inspired by his most recent album #gotta get those “returning to your small hometown and family” vibes from somewhere

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noorahqar · 12 days

Note

A, N and V for the ask game!

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

Oooh. Hard question, because I absolutely love almost all of my fics. But I THINK I can narrow it down. To three. (I'm indecisive LOL)

this year it taught me (lost and ambitious) was my first longfic ever (even if it's more of a collection of short stories) and is my pride and joy. The title may suck - I have no clue why it's so long - and there's plenty of flaws, but I'm very proud of this guy. Every so often I reread it and it's always a blast - past me covered a lot of different topics, a lot of relationships, and I think it had some pretty good characterization!

Educational Quandaries and Academic Arson are the silliest things I've written but also by far my favorite of my oneshots. Writing Sky as a miserable college student and hero is my favorite thing ever. It's also quite representative of myself right now - I have exams in a few weeks I should be studying for, and yet…

N: Any fic ideas brewing that you’d care to share?

A solid handful. These are all WIPs, actually, not ideas, but I hope you'll forgive me for considering them interchangeable!

In the TP manga, Twilight's backstory includes him accidentally vaporizing the city he lived in before Ordon. I think they turn out to be alive and well, but fanfiction where him and Legend bond over seemingly destroying entire civilizations they loved.

HTTYD AU! Kind of. Everything's the same, and Sky essentially has a role similar to that of Hiccup in HTTYD 2 - he's an adventurer, mapping out the region around what will eventually become Hyrule. He also has Hiccup's cool-ass flying suit. I want to give Sky a cool wingsuit. That's it. (This is barely an AU, lol. I'm not an AU person for the most part. Excluding modern AUs.)

Speaking of - fanfiction where Warriors and Legend are in a car, and that car gets hit by lightning. Inspired by the same thing happening to my aunt. It didn't really do much except be frightening, surprisingly? Legend is appropriately frightened.

That's everything notable. The rest are all completed short stories and vague ideas that are more emotions than anything, lol.

V: Are there certain comments you’ve received on your stories that have stuck with you?

As I think everyone who's responded to this comment has said, I love literally each and every comment I receive! There's definitely often some that stand out, though. Some people inform you that you've hit the mark you were aiming for with your writing, others tell you about how your writing affected them personally. The latter always makes me emotional, lol. It's also fun seeing a person comment multiple times in a row on different fics - it's like, HI!! I SEE YOU BINGING MY WORK!!! I APPRECIATE YOU!!!!

Getting comments from writers you admire is great, too. As someone who used to have a huge following on my previous Ao3 account, logically I know they're just some random people who like their blorbos. But I always end up incredibly excited anyways, haha.

There's also no greater joy than a returning commenter. Often, I've found myself in like… a symbiotic relationship of commenting long paragraphs? It's amazing. I made one of my closest online friends this way, over a discussion about tea in my comments!!

Lord OKAY. I went too hard with these responses, I think, but I have a lot of thoughts. Thank you for asking, Rose!! :D

#qar answers #...renegade rose #am i doing this right #also i get sooo concerned when a returning reader just disappears #it is in my nature to be unreasonably worried about people i know exist LOL #linked universe #linked universe fanfic

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