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vaguewrites · 4 years

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The Morning After

I wrote a sequel to my Watch Dogs fic because I’m a horrible monster who can’t be stopped. Lots of swearing, mentions of smut and Aiden/Defalt ahead.

An alarm jolts him awake, the shrill buzzing right in his ears. For a few seconds Defalt doesn’t know where he is. He’s tangled up in sheets that aren’t his, there’s none of his posters or monitors on the walls and where there should be his closet there’s a door that leads into a bathroom. He sits up and pain shoots up his back and he grunts, falling back against the bed. There’s warmth next to him. A figure that groans and rolls over to grab the buzzing thing, a phone, and shuts off the alarm before tossing it aside. It’s Pearce.

He’s naked next to Pearce, in Pearce’s bed, in that shitty motel Pearce likes to hang out in, in Pearce’s bed. Because they fucked. First in Defalt’s hideout and then here, in a proper bed with pillows for Defalt to shove his face into to hide his own stupid high pitched moans. No wonder Defalt can’t feel his own fucking ass.

“Morning,” Pearce says, rubbing at his eyes, and Defalt doesn’t know why he’s bothering to make small talk. Isn’t this where one of them has to get up and get the fuck out? And by one of them, he means himself since this isn’t his place. Where are his clothes anyway?

“Hey,” he replies, and his voice is hoarse and raspy. Probably because he’d sucked Pearce off before crying on his dick like one of those twinks from the bad pornos. “What time is it?”

“Eight.”

Defalt groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, Pearce, why the fuck did you set your alarm that early?”

Pearce chuckles. It’s almost weird hearing him laugh. He almost doesn’t seem like the kind who does. Defalt has to look at him to make sure it is actually him and not some weird body double. He’s stretched out on the bed, one arm tucked under his pillow, staring up at the ceiling fan. He’s a hell of a lot more muscular than Defalt expected, but it’s not the kind you build up in a gym, but the kind you get from a lot of physical labour. Such as running around Chicago, climbing buildings and fucking up other people’s shit. Pearce is sturdy, thick and he’s got a light dusting of hair on his chest and stomach. There are scars too, some look like they came from bullets, some are pale and silvery from age and others pink and raw, probably a few weeks old. Defalt’s hands itch to touch him, to wander over his bulky frame and feel along each scar and hard curve of muscle. But he doesn’t.

“I didn’t think I was going to be up all night,” Pearce says. He throws Defalt a look. Defalt would almost call it mischievous but that doesn’t feel like the right word for Pearce. “You feeling okay?”

Defalt snorts. “You’re not that fucking big Pearce.”

“Not what you said last night.”

Defalt swats at him and Pearce catches his wrist. He thinks he’s just going to drop it but then Pearce pulls his hand in and kisses his knuckles. Defalt stills as he watches him. Pearce’s lips are soft and plump and his stubble scrapes his skin but Defalt kinda likes it this way. “What’re you doing?” He asks when he finally gets his voice to work. It feels like he’s swallowed cotton.

Pearce raises a brow. “Knitting. What does it look like?”

“Don’t you want me gone?” Defalt says before he can stop himself.

“Do you want to leave?” Pearce challenges him, then drops his hand and Defalt suddenly feels cold. He doesn’t know what to say to that. Does he want to leave? Normally when he hooks up with guys it’s always a comfy no strings attached deal where they both know it’s just a quick fuck and nothing more. He normally doesn’t sleep over, or let them sleep over. One of them is always gone after it’s over. With Pearce though, it’s different. He doesn’t know how or why it just is. Defalt could very easily just get up now and throw on his clothes and fuck off but he doesn’t. He stays in the bed, curled next to Pearce and chances throwing his arm over the man’s chest. Pearce doesn’t hesitate to pull him in, his rough, calloused hands smoothing over Defalt’s back.

“No,” Defalt says, because he feels he should probably say something.

Aiden kisses the side of his forehead. “Then don’t.”

Defalt rests his head in the crook of Aiden’s neck. He’s so warm it’s almost unreal, like a human furnace. Aiden holds him, rubbing his back until Defalt’s eyes grow heavy and he drifts back into sleep.

The next time he wakes up there’s no harsh ringing in his ears, but there’s also no Aiden in the bed with him. He sits up, winces, then glances down at a messily scrawled note left beside him.

“Sorry, T-Bone had a job, lunch later?”

Fucking T-Bone, Defalt thinks, tossing the note aside and gets up for a shower. He feels better after washing, then notices the amount of bruises and bite marks Aiden left on him, the bitch. The biggest one is on his neck. A deep purple colour that’s not gonna fade for a while. Defalt presses it and hisses as it stings a little. His shirt and hoodie don’t cover it but, hell, Clara and T-Bone are going to figure out they’re fucking eventually so there’s no point hiding it. And since Defalt doesn’t exactly want to spend the rest of the day cooped up in Aiden’s shitty motel room he decides he may as well head to their bunker.

That’s where he finds Clara, hunched over her laptop and typing away. She only spares him a glance, her perfectly drawn on eyebrow raised at his disheveled appearance.

“You look like shit,” she says, “I was trying to get through to you last night but you weren’t answering.”

“Yeah,” Defalt tries to hide his limp as he moves to sit beside her on one of the spare chairs. “Had stuff to do. Working on the next album. I’m behind as it is.”

Which is kinda true. That was what he was doing before Aiden railed him against his desk.

“You know if you’re struggling with work stuff you can take a back seat. I don’t think anyone will mind. T-Bone definitely won’t say shit.”

“Ah, I’m not worried about whatever the fuck T-Bone says,” Defalt leans back in the chair, one leg thrown over the other despite the ache in his lower back. “Where’s he at anyway?”

“The Loop. He and Aiden are following a lead. Though I think there’s more to it. T-Bone didn’t seem all that thrilled with Aiden this morning but I don’t know why. Which is weird because he adores Aiden.”

She doesn’t get to say anything more as the door slides open and Aiden and T-Bone step through. T-Bone looks as though he’s biting his tongue, his brows are furrowed but when he meets Defalt’s eyes he quickly looks away. That’s not unusual. He doesn’t meet his eyes often, even now when they’re supposed to be over the past. Well, over it is a kinda loose term. They got drunk together, Defalt screamed at him about his brother and how T-Bone was a fucking murderer and then they ugly cried in each other’s arms while T-Bone said he was sorry over and over. It’s obviously not fixed everything right away but it’s something, a start at healing. They’re not fighting as often at least.

“Jay, I need you,” Aiden says, hands shoved in pockets and voice gruff. It’s a little surreal seeing him being his regular stand-offish asshole self again after this morning, but Defalt shakes it off. They’re meant to be more “professional” now anyway.

“Alright. Text you later Clara,” Defalt says as he stands and Clara offers him a half wave. T-Bone watches as they leave and Defalt gives him an odd look because he can practically feel the tension rolling from him in waves. What kind of bitch fit did he and Aiden have?

He doesn’t find out until they’re halfway to the Mad Mile.

“He says I’m going to drag you down with me,” Aiden says. He’s gripping the steering wheel hard enough his knuckles are white.

Defalt frowns. “Do you care?”

“Yeah.”

Defalt doesn’t know what to say to that. He squirms in his seat, watching the buildings speed past. Something ugly and cold is curling in his chest. “So… This is a break up? Could’ve just said so before we got in the car.”

“I’m better at talking when I’m focused on something else,” Aiden says, “But if you want to get out I’ll stop us somewhere.”

“So you do want to break up,” Defalt grits his jaw. He’s not sure why he cares so much. He rests his head on his hand and stares out the window and tries not to think about the heat behind his eyes that threaten to spill over.

“I want to know what you want. I asked you this morning if you wanted to leave and you said no. I’m giving you that option again. I’m not the easiest guy to get along with, I know, and I’m definitely not the easiest to date. But I like you a lot, have for a while, and I’d like to try and make it work. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me.”

“Stuck with you?”

“He brought up our age difference as well. How you might not want to settle down at all and I’m forcing you into it. How I’ll expect too much of you too soon. I don’t want to do that, Jay.”

“Sounds like you’re letting him do all the talking for me,” Defalt says.

“That’s why I’m talking to you now. What do you want?”

Defalt shifts again. What the hell does he want? He’d spent years focusing on his music and computers because it was what he was good at. He didn’t plan to make a career out of it, it just happened. He thought he wanted to kill T-Bone, wanted to make him suffer like he had. Only it turned out T-Bone had been living his own personal hell for years. So, in the end vengeance wouldn’t do jack shit. When it comes to dating, he was never with anyone for too long. He had a lot of demons and his boyfriends never had a lot of patience for it. Usually he was the one dumped. When he got famous for his music he couldn’t make time to date so he just hooked up with random guys when he could. But now… Hell, he still doesn’t fucking know. He’s liked Pearce too, he just never assumed the guy was into other guys. Last night was a huge fucking surprise.

“You,” he blurts out, and he almost misses the twitch of Aiden’s lips, “I mean, I’m willing to give this a shot if you are. Dating I mean.”

Aiden glances at him, deep green eyes full of so much fondness and Defalt’s not used to getting a look like that from anyone.

“Yeah. I can give it a shot,” Aiden says. “So long as you promise not to punch T-Bone when we get back.”

Defalt scoffs and folds his arms over his chest. “How’d he find out anyway?”

“He asked where you were because Clara couldn’t get a hold of you. I said you were with me.”

“Ah.”

The rest of the drive is in silence until they pull up to a bar. Defalt doesn’t get why they’re here until he sees Aiden looking at him expectantly and then he remembers the note.

“Oh, you lied about a job just to get me out for a date, Pearce?” Defalt can’t help the twitch of his lips.

“Technically I didn’t lie. I never said what I needed you for,” Aiden replies.

“Smart ass.”

“Thanks.”

Yeah, Defalt never thought much about what he wanted from life, other than causing another man pain. It’s almost bizarre to think how empty he’s always been, and just either never noticed or got too used to it. It feels like he’s woken up from some bad dream, or snapped back into reality after being trapped in his own head for so long. He’d thought he'd been living before, but now he realises he was just going through the motions, functioning but not attached to anything. It’s a stark contrast to now, where he feels so at home with Aiden, Clara and, fuck, even T-Bone, and he thinks about stuff outside of work and hacking and death. He doesn’t feel like himself anymore but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe he had to be broken before he could fix himself back together. Maybe, as sappy as it sounds, Aiden’s the missing piece he needed.

#my writing #fanfic #fanfiction #watch dogs #defalt #defalt watch dogs #aiden pearce #defalt x aiden pearce

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haphazardlyparked · 7 years

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Real Bad Ideas(TM)

anyway, I started watching Riverdale and this happened. typically @straycatreadsthat only enabled me, so this lands squarely on her, but also i wanted this badly

here’s a bunch of shamelessly self-indulgent stuff

"Hey, I’m sorry about your brother," Nat Shy says, with what sounds like genuine sympathy, when Yila squeezes by him to claim a seat in one of the last rows. She would have tried to hide out in the very last row, but Cian and Other Lan are already back there with their heads together and Yila does not want to touch that with a twenty foot pole.

Yila doesn’t look at Nat. She swallows back a lump in her throat and mumbles something that might be a thanks. Hunching further into her hoodie, she manages to make it all the way to the other end of the row without having to exchange words with anyone else.

Then: "Oh hi, is anyone sitting next to you?" a too-bright voice asks. Yila looks up reluctantly at another Asian student she's never seen before (and she knows all the Asian students because Li-an liked to drag her to the Asian Students Association meetings and that causes a fresh wave of dull pain in Yila's chest.)

"I'm new," the girl says, and suddenly Yila is crying and can't stop and is desperately ashamed of it.

"Oh my god," the girl says, and sits down. She digs into her bag, pulls out a packet of tissues and a baseball cap, and shoves them both in Yila's direction.

Yila gratefully puts the hat on under her hoodie and accepts the tissues, and then does her level best to pretend she doesn't exist.

•••

“Holy shit, Cal,” Meg hisses, smacking Cal’s arm. “Look.”

“Megan,” says Cal, sweet, hapless Cal who is the only person in the entire world who calls Meg “Megan” and kind of makes her feel like a bitch every once in a while. “Ow.”

“Okay, sorry, but look.” Meg jerks her head at the door.

It’s Clara Brights, whose only friend is Radian Jones, who spent half his time last year being her friend and the other half gunning for editor-in-chief of the school newspaper.

“Oh,” Cal says. “Okay, wow.”

“Yeah,” Meg says. “Ten bucks Nat Shy is having a heart attack somewhere.”

Somehow over the summer Clara Brights had gone from short and tiny to average height and tiny, which made her look less like an earnest middle schooler who somehow found her way in the halls of high school, and more like a shy brunette beauty. She’s standing at the main doors to the auditorium, checking something in her bag and accidentally blocking the way in; Kinlo, one of the varsity football players, is right behind her and does not seem to mind a bit.

“Okay,” Cal says again, then turns back to doodling in his notebook. “What does Nathanial have to do with it?”

Meg ignores him; Nat’s repressed crush on Clara is not common knowledge, but Cal was definitely with her when she found Nat pining away in an art studio over a glass flower at the end of last year. She wonders if he ever gave it to Brights.

“Do you think I can get her to try out for the field hockey team?” Now that Brights doesn’t look like she’s going to break like a twig at the hint of a stiff breeze, Meg thinks she’d be fast on the field, and maybe a bit surprisingly aggressive too. Meg has good intuition when it comes to these things.

“Does she even like field hockey?” Cal asks.

“I bet I could get her to try out,” Meg decides.

Cal puts the finishing touch on his dragon. “Okay,” he agrees absently.

Meg would say more, but suddenly there’s the loud, ear-piercing shriek of a malfunctioning microphone, and followed by an awkward laugh that booms through the soundspeakers. The entire school assembly collectively winces; hawkishly watching the new and improved Clara Brights, Meg inwardly crows when she sees the other girl smoothly dodge Kinlo’s sudden stumbling. Reflexes!

“Sorry,” Hokiraj Kas, this year’s Head Boy says awkwardly, and still too loudly.

“Maybe take a step back,” the microphone picks up Masara Amir’s voice; surprising no one, she’s the Head Girl to Kas’s Head Boy, and Shilim Scorch, the school’s resident creep, is taking bets on how long it’ll take Kas to ask her out on a date. (Cal asked if that wasn’t a little mean? But Meg put her money on Kas blurting out his love for her in some public fashion at Homecoming.)

“Oops,” Kas says, and at a normal volume. “Is this better? Good! Okay, hey, everyone! Welcome back! I know we’ve still got stragglers coming in — Kinlo, that’s a detention for you, buddy — but we’re about to get started with the first assembly of the school year!”

•••

Annnnnnd then assembly happens, with Masara and Hikaj taking the lead to make the major announcements, and at one point Hikaj calls out to congratulate Other Lan on making it to the semi-finals of Jeopardy! Teen. Except he accidentally calls her “Other Lan” and not by her proper name, and then the school kind of collectively feels inadequate because Masara gives Hikaj an incredibly disappointed look and everyone else feels like it’s directed at them, because nobody sitting in the auditorium can actually remember Other Lan’s real name either.

“Though seriously,” Hikaj says, after apologizing profusely for calling her Other Lan in public (Other Lan is sitting in the back row with Cian and does not look like she gives a a single shit), “Why would you quit just as you get to the semi-finals?”

Other Lan just kind of shrugs.

other First Assembly of the School Year highlights include:

“Dude,” Meg says when the new librarian and media tech support teacher, Iska Wells, is introduced to the school. “Mr. Keller is totally eyefucking the poor guy.”

Mr. Keller is the English teacher for both freshmen and seniors; his freshmen always seem to come out of his class in a horrified daze, but by time they're seniors they'll have started calling him by his nickname, Kalna, and joke with him in the halls. The evolving relationship students have with Mr. Keller is a RBI High rite of passage. Meg thinks she might graduate to "Kalna" this year.

“Megan,” Cal complains. “Why are you like this?”

“Shut up, you love me,” Meg maintains, just as Kinlo leans over from the row behind them to weigh in.

“First,” Kinlo whispers, “that kind of look should be banned, we are a school. But second, I’d like to direct your attention to Prof Shady.”

Prof Shady is the school’s (loving?) nickname for Professor Natale, the comp sci teacher everyone calls Prof Shady because who the hell gets their PhD in AI technology and then fucks off to a high school to teach a bunch annoying kids? At Kinlo’s suggestion, Meg shifts her attention from Mr. Keller to the Prof, who is sitting next to the new librarian. He looks stiffer than usual, and is also studiously avoiding looking at the politely smiling Mr. Wells, even though everyone else is clapping to welcome him.

“That’s not weird at all,” says Meg.

And also:

The assembly takes a turn for the sad and awkward when Masara finally ends with, “Finally, we’d like to have a moment of silence for our classmate, Li-an Sun, who would have been a sophomore this year.”

Everyone knows that Li-an Sun drowned over the summer. As soon as Masara makes her announcement, the auditorium splits itself between those who carefully don’t crane their necks awkwardly looking for Li-an’s twin sister, Yila Sun, and those who do exactly that.

Meg ignores Cal’s elbow in her ribs, and joins the second group. When she does spot Yila Sun, she’s surprised to see her sitting next to an unfamiliar Asian girl, who must be the new transfer student. New Transfer Student is systematically frowning at every person who's looking at Yila; when she and Meg make eye contact, Meg mouths "Try out for field hockey," and then turns back around in her seat.

bonus! later into the school year:

"Hey, Yila?" New Lan asks during lunch one day. New Lan's parents are high powered government employees. She's the Head Girl’s cousin, and is one of the rising stars on the school's popular field hockey team (along with, strangely, Clara Brights). Yila isn't sure why New Lan still sits with her at lunch, but she knows for a fact Cian and Other Lan whisper furiously about their fledging friendship.

"What?" Yila asks, and tries to say it as nicely as possible. The thing is - Lan is the only person in the school who didn't know her has half of Li-an, and who doesn't look at her with constant pity. Just for that, Yila would hang onto this friendship for as long as she possibly can, but it turns out Lan is also smart and funny, and Yila hasn't laughed in what feels like forever.

"Why does the school have a security guard who drives around on a segway? Indoors?”

"Porcelain?" Yila shrugs. "Dunno, but the rumor is the Head Boy is actually a lord somewhere, and Porcelain's here just to guard him."

"But why the segway?"

"It's mostly as a fuck-you to one the school's trustees. They had a huge thing go on last year."

#writing #i'm way behind on write-o-ween #but NOPE #brain says do this thing #straycatreadsthat #character mashup #sorry ginger li-an still dies #real bad ideas (tm)

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becumsh · 7 years

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Top 5 worst fics you ever read + Top 5 small pleasures you like the most in life

Top 5 (+1) small pleasures I like most in life

Perfectly brewed tea with the perfect milk totea ratio. A perfect cup of tea can save the day. The most important andfundamental little pleasure in my life.

Being atthe right time and at the right place. To me, it happened a couple of weeksago. I was on a terrible date, but the date and I sat on the bench. And fromour spot you could see a panorama of St. Petersburg across the river Neva. Thesun was warm, the weather was pleasant and a light breeze was soft on my skin.I felt grounded, calm and just happy, because I happened to be there, to see mybeautiful city at the exact time I was there.

Bedtimereading to my 3 years old cousin. He’s a pain in the back for the majority oftime, and I have no idea where he gets all the energy from for all the runningand screaming. He’s a handful but can be a great fun sometimes too.

Re-readinga favourite book. Feels like meeting a friend after a long time apart.

Earlymorning routine. Wake up early on my own accord. Drink a glass of water firstday in the morning, do a 10-15 minutes yoga session to stretch sleepy musclesand get the juices flowing. Do some household chores. Make either an avocadotoast or a tofu scramble for breakfast.

Pulling a productive all-nighter during the summer. I’m an ‘all-nighter’ sort of writer/vidder. But I don’t do it often because it disrupts my already screwed up sleeping pattern. But I love it. We have White Nights in St. Petersburg during the summer, the night is quiet and some really good ideas come to mind. This is when I get the majority of work done.

top 5 worstfics (bottom 5?)

I’ve readmy fair share of bad fanfiction, but I can’t really say that I remember them all.You know, the definition of ‘bad fanfiction’ is very loose. It’s either notyour kink, not your cup of tea, the fandom characterisation you don’t agreewith, or you just avoid it altogether because fics like these are very easy tospot. However, I do have a few fics that come to mind.

Out ofrespect to writers (because despite my poor opinion on their works, it doesn’tmean that I should point the fingers at) I am not going to name anytitles/usernames. If you have a hunch what this fic might be, pat yourself onthe back, but I’m not giving out any names.

Whouffaldi massive (90k-ish) fic, pre-s8. I think it was posted on ff.net?Basically, as far as I remember (I did read it quite a while back, late 2014 Ithink). The sole reason why I read it was because back then there were like… 5whouffaldi fics? And it was one of the biggest? I mean, I was desperate, okay. Iremember that the first 10 or so chapters were readable and I didn’t skip alot. It wasn’t especially entertaining but it wasn’t too bad and satisfied mycraving for whouffaldi content. But after that. Oh, man, AFTER THAT. Clara getsa screwdriver, okay, I concede. Clara gets pregnant because the fucking TARDIShas been feeding her something? I dare ask what exactly could she possibly feedClara with? Digestible sperm? And then, to top it off, Clara becomes a TimeLady? How. H O W. I mean, if it was explained and wrapped up into a near andentertaining plot, I could’ve lived with that, however crazy this shit mightbe. But the plot was boring, felt fake and the language was basic af. No. Ididn’t like it. I don’t think I even finished the last couple of chapters,because that’s where my sanity ran out.

Johnlock omega!verse. Ok, hear me out. I don’t like omega verse, but I do read it fromtime to time. I found it accidentally, on a general AO3 Johnlock tag and decidedto give it a go. It was Jane Eyre AU or something. And literally, all my senseswere screaming that this shit is W R O N G, but I can’t just drop a fic withoutreading it all, can I. Basically, Sherlock was a young male nanny to John’sson. John was that hunky, athletic, a child of all Hemsworth brothers and ChrisEvans, a generic wet dream. The writer literally RELISHED in describing John’sform and build. Sherlock was a shy, beautiful, fragile omega, literally, bringme the bin, I want to vomit. And so many things are so Wrong? Sherlock goesinto ‘heat’ and John and he have sex? Without, you know, actual sober consent?The fuck? Sherlock is a stand-in for a stereotypical swooning female with allthat descriptive language of a damsel in distress? Idk, each to their own, butI felt fucking icky after reading it.

The post-s4 Johnlock fic of one of the writers that I don’t like. They arewidely known, incredibly popular, but I don’t like their writing. I read theirworks from time to time because many people recommend their fics, but I justdon’t get the hype. The majority of their works are ‘post s3 fix-its’. Ialready have a very bad relationship with these ‘fix-its’ for a number ofreasons. But their works? I just don’t know. There’s a hefty number of them ( Imay not like their works, but jesus, I fucking worship the writer for suchprolific productivity). They are long. And they are all fucking same. They arepractically identical. Now back to the fic. I understand that the majority ofJohnlock shippers LOATHE Rosie/The Baby™ because it’s Mary’s spawn but… This isa little bit extreme for John to treat his own child like that? And it’s notonly Rosie, and I concede that I might be biased (I fucking love that child,okay), it’s the characterisation of both John and Sherlock. Taking fundamentalqualities of the characters and changing them just so the OTP would happen orfor narrative purposes or for the couple to be cute… it’s. I don’t know. Imean, fanfiction is meant to be indulgent, but changing the characters to thepoint I recognize them only because they call each other ‘John’ and ‘Sherlock’kind of erases the whole point of fanfiction. But the writer is super popular,so it’s just me and the author’s writing being not my cup of tea.

McCoy/Chekov Russian fanfiction. I don’t remember much of it, it was aboutspace pirates, I think. Chekov was the criminal mastermind and McCoy was heldhostage on his ship. Fic was boring but long McChekov fics in Russian are hardto come by. But uuugh. So pointless. So out of character. So boring. So messy,I have zero clue what the fuck is going on. After a lot of pointless dialogue,attempts at interesting plot, it all ends with Chekov being the space HarryPotter who has to sacrifice himself in order to save the world. Also, some sortof God or Jesus is the villain? I don’t mind epic plots in fanfiction as longas they are well written. This one though. I don’t actually know what’s thepoint of this fic. Characters were so out of it, I had to scroll back and checkthat I was still reading a Star Trek fanfiction with Chekov and McCoy.

I don’tactually know if it’s a fanfic or a series or completely different works. Butthere’s an omega!verse WIP in trevilieu tag on AO3 that keeps updating. And itannoys the fuck out of me. I understand it’s just a matter of my ownpreferences and my taste but I’m so fucking tired of checking my dear ol’trevilieu tag, seeing the fic/update, seeing ‘omega!verse’ slapped in the tagsand thinking ‘ugh, not again’. I remember that a while ago there was a veryhuge omega!verse fic that kept popping in the trevilieu tag becauseRichelieu/Treville was a secondary ship. And I read about 5-10 chapters of it.And man. I hated pretty much everything, but the world-building and plot andstorytelling were so fucking great! The plot was so interesting and I was actuallysurprised that I was so captivated by it. The one that keeps reappearing now,though… Has no redeeming qualities. I mean, now I’m just bitching aboutunimportant thing, but seriously though. I concede that each to their own,everyone has their own cup of tea and such and such. But I’m just peeved thattrevilieu is such an interesting relationship, such a complex one, but fuck no,let’s write about self-lubricating anuses. I swear to god, awhile backomega!verse fanfiction in trevilieu tag outnumbered any other category. Butagain, that’s just me and my preferences.

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