#i'm so tired of it being in my wip folder
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Taking it back (AO3 Link)
Fandom/Pairing: FHR / Argentstep / Chargentstep
Word Count: 2275
Warnings: PTSD, dealing with past trauma, nothing violent or graphic
Summary: Sidestep lets Lady Argent give her a haircut. Something more like the old days.
A heavy hand on your shoulder presses you down into the seat. Mirror in front of you. Tired grey eyes stare back, framed by fresh little scars. You resist the urge to reach up and touch them.
Clippers on the table. A monthly ritual you kept for years, only recently discarded. The other stations are empty. Just you this time. The runaway, brought back into the fold.
"You know what to do."
You do. You do but…
"Get to it."
Your eyes rise to meet his gaze in the mirror. His eyes harden, brows narrowing, hand on your shoulder tightening, bruising. Talodine burns in your veins, but you don't need your telepathy to sense the indignation at your gall.
"No."
The hand on your shoulder, a vice now. Footsteps from behind and you brace for—
"Riley?"
A name. Not a number. You're here. Now. Not there. Not then.
A silver face in front of yours, brows knit, slight frown. Silver hands loose on your arms. She's concerned about you, projecting it a bit, wants you to know. How long were you zoned out?
You pull on a shaky smile for her, fingers flexing in your lap. You wish you had something between them and settle for worrying on the frayed threads of your sleeves.
"Are you alright? You look like you're going to throw up."
"I'm okay." Slow deep breath through your nose, hold it, release it. Again. Relax. You have to relax. "It's just…"
Your eyes dart to the clippers on the sink. They're what set you off. Too many bad memories. She hasn't even turned them on yet. It's been three? four? years since you tried to do it yourself. Longer still since they last forced it on you. How can you still be this weak?
"Are you having second thoughts?"
You aren't sure if you regret your offhand remark admiring some stranger's undercut. You might regret taking up her offer to help you cut your hair. You're too stubborn to give in, regardless.
"No. I want— I need to do this." Choice, you remind yourself. Your choice. No one's holding you down, holding you to it. You stare down at your scarred knuckles, resisting the urge to pick at them like you did back then. "Just… please be patient with me?"
"Okay." A pause, a little unreadable eddy spinning in her mind. "Can you look in the mirror for me?"
Always a hard ask, but you comply after a moment. The good thing about wearing so many layers is you have one to spare for this endeavor. Don't have to stare at the tattoos and make this worse than it already is.
She runs a finger along the side of your head, just grazing the split tip of your ear. "Up to here?"
"Higher. Like… up to the crown."
"Here?" Another drag through your hair, right where your skull starts to curve.
"Yeah. But sides only."
"Leave the back long? Same width stripe all the way down?"
"Yeah. Same all the way." You meet her eyes in the mirror, curiosity furrowing your brow as it finally occurs to you that you can't picture her with a shaved head. "How do you know how to use clippers anyway?"
A sad, nostalgic smile graces her lips. "My mom taught me the basics. My older brothers would let me do their hair sometimes, then just buzz it off if they didn't like it."
A reminder of the divide between you and people that always feels insurmountable. How different would you be if you'd been reared by someone who actually cared about you? Was invested in you for you, not for whatever experiments they could concoct to torture you. Maybe still not normal, normal was never in your cards. Less broken, at least. Less twisted up inside. More human.
She starts parting your hair, digging out the line she's going to follow. Cool hands, cold metal clips to keep it in place. You let your eyes fall shut. Breathe. You're wound tight as a spring and you haven't even gotten to the main event yet.
"Your hair is so thick," she says quietly. "Have you ever grown it longer than what you had when we met the first time?"
Almost touching your shoulders then, savagely self-hacked with scissors to keep it tamed. You didn't care about what it looked like before Ortega barged back into your life. You did after. "Once. After I… returned to Los Diablos. It got to be too much of a hassle."
"You kept it all shaved as Sidestep, right?"
"Yeah, out of habit."
"But not after you got back?"
"No."
"What changed?"
"Me." You swallow down the sudden lump in your throat. "Everything."
You feel her curiosity bubbling to the surface, but she patiently continues pinning up your hair, letting you find words at your own pace.
"I actually did try to grow it back then. For Ric. And me, I guess. He asked about it and I couldn't answer. It was right before…"
You were theirs again.
Rough hand on your head, knotting in locks just long enough to pull. Hard. You can't stop the yell at the entirely new pain. You don't need telepathy to know how much they enjoy it, it's clear in the cruel laughter.
They could have cut your hair while you were half-catatonic and saved themselves the struggle. But they wanted to test you. Wanted to show how easy it is to strip away what little was still yours. Still you.
"… it stopped being my choice." Not that it had been the first time you were there but you hadn't known freedom then. Choice is irrelevant when you don't know it exists.
"Riley." Quiet, but firm. A cool gentle squeeze at the base of your neck stills your shivers.
Fuck, you're definitely tight there. You bite back a groan. "Yeah?"
"It's okay." Absolving you of having to talk about it. You haven't told her about the Farm yet, but she knows enough to put it together with being taken after Heartbreak. Her thumb rubs gentle circles in the taut muscle. "Do me a favor and look at the mirror again."
You open your eyes and can't contain the snort of surprise at the sight of your hair pinned up in a dozen different directions. Tension drains out of you in a fit of helpless giggles, you look absolutely ridiculous. She echoes your smile in the mirror, flicks a floppy clipped up chunk over into your vision.
"Hey!"
"You okay?"
You grimace as you look at the clippers on the sink again. "Maybe."
"You sure you're sure about this?"
"Yeah." You force your gaze back to meet hers in the mirror. "When you do it. Please don't pull my hair?"
The plea comes out more pathetic than you intended and her face twitches. Something roils under the surface of her mercurial thoughts. Offended that you think she would? Anger at the ones who did? You won't delve deeper to find out. Your word has never been worth much, but that's one promise you intend to keep as long as you can.
"I won't." A quiet pledge as she picks up the clippers. "You ready?"
"No, but do it anyway." You squeeze your eyes shut.
A click and the buzz goes straight to the base of your spine, a prickly itch skittering its way up to your skull like spider legs. A cool hand on your head. A flat, open, gentle grip to steady your tremors and tilt you a little to the side. She has you. She'll stop if you ask. You suppress your flinch as she makes the first pass with the clippers, buzzing in your spine so much worse when it touches. Suppress the maddening urge to throw yourself off the stool at the next one. No pain or pulling, just a light rain of hair on your neck. One more and then the buzzing recedes as she withdraws. You let out the breath you didn't even realize you'd been holding.
Cool fingers massage your skull between the clips, warmer lips press to your forehead. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Not fully the truth but you're better than you thought you'd be. It's enough to get there.
"Good. You'll look really stupid if we stop now." Her tone is light, teasing, and again you can't help the snort that slips out.
You crack your eyes open to look at the patch of peach fuzz behind your ear. She's not wrong. You run a finger through it. So soft, you missed that texture.
"Is that length good?"
"Yeah."
"Ready to go again?"
"Mhmm."
You close your eyes again, steel yourself for another pass, and another. Her hand shifts, finger pressing your ear gently out of the way as she works around it. The buzzing echoed in the base of your spine doesn't get any more bearable, but the urge to flee does.
A brief pause as she moves to the other side. Hand shifts and tilts you the other way. Same thing once more. It's probably all over faster than you think, but time has never been on your side. Another click as she turns it off, brushes the hair from your neck and shoulders.
You open your eyes to examine her handiwork. Run your hands through the fresh cut, back to the waves still brushing your neck. The sides are level, even. Your face looks a little younger without all the hair framing it. A little sharper. More like the old days, before the scars. Most of them, anyway.
"Let me see."
You hold still as she examines your cut, tilting your face in multiple angles. Care in her gaze and handling, not like before. Not like you're a piece of meat on the block. You let out a held breath when she turns you loose.
"It's a good look on you, shows off those lovely cheekbones and earrings." She nods her satisfaction and digs the scissors out of the kit you brought. She doesn't need to own a pair with her hair. "Just need to trim some strays and you'll be done."
"Okay." You tilt your head as she directs you, watching in the mirror as she carefully works around your ears.
"You know we'll have to do this again in a month or two if you want to maintain it."
Not the most pleasant prospect, but this went much better than when you tried to do it yourself after you escaped. Easier to accomplish when the hands doing the deed aren't shaking hard enough to lose their grip. Easier to take with support. Maybe it'll keep getting better. Other things have.
"I can handle it. Do you mind?"
"No." She cleans up the line of your cut and moves to the other side, lips quirking in a soft smile. "I like playing beauty parlor."
She releases your hair from the clips once her trim is complete. It tickles over the shaved parts, a strange and new sensation, but not bad. You ruffle and fluff it with your fingers. Try to resist scratching your neck as tiny hairs trapped under your shirt irritate your skin.
"Definitely liking this look on you." You glance over to find her watching you with a wide indulgent smile. "I bet you feel itchy though."
"Can I…?" You gesture to the tub.
"Of course." She puts the scissors and clippers away, spotlessly clean after a silver hand trails over them. "I'll have some coffee ready when you're done. Ricardo should be here in an hour or so."
—
You're both settled together on the couch, well after the promised hour, when Argent suddenly perks up. She unfurls from her curled up recline against your side and heads for the door. You don't sense anyone on the other side, but he can't hide from her security like he can your mind. It's handy to have machines looking out. Might be worth adding more to your lair.
"How're my ladies today?" Ortega asks as he steps in, kicking his shoes off at the entry.
"Ready to kick back with some movies and doughnuts." Argent pulls him down by the collar for a kiss and you hear a hiss from him. The teeth are out. "You're late."
"Sorry. Got tied up helping Wei." A little apology peck on her forehead. "How'd beauty parlor go?"
"See for yourself." She gestures towards you.
"Oh…" An exhale of the softest wonder. "Now that's a blast from the past."
He sets the boxes on the counter, takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table. Knees intertwining and bumping yours. Warm hands cupping your cheeks, fingers caressing your newly clipped fuzz.
"You kept the top long."
"Yeah. Back too."
His hands trail back, burrowing into the waves at the base of your skull as he gently butts your head. "I love it."
"You love all my haircuts…" you mumble, cheeks warming. He's had a gush of compliments every time you see a stylist. Likes that you're taking care of yourself more.
"I especially love this one." A little kiss on your forehead. Nose. Lips. A glance over your shoulder. "You did a fantastic job, Angie. Maybe I should ask you to give me a haircut too."
"You couldn't afford me, Ricardo." A scoff but you feel little undercurrents of pleasure at the compliment. "But I guess I could make an exception this time. We haven't cleaned up the mess yet."
"Hmmmm, I do like you fluffy like this." You bury your hands in his curls, butt his forehead back gently. "But maybe you could use a trim."
#kitbug writes things#fhr#argentstep#chargentstep#lady argent#ricardo ortega#sidestep#riley owens#2k words of haircut fic no one asked for#this is so thoroughly self indulgent#riley deserves a stupid haircut for b3#it's a metaphor#i've been picking at this for like eight fucking months#i'm so tired of it being in my wip folder#please enjoy XD
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Scully comes back to her apartment after her abduction, and sure, it's all clean and tidy, but it's also incredibly empty. Mulder has been visiting her almost constantly, and her skin itches with the need for his presence.
She considers calling him. She considers asking him to come over. She considers driving over herself. Then again, she's been taking up enough of his time—he must be glad to finally have some hours to himself.
It's early in the afternoon, but she's exhausted, so she drops her bag in her bedroom and is about to close the blinds when something catches her eye.
Draped over a chair is one of Mulder's t-shirts that was definitely NOT there before. She briefly thinks about washing it and giving it back to him until she realises what it being here means in the first place.
The shirt still smells like him, like his laundry detergent, like HER laundry detergent, and something she knows to be just Mulder.
("He hasn't been sleeping," her mother had told her, and he'd certainly looked the part. Yet every time he came by, he ended up dozing off for at least an hour or two, seemingly lulled to sleep by her voice and her fingers carding through his hair.)
Maybe it should bother her, but somehow, it doesn't. Even though she will never admit it, she would have done the same; in a different universe, she spent three months curled up on his couch with her eyes wide open.
The fabric is soft against her cheek, and it helps calm the paranoia enough for her to change and slide into bed, the shirt held tightly in her grasp. Before she can turn off the light, the phone on her nightstand rings, and she knows it's him. It's always him.
"I just wanted to check in, make sure you got home safe," Mulder says quietly, and she clicks off her bedside lamp and presses the receiver to her ear.
"I'm okay, just tired and about to try to sleep," she replies, and her voice sounds almost gentle. In the dark, with her nose buried in the familiar-unfamiliar fabric and hearing his breaths, she can almost pretend he's right there with her.
"I'll be here if you—if you need anything."
"I know." She does. She really, really does.
When she dreams, it's about him.
———
still thinking about one breath, and there are at least 2 half-written fics in my wip folder. send help.
#alex writes x files#txf#the x files#x files#dana scully#fox mulder#scully x mulder#mulder x scully#msr#msr ficlet#txf fanfic
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Some TBB s3 trailer reactions/thoughts
If you follow me on twitter/IG you probably saw these already
First of all, FEBRUARY 21???? SO SOON. I'M NOT READY TO SAY GOODBYE WHEN IT ENDS AAAA
Secondly, CROSSHAIR. They kept Crosshair's old armor, even as they had to lose and repurpose and probably sell parts of their own kits while surviving.. they kept his armor intact NOBODY TOUCH ME.
As I thought, it seems Hunter and co will reunite with Omega and Cross in the premiere. This isn't surprising bc I couldn't imagine Omega being in captivity for long, she is the central kid character and has to be in the thick of all their adventures.
Re: Tech. I know in my heart that Tech is alive but tbh I'm one of the few people who doesn't want the brainwashed Imperial Tech plotline bc it feels redundant at this point, we already had Echo and Cross as victim of experiments/brainwashing.
Mostly I'm just tired of seeing clone characters getting stripped of their agency to a ridiculous degree when it's not necessary for their character development at all, at some point it starts to feel like angst for angst's sake bad fanfiction style.
I just want to see him being his capable self, not another victim in distress.. Combined with how a portion of this fandom has a tendency to infantilize him, I'm feeling some level of trepidation if Imp!Tech is indeed where this is going.
But I ofc will take any scenario where he is alive > any scenario where he is dead. The family must be complete :<
So while I have my reservations, I'm totally open to seeing whatever they have cooked up and reserve all judgement until I get to experience the story as it's told. I'm just cautious about this particular possibility bc I keep seeing fandom folk clamouring for it.
As for THAT character cameo... God I so wish this means that godawful book was yeeted from the canon once and for all. This is a Dark Disciple hater household, sorry to those who liked it for whatever reason. I have nothing against Vos as his own character, but Ventress didn't deserve an ending THAT shitty so please keep her away from that bullshit.. please.. I'm so happy to see her again ;_; and I'm so happy that the big cameo wasn't Ahsoka lmao I would've thrown something.
Anyway aGHHH I'm overflowing with emotion rn I love that show sm!!
*cracks knuckles* opens up a folder of wips from almost a year ago titled "Crosshugs"
UPD. So apparently DD is still canon. So let me get this right.. TBB s3 is supposedly aligned with DD being kept canon.. but DD takes place before order 66?? Does it mean that Asajj faked her death to get the jedi to leave her alone lmao literally being "the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated". I get it girl I would've faked my death too to get out of a toxic relationship.
#the bad batch#the bad batch season 3#tbb season 3#the bad batch s3#the bad batch spoilers#tbb spoilers
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i was organizing some files and found all the wip stuff from the previous secret samol for @/seamonsterart (go check out their work!), and these are two of my favorite illustrations ever, so here's some insight into how i made these!
for starters i already had a pretty much finished design for pickman that i had first drawn back in 2021
she has a completely wrong gun in this version because i did not remember how it was supposed to look like and couldn't find a description of it anywhere. she's wearing a hat because i forgot it was supposed to be a helm and so i ended up giving her the large hat just because the long horns coming through it are a fun image, though today i cannot imagine her wearing anything else. she already has the sword she takes from the lake skeletons, also.
her armor is based on the armor the torumekian soldiers and kushana wear in nausicaa of the valley of the wind, with the incredible neck guard and long cape covering their entire body
i've always loved these designs and how the plates are evocative of insects, but also how mysterious they look with covered faces and bodies. matter of fact, at this point i had no fucking idea what pickman looked like below the cape.
the second inspiration is the young man from angel's egg.
OK, STAY WITH ME. i cannot explain this other that in my head pickman and him are VERY similar characters. the image of the half pulled cape while he holds his sword-cross-thing over his shoulder and the quiet demeanor are pretty fundamental to how i try to make pickman FEEL. i actually wanted her armor to have more piping, pulling from the biomechanical appearance of his sword-cross, but it didn't feel quite right
and the third inspiration is less inspiration and more reference work, the book "arms & armor, a pictorial archive" by carol grafton
it's a compilation of illustration works sourced from several books from the 19th century. VERY cool book to take a look at historical armor. it's on the internet archive for free!
there was also a fair ammount of looking at goats and sheep, but eventually i reached this after learning i suck at drawing furry designs. big shoutout to the furry community for making so many tutorials available btw. in highlight a very important study of the character.
now that i kinda knew what pickman looked like i entered the wonderful phase of "i don't know what the fuck i'm doing" which resulted in a bunch of bad doodles now sitting in a folder dubbed "dev hell". at this point i kinda had an idea for a relaxed scene based on one of the prompts, which i developed for a while on blender but eventually gave up on.
i then moved on to the second prompt, of pickman being badass. i decided on a low angle to make pickman look incredibly tall but the low angle of a goat's head legitimately kicked my ass so i eventually made a goat head on blender and used it to generate references with the help of designdoll. here i made her design a lot more muscular and fat, also, eventually coming to her final design.
the valve on her chestplate looks WRONG to me now, but at the time i was so tired i just rolled with it. the first pass of her armor was in a completely wrong color, which i corrected later on photoshop. i added the little metal forks pulling from her 2021 design, and the idea of little musical forks for atunning to the shape was cool to me. i also corrected her gun after actually learning what the fuck it was supposed to look like. i already knew i wanted her to be standing on the field of canola flowers, and the sky in the background was the last thing i added, also the time when i decided to really make the picture tall.
i liked the final result so much i went back and started working on the first prompt again. had a horrible time drawing the horns in the second image which led to this hell cage for building the perspective. im still not confident on the horns on the side of the head. i wanted to bring the atmosphere of a cold winter or fall morning in the second one, and to make pickman seem tired but relaxed. i overall like the second picture a lot more than the first and was very happy with how it came out.
AND THAT'S HOW THE SAUSAGE IS MADE I GUESS. if you read this whole thing then thank you for your time!
#fatt#f@tt#friendsatthetable#friends at the table#pickman#ernestina pickman#sangfielle#wip#breakdown#luketaart#brazilian artists
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it's so hard to choose and i kind of want to ask you to explain all of them but particulary /b/tard pattycakes is the funniest thing ive read all day and im dying to know what its about
thank you so much. it delights me every time i remember it's in my folder
FUCK OFF RE:DEGENERATE ASSHOLE Anonymous 09/07/08(Fri)15:50:47 No.717794 >
I don't care how pissed off you dumbfucks get becus I'm namefagging. I DONT CARE. I want that fuckers head on a pike and you KNOW the asshole I'm talking about. I'm tired of his fucking loli threads and retarded secrets threads and how every time I post pics he responds with stupid shit about how he wants to lock me in a basement because he's a faggot creep. I'M LITERALLY UNDERAGE. I'm sorry for posting face pics, okay???!!! Maybe I just want someone to tell me that I'm not the ugliest lamest most disgusting guy I know and that I'm just average (I'm fine with being average) without getting sexually assaulted on line. Go back to /lit/ you pretentious piece of shit fucker. Eat shit and die I'M NOT KIDDING.
>> Anonymous 09/07/08(Fri)15:52:03 No.717795 >
i cant believe you want me this bad. ill send you my address if you want. you can be my penpal and then maybe you can stop shitting up the boards with how hard youre jacking your little boy cock off to me. ive saved at least 3gigs worth of pix of you. i think youre an angel. i love you.
~
basically patrick is a miserable shut-in computer nerd who spends a lot of time on vintage 4chan and he gets his ass chewed regularly for posting very badly on there and pete develops a psychosexual relationship with him after he starts posting pics of himself for validation and the feelings eventually become mutual. i can't get enough of internet-based aus
wip game asks <3
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Thank you @shadowisles-writes and @temperedink for tagging me!
Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
I am not the best at multitasking so I don't have much upcoming, other than attempting to finish my first ACOTAR fic, I Can Wait For You At The Bottom- but word docs have been created for the following AUs.
Bad Medicine
NESSIAN- Modern A/U in a hospital setting
That stupidly huge orthopedic surgeon, Cassian Knight, can never send one prescription correctly. Copious amounts of protein powder and huffing bone cement seem to have rotted his brain, or more likely, he never had one in the first place. All that stands between his patients and kidney failure from NSAID overdose is one overworked pharmacist, and Nesta Archeron is tired of babysitting
Natural Anchor
ELUCIEN- Modern A/U in Southwestern USA adventure/survival setting.
She should have known he would be at this particular rock formation. She seems to run into him all over their small desert town. It's hard to miss him, with that big smirk, the smattering of well-placed freckles, and hair redder than the Utah sandstone. He's a bit of a local celebrity for his daredevil canyoneering and solo climbing. But Elain Archeron is not interested in being his next adventure and she certainly doesn't want Lucien Vanserra dangling above her all day while she attempts to complete her research for her ethnobotany degree. But twelve hours later, a snapped rope, a broken ankle, and a flash flood force cooperation and forced proximity for the sake of survival.
I Can Wait for You at The Bottom
ELUCEIN- Modern AU, Exes, small-town setting, featuring rockstar Lucien and florist Elain. Current longest WIP posted on AO3.
Lucien faltered under her caustic glare like a coward. He could not fully own up to what he felt, what he never stopped feeling, even for a single second. “I still care for you, Elain.”
“Weird,” She mused, tracing her elegant fingers around the rim of the tequila bottle. “Because in a lot of those songs, you make me sound like the villain."
Twenty-five ( to life)
Not ACOTAR fic, but is a WIP. Masters of the Air fandom. Posted to A03.
"You complete your twenty-five missions, Major Egan, and I’ll marry you.”
She certainly doesn't expect him to survive.
But she also certainly didn't expect to fall in love.
Pretty sure I'm likely one of the last folks to get on this train, so I've you've already been tagged, just smile and ignore me :)
@clockwork-ashes @climbthemountain2020 @crazy-ache
@wilde-knight @areyoudreaminof @separatist-apologist @the-lonelybarricade
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WIP Tag Game
tagged by @midwinterspringwrites and @bearholdingashark 💜 Thank you for tagging me! Tbh this is one of my favorite writing memes, so I’m always in the mood!
I’m starting to pull myself out of the writing slump that I’ve been in since this summer. Between moving, unpacking, mentally adjusting to Newness, and my job being shitty, my creative brain juices have been… minimal. BUT I started three entire new fics this week, so I think my staycation helped!
RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.
additional rule I add for myself: I only include docs I've edited sometime in the last year. bc I have way more WIPs than this, but this keeps things more present/less unruly.
down bad for dominikolai
amnesia au
yurkling lol
dominikolai ep 6 hurtcomfort
sun summoner nikolai
the gangster au I'm not writing but could as a flex
handcuff lessons
succession theme intensifies
that kazolai I owe kara
Present
S&S Waltz
Maud Blyth, Terror
roleplay but they're bad at it
christmas fic
ghost elsie chats
more ghost elsie feelings why not
Tagging: @meyerlansky, @mercutiotakethewheel, @esssteee, @zizygy, @itsnotunfinisheditsmystyle, @hosseinis, @chaotic-tired-bastard, @malewife-darkling (and if anyone else is a fan of this meme, consider this an open invite!)
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Hellish day, you darling sinners!
After internally struggling with wanting to answer asks, while also not wanting to spam your dashes, I've decided to just compile some of them into one ridiculously long post.
Oh, stop peeking into my WIPs folder anon. You wouldn't want to spoil yourself now—that's my job!
None at the moment. But I am starting to see the allure of another Hazbin Hotel man, so maybe I'll be considering it in the future.
Unfortunately, it is not Vox. Sorry, anon.
I hid your identity for your own safety because the internet can be such a weird place.
I actually like the little guy too, and I fear I'm far too old for cringe culture. But not liking something is also valid, don't worry about it!
I am really sorry if I skip over your comments or asks, I promise it's nothing personal! I likely just did not see it or forgot to reply entirely!
Or I simply do not know how to respond to it
I don't have any plans for writing for ships, really.
But I do like a few!
Huskerdusk makes my heart go soft and it's really a comfort ship for me.
Radioapple is weird, in a way that I absolutely do not want them romantically or sexually involved ever, but I do love their enemies to pettier enemies dynamic. Soulmates in a "one was made to piss off the other" kind of way.
Radiosilence I absolutely adore. And honestly if it isn't canon I think I—and a great deal of the fandom—would genuinely be shocked.
Oh, you're not wrong at all, anon! I did love it!
I searched it up shortly after musical divorce anon sent the song in. I've had Hermes' song on repeat for a while now actually!
The funny part is, I do!
Sometimes my tired brain just doesn't catch all mistakes still.
But be rude to me again, anon, and I'll proof read you
Why, hello there! Are you new to the internet, dear fellow? Just kidding, of course!
Jokes aside, dear anon. I'm just more used to darker themes when it comes to writing. The plot just flows easier for me.
Not the same with fluff. When I think of fluffy scenarios, all that comes out is screaming and cuteness aggression.
I'm just going to run with this as a compliment from now on.
Thank you, lovely anon!
I do, actually! But I cannot draw to save my life so she'll just remain in my head I suppose.
I named her Venison because I want the Alastor to eat me.
Ending with these two lovely messages.
Truth be told, I, being bi and a little hyper sexual, didn't really intend to write the smut pieces with Alastor's canon sexuality in mind.
I really just wrote how I thought Al would be like during those scenes, but I am very glad that it translated to such a way anyway!
Thank you all so much for your support so far! I hope I can continue to provide wonderful entertainment for all your depraved little hearts.
#vien answers#a lot#like a lot#If I still didn't get to your ask I am deeply sorry#but the length of the post was making me self conscious somehow#hazbin hotel#alastor
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That ain't happening Thursday!
we are back baby!!
I was working on a lot of stuff for fandom events so I really couldn't share a lot. Now that most of that is done I can start on other things!
Starting with the sfw part of a Nsfw Brain Dead ship Fic!! it is affectionally named "smut fic, yes the one with star wars" in my wips folder.
Danny had been friends with Tim for over half a year and he has been pining after him for just as long. He is so gone for this boy it's not even funny. Sam and Tucker had been dealing with his lovesick ass the whole time and he can tell they are at their limit.
"Danny, I swear to the Ancients if you don't ask him out or something soon, I'll start growing plants in your dishwasher." Sam lightly threatened after his half an hour long rant about the other boy.
"Sam, no!" Danny pleaded with her from his spot on the floor.
"I'm with Sam on this one, dude. If she doesn't go through with it then I'll keep giving you viruses. You'll be forced to talk to him to get rid of them because I'm sure as hell not doing that for you." Danny cringed at hearing Tucker. Yeah, maybe this was going on too long if Tucker was making threats.
"Fine, if I don't ask him out before the end of spring break you guys can go through with ya threats" The cheers this got from them was in his opinion a bit much.
So here Danny is, with two days left before classes start up again and still too much of a coward to say anything to Tim. He even is tired of his own bullshit at this point, but he is going to fix it today!
Tim had asked him to come over to watch Star Wars later that night. He planed to ask the other out afterwards, let's just hope he doesn't chicken out. He really doesn't want to hand wash dishes and find a way to fix his computer without Tucker or Tim.
---------—x—---------
Tim couldn't wait for later tonight. Danny and him were supposed to continue their rewatch and light roasting of Star Wars, with Attack of the Clones being next, it should be a great night. Danny's roasting and general presents always made the nightmare of getting someone to cover his patrols worth it.
His missed patrols did have the side effect of making him a bit restless. He ends up having to workout beforehand to settle himself. Normally, it wouldn't be a big deal, but this damn proposal meeting is taking forever. At this rate, he wouldn't be able to change out of his workout clothes. Well, guess he can use this as an opportunity to flirt with the other man. He’ll wear some booty shorts and a crop top then. If it doesn't drive Danny up the wall nothing else will.
Tim really should just ask the other boy out at this point. His crush was getting ridiculous, and it was really a matter of time before he said fuck it and kissed that hot nerd. He almost did before he was interrupted by Danny getting a call. He was going to find the coworker that called Danny in to cover for them that day and steal their left shoes.
Tim internally sighed as another person talked about something that could have just been an email and was barely relevant. God, when will this suffering end.
---------—x—---------
When Tim opened his door, Danny knew he was going to die.
He was going to die of blood loss because all of his blood is quickly heading to his dick, and it’s all Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne’s fault. Tim was in bright fucking red booty shorts with white trimming. His shirt did not help either! The black hand-cropped top with the cartoon ghost on it was bisected by its uneven cropping. Tim’s slim torso displayed the efforts of his clear workout. A bead of sweat dripped down his torso to his waist line.
Ancients, he wants to follow it with his tongue.
Danny snaps his gaze up to Tim’s face, hoping he didn’t get caught with wandering eyes. The other man smirks and steps out of the doorway to let him in. Danny was a fucking goner. A dead man (more than usual) all because of the man in front of him.
Danny quickly slips his sneakers off and stumbles after Tim. So many questions running through his mind, none he can ask without giving his exact feelings away, if his dick didn’t give half of them away already.
Fuck, he was pathetic.
He takes a deep breath. He can do this, survive the movie and ask that gorgeous genius out. He just hopes that Tim feels the same.
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This is still unfinished and kinda rough, but I'm tired of this being in my WIP folder so here you go lol a Hilda and Lysithea piece that I've been working on for months
#Fe3h#lysithea von ordelia#hilda valentine goneril#Hildalys#Lysilda#Idk what the ship name is#But it can be read as platonic so#Janie arts
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WIP Tag Game
Thank you @read-and-write- @inexplicablymine @bidoofenergy @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @songliili and @rockyroadkylers for the tags! :) I'm very excited for this game
Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs
I have more ideas but I'm limiting myself to the ones that have actual real google docs created for them aka they're either being written or they have been outlined to varying degrees
Dream a Little Dream Of Me
[redacted] for @happiness-of-the-pursuit's birthday
Walk and Talk
henry is a painting
Double Shot
soulmates
Flashback When You Met Me
Unless... you want to hear me talk out of my ass for ones that don't
love confessions through non-verbal cues
beach at night
This should be everything - send me copious asks because I'm feeling chatty today heheheheh
OPEN TAG but (so sorry if you've done this I may be chatty but I'm also very tired) tagging @kiwiana-writes @happiness-of-the-pursuit @sparklepocalypse @whimsymanaged @myheartalivewrites @rmd-writes @littlemisskittentoes @sherryvalli @onward--upward @lizzie-bennetdarcy @anchoredarchangel @everwitch-magiks @daisymae-12 @leojfitz @nocoastposts @indomitable-love @firenati0n2 @leaves-of-laurelin @cultofsappho and @matherines
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Hey guys I wanna post a little update now that things are a little more in motion
I'm sorry I haven't been as prolific with the recolors as I used to be. I honestly burnt myself completely out on the sims when I realized all I was doing was downloading cc that just bloated my drive and I just... never use it. I'm going through a folder refresh at the moment getting rid of a lot of the bloat but it's a Process and I get tired of it easily.
In other news I went back to playing WoW with some friends and I've been really enjoying that lately, plus I'm still playing Fallout 76, so I just don't really find the time to dive into sims, photoshop, s4s blender etc.
That said, I do still have plans of things I'm working on, lots of wips I need to wrap up and push out, including some hair conversions I'd been working on before burnout but i'm not forcing myself to finish them quickly. Mostly because:
The biggest piece of news is that I started training in a new job this week. It's going to ultimately be a remote support position for a tech company, but until the end of December I'm getting up at 6am to go in for training and if you know me... *internal screaming*
Again I wanna apologize for being so... not here. I'm just spinning a lot of plates.
Oh I also took in an elderly (17 year old) cat named Tiffany who is the neediest creature in existence lmao kay bye
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wip amnesty - jordan eberle/taylor hall
Full disclosure, I think I've posted this before, but I'm officially posting it again just to get it off my chest and out of my active fics folder. It's never getting finished. At the end I will include my notes for how I would have ended it if I had the willpower to do so. I created this document in the year of our eldritch horror TWO THOUSAND THIRTEEN so that's how long it's been muddling through existence.
--
the new normal
It’s not that Taylor hasn’t heard of Oklahoma before, of course he has, though he doubts he could have ever picked it out on a map of the US. He’s just never, like, had to physically acknowledge its existence with his own presence, and it’s weird.
“Is it as flat as you thought?” Jeff, the intern the team sent to pick him up at the airport, carefully keeps his hands at 10 and 2 on the wheel. Bringing his truck down from home hadn’t made sense given he’s sure he won’t be here long, but Taylor misses driving already.
“I didn’t really think about it,” he says, and that’s definitely true. Foreign places always resemble a slightly different Canada in his mind until he sees them. And it’s not like anywhere in the US is really that different, not like going overseas.
And honestly, it does kind of remind him of Edmonton, only with fewer trees.
Jeff laughs when he says it out loud, and starts pointing out landmarks on the way to the apartment Taylor will share with Jordan. He’s never lost this much playing time before, and he isn’t sure if it’s that or seeing Jordan for the first time since April that has him wiping sweat off his palms every five minutes.
Taylor lets Jeff’s inane chatter ease him all the way to his new front door, on the second floor of a low rise apartment building that Jeff assures him is only a five-to-ten-minute bike ride from the arena. “It doesn’t look like a lot, but there’s some good stuff in Midtown,” Jeff says, gesturing vaguely to the road behind them.
Taylor doesn’t know how to respond to this but it doesn’t really matter because Jeff’s already gone.
--
“Are you telling me you actually brought your dirty laundry from Canada to wash down here?” Jordan says, looking at the pile of clothes in front of the washer. “You moved down here just so I'd do your laundry again, didn't you?”
Taylor laughs and chucks the socks he'd been wearing on top of the pile. It’s almost a relief to just fall back into chirping each other like they always used to. It helps him talk through the fluttery bits in his stomach. “Yep, it had absolutely nothing to do with finally being able to play again. I got tired of washing my own socks.”
Jordan picks one of the socks up and flicks it back at Taylor's face. “It doesn’t look like you’ve washed a sock since last season.”
Taylor bats it away, laughing around the new tight feeling that’s taken up residence in his chest. He'd really missed just being in the same room with Jordan, sitting on their mutually owned couch playing xbox, buying groceries they’d forget to eat, watching Jordan sort their dirty laundry.
“Why aren't you holding up your end then?” Jordan asks. He's given up bitching and started dumping the pile of clothes into the washer. “When's the last time you went grocery shopping?”
“Chill out, I just got here.”
“We can't eat at Earl's every day, dude.”
It's weird that he can eat at a place called Earl's in two different countries. Did they run out of restaurant names? The one down here doesn't have the variety of Edmonton’s, but their brisket is delicious, and Taylor doesn't see why they can't eat it every day if they want to. He says as much.
“The nutritionist might object.”
Fair point to Jordan. “Do you think Tubes would let me borrow his car?”
Jordan snorts. “No.”
Taylor flops down on the couch. “Well do you think he'd give me a ride to the grocery store?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether or not he's already going to the store.” Jordan flops down next to him, and it's not their awesome giant wrap around couch that Jordan’s mom bought them when they moved in, so next to him is kind of on top of him given the way that Taylor's sprawled, but Taylor doesn't mind. He likes Jordan's warm weight against him, even though it's kind of hot in their apartment, despite the air conditioning. It's weird that it's 30C in late October anywhere in the world.
“If we had Vespas we could go to the store.”
“How is grocery shopping with a Vespa different than grocery shopping with your bike?”
Taylor tries to shrug but his shoulders are stuck to the leather. “I'd get there faster?”
“Do you even know what a Vespa is?” Jordan nudges Taylor with his foot. “You still wouldn't have anywhere to put the groceries.”
Taylor doesn’t want to admit that no, he still doesn’t know. “I wouldn't get much. It's not like you're going to cook it.”
“Can't fit a lot of coconut water on a Vespa.”
“I could fit enough.” He nudges Jordan back with his knee, since his feet are currently trapped under Jordan's calves.
“Hey, Cheds.” Sometimes Taylor regrets ever telling Jordan about that nickname, but sometimes he likes that Jordan is the only one to use it anymore.
“What?”
Jordan won't make eye contact with him for a minute, which is weird because it's Jordan and Jordan has never been uncomfortable around Taylor, not even when they first met. “I just. I really missed you.”
It's weird to say his heart flips in his chest, because hearts don't actually do that, really, but Taylor might finally know what people mean when they say that, like this sick warm weird feeling right there behind his sternum. It's awesome and terrifying and he doesn’t know what to do with it.
He waits until it passes and pats Jordan's shoulder, because Jordan's still looking weird. Which, granted, they hardly ever talk about their feelings for things other than food or hockey, but still. “I missed you too, you non.”
Jordan doesn't even smile at that, and Taylor suddenly feels like they're having two different conversations. “No,” Jordan says. “I mean. I missed. Jesus, Taylor, it was like <i>six months</i>.”
“No it wasn't, I was back in Edmonton that whole time. I mean, except for the surgery.”
“Not on the ice.”
“Well no, but—”
“Not over the summer.”
“We never spend the summer together.”
Jordan's looking at him now, but it's with the distinct impression that says Taylor's missing something big, and fuck if Taylor knows what it is. He kind of does though, because even when he'd been out with his ankle his rookie year, they'd still been around, and it hadn't been some planned thing like his shoulder where they knew it'd go through next season.
The shoulder thing had kind of scared him, and he guesses it must have scared Jordan a bit too. He puts his hand on Jordan's shoulder again, but leaves it there and holds on. “I get it,” he says, even though Jordan's still looking at him like he really doesn't. “I really did miss you too. And playing with you. And winning with you.”
Jordan looks kind of okay with that, and he reaches up to pat Taylor's hand.
“You want to hug it out?” Taylor asks.
Jordan laughs at that and smacks his hand away and things feel normal again, but a different kind of normal. “Fuck you, turn on the TV.”
If this is going to be their new normal, Taylor could be okay with that.
–
Practice is weird and it isn’t just because he hasn’t actually had a team practice since last season. Jordan and Ryan have been down for a month already, since before the home opener, and Taylor hates feeling a step behind. He knows some of the guys from training camp last year, but Schultz is new and Ryan follows him around like a duckling.
He’s also missed out on several months worth of inside jokes, which he hates almost more than feeling winded after sprints. During practice Justin hip checks Jordan and they both say “sauce” and crack up laughing. Taylor doesn’t feel bad at all when they both land on their asses and get yelled at.
Tubes laughs at Taylor when he mentions the grocery store, but Hamilton takes pity on him. (Taylor hadn't really planned this well and asked in the locker room. If anyone chirps him about it, he's totally throwing Jordan under the bus about the laundry. Cereal is way better than socks.)
“We can go after practice,” Hammy says. “I've gotta go anyway.”
They end up driving way further north than Taylor's been before, he hasn't really made it past 23rd St on his bike, and stopped there because there wasn’t a bike lane. He figures if it isn't in the confines of downtown, he doesn't really need it.
“But you do,” Hammy says. “Because they don't have a Whole Foods down there.” He then spends about fifteen minutes bitching about the grocery store situation in Oklahoma, because apparently the liquor laws in the States are different than Canada, and for some reason that means no good grocery stores exist in this state. “It's a big fucking mess,” Hammy finishes, just as he parks. He catches Taylor giving him whatever look must have been on his face, because really, <i>grocery stores</i>. “What?” Hammy asks.
“I had no idea someone could have so many feelings about grocery stores.”
Hammy just pushes him into a parked car, and they both run when the alarm starts blaring.
–
“Did you know it's not even called KD down here?” Taylor asks, neatly arranging the offensively labeled blue boxes in the cupboard.
“I did, actually,” Jordan says, not even looking up from the TV.
“You could have warned me.”
“I'm sorry, was it a shock to your delicate nature?”
Taylor lobs one of the wet sponges on the sink at Jordan's head, and fuck yeah he's got excellent hand-eye coordination, it hits Jordan right in the ear. Jordan yelps and comes at him, and Taylor barely gets out “I'm sorry, was it a shock to your delicate ear?” before Jordan has him pinned on the kitchen floor, laughing into the tile.
Taylor gets his hands under him and shoves up. He's got height and weight on Jordan, which has always made wrestling pathetically unmatched, especially when Jordan forgets to do shit like pin his hands. He gets Jordan wedged into the corner between the cabinets and the floor, and even with Jordan squirming and kicking his truly massive thighs around, he can't dislodge Taylor. Taylor is the fucking master of pinning people.
“Say it,” he says. It's unfortunately a little muffled because he's got Jordan's shoulder pinned with his head, and his mouth is full of Jordan' shirt. Still, it's a familiar enough routine by now, and Jordan's face is free and clear.
“No.”
Taylor presses down harder, his feet hooked over Jordan's legs and their arms tangled. It'd be horrible form if either of them had ever actually officially wrestled in any kind of formal manner, but there aren't any rules here. They're touching knee to head and it’s apparently part of the new normal that Taylor notices this time. Notices exactly how they line up, how Jordan's thigh flexes between his, how Jordan's breath pants across Taylor's forehead as he struggles. He doesn't know why he's never thought about this before, how good everything feels. He's missed it. They've had to be too careful about Taylor's shoulder for so long.
“Say it,” he says again, and hopes his voice doesn't sound as wrecked as he feels.
“You're better than me!”
“At what.”
Jordan sags against the floor and Taylor finds himself resisting absolutely nothing, and then they're just two guys, cuddling on the kitchen floor. “At literally everything,” Jordan says.
Taylor lifts his head. “That escalated quickly.”
“Fuck you, don't quote <i>Anchorman</i> at me.”
“Don't say ridiculous shit.”
Jordan shrugs and Taylor feels it with his whole torso and remembers that, oh yeah, he's still basically laying on top of Jordan, and it isn't for wrestling reasons anymore. He gets up and offers a hand to Jordan. “NHL 13?”
He laughs when Jordan slaps his hand away. “I'm gonna kick your ass,” Jordan says, levering himself up against the cabinets.
“Yeah, we'll see.”
–
Taylor's first week playing with the team for real and not just practicing involves a road trip down to Texas. On a bus. Taylor remembers taking buses to games, it honestly hasn't been that long, but the drive from OKC down to Houston is going to be like eight hours. And because he’s who he is he decides to complain about it out loud in the middle of Earl’s. “Welcome to the AHL,” he mutters.
“It's not that bad,” Jordan says.
“You're like a foot shorter than me, of course you don't think it's that bad.”
Jordan flicks a fry at him. Taylor tries unsuccessfully to catch it in his mouth. “I'm like inches shorter than you,” Jordan says. “Very few inches.”
“At least two,” Ryan says helpfully.
Justin nods. “But not more than six.”
“Fuck you both, it's not six inches.”
Taylor flicks a pickle at Jordan. Fries are too precious to waste, and he's really not a fan of pickles. “I can see over your head without even trying. It's enough.”
“You cannot.”
“I can.”
“Prove it.”
“Right now?”
Jordan gets up from their booth and stands next to it, hands on his hips. “Yes, right now.”
“You look stupid.” Taylor looks at Ryan and Justin, but they're both concentrating really hard on eating right now and are exactly no help. “Seriously?”
Justin looks up from his barbecue. “It makes Nugget really uncomfortable when his parents yell at each other,” he says, with a truly impressive deadpan expression. Taylor is forced to begrudgingly admit, only to himself, that Justin could teach lessons.
Taylor sighs heavily and ridiculously and throws his napkin down. “Fine.” He knows he's exaggerated his and Jordan’s height differences. Jordan knows he's exaggerated their height differences. Literally everyone knows he's exaggerated their height differences, and he stands up and his eyes are right on Jordan's forehead and of course he can't see shit over his head and he hates that he had to stand up and leave his barbecue behind. “Whatever, you non. Fine.” He sits back down again. “Two inches. Why were we talking about this again?”
Jordan is insufferably triumphant with his shit-eating grin. “The bus,” Jordan reminds him. “It's not that bad, so quit your fucking whining.”
“Language, Ebby,” Taylor says. “This is a family establishment.”
Jordan kicks him under the table, and it's really fucking hard actually, but then he leaves his leg pressed up against Taylor's until they leave.
–
Taylor shifts around for the millionth time in as many minutes. The bus is too hot and too cold and too cramped and too . . . everything. He's got his iPad out and has Dexter queued up but can't find a good position for the iPad and his legs and his shoulders. Jordan shotgunned the window seat on the way to the bus and at first Taylor thought that the aisle would be awesome, more room for his legs, but then Arco spread out a blanket, grabbed his pillow, and camped out in the aisle. It's a mad genius idea and Taylor wishes he'd thought of it first, but now he's got nowhere for his legs except under the seat in front of him.
“Stop squirming,” Jordan says, shoving at his shoulder. “I can't sleep when you squirm.”
“I can't get comfortable,” Taylor says, shoving back. “This is the worst.”
House kicks his seat. “Tell us again how wonderful the Oilers plane is, seriously.”
Taylor hunches down in his seat. This is the worst, the absolute worst, but he might be down here for the whole season, given the way the negotiations are going, and he doesn't really want to be <i>that guy</i>.
“Here, just.” Jordan starts manhandling him a bit. “Sit up a minute, will you?” Taylor does and Jordan pulls his leg up behind Taylor and Taylor does not at all see how this is going to be comfortable? But then Jordan grabs his shoulders and turns Taylor away from him and pulls his back into Jordan's chest, so Taylor is basically reclining in a Jordan chair. Taylor tries really hard and really unsuccessfully to not think about every point of contact between them.
He swings his legs up onto the armrest across the aisle, basically right over Arco's head, but he's asleep and Danis is all alone across the aisle and sleeping with his face mashed against the window and obviously not using the arm rest right now.
“Better?” Jordan whispers, and it's right in his ear and that's definitely what makes the goosebumps spread across the back of his neck. He wonders what Jordan will attribute his full body shudder to, but Jordan doesn't actually ask. Also is it better? No. And yes.
“Yeah,” he says, just as quiet. It really has no business being comfortable, because they're still two tall, muscular dudes shoved into a seat made for people roughly half their size, but somehow it is, and it’s weird that it is.
Jordan slings his arm over Taylor's shoulder, because it's that or leave it mashed between Taylor and the seat. He can feel when Jordan falls asleep again, because his breath gets deep and even against Taylor's shoulder.
Taylor puts his earbuds in, props the iPad against his knees, and hits play. He’ll deal with how good all of this feels later.
–
It’s Justin’s idea to go see Cloud Atlas. Taylor doesn’t really like going to movie theaters, he gets bored just sitting there trying to follow along with a plot he doesn’t really care about. He relents when Jordan tells him to stop being a non and promises to buy him a popcorn and lemonade, so he gets on his bike and follows them all down the street to the theater.
Somehow, when they all go to sit down, Taylor ends up on the end of the row next to Justin, and Jordan’s on the other end next to Ryan, and all Taylor has is his watery lemonade. Ryan and Justin do this thing during the previews where they do a thumbs up or down on whether or not they’ll go see the movie. Jordan starts giving his opinion after he sees Ryan and Justin doing it.
Taylor keeps his thumb down the whole time and eventually Justin stops turning to ask.
He only makes it thirty-seven minutes into the movie. By the sixth time a new storyline is introduced and he’s leaned over again to Justin to ask if that’s still Tom Hanks under all the makeup and Justin has shushed him yet again, he just gets up and leaves. He waits in the lobby to see if anyone follows him but eventually Taylor has to concede that they might not have even noticed he’d left. Or maybe they just thought he was taking an extended bathroom break.
The lobby of the movie theater is boring and doesn’t have any couches and he’s actually pretty close to home because everything is pretty close to their apartment, so he just leaves.
He bikes around downtown. There’s a little canal area near the theater and a big statue of a covered wagon. He likes the canal. It’s absolutely nothing like the river in Edmonton but whatever, it’s trying. He stops outside Toby Keith’s restaurant to tweet about the movie and laughs at Whits’ response.
Most of the time he’s not sure if it’s Oklahoma City that he likes or his anonymity. No one recognizes him here. No one stops him on the sidewalk to ask about their Cup chances. No one laments to him about their godawful power play, or how long it’s been since their last playoff run. No one gives him their insider tips or advice on going top shelf or five hole. He hasn’t been this anonymous in a really long time.
If he’d stopped to think about it, and he never had, obviously, he’d have assumed he’d find it lonely, isolating. The first time he’d left the country, to go someplace that wasn’t the United States, he’d gone all the way to Russia for hockey. They had people to help them around, translators assigned to help them order dinner and find their way to the bathrooms. And, other than thinking they were obnoxious tourists, the Russians hadn’t really cared much about who he was. He keeps thinking about that time, about being in the middle of a crowd of people and completely unable to communicate with any of them unless they spoke English.
They speak English in Oklahoma but it’s the same feeling, like there’s something lost in translation between him and the people strolling along the canal.
He’d never been alone in Russia though, Jordan had been with him. He wonders why he feels more alone now, and he kind of hates it.
As he’s contemplating that feeling, he realizes he’s hit the highway. And because he’s hit the highway, he doesn’t actually know where he is. It should be easy just turn around and go back the way he came, plus all the streets in Oklahoma City are numbered, but he can’t figure it out. He lets Siri direct him back to the apartment.
-
That's where it ends, these are the notes:
Lockout ends and they go back and Taylor is still pissy and doesn’t know why
Jordan confronts him about it
Taylor finally says that OKC was balls but he missed feeling like they were about to start something, like they were removed from their normal lives in a place where anything could happen
Jordan calls him an idiot and kisses him
“It was like. Anything could happen there. We could have just been two normal guys. And it made me think, if we were just two normal guys, what would I do.”
“But you didn’t do anything.”
Taylor shrugs. “We still weren’t normal guys, even though it felt like it.”
“What’s normal? Nothing’s normal. There’s no such thing as normal.”
“You know what I mean.”
“So we make a new normal,” Jordan says, and kisses him.
Okay but now that I’ve been reminded of it I need to add something in there about bonking their heads together as they kiss.
#huge shout out to all of my hockey friends#who read this story#and offered suggestions#that i never implemented#bc i never finished it#my fic#this work is not in progress#hallberle#hockey fic
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iiiiiiiit's your fave, dropping in with a ridiculous number of questions for you to answer! 5, 6, 11, 12, 15, 16, 20
Hello my beloved!
5. What is an image/set of images that you’re particularly proud of?
I'm not really sure what this question is asking...sorry
6. Idea that you always wanted to write but could never make work?
Honestly, there's nothing that I haven't thought of that I haven't written. If I think it, I write it. And if something is fighting me, I either put it aside until it works itself out or I scrap it and redo it, like my fic Monster Like Me (I worked on this god damn fic for over almost a month...my one shots have never taken this long before...but it's also one I'm really proud of so I guess all the work I put in paid off)
11. If I’m showing off just one of your pieces to someone, which one should it be?
You better show this fucker off -> 恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer
It's my baby and I love her and I need to get back to working on her because the 3 anniversary is coming up and I need to have the next couple of chapters done!
But honestly, you could should any of my fics off and I would be honored
12. What WIPs do you have going now? Are you excited about them?
Now that I've finished Monster Like Me, I can get back to working on my other wips 恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer (I'm about halfway through ep. 26 of 37), CSI: Jing City (we're on the last case), KeixYaku: Abunai Aibou, Oil and Water (we're on the second to last case), 药剂师日记 | The Apothecary Diaries (and we've got a few more cases to go with this one). I'm excited for all of them! I've also got a few more wips in my folders (Friendline, Junchun Hero x Villain, Vampire Doctor x Boxer (Mignon au), and 2 S.C.I. Hero x Villain aus) but those aren't to be touched until one of the other wips are finished.
15. Does font matter to you when you’re writing a draft?
Nope. I usually use Helvetica for fic and Times New Roman for headcanons. I'm also slowly learning that if I have an idea to just start writing it out instead outlining it because outlining it for some reason fucks with my head and the flow (which was the problem with Monster Like Me)
16. 3 favorite comments ever received on fanfic.
From @clawbehavior on my fic The City of Angels & Demons
She's not even in the fandom but I love receiving comments from her
From @evil-moonlight on my fic Our Dining Table
I love receiving literal book report comments, you don't even understand
From hellenatz on my fic 恨君不似江楼月 | Killer and Healer
I love getting comments from people who are new to Killer and Healer and who find my fic/fics and comment. Warms my fucking heart man
20. Go nuts, and talk about writing
I'mma be honest, I'm real tired after spending a few hours with my best friend eating sushi, talking, walking around/window shopping, and getting sea salt matcha lattes so my brain can't really like...talk about writing but like...I love writing and my writing friends and I love talking to y'all and hearing the shit that y'all are working on and just...yeah. I love being friends with other writers. Sorry if you wanted to hear about my fics but my brain is like nah
Fic writing questions! | send me asks
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Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then, tag as many people as you have WIPs
I was tagged by my dearest @diamozi ✨️
writing:
One Song (my oldes wip, it's basically a story with 26 different povs, it's all people gathered at a bar with live music and each chapter is one pov from the same 4 minutes when a specific song is played, so it's just different people feeling different things about the same song. i haven't worked on that for like 6 years but i still love the concept and i want to return to it someday!)
music x art (chanbaek college au, where chanyeol is a music major and baekhyun is an art major and they become roommates and shenanigans ensue-)
romhyun and yeoliet (a chanbaek romeo + juliet au (without the dying lol bc i don't do main character death) @byuns-coco and i obsessed over in 2021 i think. it's based on the 1994 movie and exo's kokobop mv xD)
the lonely stargazer (which is about a dude (gn) who goes to the beach with their telescope to stargaze - bc they have heard you can hear the mermaids sing to the lonely people there - and they do feel very lonely. and they do hear the mermaids and they are singing about myths and stories about the constellations they see in the stars which are different from the constellatios human beings see bc they are a whole different species with a different culture and yeah. dude is male in my head bc i started it with chanyeol in mind, but that's not set in stone. i can imagine making it a story where the main characters gender is not revealed at all - if i ever write it xD)
ancient mansion (wlw love story between a writer moving into an huge-ass old mansion she inherited from her aunt and a interior designer who has been illegally working on the mansion and keeping it alive basically. they fall in love while renovating)
house of poets (my biggest wip, the concept is too long to to break it down here so feel free to ask me about them. all i'm going to say is ... super-tired all-knowing seer x antisocial jock werewolf. i love them. and i am sorry that i put them in these situations-) - technically it's connected to ancient mansion and 'house of poets' is the title of both stories. but... that's very messy to explain. but i wrote a song about them.
music:
moth song (i wrote that when a moth killed itself by flying straight into my pasta sauce that was literally still cooking on the stove-)
moth song pt 2 (i don't know what inspired that, one line i used there has been with me since 2021 i think, it was supposed to be a part of moth song but it became it's own thing and it's my favourite among my wips)
i am none of the things that you think i am (this one came to be after my grandpa came visit and things were said that made me upset)
rnb pop queen (this one i started when the new Mean Girls movie came out and Renee Rapp was everywhere and i had a crush on her)
theory logic consistency (this one started when i was frustrated with academia but academic is basically all i ever was good at so that was a crisis)
I tag... everyone who wants to share about their creative work? i am not sure at all anymore who of my moots have wips like that. i'll suspect @dontbotheraziraphale and @monwillica might have things to share? but no pressure at all ^-^
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WIP meme
@what-alchemy tagged me
RULES: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.
Can't tag as many people as I have WIPs because that means I'm tagging like 10-50 people and that's insane, I'm sorry, I'm just not doing it.
I'll post a few terror snippets and 2 non-terror ones:
Current WIPs:
The Fitzier soulmates AU I was blagging about on twitter. James's words are in Inuktitut (he thinks, after finally getting a snippet of recognition at Disko Bay) and he's now within the canon timeline, trying to find out what they mean.
....“Mikigaq,” Silence said.
The corner of her lip quirked up in what appeared to be genuine amusement.
“Meekee—” James thumbed over the letters on his chest as his tongue stumbled over the phrase. It was similar to what the man in Disko Bay had said, but not exact. He was certain it sounded different, before. “What is that?”
“Mikigaq,” she repeated, smiling more broadly.
“All right,” James huffed, cheeks reddening. He thought very suddenly of Francis’s hands, and how flushed the backs of his palms got in the middle of a tumble. A mercy he and Silence were alone, and no one else was here to witness him pinking up from stomach to ears with embarrassment. She was the only other person on this ship to have seen him in a half-state of undress, apart from Francis or Mr. Bridgens. “You have one over on me, clearly.”
Not to mention you do speak when you wish to do so, he did not say.
Silence’s mouth twitched again as he fastened the buttons on his shirt, tucked the tails away, then started in on his jacket. He’d gotten all but the bottom one fastened when the door to the hold slung open.
2. The Fitzier banshees of inisherin AU I've also mentioned on twitter. It's probably the closest to being finished out of anything I'm posting.
....Francis was already sitting near the door, by the fireplace. James saw that the second he entered, but decided to let the joke play out a little longer. He talked to Jopson for a couple of minutes, asked about his brother. Waved at Ned and George and Graham, clustered in the corner. And when he finally got his pint, he took it over to Francis’s table and gave the man his most winning smile.
“Very funny,” he said first.
Francis peered at him in an owlish way. “What’s that?”
“It’s April second.”
“Aye, it is.”
“Meaning yesterday was the first. So, to my point, very funny.”
“What are you on about?”
Instead of grinning at him in turn, Francis looked mystified.
“You played an April Fool’s trick on me, with all of the—” James waved his hand “—pretending not to hear me nonsense.”
“No.”
James had been prepared to hear something like oh or aye, well, it worked, yes? So when the word reached his ears, he came up short.
“What—sorry. What do you mean, no?”
Francis furrowed his brow like James was the stupidest person ever to have walked the earth. Worse than Billy Gibson who lived down past the Coningham house. “I mean, I’m not joking you. So if you’re going to sit there, I’ll just take mine outside. Sun’s nice enough.”
3. The banshees fic set in the OG universe, because I can't leave well enough alone:
....Silence had always bothered Pádraic the most.
So, even though Pádraic was sitting at Mrs. O’Riordan’s, waiting for her to get tired of lording it over the whole place, he breathed easier when the little bell tinkled overhead and Colm Doherty pushed open the door.
Mrs. O’Riordan fixed Colm with one of her beady eyes, glancing him up and down like he shouldn’t be showin’ his face in public. “Colm Doherty. Ain’t seen you in for nearly ten days, I haven’t. Thought you’d taken a fall off them cliffs yourself.”
“Not just yet, Mrs. O’Riordan,” Colm told her. He didn’t look well at all. His voice was thin, and his jowled face paler than usual. “I’ll take the rashers, half pound flour, and a bottle of milk.”
“Ah.” She clicked her tongue, casting him the scowl Pádraic knew right well. “Got any news for me, do you?”
“No.”
Pádraic looked down at the ground to hide a smile. When Colm got to answering questions with a single word, like, not with ‘no, but you just go on now’ or ‘no, and let me tell you something else’—then he might as well be saying shut the feck up.
“Men,” huffed Mrs. O’Riordan, as she wrapped the rashers in brown paper and tied the string, shoving the bundle across the counter to Colm. “You’ve got no news.” She fixed her eye on Pádraic. “‘E’s got no news.”
Colm grunted, and glanced left, down at the floor. Pádraic said nothing.
“What’s a poor soul to do without one word to ease her constant suffering?”
“I’m sure you’ll feel easier in the morning, so you will,” Pádraic offered.
4. The little sequel/epilogue to the Fitzier ship's marriage fic:
Breathing ragged, they clung to each other for a few moments, wordless, before James let out a deep breath, now nudging Francis’s shoulder with his forehead. “Excellent’s adage was hit first, hit hard, but I daresay….Christ. I daresay I….”
Francis soothed a hand down the soft silk at James’s upper back, already damp with sweat. “Now we’ll recover a few of our senses.”
James groaned out a laugh.
“Daresay I’ll need it after the way you teased me,” Francis offered in a low voice, squeezing James’s shoulder.
Lifting his head, James gave him a small, grateful smile that made Francis’s chest seize in delight, and wish to voice a sudden, reckless question.
“Did you really think about all that when….?”
“Mm,” James flexed his leg, still draped across Francis’s lap. “Not always, but on the long nights. When you’d drop off, I kept an eye out. Imagined all the ways I might wake you, apart from kicking you in the heels.”
Francis’s spent cock twitched in a pathetic way at these words. He must have made some noise of surprise, or shuddered in his chair, because when he next glanced over at James, his husband was staring at him.
“If I’m to continue hearing this sort of talk,” Francis offered, rubbing small circles on James’s knee with the flat of his palm, “let it be in a room with a bed and a door.”
5. A mikejimmy fic set in season 2-3ish of BCS, where Mike tosses out a quick lie about Jimmy in order to keep the girls happy. As always, things escalate:
“Kaylee, honey,” Stacey gave Mike an apologetic look, like she’d done something as embarrassing as fling her plate onto the ground. “Making friends is a little different when you’re an adult. You don’t—Pop-Pop just moved here, right? He might not have had time to get to know people.”
Mike was struck by the realization that Stacey was covering for him, not because she thought the question was weird, or because Kaylee needed some long explanation, but because she didn’t think Mike had a friend in the whole city. Hell, maybe not in the world—and he’d lived in New Mexico nearly twelve months. Christ, she must pity him.
“Mommy, everyone has a best friend.” Kaylee scoffed in a way that reminded him of Matty. “Mine’s Anna. Yours is…..um. What’s her name again?”
“Auntie Erin. You saw her yesterday.”
“Yeah! So who’s yours, Pop-Pop?”
Stacey’s cheeks had reddened. Kaylee was watching him, expectant. And the only name Mike could think of was reflected back at him from the brochure stand at the front of the restaurant, with a big cartoony grin on his face and that idiotic Miami Vice suit.
“Well, his name’s Jimmy,” Mike said gruffly, watching Kaylee’s clear-eyed stare dissolve into a pleased smile. “He’s a lawyer.”
Stacey looked relieved, too. Made Mike feel better about lying straight to their faces.
6. And we'll round it out with a romangerri devil wears prada AU i've had in the works forever:
....When he found the elevator, he went to the forty-seventh floor. When he pushed open the glass door to Kellman/Avery, a skyscraper of a woman was waiting for him, blonde curls puffing around her head like a cotton candy halo, wearing a green and gold dress that reminded him of snakeskin.
“Uh, so,” he said, figuring she’d been sent to find him. Maybe she was his assistant or something. “I’m Roman. Guess you’re helping me find the ol’ corporate dog crate, huh?”
She gave him a withering stare. “I wouldn’t lead with that in the interview.”
Then she turned on her heel, motioning him to follow. Roman was too busy trying to stop gears from grinding in his brain that he walked after her without another word.
“Okay. Let me give you a little context here. We are an international firm specializing in high corporate finance, and if you don’t know what that means, tell me now so I don’t have to waste my time any more than I already have.”
She gave him a significant look.
“Ten-four. Uh. Yay, corporate finance.”
“I’m Tabitha, Gerri’s first assistant. And we are hoping to find our second. Gerri has fired the last four girls after only a few weeks, and I cannot deal with any more sobbing co-eds fleeing through the hallways. So, you not only need to be competent at your job, but you also need to be able to survive here.”
“Okay,” Roman answered, glancing into glass-fronted conference rooms and private offices as they whizzed past. Posters. Sculptures. No wood paneling anywhere. “And Gerri is….?”
Tabitha stopped walking, flinging out her arm to stop him from moving. She looked like she wanted to grab his wrist and shake him like a wet dog. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that. Not only is she our chief executive, and the most senior partner in this office, but she is a legend in the world of trial lawyers. CFOs worship her. Politicians fear her. Work a year as her assistant, and every door in corporate America will open to you.”
I'm tagging @icicaille-fic @adreadfulidea @soft-october-night @titleleaf @terribleoldwhitemen @priestly @itsevidentvery and anyone else who wants to play along!
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