#silver's fic waffle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ovobawrites · 5 months

Text

𝐵𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽: 𝐸𝓅𝒾𝓈𝑜𝒹𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 ♡ 𝐹𝒷𝑜𝓎𝓈 𝒜𝓃𝑜𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓊𝓈

disclaimer: this has already been posted on ao3 and quotev, i'm just reposting this beach episode special as a promo for the fic. after this is all my previous author notes.

this is a fem!reader and also a half chinese!reader insert.

previous ♡ next

"Another day, another slay." You muttered to yourself, quoting Cater as you got ready for the day. You didn't exactly understand why slaughter was such a good thing, but you were sure it was another one of those turns of phrases from the internet.

The birds had just started to sing as you left your room, softly closing the door behind you before racing down the stairs as quickly and quietly as possible. There was no way you were going to eat Lilia's cooking, not for your first meal of the day. Hopefully Malleus somehow restrained Lilia before he could get out of their shared room. Though, knowing Malleus, he may very well revel in the chaos Lilia would cause.

...You could hear the clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen. You stood frozen, debating the merits of running away or trying to mitigate the damage until footsteps echoed through the doorway. Probably Trey, Ruggie or Jamil then. Lilia would never walk when cooking (maybe that's part of why it's so bad?).

You sighed to yourself in relief and walked into the room. "Ah, good morning Trey!" You chirped, feeling better already.

"Hm?" Trey turned over to you, cherry red apron tied to his waist and a smudge of flour on his cheek. "Oh, good morning to you too (Y/N)." He smiled.

You examined the kitchen with an ever-critical eye, seeing both sweet and savory ingredients set on the counter. "Whatever is all this for?" A teasing tone. "A feast? For us?" A batting of your eyelashes as you prepared a speech of epic proportions in response to the inevitable betrayal Trey would bring.

"It actually is." Trey chuckled. "I'd rather cook for all of us then have to manage Lilia here again."

"I wouldn't worry about that." You murmured to yourself, but elaborated upon Trey's questioning look sent your way. "Malleus or Silver either locked him up or distracted him last night to the point where Lilia won't wake until noon."

"...That doesn't sound much like Malleus. But it would be rather nice of Silver to do that." Trey turned back to the mix of batter, and with a flourish, whisked it into a perfect consistency.

An obligatory round of applause from yourself and a mock bow from Trey. The smudge on his cheeks was really starting to annoy you... but his hands were dirty so it's not like he could get rid of it himself. You leant against a counter and watched Trey work, whizzing throughout the kitchen with practiced movements. Skill and subtle strength in how he handled every ingredient before him, a spark of flame and a sizzle of butter. The click of the knife against the cutting board as fruit was turned into slivers at the speed of light.

"I'm making pancakes for us, if you're wondering." Trey spoke aloud, vulnerable back to you. Ease and trust written all over his frame. It made your heart pang for just a moment. "It's the perfect breakfast food. Well, that and waffles I suppose. And crêpes... Anyways, you can pair them with meaty foods like bacon or with more sweet confectioneries."

"Is that so?" You mused. "We only have cōngyóubǐng, a scallion fried pancake, and there's mandarin pancakes[1]... oh! And shredded fried pancakes... though at that point they're quite different from western ones..."

"So savory pancakes?" Trey surmised.

"Pretty much!" You grinned, and decided you might as well get rid of that smudge on his cheek before the white stains it forever. "Stay still for a moment, you have something on your cheek." Trey hummed and tilted his head towards you obligingly. A quick rub of your thumb got the flour off, and with a small cheer, you licked the residue from your finger.

Trey went still, a small widening of his eyes and a quick intake of breath from him. You glanced at him with clear concern. "Something wrong?"

"No, it's nothing." And with a quick shake of his head, Trey went back to work.

The kitchen was silent but for the sounds of cooking, yet you were ever so comfortable around Trey that you barely noticed. Simply being with him was enough. Pinks and reds. A glowing warmth as you watched him continue to make breakfast for everyone. An unbidden smile came to your lips.

(And if Trey recognised it for the real smile it was, a crack in the jade mask, he said nary a word, content to bask in the happiness you brought him.)

"Thank you for cooking, Trey!" Ruggie grinned as he dug into his sky-high pile of pancakes. "Ifw's dewishous!"

"I'm glad you like it." Trey accepted the praise with a smile, eating his own, much smaller, pile of pancakes with far better grace.

Lilia pouted. "How come you didn't wake me up? I would have been ever so delighted to have made breakfast with you!" At that, everyone looked away, sweating or tugging at their collars.

Turns out, Malleus had 'accidentally' broken the alarm clock in his and Lilia's room, rendering Lilia unable to know when, exactly, he needed to wake up for breakfast prep. And thank the gods for that!

"There'll always be a next time, Lilia..." Silver patted him on the back with a twitching smile.

"...You're right! I can always cook tomorrow!" Lilia beamed as the rest of you scrambled to find a way to stop him.

But then, just in the nick of time, your saving grace arrived:

"There'll be no need for that, Vanrouge." Crewel said as he entered the dining room, no interest in the foods in front of him. "Ortho and Jade will be cooking tonight and for tomorrow's breakfast."

Lilia fake sobbed into Silver's chest, slighted by this rejection from his professor. Meanwhile, the rest of you looked so thankful, Silver about to collapse from the relief Crewel just gave him. Seems Lilia had a few tricks up his sleeve last night, though he failed in the end.

"For lunch, you will have the opportunity to prepare sandwiches from the ingredients I left in the cupboard." Crewel continued on, unfazed. "Now, if you excuse me pups, I'm going to go relax on my own. Don't interrupt me unless it's an emergency. If I find you disturbed my vacation for foolish reasons, you'll be the test subject for my next batch of cursed foods."

And on that slightly threatening note, Crewel staggered out of the house, sunglasses on as he left.

"Was... Professor Crewel... drunk?" Ruggie asked, ears pushed back.

Leona just sighed in reply. "If you had to teach at NRC for a year, wouldn't you get wasted too?"

Ruggie thought about it for a moment, tilting his head as his face went from grief to depression to anger to bargaining to acceptance within a second. He shrugged and went back to devouring everything on his plate.

You finished your smaller portion much quicker than the boys, and went to wash your dishes and prepare your lunch before the inevitable fight for ingredients. Jamil and Jade likely thought the same, judging from how they picked up the pace. Then, on the other side of the spectrum landed Riddle, Kalim and Azul, currently embroiled in some engrossing matter (something about studying?) with an interjection or two from Floyd just to get Riddle riled up. Cater bugging Idia and Malleus about some matter or the other, likely his magicam, while Trey juggled calming Riddle down, getting Cater to stop scaring Idia so much, and chasing Lilia's invitations to cook together off.

You smiled to yourself as you left the room to make a small meal for yourself, butter and sandwich meats combined with some crunchy lettuce. Nothing too fancy, especially since you might have to puke it up later. You were not completely immune to the effects of poisons, after all. Only immune to the death part...

Ruggie joined your side and prepped food for Leona and himself soon after you finished packing your lunch in a bag. A flick of your wrist to get your water bottle out of your sleeve, and you were set to get ready to swim at the beach.

"Wait, how many ingredients did Crewel give us for lunch?"

"Oh, where did Ruggie go?"

"Oh shit-"

You sighed, completely at peace as you lay in the sun. Thankfully, there was enough wind to keep you pleasantly cool despite the burning rays. Leona lay to your right in the shade of the trees, joined by Ruggie curling up next to him within an hour, the hyena exhausted from... something about hunting for expensive seashells? Meanwhile, Vil was having an impromptu photoshoot with the help of Rook and Cater. A thirst trap to gain more magicam followers, judging from the amount of water bottles he's used to add 'perfectly placed' droplets of 'sweat'. Cater was most certainly starstruck, taking notes at such a rapid speed that his fingers didn't even move as he followed Vil's directions to a T.

Trey had been lying next to you too, at least until his attention was called away by Riddle being tugged under the surf by a certain eel, his brother watching with a laugh. Azul was stuck in the shade as well, unwilling to join in whatever shenanigans Floyd and Jade were pulling this time (especially since he just knew he would be teased). He, Idia and Ortho were working on an extravagant example of architecture.

"No, you need to place a tower here!"

"Azul, I'm the one who designs mechanics, shouldn't you follow my directions?!"

"If you had an eye for aesthetics, maybe I would!"

"Wait big bro- careful! The castle-"

A shriek. A crash. A muttered argument after Leona growled. Oh dear.

The silence after that led to you drifting off to sleep, curling up on your side while the hours ticked by. Thank god Kalim had taken Malleus off on some 'exciting trip!' followed by their worried retainers, you don't think you could handle his level of noise right now.

A loud crash to your left made you jolt awake after who knows how long. You blinked a couple of times, utterly disoriented by the sudden awakening.

"Careful, Malleus! We can't drop that-" A pause. "Um. Oh well! It's not that big of a deal!"

"Oi, Lizard, what're you doing with such a big rock." Leona groaned.

Malleus and Kalim had appeared to bring over a huge grey rock from the shore, still shiny from the waves. The two seemed endlessly fascinated by it, for... whatever reason.

"This will work so well! Thank you Malleus!"

"Of course, it was no trouble, Kalim."

Then, another crash from behind them. It was a harried Jamil, followed by Lilia with Silver in his arms, asleep. "Kalim. Just why. Did you bring over a huge rock to the shore?!"

Kalim laughed sheepishly. "Well-"

"You know what?" Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't want to hear it. Just clean up the mess when you're done, got it?"

"Okay, Jamil!"

"Wait so you brought the rock over for a reason?" Ruggie ogled at it. "Is it cuz it's full of gems or something valuable? Can I have some of it?" Puppy dog eyes already in place, he was prepared to beg until...

"Oh, there's nothing special about it! I just wanted to see if Malleus' magic was so strong that it could lift a big rock!" Kalim chirped.

Leona's eye twitched. Vil looked on the verge of conniption while Cater laughed nervously from behind him. You could just hear Jamil getting ready to rip Kalim a new one.

You broke the tension with a giggle and a clap of your hands. "Well then, your magic must be very strong, Malleus! To be able to lift a boulder like that..." You trailed off.

Malleus puffed his chest out, ever so proud of himself. "Thank you for the compliments dearest (Y/N), rest assured this feat was nothing to me."

"What!" Kalim interjected, stars in his eyes. "So you can lift something even heavier? I wanna see!"

You paused to let Malleus interject demurely, but to your shock and horror, he was actually considering it. "Maybe... not now Kalim? I don't think there's anything bigger than a boulder here that can risk being damaged." You sighed.

"Nah, I wanna see lizard boy lift the villa."

"Hm? Why not."

"Wait- Malleus- I wouldn't-"

"Aw man, Crewel's gonna kill us..."

[1] Mandarin pancakes are what is used to wrap up like... those peking duck and sauce and vegetable wraps you make yourself at those chinese restaurants. It's made of like water and flour, and they're thinner, usually smaller (from my experience) and smoother than tortillas.

Mini Theatre Malleus: Why is Lilia tied up in the closet? Silver: So he doesn't cook breakfast tomorrow. Malleus: I see. (closes closet door)

Kalim: Hey Malleus, wanna check out that totally dangerous thing over there? Malleus: Hm, it does seem rather interesting... Jamil, Silver and Lilia, running over at full speed: my kalim/malleus is doing something deadly sense is tingling!

and here is the seventh part of the beach ep. if you'd like to read the rest of the fic, you can read it on ao3 here, and on quotev here.

79 notes · View notes

fellow-travelers-fic-recs · 18 days

Text

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Old Men in Love

A collection of Fellow Travelers fics set in the 1980s era… some fix-its, lots of sweet, domestic bliss and a few bittersweet endings. Because we love pain.

Be sure to show the authors plenty of love with your comments, kudos and reblogs!

💞 Books or Blowjobs by @timothydavidlaughlin | mauralabingi [E, 1K] Tim and Hawk get back home after a day of shopping.

💞 Let Me Shower You With My Love by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific [M, 7K] Hawk helps Tim in the shower.

A 1986 canon divergent fix-it.

Sometimes it's worth the pain by @timothydavidlaughlin | mauralabingi [NR, 1K] Hawk wakes up in the morning in Tim's arms.

💞 Here We Are In Heaven by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 1K] Though it happened hours before, Hawk could see it so clearly now. That green space, lined in flowers. Marcus's proud smile. Jackson's hand, so steady as it placed that simple band of silver in Hawk's palm. And Tim.

A snippet of Hawk and Tim's reception.

💞 On a sunny day in San Francisco by @timothydavidlaughlin | mauralabingi [T, 1K] Tim and Hawk take a walk together.

💞 🪴His great consuming lovage*🪴 by @carnivalrow | nightfall_in_winter [T, 2K] Tim's potted plant has a story to tell...

💞 To Wrap Your Love Around Me by @beyondxmeasure | Cyantific [T, 5K] Waking up in Tim’s apartment, Hawk discovers Skippy's old robe, the same one from years ago, and the memories all come flooding back.

Tim doesn’t have much time left. Will Hawk be brave enough to stay?

💞 Tonight, It's Very Clear by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [NR, 1K] This isn't the plan. Marcus should just be asking for Hawk's badge. Frankie and Jerome should be waiting by the back entrance. Tim has it all in his mind - this last perfect moment with Hawk. It had been agreed, his farewell to the man he loves. He has to say goodbye, to ask Hawk to let him go.

Or, Tim plans on letting Hawk go. Hawk plans on something completely different.

💞 Two Old Men at Grubstake on Pine by @vespersong | vespersong [T, 3K] Hannah's story of the two old men at Grubstake Diner, in 1980s San Francisco.

💞 Time passes by in the most cruelest of fashions by @fuddlewuddle | Fuddlewuddle [M, 2K] Hawk and Tim talk in his little apartment in 1980s America. Conversations between them have never been easy.

💞 You might not wear blue often, but it's still your color by @timothydavidlaughlin mauralabingi [G, 2K] Hawk is struggling. Then he gets a package in the mail.

💞 Don't leave it to the last dance by @fuddlewuddle | Fuddlewuddle [M, 2K] Tim is in hospital. Hawk brings him his mail. One letter is not like the others.

💞 Lazy Morning by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [M, 785] Hawk and Tim share a morning together in bed.

💞 On the Street Where You Live 💠 by imstillinhellbtw [NR, 17K] Hawk has one week to make up for 30 years lost.

Or, the last 7 days he ever spent with the love of his life.

💞 Of Snuggles and Waffles by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) [G, 2K] It's a beautiful Saturday morning and Tim should be sleeping in. Unfortunately, Hawk has other plans.

💞 Stars fading but I linger on, dear by @cinnamoncountess | CinnamonCountess []E, 5K Tulips, roses, lavenders, daisies and orchids — Tim closes his eyes for fleeting seconds as he passes the bayside and takes in the wide-ranging scent wafting over from the flower sales on each side of the road, drawing into his nostrils where it mixes with the salty sea odor from afar. It is that day of the year again that always squeezes on his heart like a fallen wall of bricks, burying him underneath.

💞 With all due respect, fuck congestion by @timothydavidlaughlin | mauralabingi [T, 2K] Tim and Hawk are going through their closet to find some clothes to donate, but Tim isn't feeling great.

💞 Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps It’s Real 💠 by drabbleswabbles [NR, 35K] And then it happened. The metallic screech of the gate, the shuffle of men stepping out beyond the prison walls. And suddenly there he was. His hair was shorter than he’d ever seen it. And his glasses were different. But it was him. Their eyes met. Tim stared at him in wide-eyed shock before recognition melted his features into a confused outrage.

Basically, a fix-it in which Hawk finds himself back in the early 70s.

💞 The one I've left behind by @carnivalrow | nightfall_in_winter [T, 884] Hawk's belated confessions in the 80s.

💞 I have loved you my whole life by @carnivalrow | nightfall_in_winter [M, 1K] 80s Tim wanted Hawk to take him back to the top of the tower, where they parted in 1954.

💞 if i have to switch the lights off, i wanna switch them off with you by @startagainbuttercup | startagainbuttercup [T, 661] "I don't remember our last kiss," Hawk blurted.

Tim's face instantly changed as he parted his lips in surprise.

"The whole time you were there, with the doctors, I thought you were dying, and I couldn't remember when was the last time we kissed." Hawk's voice trembled a little. He looked at his lap. "There were so many, but I just couldn't remember the last one."

Or, a little scene after, "did you forget that I'm a convicted felon?"

💞 I'll have a Blue Christmas without You. by @in-our-special-place | Cupping_Cakes [M, 1K] He could almost feel his touch and hear his voice, and for a brief moment, the pain would ease. But then, reality would hit again, and Hawk would be consumed by the emptiness.

💞 Couldn't say it to your face 💠 by nataliaa [G, 1K] “I’m going to DC,” Marcus says, “next week. He’s fine,” he adds quickly. “As far as I know, anyway. But I just thought—”

It’s the most that Marcus has said about Hawk in years, and Tim instantly realizes that he hasn’t been fooling anyone, except maybe himself. Marcus knows that Tim has never stopped thinking about Hawk. Marcus has always known.

📖 More fic recs can be found at the fic register, here. Not quite what you're looking for? Tell us what you had in mind, here! -> 💌

💠 Authors: If you have a tumblr (or other socials) you’d like linked, let me know and I’ll add it. Or, if you're already linked and would rather not be, please let me know and I’ll gladly remove it.

#old men in love #fellow travelers fic recs #ftficrecs #fellow travelers fics #ftfics collections #ftfics old men in love #fellow travelers #ftfics apr24

29 notes · View notes

cecilysass · 24 days

Text

Shine On (10/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 10: None for You

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 23, 2015 6:50 am

Jackson wakes up and slides out of the twin bed, creeping over to peer out the guest room window.

Outside the light is strange and silver, sunrise filtered through the gunmetal gray of clouds overhead. Jackson’s eyes roam over the dim, silent farmland adjacent to Mulder’s property. He thinks it looks cold out, like it could even snow.

He goes to the pile of old clothes Mulder set out for him and paws through each item, looking for something practical and warm. He selects the jeans he wore yesterday, a long sleeve waffle weave shirt, and a striped sweater that looks from a different era, like it belongs to a Friends cast member or something. Again the sleeves are too long, completely covering his hands. He decides that will help keep him warmer.

As he sits on the bed tying his shoes, he listens closely for sounds in the house: first with his ears, then more carefully with his shine.

He’s pretty sure Scully slept downstairs last night. After Jackson came up to his room, he’d read ghost stories in bed for a while, studiously ignoring both of them. He just needed a break. No more questions, no more pressure.

But he felt these little wafts of emotions drifting up from time to time anyway. Later, after he heard Mulder come up the stairs, he still sensed that ember of Scully’s emotions glowing somewhere down there beneath the floorboards. He doesn’t think she ever left the first floor.

He stands up, shoes tied, considering his next move.

He decides to do the thing they do in movies: stuff some pillows in the twin bed, then throw the quilt over and shape the lumps so it looks like he is curled up underneath. He thinks he does a pretty convincing job. If someone looked in the door to the room, it would really look like he were asleep there.

Next he closes his eyes, clears his head, makes sure he’s alert to all the minds around him. He discovers Mulder is awake but still lying in bed, so he gently alters Mulder’s perception to make sure he’ll hear no footsteps on the stairs.

He reaches out to try to do the same to Scully, but he has trouble for some reason. When he sneaks out of his room and down the stairs, he sees why. As soon as he sets foot on the first floor, he can tell she is still asleep on the couch.

Hopefully she doesn’t wake up easily. Just in case, he has an altered image ready to shine in her mind: an impression that the room is empty and silent, that there is no one else there.

He tiptoes across the floor to stand behind the couch and glance down at her. This stranger, his biological mother, completely lost to sleep. Her face is crushed into the pillow, and her breathing is regular.

As he watches her, his shine unexpectedly picks up a strange image: she is lost in a snowstorm, blinding white, crying out for help, calling Mulder’s name, her abdomen swollen in pregnancy. Something snakelike is down her throat, keeping her from breathing properly.

Her lips twitch slightly in sleep as he stands there.

He blinks, shudders, clearing his mind of the picture. Disturbing dream. He wonders if any part of it really happened.

Trying to ignore any other images coming his way, he heads towards the front door. Mulder’s puffy winter coat is there, and he picks it up, pulling it around each of his arms without fastening it. It, too, is too big. Then he opens the latch, cracks the door, and slips outside.

Outside, the early morning cold nips at his face right away. Ghostly traces of fog linger around the house and in between trees. The ground glitters with frost. Each puff of breath curls out from his mouth, and he slips his hands into the deep pockets of Mulder’s coat.

He makes his way around the side of the little house, the ice-coated grass crunching underfoot. He’s aiming for the clump of trees near the back of Mulder’s property. Those trees grow in a tight knot, and whatever lies inside of them is dark with shadows.

He hesitates, squints, looking for any sign of anyone standing near the trees. All at once Jackson feels nervous.

He thinks about the man who came after them yesterday. What if someone unexpected is out here, waiting and watching? Someone who knows Jackson is out here, someone who is tracking his moves? Mulder and Scully had been so panicked about getting him inside. He remembers that sharp spiky thing Mulder had. Maybe he should have brought that with him, although he can’t imagine what he would have done with it.

Instantly, instinctively, he closes his eyes and stretches out with his shine to check around him. He can find no one else around, no people nearby at all, except for the muted minds of Scully and Mulder inside the house. Scully’s still asleep; Mulder’s pondering his life choices quietly in bed.

But he hadn’t shined that man’s mind yesterday either, had he? Nor had he ever been able to shine Rose.

He can’t shine Rose this time, either.

As he walks into the heart of the trees, she is standing inside, half obscured in purple shadow. She’s wearing a sleek black coat and black boots, like she has dressed not to be seen. She has a gray scarf over her mouth that she pulls down when she sees him.

He’s really happy to see her, as weird and slightly scary as she is. He raises his hand and smiles, but she only takes a single step towards him, her face calm and eyes unblinking.

“Hi, Jackson,” she says.

***

Even though Rose doesn’t say much, there is something about her that makes her easy for him to talk to. Jackson wants to tell her everything, and she listens, in that cool, serious way she has.

“So your problem is Dana?” she says, tilting her head in consideration.

“She herself isn’t the problem, really. It’s just it hurts to be around her,” Jackson says. “Is there a way to stop it? To control the flow coming from her?”

“There is,” Rose says. “I can show you. She can do a few things to help, too, if you think she’s willing.”

Jackson heaves a sigh, relieved. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Are you doing okay? Otherwise?” The young woman’s face betrays no emotion, and her words are businesslike. Even though he’s spent time with Rose before, it still feels funny to Jackson not to be able to use his shine on her. Something like being blindfolded. He can’t get over not having any idea what she’s thinking.

“Yeah, I guess,” Jackson says. “I’m still messed up about my parents, but … I’m glad you took me to Mulder. If I hadn’t found him—them— I don’t know what would have happened.”

She smiles a closed-lip smile. “I knew it was a good idea.”

“How? How did you know that?”

“I told you. I’ve been keeping an eye on you for a long time.”

“Why?” He tries the most important questions again. “How do you know me? Who are you, exactly?”

She gives him a quizzical look. “I actually thought you’d inferred.”

Jackson shakes his head. “Nothing I can think of makes any sense.”

She says nothing, and her eyes focus away from him, full of some dark-edged emotion Jackson is relieved he can’t shine. In the days they’d traveled to Virginia from Wyoming, when she was showing him things about his shine in conversations at rest stops and on the balconies of motels, she often drifted off like this, just gazing off. As though she were lost in some private sadness.

“They want to know how I got here,” Jackson persists. “They’re worried. They keep asking. Can’t I tell them?”

“No,” she says, her tone final and decisive.

“I don’t understand,” Jackson says. “How come they don’t—”

“It’s very complicated, Jackson.”

“Where do you live? Is Rose your real name?” Jackson pushes. “Don’t you go to college or have a job or anything?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Rose says shortly, ignoring his questions. “And don’t say anything to them. Nothing. If you do, it will cause… problems. If you keep quiet, we can still meet on occasion, when I’m able. I can keep showing you how to control your shine.”

“But why? Why do you do this for me?”

“We’re family,” she says lightly, with a tinge of irony. “You do things for family. Or so I’m told.”

Jackson ponders this carefully. He can’t tell if she is being entirely serious. He knows she’s not related to the Van De Kamps, and their relatives didn’t tend to be the types to show up mysteriously with magical powers anyway. Even not having known his biological parents for very long, he suspects if she’s being sincere, she must be related to him through Mulder and Scully.

Actually, she looks like a younger version of Scully. That realization stuns him for a second, because it is suddenly so completely obvious he can’t believe he didn’t see it before. Rose is short, shorter than him. Her hair is lighter than Scully’s, but it’s reddish blonde. She has those pale blue eyes. And her voice, too—the way she speaks. It reminds him of Scully.

But Mulder had said they didn’t have other kids besides him. And Jackson didn’t detect any hint of a lie from him at that moment, nothing to indicate he was telling anything other than the truth. He seemed kind of sad about it, actually; there was that heaviness of regret in his thoughts. Nor could Jackson think of why he might lie about that.

Is it possible to have a kid and not know about it?

Rose presses her lips together and puts her hand on his arm. “Listen. When she’s near you, picture, like, a glass wall between you and her. It doesn’t have to be glass. Any translucent material. Visualize it and imagine her feelings bouncing off of it, not hitting you. When you get better at it, you can imagine her feelings staying within her own chest, never expanding out.”

Jackson is skeptical. “That’s it? Just picturing shit?”

“Picturing shit is the whole ball game,” she says wryly. “And it’s not easy. You’ll have to practice it. You’ll get better with time.”

“Is that what you do? To keep me from using my shine on you?”

“I don’t really have to,” Rose says, her tongue running over her bottom lip quickly. Her expression is cryptic. “There are things about me that aren’t like other people.”

Jackson scowls. “But you have it, too? The shine?” he asks curiously.

She nods shortly, but doesn’t elaborate. “Dana can also help from her end,” she adds. “She can visualize keeping her feelings within. Not radiating them outward. Really that’s something she does naturally anyway, so she should get it.”

“So you know her? Scully?”

“I met her once,” Rose says. Her face is completely still. “When I was a kid.”

“You’re related to her?”

Rose nods, and she looks down, seemingly to casually examine her nails. They’re painted dark red. Rose red, Jackson thinks.

“I don’t really get any of this,” Jackson says. He swallows. “But, I mean, if you’re their family, I’m sure they’d like to see you.”

“It’s not safe,” she says, looking up from her nails. He can’t be sure, in the dim light, but he thinks there could be tears in her eyes, which shocks him. Rose has never shown any sign of getting emotional before. She leans forward and embraces him, suddenly, which startles him, too. When she pulls back, she looks unruffled again, the only sign of her slip that her blue eyes are slightly wet. “So you be careful, too.”

What the fuck. He is too confused to answer properly.

She turns to walk away. “And yeah, Jackson,” she calls behind her, “you’re right. Rose didn’t used to be my name, like Jackson didn’t used to be yours. I chose the name Rose from an old song.”

There is a pause as Jackson waits for her to explain further. When she doesn’t—when she just begins to hurry into the woods—he just sighs in tired frustration, resigning himself to not knowing more.

But then she hesitates, ten feet away. Slowly she turns her icy eyes back to his.

As she does, the words of three perfectly formed sentences appear in his mind. The letters of each word slightly vibrate and jump around, but he reads them clearly, kind of like a computer screen or the titles of a movie.

Can’t you see? There’s nothing you can do. There’s loving everywhere but none for you.

The sentences send a chill through him that is unrelated to the cold morning.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he blurts out loud.

She just smiles slightly, mysteriously, and turns swiftly away towards the shadows.

***

Mulder pads down the stairs as quietly as he can, trying not to wake anyone else in the house up. At the foot of the stairs, he can hear hushed rhythmic breathing coming from the direction of the couch.

He follows the sounds and stands over the couch, letting himself look at her uninterrupted. Scully looks younger in sleep. Unguarded, like she did years ago when she’d routinely doze off against his shoulder on all those cross country flights. Like she’s got nothing to hide.

All morning he has been thinking about what happened last night, about the expression on her face as her lips touched his. The way her fingers trailed over his skin, each touch sending warm aches through him.

It was all exactly what he had hoped for. Practically an erotic dream come to life. The best possible thing that could have happened in his broken relationship with Scully: that she would reach out to him like that, tell him she missed him, kiss him with such need.

He would never have guessed he’d react like he did. Never. He’s been turning it over in his mind since he woke up.

On the couch Scully stirs a little in her sleep, and he fights with the urge to lean down and gently stroke her hair. Hold back until you’re sure, he reminds himself.

It was exactly her need that felt like the problem; it was exactly her need that worried him. He’d looked down at her, those wide and hungry blue eyes, and knew—just knew—that she would have walked away from him three days ago.

Because she doesn’t want just plain old sad sack Mulder, does she? She wants Mulder because he is Jackson’s biological father. Because Mulder can help her protect him. Because he is an important character in the all-consuming story of her baby, the son they lost.

And his failure in all of this—in doing a good job at any of it— is exactly why she stopped wanting him to begin with.

If they mess this up, if Jackson leaves, if he is taken from them, if they can’t protect him, if they aren’t good at this imitation parenting they’re doing… what will happen? Will that longing look in her eyes disappear? Will she revert back to polite and chilly small talk?

Much like hearing someone’s thoughts without wanting to, Mulder heard a sudden truth from his own mind: he won’t survive having and losing her again.

She murmurs something in her sleep, moving her lips soundlessly. Today is Scully’s birthday, Mulder remembers. He recalls what Jackson said, that she had been hoping he might be surprising her by taking her out. Maybe, Mulder thinks wistfully, that means she does have some interest in sad sack Mulder. Maybe there is some hope that he never entirely lost her love. But he doesn’t know that for sure. He doesn’t know anything about how she feels about this. He bites his lower lip, feeling as awkward as a teenager.

There is the squeak of a chair across the room, and Mulder looks up, suddenly on the alert.

Jackson is sitting at the kitchen table, wearing one of Mulder’s old sweaters, drinking a glass of water, and flipping through one of Mulder’s psychology texts. Strange. Mulder had not seen him there before. He scowls, puzzled, walking across the room to Jackson.

“Hey.” Mulder whispers. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Jackson says, looking up from the book. His cheeks are a little pink. Mulder wonders if it is the dry air.

“I didn’t know you were up,” Mulder says, keeping his voice lowered. “I somehow didn’t see you sitting there when I came downstairs.”

Jackson’s lips raise into a half smile. “Maybe you need some coffee.”

Mulder grins. “Yeah. Maybe so. Did you sleep well?”

“Sure,” Jackson says. His eyes drift uneasily across the room.

I didn’t leave anything out of place on his desk, did I?

The words land in Mulder’s mind like heavy rocks through a window, undeniable and painful. He has to force himself not to react—not to show his surprise on his face, and definitely not to look over at his desk. Keep busy in the kitchen, he tells himself. Start making coffee.

Mulder turns to get water for the coffee maker. As he does, he discreetly looks over towards his desk. It doesn’t look any different than usual at this distance. He needs to find a reason to go over there and inspect it more carefully.

As he’s pouring water into the coffee maker, he gets a sudden flash of a series of images from Jackson’s mind like some out of control slide show: the boy’s foot stepping on to the porch, his fingers latching the front door, Mulder’s winter coat slipping back on a hook.

Should be fine. Everything is back like it was.

Mulder feels an impact like a kick in the stomach. Jackson left the house. He actually went outside, despite the known danger. Why the fuck would he be outside? The idea that the boy is hiding something, something big, fills him with a sickening sense of betrayal he knows isn’t entirely logical.

And then as soon as he thinks it, he tries desperately not to think it. He can’t process it now. It’s too dangerous with Jackson here.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Mulder says casually, swallowing back the surge of nausea. “We have, uh, some bread. I think some oatmeal maybe?”

“You have eggs. I saw eggs yesterday,” Jackson says eagerly.

“You want eggs then?”

“I could make scrambled eggs,” Jackson offers. “I’m pretty good at that.”

Mulder widens his eyes. “All right,” he says. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, looking pleased. “I’m sure. Let me make breakfast. I make eggs at home all the time.”

Mulder watches as the boy gets up and starts pulling out bowls and spatulas, clearly excited about the project. He doesn’t look like someone who is hiding a big secret. He looks, frankly, like a kid.

“Try not to wake Scully up,” Mulder says lightly.

Jackson just nods vigorously as if that were obvious, and Mulder steps back, arms folded, trying to seem relaxed.

“I’m going to go see if Skinner emailed us the forms he was supposed to,” Mulder says, gesturing to his desk. “Let me know if, uh, you can’t find something you need.”

Jackson nods again, but he stops and looks over in Mulder’s direction for a half second before he opens the fridge.

You closed his laptop, right?

Again Mulder wills himself not to react to this sentence. In a way he hopes is natural, he glances over at Scully on the couch, who blissfully sleeps through anything. Then he casually approaches his desk, his chest tight.

For a moment he stares hard at the laptop sitting on the desk. Jackson had, apparently, remembered to close it.

Mulder forces himself to breathe in and out, trying to clear his mind. He knows he needs to calm down. Jackson could pick up on a snippet of his thoughts at any moment.

Carefully he turns and watches Jackson’s back in the kitchen, watching for any sign to suggest Jackson is already aware of his discomfort. But Jackson’s cheerfully cracking eggs into the bowl.

He sits down at his desk and opens up the laptop. It is password-protected—Chilmark61—but the password is written pretty prominently in Mulder’s scrawling handwriting on an orange sticky note on the desk, which Mulder admits isn’t his finest security move. He can just imagine the lecture he would have gotten from Frohike. But it’s usually him alone here at the house, and he forgets passwords more than he probably should.

There is nothing strange opened on the computer, nothing seemingly out of order. He opens a browser window. Could this be as simple and straightforward as a 13-year old looking at porn? Please let it be that simple, Mulder thinks. Please let this be about busty naked ladies.

He looks at the browser history and sees a few pages accessed this morning, about fifteen minutes ago. Specifically a search engine and a song lyrics site.

Song lyrics don’t seem particularly nefarious. But still Mulder’s heart thumps distractingly loudly. He opens the search engine page in the history to see what Jackson was searching for.

In the search field he’d typed “can’t you see, there’s nothing you can do, there’s loving everywhere but none for you.”

Eerie melancholy creeps over Mulder. The lines don’t mean anything to him, but they definitely seem ominous. So sad, so hopeless. What do they mean to Jackson? What could be going on in the kid’s head?

The results for his search were all pretty much the same. The words were part of the lyrics of a 1968 song by a British band, the Zombies, “A Rose for Emily.” Mulder thinks he might vaguely remember the song, but not very well. It really doesn’t seem like a song a kid should know anything about.

He clicks on the same lyrics page that Jackson had visited and scans the song’s lyrics more systematically.

Her roses are fading now She keeps her pride somehow That's all she has protecting her from pain And as the years go by She will grow old and die The roses in her garden fade away Not one left for her grave Not a rose for Emily Emily, can't you see There's nothing you can do? There's loving everywhere But none for you

Something tightens and twists painfully in Mulder’s stomach, a symptom he recognizes as anxiety. Why would Jackson be looking for this?

It could be for a perfectly innocent reason. Maybe he remembered hearing it somewhere, on the radio or something, and he had a few of the lyrics rattling around in his mind. Maybe he googled it just to know what song it was. That happens to everyone sometimes, doesn’t it?

But why would he be so concerned with keeping it a secret? And what did this have to do with him leaving the house?

Mulder closes the browser window. He presses his eyes closed and folds his hands together, strategizing what exactly to do and say. He stands up and walks back towards the kitchen.

Immediately he can see that Jackson doesn’t look so cheerful anymore. He is actively scrambling eggs now, turning them over and over with the spatula. He’s staring down at his work with no expression, his face stone.

Mulder knows he’s been using his shine.

“You know,” Jackson says casually, “you could have asked me.”

Mulder watches the spatula move across the pan, scooping up eggs and flipping them over. He waits.

“Instead of checking browser histories and all,” Jackson adds bluntly. “You said you were going to trust me.”

Mulder sighs heavily. “You’ve not exactly been honest with us, Jackson.”

“I haven’t lied to you.” Jackson’s eyes flash up dangerously at him, his lips pursing in anger. He looks shockingly like Scully.

“You don’t think using your abilities to mislead me … is a kind of lying?” Mulder says. “Because that’s what I think you did this morning. To keep me from knowing you left the house. To keep me from realizing that you used my laptop.”

Jackson turns off the heat on the stove. His jaw sets; he looks at the food so he does not make eye contact. “Speaking of lying,” he says in a tight voice, “you told me you didn’t have a shine. Not for years. You told me you couldn’t read people’s thoughts or feelings.”

Mulder nods, running his hand over his mouth. “Yeah. I did say that. Because until recently, it was true.”

“Well, I can’t help but notice that you seem to have one now.”

“For exactly one person,” Mulder says. “Only for you. Not for anyone else.”

Jackson’s eyes shoot up to Mulder’s. “Seriously? You’re being serious?”

“I am,” Mulder admits.

“You only can shine me?” repeats Jackson. He sets down the spatula, his eyes growing round in horror.

“Yeah,” Mulder says. “But it’s not like I–”

“Stay out of my head,” Jackson warns, taking a step backwards. “Don’t use your shine on me, Mulder.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that,” Mulder says gently. “I can’t help it. I’m not doing it on purpose. And I’m only getting little pieces every once in a while, Jackson. I’m not exactly—”

“I can’t handle this.” Jackson puts his hands up over his face.

“I know you’re overwhelmed,” Mulder says. “But Jackson, this is important. Why did you leave the house? Why are you searching for these song lyrics? What do they mean? Why are they important?”

“God, I can’t tell you,” Jackson says. “I already said.”

Cold panic runs through Mulder. “So this is about the person who brought you here? Is that person still around? Are you in contact with them?”

Jackson groans, covering his ears, and walks to the kitchen door, looking out the window.

“What’s going on?” Scully’s voice startles Mulder, and he whirls around to see her. She is standing at the kitchen table, hair messy from sleep, arms folded tightly, eyes wide.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Mulder says to her, holding his hand out, “I just want to—”

He’s interrupted by a clear broadcast from Jackson’s mind, warning words thought loud and clear.

Are you there? Mulder can read my thoughts. I don’t think I can hide you from him in my mind. I’m sorry.

This isn’t aimed at him, Mulder realizes queasily.

He stands there blinking, staring blankly at Scully, trying to comprehend what he just heard.

“Mulder?” Scully takes a step towards him, concerned.

He turns back to Jackson, who has backed up against the kitchen door. He’s wrapped his arms around himself, and he looks young and frightened in Mulder’s too-big sweater.

Whoever Jackson just tried to send a message to must also have a shine, Mulder realizes. Which means this person is someone Jackson can communicate with anywhere and any time. He suddenly feels dizzy and weak.

He needs to pull it together, fast, and consider his next move carefully.

“I’m going upstairs for a second,” Mulder says in a hoarse voice. “I–” He shakes his head. “Maybe I’ll go for a run or something. Leave you two to talk.”

Jackson is still watching him warily, his back against the kitchen door. He says nothing.

Scully’s sharp gaze snaps from Mulder to Jackson, then back again. “All right,” she says carefully. Her forehead is creased, revealing her confusion and worry. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Mulder nods quickly.

“You’ll … let me know if you need something?”

“Yeah,” Mulder agrees roughly. “Of course. I just… I just need a minute.”

Feeling their eyes on him, he walks dazedly towards the stairs, each step suddenly feeling like an effort.

Partway up the stairs, he stops, gripping the handrail. He closes his eyes and summons all his will.

He’s not positive how to intentionally send a message out to someone unknown in the universe, but he’s sure going to try.

Whoever you are, he attempts to push out into the world. talk to me. Fucking talk to me. Let me know what you want with my kid. Let me fix whatever this is however I can. Come deal with me, face to face.

There. Done.

He walks up the stairs, feeling surprisingly like he’s done something significant. He needs to go put on warmer clothes if he’s going outside.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

29 notes · View notes

its-target-official · 2 months

Text

LORE DROP

soooo, in the wake of several corpo fics, im going to leave stuff about c!target

detailed physical description: pale skin, 6 foot 7 inches, afab (has had both bottom and top surgery), tinney tiny bit underweight (not unhealthily) lean stature, mostly bright red hair (like 🔴) with white streaks, red pupil with two red rings around it, white iris, white sclera, eye shape is downturned at the edges, pointed ears (not super noticeable), left eyebrow has a cut for ✨aesthetics✨, wings (don’t come after me for the cringe, i don’t give a flying fuck), primaries/secondaries feather have red barring, 16 ft wingspan, elliptical wing shape, tail is kinda like this-

(couldn’t find credit for artist)

-which follow the same pattern for feather color as the wings, long fingers with long nails painted black

style description: usually wears loose/thick clothing, think cargo pants, sweaters, the like, black fingerless gloves, red/white converse high tops, only jewellery is several ear piercings, black ring (it’s ace), one gold ring from Winn Dixie, one silver ring from mayo

personality description: it/its/itself pronouns, asexual, polyromantic, polyamory, alters its clothing itself to allow for its wings/tail, dating Winn and mayo, likes its partners a lot and smothers them with love, love language is touch, can be very rude and mean at times, *deep breath* *speaks very fast* has depression, anxiety, autism, adhd, ptsd, insomnia [these are all disorders I actually have, except for maybe ptsd. I haven’t been diagnosed but I have a lil inkling], had negectful/slightly abusive parents, was a runaway, sarcastic as shit, cusses like a goddamn sailor, self harms (it’s going to a therapist, though! it’s trying to get better) had an ed (mostly recovered, only relapses sometimes), has a service dog named bullseye, who is a chow chow with brown spots, is interested in the paranormal and monthly holds seances to talk to the dead corporations in the mansion,

AS SUGGESTED BY @the-retailverse, it can use a sword with extreme skill (even in a modern setting, this is still an important part of its character) and has a one sided rivalry with Waffle House (waffle house hates them)

that’s as much as I can think of rn!

also bonus sketch i did earlier:

#target is the best store #target/winn dixie #target/mayo #tarwinnmay #tw ed #tw anxiety #tw depression #tw self harm #oh dear #i just saw a censored tag for self harm???#are the tiktokers coming?!?!#tw ptsd #oc #winged character #asexual character #polyamory #polyromantic #it pronouns #tw sword

29 notes · View notes

whinlatter · 3 months

Note

niche but Neville and Hannah! I love the little snippets of them we get in Beasts <3

thank you for asking about neville and hannah for this ask game anon and being so nice about how i have tried to include them in beasts :) :) :) the lovely @mimisays8 asked about them too!

hannah and neville are such a lovely fun couple to imagine and think about. i do realise this sounds ridiculous because they canonically interact very briefly once, when neville says harry saved the 'philogical' stone :) and hannah is like wow :) (...) still, though, there are these very small little nods to them having certain things in common and to being cutie patooties in their cores that gives fic writers so much to play with. obviously, neville from day dot is a dweeby nervous deeply unconfident little sweetie pie. in hannah's opening scene, too, she '[stumbles] out of line, [puts] on the hat, which [falls] right down over her eyes', establishing her, too, as a cute nervous flop. when hannah worries about azkaban escapee sirius black, she tells everyone black is disguising himself by turning into a flowering shrub. she's got plants on the brain your honour! it's meant to be. i think it's nice to imagine their dynamic as a couple as being too smiley lovely beans taking it in turns to squeeze the other person's hand reassuringly while pulling each other out of the way of passing buses/puddles etc. (more waffle below the cut)

of course, the slightly sad thing about hannah and neville is that they both spend most of canon feeling awful about themselves. neville, obviously, is neville (he thinks he's good as a squib! baby!). but hannah, for an exceptionally minor character, gets all these wee moments where the reader is told she has very low self-confidence. in ootp, hannah abbott vs owls gets its own tiny subplot. ('All the fifth years were suffering from stress to some degree, but Hannah Abbott became the first to receive a Calming Draught from Madam Pomfrey after she burst into tears during Herbology and sobbed that she was too stupid to take exams and wanted to leave school now.') then she has an absolute meltdown during her owls and causes a flamingo stampede in the middle of an exam, which makes everything neville has ever done look slick. losers! soulmate losers. i love the idea of the two of them really knowing what it's like to gravely doubt yourself and feel very very rubbish about your self worth, and channelling that experience into being very supportive partners and parents, one day (and a teacher and friend to a future generation of hogwarts students, later in life!)

one of the other elements to hannah and neville is that they also both know something about grief and loss. hannah loses her mum when she's sixteen: neville grieves what his parents could have been every time he visits them. i don't think shared experiences of loss are necessarily a stable basis for a ship in all instances, but with hannah and neville, i really like it being part of what they are to each other and other people, as something that informs their capacity for great empathy and compassion and a real emotional maturity that comes with having gone through familial experiences that are so momentous and life-changing.

in my headcanon in beasts, i imagine that the period when hannah and neville became closer, and also when they both began to change and grow up as people and gain some self confidence, was during the war in the DA. neville, we know, grows hugely in confidence in that year. but hannah, too, seems to have changed a lot from her 15 to 17 year old self - she's gone from calling herself too stupid to be a witch to fighting in a huge great big battle (nearly getting personally bumped off by voldemort himself, huge slay). obviously i play with the idea that her and ginny became friends through the DA the year before, just because i think it makes a lot of sense as a way to draw hannah in to the wider group of golden and silver trios in a way that she isn't, really, in canon. but in general just think it's lovely to imagine hannah finally getting a bit of belief and self esteem in a growth arc that parallels neville's (and to give another female character an arc in general, in a series that underserves its female characters at every single bloody turn)

#couple of cuties i die #while i typed this beyonce ANNOUNCED A NEW ALBUM #i'm sure both hannah and neville would be very excited about this #neville's a man of taste he says virgo's groove was the best song on renaissance #neville longbottom #hannah x neville #hannah abbott #meta #ask game

23 notes · View notes

simplegenius042 · 6 months

Text

Late WIP Wednesday & Last Line (Paragraph)

Tagged by: @cassietrn @josephseedismyfather @inafieldofdaisies @direwombat @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @g0dspeeed

Tagging: @strangefable @jillvalentinesday @wrathfulrook @chazz-anova @deputy-morgan-malone @derelictheretic @ec-10 @minilev @josephslittledeputy @neverthesameneveranother @onehornedbeast @shallow-gravy @voidika @vampireninjabunnies-blog @strafethesesinners @ladyoriza @ladyofedens-blog @little-wolf-seed and @nightbloodbix

Here's 3 WIPs and a Last Line Paragraph (from The UnTitledverse, Far Cry The Silver Chronicles and Life, Despair & Monsters) to make up for the lack of activity (I've been a little preoccupied but I'm all good now). NOTE: I'm still ironing out these scenes, so some changes might happen in the future of publication. Anyway, enjoy!

Here's a WIP for A Blast In The Past (not Jurassic World related), a fic that's story was heavily inspired by Bendy And The Ink Machine and writing style inspired by Tamsyn Muir's Harrow The Ninth. Come meet the second main protagonist of The Perfect Storm saga... and the narrator who torments him:

You opened the wooden door to Carmine Studios, the hinges creaking from age and the times you've passed through it, revealing the hall that would seal your fate, on a false hope you would see your old friend and boss, Terrance, once again… but all you had entered was an empty caricature of the real thing. A nightmarish mockery that you'd soon find would come to life. But you didn't know that, not yet. You were more focused on the nostalgia behind your work, weren’t you? Or what once was your work.

In the hallway hung old posters of cartoons that no one cared to remember anymore. You admire it without recognizing the deception. Do you want to know the real kicker here?

It’s all a part of the show… all half-lies and half-truths, but close enough to what you already recognize that you couldn’t tell the difference until it was too late.

Was Seeker the clumsy meerkat who would follow through on any dangerous stunt, regardless of how far it puts his safety in jeopardy, all for what he loved most… a banana waffle split with streams of caramel syrup trailing up and down? No, it was more selfless than that. Nauseously so. Wasn’t it his loyalty to his friends?

Heh. Friendship… what good did that do him in the end, Bowler Hat?

You shift to the next poster, the one you’re least familiar with. Who was she again? An intelligent wisp named after her actress, Emily Margarita? Or perhaps you remember her as something more impersonal… perhaps a cunning foe? Doesn’t matter to you now. All you know is that she was a co-worker who you described as a “nice dame with a great voice, like a canary”.

But you never would have understood why most of the blokes back then howled and whistled for her, even if you knew the truth. “She was no scag,” you’d say, but you’re smart enough to know that being hitched with her would be… unpleasant. Shame you never listened to your gut.

Then there was the star of the show! The only prick you knew craved for nothing but the spotlight. Endlessly seeking validation for his actions. Only satisfied once his legacy was recognized. A pitiful shapeshifter that took many forms but loved only one… “Mario Emmett! The demon that never could be!"

A lanky black creature with an ego that was bigger than he deserved. Was he the main protagonist of your little show? Who are you to know? You’re only here to follow a repetitive script, endless by design.

You seem confused pal, scruffy face scrunched up, wrinkles becoming more apparent as your tired eyes examining the poster a bit too close... Perhaps a little reminder of why you’re here will help out with that gap in your memory. Wouldn't you agree, pal?

You search through the pockets of your plain brown overcoat, and feel the thin paper edge of a letter. The one Terrence had sent you, remember?

Carefully, you tug it out. Not that the yellow paper didn't already look worse for wear.

Despite its lack of care, surprisingly not your doing for once, you were reasonable enough to fold it neatly like a professional old-timely gentleman. No, it was… Terrence, yes, Terrence who had scrunched it with little care. “Always had a knack for getting on my nerves,” you would bitterly think. Funnily enough, that’s the part of him that was done right. What an Abercrombie!

…Is that the right slang?

You unfold the letter up, again, for what would be, unbeknownst to you, the first of many times. You read the ink scribbled over the dirty gold paper once more.

More interaction between Jennifer and Sir Enigma Malvolio. Seduction... could be better Jennifer. Granted, Malvolio's not... normal. The extent of how "unnormal" he is though is yet to be recognized:

"You shouldn't be here."

Jennifer swiftly turned around, her back to the Apex's chamber pod, its mesmerizing fluid motion forgotten as she focused on the approaching short figure of Malvolio. She noticed just how quiet his steps were, and how he neglected to bring his cane down to the container's metal floor.

"Don't you know it's rude to snoop around in stranger's properties?" he asked, his voice echoing in the trailer, despite how restrained it is from the usual bombastic and joyous attitude he put up in front of Dicko. From what she could tell, he sounded more amused than angered that she came into his workshop uninvited.

His gaze was still as dead and false as it had been like in their first meeting.

Remembering why she was there, Jennifer shifted her stature, "I'm sorry. I just couldn't help myself after tonight's fight."

Seeing that Malvolio stopped approaching, tilting his head as he waited for her to continue. Thinking she had his attention, she looked around, blue eyes wide in wonder as she gestured the workshop, "This place is amazing."

Looking to Malvolio, who she still had the engaged attention of, she gestured to him and stated coyly, "You were amazing."

To what would have to be the eighth confusing she's ever received from this man, Malvolio snorted and tsked at her. With a shake of his head, he looked to her, a smile curved on his lips as he made his reply.

"Please, I barely did a thing. She's the one who deserves the credit. It was all her," he pointed his cane behind Jennifer, to the darkened pod, where the Apex resided in the waters, "I was merely the motivation she needed to win the fight."

Looking between Malvolio and the beastie, Jennifer selectively stammered as she said, "But you did create it. And shared its mind. Don't you agree that's more than enough reason for praise?"

For whatever reason, Malvolio scoffed, looking Jennifer up and down, scrutinizing her with his gaze as he impressively twirled his cane to rest on his shoulder, now looking more like a club than a walking stick. He unnerved and frustrated her. Jennifer needed him to lower his guard, to be completely oblivious to any danger she posed.

It just ticked her off that he was clearly unconvinced with her performance, and at ease while she had to keep her nerve together, especially for Dicko's sake.

Here's a FC5 WIP for The True Sinners of Silva on a (forced) picnic with Faith and Nadi, for a "girl's day out" as Faith had insisted to Jacob (though Nadi hadn't initially been invited). Have some lore, ship teasing and the aftereffects of Silva's terrible childhood. Also TW for kidnapping, cults, manipulation and discussion of eating disorders:

Faith let out a sigh as she clung on to Silva's arm, effectively anchoring the woman where she sat. And she wasn't sure what was more concerning; the fact she didn't mind Faith being so close to her, or the familiar content smile on the herald's face.

"I'm glad the two of us can finally hang out," Faith admitted, neglecting to include Nadi's presence, "Jacob had been hogging you for so long that I was afraid I wouldn't ever get to see you again."

Silva wasn't sure how to respond to Faith's small confession so chose to reply with a contemplative hum, ignoring the warmth she felt rushing in her face. She also ignored the gnawing hunger at the sight of the food as well.

Nadi must have noticed that she wasn't eating the food as both herself and Faith had been. She looked at Silva with concerned brown eyes.

Silva was unsure why the blonde would care though; she just wasn't that hungry. Not even for the barely nipped sandwich in her hand.

"...Something wrong with the chicken, enfer?" Nadi asked, her head tilted as she scanned Silva over with her gaze. Silva glowered at the woman, rather irked that John's right-hand would bring attention to her lack of appetite, especially while the present host was a herald.

"It's nothing," she told the Frenchwoman, lowering the chicken sandwich. Nadi was unconvinced, though, and looked to Faith, head jerking to Silva.

And unfortunately, Faith lifted her head from Silva's shoulder, adjusting herself to sit up straight as she shifted her attention from Nadi to her charge. Silva risked a glance next to her and had the misfortune of getting caught into the worried gaze of Faith's green eyes.

"Do you not like the food?" Faith asked, eyes wide in panic like she committed some unspeakable crime, putting a hand on her forehead as she continued, "I should have asked you what you wanted. I'm sorry, I was so excited for this picnic with you that I didn't think you'd have any problem with the food-"

Silva saw the growing distress on the herald and swiftly responded to put a stop to it. She didn't want to find out what the repercussions were from upsetting the brother's little sister.

"No, no, it's not the food," Silva stated, garnering Faith's attention as she listened, focus as intense as the floral scent that followed the herald. Once again unprepared for the sole attention of Faith, she hurriedly tried to clear up any confusion, "The food is good. It's just me. I'm not hungry."

Even though she said she wasn't hungry, Silva could feel the pained craving for the food, but her mind just couldn't handle the idea of consuming anything for the time being.

Faith's demeanor lost the panic instantly, and the calm that came across her face left Silva stunned at the whiplash.

"Huh," Faith said, looking over to Nadi, the blonde unbothered by the herald's rapid shift in emotions, who had a knowing look as she stared at Silva with sincere pity.

"Are you sure, enfer?" Nadi questioned, a brow raised, "Jacob said you don't eat a lot at the center. The last time you ate must have been, what... three, four hours ago? Can you really say you're not hungry?"

Silva refused to answer, looking away from Nadi as the conflict of hunger and lack of appetite raged inside.

Both woman present found Silva's silence to be confirmation, and Nadi asked, "You're not starving yourself to spite us, are you?"

Silva gave Nadi an incredulous look, straightening up, "What would be the point of that? Despite how unpleasant I find your cult, it wouldn't help me to weaken myself. And besides, like you said, I do eat at the center. Which would be counterproductive if my plan was to starve myself, no matter how stupid of a plan it is to begin with."

Nadi nodded along, not incorrectly correcting her on their group status, agreeing with most of Silva's words, "I believe you. So, what's up?"

Silva had half a mind to not outright curse the sharpshooter about the obvious reason being how she was kidnapped from her home and kept captive against her will surrounded by cultists. The terror and stress of not knowing what they're capable of. Nadi would never know the terror of being unable to predict a so-called prophet's next move.

Especially when he was your own father.

Silva snapped out of her musings when Faith's hand rested on her arm. Glancing to her, the herald gave a comforting squeeze, a small encouraging smile on her face. The action made Silva's face feel no less warmer.

So instead, she glanced between Faith's waiting green eyes and Nadi's sincere stare, and exhaled a sigh, as she softly revealed, "I... just can't."

Nadi nodded slowly, "But you want to."

Silva gave a nod at Nadi's correct guess. She looked down to the sandwich in her hands. She wanted to have it, and the basket of fruits with the baked goods. She desired it badly, but she couldn't let go of the dread that came with eating and swallowing.

"But you don't because you're afraid of what could happen if you do. Like choking? Or perhaps vomiting?"

Silva didn't need to say anything to confirm that what Nadi deduced was true.

Nadi hummed, and stated, "It seems you got yourself an eating disorder, enfer. An avoidant one from what you've described."

Silva eyed John's confidant. The name sounded familiar, something Kamski would have offhandedly mentioned. Curiosity did eat away at her, as she replied, "You seem to be familiar with this disorder."

Nadi smiled, though the smile didn't reach her brown eyes. She looked down to the apple she had been biting on, "That's because I suffer from the same thing. Unlike you though, where you don't eat enough, I eat too much. I've gotten better though. John, la chérie, helped set up a diet and routine for me. Got me to memorize timing as well. He and Alexander still check up on me from time-to-time, but it's greatly appreciated."

Silva was surprised; both by Nadi's confession and the fact John of all people went out of his way to help Nadi. Silva thought him incapable of such a thing, given his holier-than-thou attitude towards her.

And finally the last paragraph for the still unnamed arranged marriage FC5 scenario. And Alexander (AKA Jacob's most trusted and loyal right hand man) is pissed. TW for cult views, a war crime and mentioned coerced/arranged/forced marriages. Also mentioned drug (Bliss) use. Snippet below:

Letting out a deep, shaky sigh, Alexander stared straight into Jacob's cold blue eyes, and said, "So you must understand my... my confusion and my shock and my fury when the Sinner herself, stumbling around the halls, high on fucking Bliss, wept in my arms as she told me exactly everything you and Joseph and John and Faith neglected to share with me or Nadi or the rest of the congregation. You told me she agreed to our negotiations. No, not our negotiations, you told me she agreed to your family's negotiations as soon as it was put forward. You told me this marriage between a suitor of her choosing, no matter how nonsensical and impractical and detrimental the wedding itself is to morale and our resources, was to bring unity between Eden's Gate and the Resistance indefinitely. So tell me Jacob. Why the lies? Why the lack of care towards the rules that Joseph says keep us grounded? Rules that I have witnessed so many of our brothers and sisters be punished for breaking, and yet now you and your siblings are exempt from it? Why have you been sending out Hunters, armed to the teeth, to track down Palmer's Militia if we're in a truce? Why do I hear of no contact with the Resistance if we're supposed to be sharing compensations and details surrounding our peace? Why had Silva told me that Joseph already chosen her suitor, and ignored her refusal of it?! And most importantly, why did she say it was YOU?!"

32 notes · View notes

zozo-01 · 1 year

Note

Oh a fic request to celebrate your 200 eh??

Perhaps some domestic James fluff?

(I just want a *boundary-respecting*, silver-tongued telepath to make me coffee and a Belgian waffle okay?)

Pretty pweeeeeez

Ohohoooo, some fluffy James for my favourite composer??? Hell yea!!! One domestic James fic coming right up!!!

"mind over matter (but breakfast first)."

"Beloved, I need you to get up. You need to eat something before leaving for work."

Technically, they didn't need to get up right now. Work doesn't start til nine in the morning, and it was only six. But they didn't know when the next time they'd enjoy his morning presence. So instead of dragging James down with them for cuddles, they begrudgingly started to wake up.

Rubbing their eyes, Beloved spoke, sleep still evident in their voice. "I'm up, I'm up, no need to yell this early in the morning." They removed the blanket on them, shivering when the cold air hit them. Immediately they grabbed James' discarded clothing, hoping to provide some form of protection against the elements. It had, like always.

He chuckled, watching his pouting partner struggle to wake their mind up from their peaceful sleep. "I was not yelling, my dear. You're just not awake yet."

They groaned as they got up, only to flop into James' chest. "I am plenty awake... So fucking awake..." Their voice trailed off as the teetered the line of their consciousness.

He pushed their hair back and kissed their forehead. He picked them up, legs wrapping around his waist and head resting in his shoulder, and made his way to the living room. He was soaking up the warmth of their body, savouring and committing the feeling to memory knowing it won't last for longer.

Carefully, he sat his lover onto the stool by the kitchen island, holding them upright so he may wake them up again. It was easier this time, having already disrupted their sleep.

They shook their head and opened their eyes once more. The smell of pancakes had woken them up completely, their stomach grumbling at the delicious smell. "You dastardly villain. Using the scent of delicious pancakes to lure me from my sleep." They jabbed their finger into his chest. "You sicken me," they said with no real heat behind their words.

"Oh I know, beloved. But I need you fed before you go to work, lest you come hungry and miserable," he teased, taking their hand on his chest and kissing it. He let go of their hand and prepared a plate for his lover. He knows he won't be home to comfort them after a bad day, so the least he can do is give them a good morning.

Beloved rolled their eyes and took their plate. "What's got you sappy this morning? Sounds like you have another late-"

James kissed their forehead to stop that line of thought. "Don't you worry about that, beloved. Just eat and get ready."

They sighed, frustrated that the department would once again prevent their partner from being home. If only they would stop overworking James to fucking brink so that he can rest at their goddamn place-

James placed a gentle kiss on their cheek. "I love you, beloved, and I'm sorry."

"Never apologize, it's never your fault."

So the couple spent the rest of their limited time together that day, laughing, having fun, creating soft and loving memories that they can look back on when they're far apart from each other.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted james #HEHEHE FRENCHIE MY LOVE THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST <33333 #zo writes tingz #this is zo speaking

75 notes · View notes

doodle-pops · 2 years

Text

A Heart of Gold

Maedhros x reader: Beauty and the Beast AU

Request: OH YOU ALREADY KNOW IT!! - BEAUTY AND THE BEAST AU! LOVELY MAEBAE AND S/O - LIKE FROM HIM GETTING READY TO THEM DANCING TOGETHER!! - COULD WE ALSO GET A MINI SKIP TO THE ENDING WHERE S/O BREAKS THE CURSE PLEASE? Also female s/o if could please? OH - AM ALREADY MELTING! LOVE YOU SO MUCH HUN! </3 HAPPY WRITING - @eunoiaastralwings

A/N: I didn't think that writing this fic would have been a struggle. I wrote four drafts and deleted them before coming up with this. Oh gosh, I really hope you like it. >.<

Warnings: mentions of Maedhros being rude and aggressive, animalistic behavioural traits, mentions of harming reader, mentions of arranged marriage, fluff, happy-endings, kissing, spell-breaking

Words: 2.2k

Synopsis: Prince Maedhros treats you to a splendid night among the stars, dancing your contented hearts away and realising that the love you held for him was as real as it could be.

“Come now my dear, we must quickly get you in your dress. Our brother is a very impatient elf.” Maglor’s sing-song voice snapped you out of your thoughts and caused you to look over to where he and Caranthir were holding up a beautiful yellow and gold gown.

The bellows of yellow puffed out to create clouds on your dress, highlighted by the golden threads which danced along the edges to give a ‘silver-lining’ effect. The little golden-yellow ribbons that sat at each crease and at the tops of your shoulders made the dress appear as a gift, and it was. A heavenly dress made for a princess and not a mortal commoner who escaped the constraints of an unwanted arranged marriage to a pig who called themselves the epitome of a husband. This dress gave you the self-worth you lacked and the confidence to realize that you deserved far better.

“Oh Maglor, this dress is far too beautiful. Are you sure it’s for me?” You were speechless as you delicately touched the material, afraid of soiling.

“Yes, it’s for you. I didn’t spend days making it so it wouldn’t be worn – now hurry up, into the dress.” Caranthir had walked around to give you a gentle push as he somewhat scolded you for having the slightest self-doubt about your garment. Stepping into the dress with the help of Maglor and Caranthir, they busied themselves with the finishing touches of lacing you up and tidying your hair. Giving you the golden hair pins that Maedhros once gifted you a few weeks ago, they thought it would be best to show him your appreciation by wearing them on the special occasion tonight.

Once you were settled in your dress with a few touch-ups left to fix, Maglor ushered you to follow him over to the door urging you to not look in the mirror, but to have the confidence to know that you appeared beautiful. It was an eerie compliment coming from an elf whose purpose was to always look beautiful. To use the same words on a mortal was baffling.

“Now, now, you’ve practised the steps, so no tripping or messing up – we don’t need Moryo to throw a fit. Don’t be nervous, he’ll love the way you look tonight – I know this, I know him.” The velvety voice of Maglor waffled through your ear and spread across your body to melt away all the uneasiness settling. His soft calloused hands held your much smaller ones and continued to lead the way to the ballroom slowly. He was still able to feel the little racks of shivers through the touch.

Walking through the twists and turns made you remember your first day at the palace. It was dark and filled with cobwebs, not a crack of light had ever touched the walls and the scent, was musky. It was a horrific sight to behold when you had the opportunity the dwell with him as his assistant, the only way he would allow you to stay on his grounds. You had spent months tidying away the palace since his workers eventually left him one by one due to his lack of responsibilities. He spent years locked up in Himring taking care of himself with whatever remaining knowledge in hygiene until he stopped.

His hair grew in grew volumes and was unkept – it gave him the appearance of a beast mane – his clothes were ragged and tattered, and his manners. It was the last thing you had expected to be disgusting, but then again, he did attack you upon first meetings. The growls and grunting or the animalistic and savage bodily language he displayed made the rumours true. No wonder why he locked himself up for decades. It was either he turned into a beast after years of being tortured in Angband or he acted as one. To you, both seem true when you first met.

A small chuckle escaped your lips at the realization of being the only person aside from his brothers to get close to Prince Maedhros whom everyone referred to as ‘The Beast’ and was able to bring him back to the light. The months spent here made you realize that he wasn’t truly like that, it was just his defensive mechanism to deal with the pain. Deep down, he was a softie who lacked the opportunity to express himself. You always saw the mirth in his eyes whenever you didn’t judge him or listened and showed your genuine concern and understanding. You weren’t afraid of Maedhros, you –

“Right, here we are. I’m going to send you off to greet him now. Don’t worry, I’ll be there as your orchestra.” Stroking your cheeks, Maglor gave you a bow and turned on his heels to enter the ballroom through another passage, leaving you standing behind the grand doors. This was it, the long-awaited moment that would increase the bond between both you and the prince, an act to solidify your affections for one another.

Stepping forward and releasing a deep breath, you twisted the doorknob and push the grand doors open. Your jaw gaped at the dazzling sigh before your eyes, the twinkling and sparkling of the thousand candlelit room left you gobsmacked. There were gold garlands wrapped around the pillars with red roses and ribbons intertwined and bouquets of flowers sat in oversized vases at every post. The red drapes that once covered the windows were drawn and revealed the starry night as your background. And at the centre of the spectacle, there was Prince Maedhros. Dressed in his finest wear that Caranthir surely stitched for him, he stood tall and proud with his chest puffed out.

Wrapped in red and gold, his ginger hair was braided into a half-up courtesy of his brothers and a dazzling nervous smile on his face. But seeing you enter the room made his heart flutter and his smile grew to stretch across his face. Wings sprouted from his back, and he flew into the heavens up above the clouds, never to return. Lost for words and thoughts except, magnificent. The only coherent description for you. Walking over to greet you on wobbly legs, you fidgeted with your dress and hair as he approached. Biting your lips as a smile came about, Maedhros stopped before you and remained spellbound.

“My lady, you came?” And his palms grew sweaty.

“I did.” And so did yours.

“Well…if I may that is, it would give me the greatest pleasure if you would do me the honour of letting me lead you through this – the first…” and his heart fluttered at your smile and all words were lost. Butterflies filled his stomach and hearts swarmed his head as he drifted off lovingly gazing into your eyes. For a moment, he felt as if the world shifted, and it was only the both of you existing.

“…dance?”

“Oh, oh yes. Yes of course.” Laughing to himself, he lifted his left hand to rub his nap embarrassingly at the little moment he just had.

It was on cue as his left hand moved to grip your waist, you gasped at the contact and the harp rang out its first cord. Tugging you further onto the dance floor, Maedhros glided across the floor, floating you along with him. The twirls of your dress flaring out around you gave you an angelic appearance, Maedhros thought that you would fly with him to the clouds above to dance. Shining under the lights, your skin glowed hues of gold as your cheeks flushed red. Moving around on the floor and dancing among the stars, he led you every step of the way and not once were you fearful. His arms felt magical around you, safe and secure.

For every spin was a smile gracing his face, for every dip was a warmth spreading in his heart and for every embrace was the fluttering of his heart, telling him that this was love. Getting lost in your eyes as he guided your smaller figure, he gave you lifts into the air loving the widening of your eyes and the mirth that filled them. The small gasps that slipped past your lips as he lifted you once again before bringing you down slowly to lock eyes made his somersault.

So this is love.

Tearing his eyes away from you for a short moment to lock with his brothers, he gave them a thankful nod, which was reciprocated before he dipped and held you there. You were waiting for him to bring you up but instead, Maedhros' next actions caught you off guard. A tender kiss to your forehead and then your nose. Pausing before he dipped in for the final kiss, his left hand rose to stroke your flushed cheeks and so, you repeated the action to his face. Mapping out his scars and freckles with your dainty fingers, they felt warm under your touch, and he shivered in delight.

Looking over your features one last time, Maedhros leaned in closer until your noses brushed against the other. The harp faded into the background and the hush-hush whispers from his brothers evaporated with it as well – all that was left were you and Maedhros.

“Beautiful. I could gaze at you forever…if you would allow me to. Even in this hideous form that once bore fragments of my old self, will you let me?”

“You asketh of me such a question that requires no lie but only to give the truth, and my answer as I have once revealed onto you remains the same, yes. Your form does not deter me, it only makes me love you more.”

At the mention of the word ‘love’, Maedhros swore his heart stopped beating and restarted on a new pattern. You loved him despite his hideous form and animalistic demeanour or the way he’d treated you from the start. Scaring you and making you cry with disgusting words that would make anyone curl in on themselves. You loved him and saw him, not the beast that everyone knew. Recognition scourging through his head as he held you longingly in that position making tears spring from his eyes.

Resting you on the floor to sit, Maedhros soon followed and sat beside you weeping in his hands at your love. Smiling at him, knowing exactly why he was shedding tears on such a miraculous night, you inched yourself closer to cradle his face in your smaller hands. Sitting before him, his stature made you feel like a child, but nevertheless, you brought his face closer to yours once again. Rubbing the little auburn sideburns that he trimmed and brushing a hand across his cheek, you lifted his head to meet your gaze.

Locking eyes with him and smiling sweetly, you gingerly dipped your head into his space and met his lips in a light tender kiss. The air surrounding you both began to glow as your lips locked. Swirling and dancing, creating floral and star-like patterns through the air. Tiny freckles of glitter dust, gold and silver, materialized from under you both and raised up into the air to form a bubble of kaleidoscopic colours. From within Maedhros's chest, the eight-pointed star glowed over his heart before it grew and slowly consumed his entire body.

From the sideline, his brothers watched in awe at the turn of magical events occurring between you both. Never before had they seen anything like this happening to their elder brother. Worry filled their hearts, panicking and urging each other to rush in and save him, but it was your expression which prevented their interruption. The awe on your face as you looked at the scene unfolding before your eyes told them something good was taking place.

Looking on, everyone watched as the light slowly diminished its glow before revealing the hidden mysteries about their brother. From his feet, the light retracted and travelled up his legs then to his chest and arms and lastly his face before returning to his heart. Laying on the ground before you and his brothers was Maedhros in his non-beast form. His stature was reduced as were his animalistic features. The sight of him lying peacefully urged you to crawl over his figure and observe his handsomeness up close. Stretching a hand out to trail your fingers across his flawless skin, you saw his lips twitch when you reached his lips.

“I get the feeling that something magical happened as you kissed me?” A wide grin had spread its way across his face as he spoke joyously.

“The spell’s broken, you’re you again.”

Sitting up, he lifted his left hand to touch face and marvel at its smoothness of it. He had forgotten what his old face felt and looked like. The dire urge he was filled with to rush and find a mirror, but instead, he turned to face you and ask for your opinion on his appearance, “True love’s kiss. Do I – do I look handsome?”

“You’ve always been handsome, but too blind to see.” You giggled into your hands as he stared at you in wonder, pleased with your answer. Inching himself forward, he took your smaller hands tenderly into his and gave them a tug which brought you closer to his face. Leaning in and hovering just an inch away, you felt the coolness of his breath washing over your features.

“Does this mean you’ll stay with me…forever and always?”

“Forever and always.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @welcometomordor @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings

#Maitimo #Nelyafinwe #Russandol #maedhros x reader #silmarillion x reader #maedhros #maedhros imagine #maedhros headcanon #silmarillion imagine #middle earth x reader #middle earth headcanons #middle earth imagine #house of feanor #feanorians #x reader fluff #x reader insert #fluff #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

77 notes · View notes

screamsinsilver · 2 years

Text

the ideas that have been taking up my processing power the last week or so:

the angsty throuple fic i'm currently outlining on discord (sorry to them for spending over a week,,, just leaving them hanging for days on end <3), yeah, say hi to the dark side of toni's brain, it is not fun up here

a mando imola fic, but it is max and theo's texts (no seriously this has a lot of potential, qdrnt release the full cut of the vlog smh)

a mando social media fic set in, like, 2025

the seven years of slowburn fic i have mentioned several times but it just keeps getting sidelined

a ria/luisa oneshot

other things that i have started a g doc for but are juat sitting there that i really do want to do something with:

a vigilante au that spans the whole of f1 plus juniors

a modern royalty arranged marriage au (also the dark side of toni's brain)

a brocedes songfic to messy by conquer divide

a borderline rpf "bruce wayne has an f1 team" fic but its the whole batfam

others that i have forgotten but will probably be edited in later

... yeah

#silver's fic waffle #i didnt realise i had this many wips lol

5 notes · View notes

kimium · 10 months

Note

Ramble to me about anything on your mind today, fandom or irl, I’m listening 🥰💜

Aw, thanks friend! Funny enough, I was thinking about making a personal post last night, so this works out perfectly!

I'm in the mood to talk about some of my WIPs and maybe give some sneak peeks at them. Perhaps, if you like what I have, I'll continue them. Some I'm on the fence about.

Here are some of my WIPs! I'm also including ideas I haven't written yet but want to write eventually. Let me know if any of these ideas strike a cord with you! I may get around to writing them! Rest is under a cut. This is long.

My weird JJK/SK8 the Infinity crossover: This one came about years ago after the onsen episode when Reki was terrified of ghosts. The cast reacted skeptically but as someone who believes in ghosts my first thought was "What if he can actually see them?" This then devolved into adding JJK into the mix as I was heavily watching/reading the series at the time.

The angle of this fic is,"Reki's family are barrier and protective ward experts that aren't fighters. Reki takes a very non-traditional approach to creating wards. He tries to keep that part of his life separate as he's not a full-blown sorcerer. That's not going to happen."

Here is a little bit of it.

"It smelled like rotting seaweed, congealing blood, and decomposing earth. Cold waffled off the curse, as though the curse was stuffed full of dry ice. White, almost see-through wisps danced along the concrete and curled around Reki’s shoes, penetrating the material of his worn sneakers and attacking his feet directly. Reki violently shivered."It smelled like rotting seaweed, congealing blood, and decomposing earth. Cold waffled off the curse, as though the curse was stuffed full of dry ice. White, almost see-through wisps danced along the concrete and curled around Reki’s shoes, penetrating the material of his worn sneakers and attacking his feet directly. Reki violently shivered.

The curse shifted, as though looking up at him. Reki froze and tripped off his skateboard. Tendrils of oozing, sharp panic filled his heart swiftly. His limbs stiffened, and cognitive reasoning began to halt sluggishly. The skin on his arms tingled and all the hair at the back of his neck stood up."

Rainy Day: A fic focusing on Lilia meeting and raising Silver. I have absolutely no idea where my end point is, but I've had this idea in my brain for months. A reason why it's on hold is because Book 7 is happening right now on the Japanese server and my fic will 100% accidentally contradict some canon.

Here is a snippet.

"The bright object quickly revealed itself as a white bundle of cloth as Lilia edged closer. Sighing internally, Lilia removed his hand from his sword. No doubt someone’s laundry had flown off the drying line the moment the storm started. A shame, but returning lost fabric wasn’t Lilia’s job.

Then, the fabric moved and Lilia nearly jumped out of his skin. A second later the cloth blew in the direction of the wind, revealing an infant human face and tuffs of hair so light it was almost as if moonlight had been spun and placed in their head."

Another Post SDR2 healing fic: Exactly what it says on the tin. I've been meaning to write another long "everyone is healing from despair" fic for SDR2 for years. Sadly, I've been stuck on the first bit for a while because I feel overwhelmed. I think the key to this one is to write in scenes rather than in a cohesive story.

Here is a bit of the story so far.

"The computer room, or as Souda loved calling it, the Pod People Room, was the coldest place on Jabberwock Island. A truly miraculous feat, if Hajime’s opinion was asked, given the stagnant temperatures of the island that never dropped and instead rose in intensity. Like any place located by the ocean, Jabberwock Island also boasted a healthy dose of humidity that hovered over them like a thick woollen blanket in a sauna. However, in the confined dark space of the computer room the heat remained outside, barricaded by a set of heavy metal doors. Along with the multiple computer screens, various keyboards, and creaky chairs (that Souda swore he’d fix) made it easy for someone to accidentally shift his body position to a hunch for several hours at a time."

Love at first stab attempt: A while ago I wrote a "Hajime and Nagito are both serial killers AU fic". I didn't address how they met. This fic was supposed to do that. However, I got busy and I haven't touched this fic in a while.

Here is a snippet.

"Instead, his brain firmly reminded him of the hours spent sitting cross legged on his plush blue rug in the living room, examining and arranging an array of chronologically arranged Polaroids. How many hours had Nagito sunk into reviewing and planning? How many nights had Nagito spent painfully awake staking out various locations? Sadly, Nagito could answer and it drove him to press onward in the summer heat.

The things he did for justice and self-satisfaction. The woes and turmoil of being a serial killer. Though, that label made Nagito’s brain itch. Not that he could find a better descriptor for himself. He’d tried but ultimately failed."

Honourable Mentions AKA I might expand on these ideas if I feel like it and people are interested.

Spirit Medium Hajime ft. Something is Rotten in the state of Jabberwock Island: Another story snippet I posted to AO3. I kept thinking how interesting it would be if Hajime was a legit shaman that could see spirits and eased them to the afterlife. However, because SDR2 is in the Neo World Program there are no ghosts, thus this tips Hajime off that something is wrong on the island.

The Awakening Trio and Anankos with a Siren Voice that calls to them because they drank his blood: Again, another snippet I posted to AO3. I've always wanted to write another Anankos/Trio fic, and I'm in love with the Trio being called out by Anankos. Very dramatic.

Shouichi drinks from a bottle to suppress his memories. Byakuran doesn't care so long as Shouichi is with him: Once more, here is the snippet of this idea I posted to AO3. I'm always here for "Shouichi with poor coping mechanisms because Byakuran."

Ideas I haven't written anything for yet but I will eventually

-Detective AU where the Trio or Leo/Odin/Niles can see spirits and that's why they can solve all crimes. They just ask the spirits lingering around the scene. @someobscurereference wrote this idea as my birthday gift, but there are so many fun angles to explore!

-Vil/Rook and the list of classmates they both want to high key kiss/sleep with together. It's essentially my excuse to write one of my favourite angles to their relationship "They're madly in love with one another but are secure enough to add a third party member to the mix once in a while".

-10051: A darker Shouichi who decides to use Byakuran's possessiveness to kill off "bad people" in the world. It's of course, a slippery slope to maintain and thus makes Shouichi very, very morally grey. Though, on the flip side, I think it's funny that Shouichi 100% has the power to pout and largely get what he wants from Byakuran.

-Bungou Stray Dogs: ADA Chuuya and Dazai. Yeah, it's a classic but I want to write another BSD fic and I love Soukoku.

-Something for the Bar AU. If you haven't read any of @m34gs Bar AU, I highly recommend it! It's essentially our massive crossover idea that boils down to "There is a dimension crossing bar and people from various fandoms meet one another there. They have no idea what's up with their respective fandoms. Usually." While so far it's mostly been written by M34GS, I've contributed so many ideas over the years that it's our series.

-Post series Buddy Daddies and them raising Miri: Is this a new fandom I'm seeing?? Maybe? I'm still very on the fence about this idea so no promises.

#personal #replies #writing #wips

10 notes · View notes