#herowndeliverance

[scioscribe]

@herowndeliverance is always here for me, and is a beautiful and awesome person who talks to me about Aaron Burr and rage.

[eldrmllnl]

so i commissioned a fic through @fightbackfic from @herowndeliverance (shout out THANK YOU) from the aegis verse and it is GR8 so all of you should consider doing that cause *SPOILERS* and you should all be a little jealous of me

[swan-archive]

*eggplant emoji*

phew, boy. okay. where even to begin with you?

i think something that you don’t get enough credit for is your generosity. i could talk all day about your technical skill at writing, or your beautiful, nuanced takes on characters, or your creativity in coming up with au after au after au, but this has all been said by much smarter and more articulate people than i. the fact that you have all this on your side, and then you deign to share your stories with us in the ways that you do—now that’s something that blows me away. you share backstory and character work with nearly anyone who asks, you fill prompts, you let idiots like me clamber around in your sandboxes, yelling and screaming at the top of our lungs, and you do it all for far, far, FAR less reward than you deserve.

you’re also the kind of friend i feel lucky to have met. talking with you is always a blast, since you’re so smart and insightful and funny, and you’ve been nothing but supportive of me when i come into your chat to whine about whatever the fuck The Yoouthes are doing in the main ham tag or why i’m not doing my fucking work today. it honestly warms my heart whenever i see an im notification and i click on it and it turns out to have been you, sending me a meme because it reminded you of Alexcat or Alexfish or some other gross monster child. the fact that you’ve accepted my humble little stories into your heart means more to me than i can say, and i think we both know that without you, i would never have started sharing them with a wider audience.

i know life is hard for you right now (why is life so hard on so many of my mutuals? @universe, knock that the fuck out, keerist), so i’ll just end by saying that i hope this could brighten your day a bit, and that i hope things get easier for you very, very soon. but if they do not, i’m not going anywhere, and i’ll be here if you need me. i love you a lot.

[nonasuch]

herowndeliverance replied to your post “The other day I read a Rogue One post that pointed out, in passing,...”

...This makes me feel even worse about our current political hellscape tbh.

Because Muggle Voldemort, not being a literal Sith Lord, does not actually derive psychic power from the suffering of others, and therefore has no good reason to be such a shithead?

Or he might be a literal Sith Lord, I guess.

[scioscribe]

If I ever become brave enough to post this lengthy, weird essay I wrote about my childhood and queerness and my family’s sometimes intense conservatism, it will solely be because I briefly made @herowndeliverance worry that she had totally imagined an especially gross bit and I had to explain that no, I’d edited it out in case I did post it.  And it is uplifting to have temporarily made someone freak out that they imagined something about your underwear.

[scioscribe]

I just remembered that I get to actually, physically meet @herowndeliverance in October when I temporarily cross into the Great White North and now I can’t stop smiling.

[swan-archive]

I don't know if you actually want to do these prompts, but if you do, how about 19 for any monster au Lams?

19. When I look at you all I can see are the mistakes we’re going to make. (The future’s so bright.)

We need to stop doing this.

The thought comes to Alexander in unexpected moments: when he’s in the middle of a report, and John prods him teasingly with his foot and mimics his glazed lost-in-thought expression; when they’re passing each other in the hall, and Alex rubs up against John’s leg for a second longer than might be considered strictly friendly; when they’re sharing a bedroll, and John rolls over and throws an arm over Alex and mumbles into his fur. All more or less innocent, nothing anyone could point to and call them out for, but the idea still rankles.

This is wrong. This was wrong when we started, and it’s wrong now.

Alex knows the stakes of this relationship better than most. Can remember, quite vividly, the way Maman had checked and double-checked her glamour before leaving the house with Dad, the way Dad had evaded prying questions about who, exactly, Jamie and Alex were to him, the way Dad had contrived not to appear with the two of them in public, especially once Jamie’s face had started coming in. Alex had gotten into his fair share of fights with the neighbor kids, over name-calling sprees turned very ugly. No shortage of nasty things for them to say about his family. 

Your dad’s a pervert. Your mom’s a whore. Your parents are sick in the head, and that means you are too.

And isn’t that just it? They said, didn’t they always say it’d mess up the kids? Well, they were right! Just look at him now, stealing kisses from a human, sharing his bed, whispering words to him that only get across a fraction of what’s in his heart. Even, in quiet moments, letting himself dream of the future they might have together. 

He laughs at his own rosy euphemisms. Call it what it fucking is, Alex. A future built on lies, a future that would need to be as carefully hidden as the fact of their present. Hardly even a future at all. He should be disgusted with himself for even entertaining the thought.

Should.

On his worst days, Alex can spin his distaste for untruths into despair at the vanishing likelihood of any kind of real happy-ever-after for himself and John, can chase the idea of a lifetime of sneaking and lying and hiding around in circles until it makes him want to scream. Even then, can’t quite manage horror at the fact of what they’re doing. John’s smile supersedes that. John’s smile, John’s eyes, John’s clever hands and soft skin and freckles and, yes, even his ridiculous sticking-out ears. John’s candor. John’s sense of justice. John’s burning-bright heart.

Put it all together and it makes a blaze that burns brighter than the dull heat of shame, of all those hateful words.

So yes, he can look at John and think mistake, mistake, this was all a mistake, and at the same time tug at John’s coat-tails, and when John bends down, mutter in his ear sneak out tonight? Around three or so. Everyone’ll be asleep. No one in the woods down the hill. 

You go first. Safer that way. Wake me up when you go and I’ll follow when I’m not half-asleep and like to trip on someone’s tail.

John straightens up, says something loudly about a missing report to cover their exchange, and the wee hours of the morning find them together in a convenient clearing, John’s hands in Alex’s hair, Alex’s lips on John’s. This is wrong and John kisses him again, with enough fire to nick his lip on Alex’s fangs. This is wrong and Alex snarls and digs his claws in to John’s shoulders to hear him gasp and sigh. This is wrong this is wrong and Alex relaxes into John’s arms, smiles and purrs when he feels John press a kiss to his ear.

If he’s damned for this, well, bring on the fuckin’ fire and brimstone.

(In his best moments, he knows that something this good—something good enough for John to be in it—could never be a perversion.)

[scioscribe]

You guys, if @herowndeliverance ever turns against me, I’m dead.  She knows too much.