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quellawrites · 2 years

Text

lover of leaving (chooser of staying)

Square and prompt: A5, Comforting Insecurity

Title: lover of leaving (chooser of staying)

Rating: Teen and up

Word Count: 1860

Ship: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Warnings: No archive warnings apply

Additional tags: Emotional hurt/comfort, Fluff, Feelings, Getting Together, First Kiss

Summary: After learning of Hob’s fears, Dream vows to himself he is going to try his best to reassure Hob of Dream’s permanence in his life.

Link to AO3

Written for @dreamlingbingo

The first time Dream notices it, they are arguing about Hob’s nightmares, and Dream has just manifested his wish to unleash his fury upon the nightmares who have dared to plague Hob’s sleep during midterms.

“You can’t do that,” Hob vehemently says and if Dream was to take a guess, he would say Hob sounds positively outraged on the nightmare’s behalf.

“You dare to presume you can interfere with the way I rule my subjects,” Dream says and his annoyance and the worry for Hob’s well-being sharpen his tone more than he intended.

Hob stills and instinctively reaches out, as if he wishes to grasp Dream’s sleeve, but seems to think better of it and lets his hand fall back at his side. “No,” he hastily says. “Of course not. I’m sorry, I just–” he pauses and runs his hand through his hair, in the way Dream recognises he does when he is especially nervous. “I just don’t want some poor dream to be unmade because they’re doing their job.”

Dream takes a moment to study Hob’s reaction. What he reads in Hob’s eyes, in his demeanour can with no doubt be catalogued as fear. Does Hob, unlikely as it may be, fear retribution from the nightmares? Dream discards the notion even as it starts forming, for his friend has never been one to shy away from discomfort, to be afraid of facing his fears.

When Hob’s hand twitches at his side as if Hob is making an effort to keep it still, Dream understands. His mind goes back to their previous interactions since his return and he starts to recognise a pattern he is not certain he likes.

Hob is afraid of Dream. He is afraid of Dream’s reaction, of Dream leaving him again because of a perceived offence.

Taking a deep breath he does not need, Dream unclenches the fists at his own sides and tries to assume a calmer demeanour. “I assure you,” he murmurs. “No nightmare shall be unmade for this.”

“All right,” Hob says and exhales a slow breath. It is clear he is still afraid to provoke Dream’s ire but, always a compassionate man, he cannot help himself from almost hesitantly adding, “Will you consider not being too harsh to them?”

“I will take into account your wishes,” Dream allows.

“Thank you,” Hob says, relief clear on his face.

Dream makes a point of remaining for tea, something that seems to comfort Hob further and to bring him back to his previous cheerful self.

Such a small thing Dream’s presence and yet, it seems to bring Hob joy and comfort. Dream cannot remember the last time someone has been so genuinely delighted to spend time in his company and marvels at the novelty of it.

Once back in his realm, Dream vows to himself he is going to try his best to reassure Hob of Dream’s permanence in his life, to give him the security he deserves.

The second time it happens, they are arguing about Hob’s lack of proper sleep and self-care. It is almost time for final exams and in addition to his own workload, Hob has been temporarily covering a staff vacancy.

“You cannot keep doing this to yourself,” Dream says and lets the annoyance he feels slip into his voice.

“What is it going to do?” Hob asks and laughs. For the first time since Dream has known him, it is not a pleasant sound.“Kill me?”

“It will not,” Dream allows but he is not willing to compromise on this, not when it is taking such a toll on Hob and–perhaps a selfish gripe on Dream’s part–taking Hob so long away from the Dreaming. “But it is weakening you.”

“Listen, Dream,” Hob says and he sounds tired. He is tired, so much so that it makes him sound angry, almost snide. “I just bloody well want to catch up with some grading and you arguing with me isn’t going to make me go any faster.” By the way Hob’s eyes widen and fill with horror, Dream can tell Hob regrets the words as soon as they slip past his lips. “Christ, I didn't mean that. I’m sor–”

“Very well,” Dream interrupts the apology and his voice is tight with restrained anger. “I shall let you go back to your grading and take my leave.”

“No!” Hob reaches out for him as he speaks and Dream can see the shine of tears in his eyes. There is something about the way he holds himself that makes Dream’s chest tighten. “Please. I shouldn’t have said that. Just– stay?”

Dream is still upset but the sight of Hob’s distress unravels all of his anger, leaving behind a fond exasperation. Furthermore, he has not forgotten the vow he made to himself about providing Hob with the reassurance he sorely needs.

It is not a hard choice, after all.

Dream stays.

The third time it happens, they are not arguing at all.

They are watching one of the shows Hob seems to like so much and that Dream endures–and perhaps secretly enjoys–for his friend’s sake.

The episode comes to an end but instead of putting on the next one, Hob pauses and turns toward Dream.

After a slow stretch that lifts his shirt up and leaves part of his abdomen exposed–not that Dream is looking–he says. “I don’t know about you but I’m bloody starving. What do you say about some takeout, love?”

“Love,” Dream repeats and marvels at the way the world feels in his mouth, foreign and almost forgotten but also warm and soothing and right. The fact that is directed at him, leaves a faint ache below his ribcage.

“Sorry,” Hob hastily says, probably misinterpreting the marvel in Dream's voice for something far more ominous. “I didn't mean– it was just a pet name, that’s all. I won’t call you that again if it bothers you. I’m–”

“It does not bother me,” Dream says before Hob can apologise for something that brings Dream such joy.

“It doesn’t?” Hob asks and there is a matching surprise in his voice, like he cannot quite believe one such a Dream would be okay to be called so.

“I have noticed you are very careful not to offend or upset me, of late,” Dream says, ignoring Hob’s question for the time being in favour of addressing the issue that has been between them ever since Dream’s return. “You need not.”

“Of course I do,” Hob says. “You’re my friend.”

“And you mine,” Dream agrees. “But I have taken notice of the fact that you fear my temper.”

“And here I thought I was being subtle,” Hob says and smiles a small, self-deprecating smile. “It’s not like I fear it. I just don’t want to give you reason to disappear again.”

The notion that Hob may find him so important to hold his–otherwise quick–tongue in fear of losing him would be enough to leave him breathless, if one such a him needed to breathe. It is enough to tug at his chest and settle below his ribs, warm and comforting.

“I am a creature of pride,” Dream says and tries to conceal his amusement as Hob’s eyebrows tick upward as if to say, really? “But I have learned much during my…absence. I may still be prone to the occasional burst of anger but I will not disappear again. You have my word.”

The seriousness of Dream’s promise must register with Hob, if his sharp intake of breath is anything to go by. He tries to speak but seems to be at a loss for words and he looks at Dream like Dream is the reason the sun rises at dawn, like Dream is something precious. Like he loves Dream.

It is the devotion on his face that brings Dream to add, “I would not wish you to think me so fickle to leave my loved ones without a word.”

“Loved ones?” Hob breathes and there is an entire array of emotions hidden behind the two mere words.

“Indeed,” Dream says and it surprises him how easy it is to admit his feelings so openly. “Haven’t I already told you it did not bother me you calling me so?”

“You did,” Hob says and bites his lower lip and Dream finds himself fighting the sudden urge to soothe it with the sweep of his tongue. “But…”

“Have I ever spoken anything but the truth?”

“No,” Hob murmurs and hope shines in his eyes. “Never. You may have withdrawn some things but you’ve never lied to me.”

Dream hums in agreement and smiles, something that he finds himself doing often in Hob’s presence. “Then trust me when I say your terms of endearment do not bother me. Quite the opposite, in fact. It would greatly please me to be called your loved one.”

“Dream,” Hob whispers and Dream is quite certain nobody has ever put such emotion in the pronunciation of his name. “If you don’t stop me, I’m going to kiss you now.”

Dream takes a moment to consider if perhaps he is rushing into something that would better be savoured slowly. If perhaps he is rushing into something dangerous, something that has the potential to end in tragedy and grief. One hundred and six years in a cage, however, with cold and humiliation as his sole companions have changed him deeply. They have taught him to seize every shard of happiness he can carve for himself.

“You may.”

Hob is hesitant at first, the faintest brush of a hand on Dream’s shoulder, his lips a mere flutter against Dream’s, perhaps afraid Dream will vanish if he dares to take more than he is permitted.

Dream cups the back of Hob’s head and draws him closer, presses his lips firmly against Hob’s soft, stunned mouth and then Hob is making a small, almost wounded noise and kissing dream back and the entire world is turning a somersault around them.

When they pull apart, Hob leans after him for more and something flares in Dream’s chest, something that makes him wish to smooth his jagged edges so he will not make Hob bleed, like he has done to countless others.

Then as they lie together breathlessly, draped over one another on Hob’s sofa, the feeling mutes into something softer, into the solemn and silent vow that he will not be the cause of Hob’s wounds.

“Stay the night?” Hob whispers and his face is so open and raw, so vulnerable.

“I am not going anywhere,” Dream says and the significance of the words runs deeper than the assurance that he is going to stay a mere night.

Hob smiles and it is bright like the sun, and perhaps he does not yet quite believe Dream is determined to permanently stay but he is grateful to have him for the night, Dream can tell.

Perhaps, it is going to take Dream time and more than meagre words to assuage Hob’s insecurities but Dream smiles back.

He has all the time in the universe to prove to Hob he will remain.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #fanfiction #dreamling bingo

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plumsaffron · 17 days

Note

Yooo, lemme keep cooking! I will not hold back at all for this one time! If anyone’s sensitive to vulgar language here, click away! (not counting the fandom side that doesn’t indulge in bashing!)

Why did they fail the IQ tests? Because they didn't study or do their research!

Are you people conspiracy theorists? Cuz y’all have shit evidence and arguments!

Y'all brought this upon yourselves since you couldn't let go your intense hatred of Lila and even several innocent characters who didn’t do anything wrong!

Hold on, why are some of y'all hating Alya? She's actually a good person/friend with some flaws! Are you secretly racist because you keep on portraying her as an angry black woman in your saltfics?

Y’all are the main reason why fanfic crossovers on Wattpad and AO3 either hardly get attention (non bashing) or indulges in (hyper)attentive unhealthy bloodsports (bashing) these days.

I bet the DC, Marvel and other western fiction media folk were wondering why there’s an influx of crossovers in their tumblr and social media feeds. Until they rightfully gave y’all the side eye for making nonsensical shit! No wonder the dark canon content fandoms are more mature than the wholesome canon content fandoms!

The Mari///bat community deadass makes the DP X DC community look good as a whole. Because at least the latter made sense with their dark edgy plots and toned down (actually light bashing compared to that ship) or didn’t do their bashing of certain controversial characters and just wanted to make a well-written AU. And y’all are also giving crossover ships a bad name/reputation!

Well, I’m glad some artists/writers and online groups don’t like your show and refuse to do your commissions/requests! Because they don’t want to get caught up in your bullshit!

If the show didn’t exist at all or had a different canon creator doing things right: 😊

The song that came up in my head is Pink Guy - STFU. For some reason the link share doesn’t work so just copy paste this: https://youtube.com/watch?v=xS3vpBCiL2c

Got some very insulting names here!: miracucunts, miracubitches, miracutards, miracutwats, miracutwits, miracuidiots, miracudumbasses, miracuplague, miracuvirus, miracubozos, miracuhoes, miracuwhores

They probably are when it comes to Alya Cesaire

or mastered the ability of granting their selves, a massive dosage of Miracancer because she didn’t react the way they wanted her to upon their and or Marinette’s behalf or the best drone friend they want her to be. They also forget that Alya hasn’t been Marinette’s friend for that long (it’s been less than a year). They are highly allergic to Alya not feeling like she should remember or care as they or Marinette does. Oh the most offensive thought of all time, which is Alya has a life outside of Marinette. Accept if one doesn’t help or supports Marinette’s cause must be 100% when wanted or they’re awful. Seeing differently of things against Marinette’s interest is abominable (even if Marinette’s obsession is concerning and her health is uh something and she’s making things worse for herself).

It’s probably one of the reasons they battle cry Marinette should have told Alya of the bathroom scene because it would change everything in their mind while ignoring any possibly of it backfiring considering Marinette’s track record and thirst and Alya annoyed earlier of her crap.

Heck episodes in general show how things be backfiring. These Miracuskanks can see all of that all the time but somehow couldn’t bother seeing other routes Alya could also choose that may also work against their favor. I guess they only adore quick fixes (until it backfires).

Those Miracrystal Meth theorists… make me groan usually.

Lila Foamers Logic be like:

Destroy Lila and Everyone That Doesn’t Fulfill our or Marinette’s interests against her. Let's rally up against them.

NOOOOO Lila is not staying in the in the dirt (like other characters we somehow like or ignore seeing in the dirt continously)

NOOOOO She rebounded (despite previous episode existing).

Let me think absolutely the worst of things to become canon because it’s our duty to yearn to put her down what we can’t handle or fathom her by any means, while not accounting for we just doomed basically many characters in a nutshell and made things worse (especially for those that we feel or are aware messed up crap was done to them). I have nothing else better by cause destruction and give miracuwankers free purposeless reasons to rage more than before at characters that just had a different perspectives and innocent characters. If these fools think this is to ensure this idea of she’s worse than Gabriel and Mayura and Tomoe then lol cause they just gave a free add on to make Nathalie and Gabriel and I guess Tomoe worse than before and achieved zilch.

All to ensure a main protagonist is inherently right to not let go of Lila (or anyone like her in the future or Marinette assigns as like such), just like the viewers that absorb and transcend the accursed mantra that, in their face, has been shown causing problems that could have been avoided and kept to their own selves? Whoops they can’t see their own selves being affected but even if they do, they would still destroy themselves and spreading their pollination around. This twisted quench of self righteousness also implies Marinette’s accursed ways against Kagami are inherently justified as Kagami was assigned as Marinette’s 2nd Lila. And whoever else but I rambled too long to go further. Oh when losers hate what happens but some reason seeks even worse.

Miracuroaches surely should https://youtube.com/watch?v=xS3vpBCiL2c

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nekoannie-chan · 1 year

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I don’t wanna

Title: I don’t wanna.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Avenger!Reader.

Word count: 566 words.

Rating: Teen.

Square: O2 “Sworn off relationship”.

Summary: Steve discovers he doesn’t wanna be with you.

Warnings/Tags: Sworn off relationship, break up, cancel wedding.

A/N: This is my entry to @allcapsbingo. AC1078.

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit

Steve finished putting away the suit he would wear for his wedding. He was nervous; it was still a month away, and you were already starting to see the details that were missing for the special day. He saw the clock; he had to leave; he didn't want to be late.

He was completely in love with you; however, at the same time, he felt something strange about it, something he couldn't explain, but he always tried not to pay attention to it.

You had just arrived at the place when you received a message. Something was wrong; Tony's message was too confusing.

You ran to see Wanda disappear after Thanos snapped; your best friend was vanishing in front of you, practically in your hands.

You turned to see Steve, and he also looked at you. Neither of you understood what had happened.

Steve came into your study, where you spent most of your time. He finally understood what was going on, and even though it was hard and difficult to accept, he thought it was time to talk about it. He couldn't go on with all that anymore; he had finally made a decision: he didn't want to marry you anymore.

You looked up at the calendar; the wedding was two weeks away. Maybe you and Steve should talk; maybe you could postpone it for a few months. You were sure that, unfortunately, there were now a lot of free dates.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Steve called you; he didn't know if he was interrupting anything; after all, everyone was trying to deal with what happened in their own way.

"Hi, yeah, I was just thinking," you replied, gesturing for him to come in.

"I wanted to talk," he said.

"Me too; that's just what I was thinking; maybe we should postpone the wedding for a few weeks?"

"That's all you think about! That's all you care about! Our friends are gone and you're selfish; I'm not interested in being with someone like that," Steve exploded.

You saw it, and you couldn't believe what was happening. Maybe if Steve had been honest...

"If you didn't want to be with me, you'd better have told me before you asked me to marry you. I'll just get my stuff and leave," you answered, leaving the studio.

5 years later

You were talking with Natasha about where you could find the other stones when Steve appeared in the room. You both fell silent.

"Natasha, would you mind leaving us alone? I'd like to talk to Y/N," Steve asked.

Natasha turned to look at you; she knew everything that had happened. You nodded; you sensed what Steve wanted to talk about, but you weren't interested.

"Natasha and I have been thinking about the possible places where the stones we need could be," you said, taking the documents to show them to her.

"I want to apologize for what I said to you that day."

"Rogers, there is nothing to talk about; we are just coworkers," you replied. Now, if you don't mind, we need the places, so I'll go tell the others.

Steve could see you in the distance; you looked so happy talking to Bucky. Maybe it was for the best. He had always known that his friend was in love with you, so he hoped that he would take advantage of the opportunity.

#allcapsbingo #allcapsbingo2023 #steve rogers x reader

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glossysoap · 4 months

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twenty questions for fic writers!

thank you so much for the tags @stellewriites and @kyletogaz and @stuffireadandenjoy <33

i’m converting everything from ao3 questions to tumblr questions because all of my work is on here LMAO but omg i’ve been so excited to answer this it looks so fun 😭🫶🏻

tagging anyone who wants to do this <33

1. how many works do you have posted on tumblr?

91 😁

2. what’s your total tumblr word count?

after combing through all of my works, I have written exactly 133,331 words. 😅

3. what fandoms do you write for?

COD, with hints of MCU (Winter Soldier, Frank Castle) in regards to crossovers with COD. I also have an idea for The Passenger with Eddie Wells.

4. top five fics by notes/likes?

- just wanna be yours; ghost with 3.4k+ notes

- thanks for the tip; poly 141 x hacker/camgirl reader prologue at 2.1k+ notes

- ring; price with 1.8k+ notes

- sharing is caring; price wife - sharing au collab w vgilantee with 1.7k+ notes

- poor lass; perv soap & somno with 1.6k+ notes

5. do you respond to comments?

If I see them, I try my best to respond 😁

6. what’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

99% of the works i’ve written are smut so not angsty lmao but the one angsty thing i’ve written is my ghoap x winter soldier reader series as a whole. it’s not finished yet ofc.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

any other fic except for my winter soldier series listed above LMAO i haven’t written much angst yet

8. do you get hate on fics?

I have! particularly for my stalker concepts 😂 I got asks from little miss death threat (iykyk 👀) a long time ago because of them and since then i’ve cut off anyone who supports them because that behavior isn’t tolerated 🥰 no text fic is good enough to overlook that... ever.

I also got hated on everything I write from an ex friend (used to be an ex moot, the same ex moot who ended up being fatphobic) after I ended our friendship! Even though she wrote as “cringey” or even cringier shit when she used to be on here 😂

there was also a sub post about how “keegan wouldn’t break into your house and jerk off” referring to my stalker keegan piece LMAO i don’t write for him anymore and i’m giving that fic away (for personal reasons) but it’s so funny 😭

9. do you write smut?

what, no! 🫣

10. craziest crossover?

the only crossover I’ve done is a Call of Duty x MCU (Winter Soldier) fic, linked here.

11. ever had a fic stolen?

not that I know of lol 😬

12. ever had a fic translated?

no, not yet at least.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

stares fondly at all of my threads with @/vgilantee 🥺🫶🏻

14. all time fav ship?

characters x readers, and then ofc in no particular order, I love any 141 pairings.

15. what’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

.. i’m determined to finish everything i do.

16. what are your writing strengths?

it changes every day 😅 i think smut might be my strong suit right now? who knows 😅

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

again, it changes every day 😅 fight scenes are the bane of my existence.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

love it! i don’t mind writing or reading it. i use it a lot in the fic series mentioned in question 6. the way i go about it is i write the language in bolded italics and then i follow with a translation in non bolded italics.

19. first fandom you’ve written for?

hmmm i think it might have marvel? or ffxv? idk

20. fav fic you’ve written?

i can’t pick one, they all hold a special place in my heart 🫶🏻

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ironwoman359 · 3 years

Text

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 4

Navigation: Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch.6

Summary: As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl’s indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé’s demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it’s too late.

Ships: Logince, side Moxiety and Dukeceit

Content Warnings (overall): arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst Chapter 4 Warnings: possessive behavior, verbal and physical abuse, angst, allusions to abuse and murder

Word Count: 4067

Read on AO3: here!

A/N: Co-written with @5-falsehoods-phonated, check out his masterlist here and check out mine here!

---

“And when I tried to get down, Remus spooked the pony and it bolted, with me still clinging to the saddle for dear life.”

Virgil snorted, then immediately brought his hand up to cover his smile.

“You wound me!” Roman said dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Eight-year-old me was certain that his life was going to end, and you’re laughing?”

“I can’t help that the mental image of you dangling off the saddle of a pony and screaming your head off is the funniest thing I’ve seen all week,” Virgil replied.

“Be nice, Virgil!” Patton scolded, even as he fought back giggles of his own. “I’m sure it was very scary at the time!”

“You’re telling me,” Roman agreed. “I wouldn’t set foot near the stables for a month.”

“I can’t believe that after all that you somehow grew up to be a competent rider,” Virgil said.

“Well, I probably wouldn’t have if it weren’t for my older brother Remy. He started taking me with him when he went out on his rides; I felt a lot safer riding double with him than I did by myself.”

“Your brothers sound wonderful,” Patton said, smiling.

“Oh, they’re the absolute worst,” Roman said. “But also I love them more than anyone.”

“I hope we’ll get to meet them at the wedding!”

Roman’s smile went brittle around the edges, and he forced himself to nod.

“I hope so too,” he said quietly.

Patton’s brow wrinkled, and Roman knew that look, that was Patton’s “I’m worried about you” look, and as much as he had come to view Patton and Virgil as his friends, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to get into the whole “my twin brother ran away from home to escape noble life and I haven’t seen him in years and might never see him again” topic with them just yet.

“Well this has been great,” Virgil cut in suddenly. “But it’s getting close to midday; I need to get back to work, and you need to get to your little lunch date.”

“Excuse you, it is a perfectly professional business meeting!” Roman protested, and Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Sure it is. That’s why you meet with Logan every single day and always perk up or get this silly smile on your face whenever you mention something that he said, most of which has nothing to do with business.”

Roman gave Virgil a deadpan look. “Do you really want me to retaliate right now?” he asked, glancing pointedly at Patton.

Virgil’s cheeks flushed pink, and he waved Roman away.

“Go on, then!” he said. “Go have your perfectly professional business meeting.”

“I will!” Roman said primly, but as he stood to leave, he shot Virgil a grateful smile, and Virgil nodded in return.

After parting with Patton at the house’s entrance, Roman made the short trek down to the library alone. He hadn’t been sure how he would manage living at the Howard Estate at first, but his life had settled into a predictable yet comfortable routine since the engagement banquet.

Patton brought breakfast to his room every morning, and after Roman insisted several times that he preferred the company, Patton now stayed to eat with him most mornings. After breakfast, Roman changed into his riding clothes and the two headed down to the stables together, where Virgil was waiting for them with Angel. Roman took his morning ride, and Patton and Virgil did whatever it was they liked to do when they were alone together.

When he returned, Roman helped Virgil groom Angel, and the three of them often fell into easy conversation with one another. At midday, Roman took his lunch in the library with Logan, and he spent the afternoons on his own, exploring the mansion or indulging in his creative hobbies. All in all, his days were mostly pleasant, until dinnertime, of course.

His nightly dinner with Lord Howard was, to his disappointment, the most boring and uncomfortable part of Roman’s day. It became clear to Roman after a few attempts of engaging with his fiance that Lord Howard wasn’t even slightly interested in talking with him; what he wanted was somebody to talk at. Roman sat, night after night, and listened to the earl rant about frustrating business partners, idiotic city officials, and even tiny annoyances like a scuff on his boot or a fly in his office. It was difficult to not feel like an emotional punching bag, and Roman always left dinner exhausted from playing the polite, doting fiance that Lord Howard expected him to be.

Roman stepped into the library, and smiled when he saw Logan sitting at a table beneath a window, the afternoon sun casting golden beams of light through his long hair.

At least there were more positives than negatives to living at this estate.

“Ah, Roman,” Logan said, smiling as he approached. “Excellent timing, I was just beginning to review my weekly report for Lord Howard. Would you care to assist me?”

“Always,” Roman said, sitting down across from him.

They poured over the receipts and summaries and work orders together, and Roman couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer amount of work that Logan did every single day.

“Honestly, Logan, you do almost too much for the earl. Especially considering what he pays you.”

Roman had seen the payroll receipts for all the staff, and he couldn’t help but be a little insulted on the servants’ behalf. One of the ways Lord Howard kept costs down was clearly at the expense of his staff.

“While I may agree with your sentiment, the fact of the matter is that if I did not do all this, the estate would fall apart,” Logan said. “And regardless of any...personal feelings about his lordship, there are far too many people who depend on him and his estate for me to consider stopping.”

Logan paused, frowning as he scanned a document, then sighed.

“For instance, his lordship neglected to sign off on a shipment of new armor to the city guard, despite my reminding him to do so three times in the last week.”

He scrawled something along the bottom of the document and set it aside, and Roman raised an eyebrow.

“Was that Lord Howard’s name you just wrote?”

Logan fiddled with his glasses, and he glanced around the room before answering. “This is...not the first time that his lordship has neglected his duties on what he perceives to be minor issues. I, uh...take the liberty of correcting such oversights for him.”

“You can forge his handwriting?” Roman translated, and Logan nodded sheepishly. “That’s amazing!”

Logan blinked, looking up at Roman in clear surprise. “I...it is?”

“Are you kidding me?” Roman exclaimed. “Of course it is...you’re so talented, Logan, really. I’m not exaggerating when I say you’re wasted as a secretary.”

“Oh...well, thank you, Roman,” Logan said, his cheeks flushing slightly pink. “I must admit, you also have far more potential than his lordship would care to acknowledge.”

“I’ll get him to see sense soon,” Roman insisted. “Then maybe together, we can make some real changes around here!”

“I wish I shared your optimism,” Logan said with a sigh. “But I am glad to share your company, at least.”

It was Roman’s turn to blush, but before he could think of a reply, the sound of footsteps caught his attention, and he looked up to see Patton approaching their table.

“Sorry for interrupting, Kiddos, but I’ve been asked to fetch Roman here and get him ready.”

“Get me ready?” Roman asked, and Patton nodded.

“His lordship requests your presence at a business meeting he has in an hour with other estate holders. I’ve been instructed to dress you for the event and bring you to his lordship.”

Roman forced down the twinge of discomfort in the back of his mind at the earl choosing an outfit for him like he was some sort of doll, and grinned as he got to his feet.

“You see, Logan?” he said. “This is our chance!”

“If it is a meeting with other nobility, then I’m afraid I won’t be present,” Logan said. “Lord Howard does not wish for...commoners to be present at such negotiations. He instructs me on what measures need to be taken afterwards.”

“That’ll be the first thing we change then, once I make him see reason,” Roman said. “You’ll see, this is going to be the start of something great!”

“I hope you are right,” Logan said with a small smile. “Good luck, Roman.”

“Thank you, Logan,” Roman said as he followed Patton out of the library.

I’ll certainly need it.

--- --- ---

Roman fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, shooting a glance over to the earl to make sure he hadn’t noticed. The silky fabric that his pants were made of stuck uncomfortably to his skin and made his legs itch horribly, but he had been in similar attire before and had had plenty of practice in the art of keeping his poise while screaming internally. Thankfully, even though he was seated right next to Lord Howard, he had yet to draw his attention. Howard had been too occupied bragging about his various business exports for most of the meeting to pay much attention to him.

Even through his discomfort, Roman had been learning a lot about his fiance, dutifully keeping mental notes on everything he heard, from which parts of land he had inherited to which ones he had bought or negotiated into owning. Overseas businesses and local investments both let his power reach farther than one might first suspect, and all that put together was what kept the Howard Estate with its acres of land, sprawling mansion and extensive grounds and highly specialized staff all running smoothly.

It was a lot to manage, so it made sense that Lord Howard had Logan figure out most of the work and only signed off on the most important things himself. Having someone as competent as Logan run things in the background so the true estate head could make the actual appearances as the business leader was a strategy many nobles used to keep their properties under control.

Craning his neck to look up at his fiance from his lower seat, Roman furrowed his brow in thought. He wondered just how much Logan did that the earl never saw anything about until he reaped the benefits of it. Sure, Logan was extremely capable, but relying entirely on one person to manage everything seemed a bit foolhardy to Roman.

Tuning back into the conversation, Roman perked up as another lord gestured stiffly at a stack of documents in front of him, smooth calculation clear in his tone of voice. Negotiations were something Roman had always prided himself in handling, and handling well. He had often spoken circles around his own father in their practice debates, and it was rare that Roman participated in a discussion without gaining something in his own favor.

As neither party at the moment looked particularly stressed, Roman figured with a slight twinge of disappointment that such measures shouldn’t be needed this time. He would have liked to show off just a bit and make Lord Howard see what a useful asset he could actually be in their marriage, but he supposed that could wait until a more appropriate opportunity.

“I have most of the influence in this field anyway. Signing your bit of land over to me now would cause fewer problems for you in the future; especially if I don’t have to take it by force when I’m looking to expand.” Punctuating his statement with a firm tap to the papers, the opposing lord sat back with a satisfied smirk.

The icy glare Lord Howard fixed him with was enough to wipe the smirk fully off his face, however, and he tilted back slightly as the earl leaned forward to fold his hands smoothly in front of him.

“I’m not in the habit of signing away what’s rightfully mine, Lord Rilken, Baron of Vilvik.”

Roman flinched slightly at the way he practically spat the other man’s title…a title he shared, and had never once felt insecure about until this very moment. The way he spoke to these men, these people in positions of power, like they were nothing but dirt to be brushed off his own much more impressive riches- it was enough to make Roman want to run all the way back to his own estate and beg for another way, plead to wait for someone else to ask for his hand or to find someone himself. He stiffened in his seat and shook the irrational thoughts away.

No, this is how one played the game when negotiating important matters. Put up a cold and intimidating front until the other person backed down or bent to your own suggestions. If anything, Lord Howard's act was admirable; it almost immediately shut down any arguments, even if it hardly held any semblance of tact. Realizing this would be a good opportunity to show his skills, Roman leaned forward and placed his own hands on the table in front of him, gaining the attention of the opposing business owners quickly.

“It might prove advantageous to you both to simply form a partnership and share the land and business potential it holds. With as much power as the both of you hold over this branch, you’d be able to expand much faster and reap more benefits than you would if you spent all of your time attempting to take control over the others’ sections.” Pleased with himself, Roman glanced over to Lord Howard, expecting at least to have impressed him since he hadn’t really had the time to explain all that he had been trained in and what he could bring to the estate with their union.

However, as he met Lord Howard’s eyes, ice ran through his veins. The earl was glaring, staring him down like a particularly resilient bug that he could hardly wait to smash beneath a steel-toed boot. The room went so quiet that Roman could swear that the other nobles were holding their breath, and glancing around in his peripherals, he saw everyone sitting around the table gawking at him as if he’d just committed high treason. Had he really said something so wrong? Was this not what was customary, nay, expected behavior of the soon to be co-owner of the estate? Shrinking down slightly as his ears burned red, he finally lowered his eyes as the earl turned away. Roman heard him take a deep breath before saying in a deliberately controlled voice:

“You must forgive my fiance, he hails from a country estate you see; he isn’t accustomed to the way things work here yet. If you would be so kind as to excuse us for just a moment so that I may explain a few things?” Not waiting for an answer, the earl stood and held out his hand for Roman to take. “If you would step into the hall with me, dearest?”

Recognizing the order under the request, Roman stood quickly and took Lord Howard’s hand, wincing at how tightly he was gripped and practically dragged out of the room. The door was opened just a bit too forcefully to calm his nerves in the slightest and he watched as Lord Howard seemed to barely refrain from slamming it back closed, instead closing it with deliberate calm before whirling around to face him and jerking his hand out of Roman’s to tower before him.

“Let me make this perfectly clear, you do not speak out of turn in these meetings. You do not speak above me or-”

“But I didn’t! I was only-” Roman didn’t register what the dull smacking sound echoing in his ears and making them ring was until pain bloomed and spread from his lower jaw to his entire cheek. Raising his hand to his face in disbelief, he felt a bit of wetness and looked to see blood on his fingertips. Fear and horror twisted in his gut as he realized one of Lord Howard’s rings must have caught on his cheek and opened a cut. His jaw ached and his teeth felt numb; the blow had been hard enough to rattle them in his skull. Romans looked up and flinched as he saw Howard’s hand still raised to strike should he choose to speak again, and he shrunk in on himself in an attempt to seem too small to expend more energy on.

“You,” The earl spat, “do not speak above me, or make suggestions on my behalf. You are not here to offer up useless opinions that were not asked for or needed. You were brought into that room to sit obediently and look pretty on my arm and that is the full extent that your role will ever be. Have I made myself clear?”

Roman hesitated for just a second too long, and Lord Howard reached down to grip his chin, tipping his head so he had no choice but to look his assailant directly in the eyes. “My dear, I believe I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”

Biting back a whimper Roman nodded as much as he could with his face trapped in the steely grip. “Yes my lord, I understand perfectly. I apologize for overstepping, it won’t happen again.”

The answer, as demeaning as it had felt to say, seemed to appease the still seething man, and Howard dropped his chin and stepped back with a wolfish smile.

“Very good, see to it that it doesn’t. Now, I believe we’ve been here long enough. If you’re done blubbering, you may join me.”

Startling a bit at the choice of phrasing, Roman hesitantly reached up to touch his face, wincing as he realized there was more than just blood on his cheeks. Taking a deep breath, he carefully wiped the tears away before plastering on a small smile and moving to stand just behind the earl. He was loath to go back into the room like this, humiliation and blood reddening his cheeks, but he didn’t dare speak up for fear of more punishment. As Lord Howard opened the door and moved back to his place at the head of the table, he hardly spared Roman another glance, and Roman had no choice but to meekly follow.

Sitting down, Roman realized most of the people at the table were staring at him like one would a fresh kill, their expressions a mixture of pity and approval while they averted their eyes. Sinking down even lower as the meeting resumed, he realized this was to be the second part of his punishment. He was to learn and remember his role as Lord Howard’s betrothed and eventual husband. Sit still and look pretty, step a toe out of line and be punished, and make sure everyone in the room knew that the power held over him was just as absolute as the power the earl held over everything else.

“I’m pleased to know some people still know how to keep common folk in line. Truly, the disrespect-” Roman’s ears rang as someone close by whispered to another just loud enough for him to overhear, making him want to sink down even lower and let the floor swallow him.

The meeting continued on for what seemed like forever, but unlike before, Roman didn’t absorb a single word of what was said. The voices of the other lords washed over him as he sat as still as he could, hands clenched in his lap to keep them from trembling. When at last Lord Howard stood, Roman almost stood up next to him, but caught himself just in time and sent a questioning glance up at his fiance.

Lord Howard’s lips curled into a smile, and he held his arm out to Roman in invitation. Roman swallowed down his revulsion and stood, slipping his arm into the earl’s and schooling his face into a pretty smile. Lord Howard covered Roman’s hand with his own, and Roman’s skin burned at the touch.

“Well gentlemen, this concludes our discussion for the day, I do thank you all for coming.”

One by one the nobles stood, nodding to Lord Howard as they filed out of the room. Roman’s cheeks heated as several of them swept their eyes over him as they passed, their gazes lingering on the bruise blooming on his face. When at last, every one of them was gone, Lord Howard turned his attention to Roman, all false pleasantries gone from his expression.

“I trust that after today, any...confusion about your role here has been cleared up?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“Yes, my lord,” Roman whispered, and the earl smiled.

“Good. Now go clean yourself up. Dinner is at seven o’clock sharp, and I expect you to look presentable.”

“Yes, my lord,” Roman repeated, and as soon as Lord Howard dropped his arm, he practically bolted from the room.

He hurried through the corridors of the mansion, head down and eyes stinging. When he finally reached his room, he all but slammed the door behind him, and collapsed to the floor, his shoulders shaking as he released the sob he’d been holding back for the past hour.

He let himself cry, for how long, he wasn’t sure, not only for the sting on his cheek and the shame that came with it, but for every doubt, every grief, every pain that he’d pushed down and bottled up over the past month.

After everything he’d been through, everything he’d sacrificed, was this really his fate? Chained forever to a man who only saw him as something to own, to display, to use...

Roman lifted his head slowly.

“Remember all that we've taught you, and you'll do fine."

His father had taught him everything he knew about business, about politics, about matters of the state. He knew how to act with decorum, how to spot an opportunity, and how to charm a room while negotiating, all thanks to his father’s teachings.

But now, with tears running down his face and a bruise blossoming on his cheek, he remembered another set of lessons.

Lessons his mother had given him as a teenager, after time had run its course and he was no longer the slightly awkward, gangly kid he had once been.

“You’ve grown into a handsome young man,” his mother had said to him on his eighteenth birthday. “Your father believes that when you are married, it will be purely for political reasons. You need to know that this may not be the case.”

Roman had tried to forget the lessons his mother had passed down to him, had told himself that he would never need them...but here he was, sobbing on the floor, the first of what he knew would be many marks on his skin if he didn’t tread carefully.

Roman learned everything he knew about running an estate from his father, but he learned everything about acting from his mother. Thanks to her, he knew how to conceal his emotions, how to smile when his stomach rolled over and how to sigh when his skin burned. He knew how to mold himself into the perfect husband, because if he did not let himself be molded he would find himself broken before it was too late.

“Too late for what, mother?” the younger him had asked, eyes wide and horrified, and she’d smiled in a way he’d never seen before.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how your grandfather died?”

Roman knew what situations were most likely to result in “accidents,” what weapons were easily concealed and what poisons were difficult to detect. He knew how to pluck a nose hair to bring tears to his eyes and slap his cheeks so they appeared flushed. He knew how to appear calm and collected when he was suffering, and how to appear stricken with grief when all he felt was relief.

He had been preparing for marriage his whole life...every kind of marriage. And now that he knew the kind of husband that Lord Howard really wanted, he knew exactly what kind of husband he was going to be.

Even if he wouldn’t be one for very long.

--- --- ---

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nostalgicatsea · 4 years

Text

Common questions about and excuses for racism in fandom

I noticed that the same excuses, justifications, and questions that have come up in response to racism in fandom over the years appear in the notes for my post, so here’s a FAQ of sorts to address them. Hopefully, this will help people understand why these arguments don’t stand up to scrutiny and have something to refer to in lieu of writing a new reply every time someone says these things.

Due to the length of this post, I made a Google doc for easier reading. Please note that several points are specific to the Marvel fandom and to the post linked above and are often M/M-focused (I explain why in that post), but generally speaking, the following can be applied to any fandom and various relationships.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I can ship whatever I want. Stop being the fandom police!

Shipping isn’t activism.

Fandom is supposed to be fun. Being told what to do or not to do isn’t fun.

I put a lot of different people in my works, and I do research about the groups they’re in. For example, I have a *marginalized group here* character (e.g., disabled), and I did research to represent them accurately. It’s not fair to say that I don’t care about diversity.

I don’t think people should write about POC if they’re white, just like I wouldn’t want anyone to talk about *insert topic you’re passionate about or interest group you’re in here* (e.g., the BDSM community) if they didn’t know anything about it.

I really don’t have any knowledge about what it’s like to be a POC, though, so maybe I’m not the best person for this. If POC want to see themselves represented, they should make their own works.

I’m not comfortable with writing POC as I’m unfamiliar with the struggles they experience. I don’t want my writing to come off as inauthentic, inaccurate, or offensive. Why are you saying it’s harmful to use this as a reason for abstaining from writing POC?

It doesn’t make sense to include every single POC in my work.

What you said and the data you have don’t necessarily point to racism. It might just be individual preference. I prefer certain ships over others, and it has nothing to do with race/I don’t see color.

A big part of what informs my shipping is physical attraction or interest in the characters.

I don’t ship _____ because I see them as brothers/sisters/siblings.

Some white characters and ships are popular in the MCU fandom because people bring in canon characterization or material from the comics to the character(s)/ship. Your MCU-only examination fails to account for ships with one character from the MCU and one from comics (e.g., MCU Bucky/616 Clint or Spideypool).

Some subfandoms just have fewer POC which means there will naturally be fewer ships featuring POC. To say that the Marvel fandom is racist as a whole is disingenuous; you can see how more diversity in the cast leads to more diverse ships in fanworks.

Some of the characters and ships are popular because white characters get the lion’s share of screen time and development or they appeared in canon earlier.

Is it racist to racebend a character?

Racist language in fics is more important than fandom representation.

My fanworks tend to focus on one ship and don’t really include other characters in general. When they do, the others mostly talk about that relationship. Am I falling into the trap you mentioned?

I feel guilty about not including or writing about *character of color’s name here*.

How do I ensure that I don’t offend anyone if I include POC in my work?

What should I do to examine myself for any implicit biases?

The rest of the post is under the cut.

I can ship whatever I want. Stop being the fandom police!

As explicitly stated several times in my post, I agree that you can ship whatever you want. I’m not targeting a specific ship. I’m not telling you to stop shipping what you ship. All I’m asking is for everyone, including myself and other POC, to regularly examine ourselves for any implicit biases. If you’re a multishipper, are all of your ships in the fandom white? If you only have one ship and it’s white, are most or all of your ships in your other/previous fandoms white? Is the only media you consume predominantly or all white?

Shipping isn’t activism.

No, it isn’t and in many cases, shouldn’t be seen or treated as the same thing. However, by responding this way to POC who want to see themselves represented in fanworks more and not be ignored or written stereotypically, you’re telling us that our mere existence is a “political issue.”

Fandom is supposed to be fun. Being told what to do or not to do isn’t fun.

It should be fun for us POC too, and it’s not when we’re consistently misrepresented or we don’t exist in this fandom. By using this as an excuse to exclude POC from your works, you’re saying that only some people are allowed to have fun or that having fun is conditional. Also, no one is forcing you as an individual to do or not do anything. See two paragraphs above.

Just like you do research for those groups, you can easily do research on POC. Also, please be aware that this statement is similar to the “I’m not racist because I have a ___ friend/have a ___ person in my works” argument that many people use to prove they’re not racist, homophobic, sexist, etc. We aren’t interchangeable with other groups.

Something like BDSM is a lifestyle and preference. It is a choice. Being a POC isn’t. We can’t take off our identity every time we leave the house, the way you might keep it secret at work that you’re in the BDSM scene.

We do. Also, all of us fanwork creators make works with characters who are different from us all the time. Fandom is largely composed of people who aren’t straight cis men, yet the bulk of works on AO3 features characters who are canonically or implied to be straight cis men even if we end up changing that in our works. Most of us aren’t billionaires, but we don’t have a problem writing Tony. We don’t know what it’s like to be a WWII-soldier-turned-brainwashed-assassin who was kept in cryo for decades except when deployed on missions, but we don’t have a problem writing Bucky. The list goes on.

Your concern isn’t harmful. Reducing us to our trauma is, and you’re doing that if the reason you’re not comfortable with writing POC is that you don’t know how to write our struggles. We’re not only our pain. We’re more than that.

Not every fic has to be about the trauma of being a POC. We deserve to have fun, silly fics in addition to serious, plotty drama. We’re not thinking about our suffering 24/7 even if we do think about or are affected by it a lot. It’s not like if you write a Sam/Bucky fic, Sam is going to randomly lecture Bucky about the history of Black people in the U.S. and modern enslavement through the prison industrial complex while Bucky is trailing kisses down his neck in bed. We don’t need everyone being racist to MJ in a Pride and Prejudice AU. If you do want to include their struggles because that informs the way the characters think or act in your story, you can do so in ways that feel organic.

Additionally, this is an excuse that we hear often; you may have heard it as people in Hollywood have used it to explain why they don’t have any, or at least any major, characters from marginalized groups in their works. If we allowed this excuse, an overwhelming majority of who we see in the media would be straight, cis white men considering who has power in the film and TV industry—and we would have to say that’s okay. We would have to say that the only people allowed to write about a certain group are members of that group, e.g., only women can write women. That’s not acceptable especially considering the gatekeeping, oppression, and high barriers to entry and success that make it difficult for marginalized people to even be in the room let alone make a name for themselves.

Fandom is no different. You’re saying that you can’t relate to POC because you’re white, but none of us POC have any problems making fanworks with white characters even though we don’t know what it’s like to be white. There are straight women who write fics about gay men and don’t feel uncomfortable doing so when they don’t know a single thing about being a gay man and the struggles of gay men (M/M can include bi or pan men, fics about gay men by straight women can sometimes include problematic portrayals, and straight men, queer women, and non-binary people write M/M too, but this is just an example).

You should be more careful when writing a POC if you're not a POC. The same goes for men writing women, cis people writing trans people, straight people writing queer people, able-bodied people writing disabled people, etc. However, there ARE ways to go about it, and while I understand the fear of messing up, the truth is everyone is racist, sexist, etc. Everyone including people in marginalized groups. Being a white lesbian doesn’t mean you can’t be racist. Being an Asian man doesn’t mean you can’t be sexist. You can see that within groups themselves. POC are not exempt from racism against other POC or from internalized racism against themselves or their own group. Women aren't free from internalized misogyny. The best we can do is to not make that prevent us from making inclusive works; if you make a mistake, which may happen, all we can ask is that you try your best to be open to feedback and grow.

It doesn’t make sense to include every single POC in my work.

No one is telling you to. Choose characters who make sense for the story. Don’t choose them just so you have a POC in your work. We don’t want them to be tokenized.

This argument is identical to the “not all _____” rebuttal (“not all men,” “not all white people,” etc.) which places the blame on a few lone individuals and shifts the conversation away from an existing widespread problem. When there’s a consistent pattern and there are many examples of it both within the fandom and in other fandoms, it no longer is about individual preference.

I urge you to consider the following:

If most people say they don’t write about or include a POC in their work because it’s too difficult or they’re afraid of making that character inauthentic, but they don’t seem to have an issue with writing other characters from groups they’re not in (e.g., if you’re a straight woman who writes a lot of M/M fics despite not knowing what it’s like to be a bi, pan, or gay man), doesn’t that say something?

If most people have the same reasons you do about not being interested in POC (e.g., “they’re not fleshed out enough” while being interested in or fleshing out minor white characters who get the same or even less development as those characters) or ships with POC (e.g., saying “they’re like brothers” while being interested in a white ship with similar dynamics and tropes or seeing why other people might ship it if you don’t), doesn’t that say something?

If most people give characters of color the same roles in their works even if that makes them OOC and/or the role reduces them to a (frequently stereotypical) trope, especially if they’re never fleshed out beyond that trope (e.g., the funny sidekick, wise friend who always helps or gives advice/free therapy, or responsible, mature, and sometimes stern friend who “parents” the protagonist), isn’t that saying something?

If race truly isn’t a factor for you when it comes to liking characters and ships, then this isn’t about you and you don’t have to distract people from the conversation by announcing that. That said, we should all look at characters and ships we like anyway instead of assuming that’s the case as that’s good practice. How much of your list is white? If it’s mostly or entirely white, why is that the case and why do you feel differently about ships of color?

A big part of what informs my shipping is physical attraction or interest in the characters.

What characters and actors do you find attractive or interesting? Are they all or mostly white? If they aren’t, are you drawn to any ships that include those POC? Refer to the section above.

I don’t ship _____ because I see them as brothers/sisters/siblings.

Part of this is preference as it comes down to perceived chemistry and relationship dynamics. However, POC are often not seen as romantic leads both in fanworks and the media and are just friends or “brothers/sisters” (this is why Crazy Rich Asians was a big deal). Sometimes, people even argue against POC being or having love interests in the name of diversity. You see this a lot with WOC in the media where the explanation against a love interest is “she’s a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man”; yes, they don’t and sometimes the story doesn’t need a romance, but WOC deserve love too and it’s strange that while white women can get the guy and be independent, WOC can’t and it somehow belittles or reduces them if they do.

The way you can gauge whether it’s just preference at play or biases you may not have been aware of is to see how many relationships featuring a character of color fall under the “just friends/siblings” category for you, what you need to ship something, and how you feel about white ships with the same type of relationship or same lack of chemistry. For instance, you may say that there needs to be enough interaction for you to ship something and that’s why you don’t care much for Rhodey/Sam. Do you feel the same way about Clint/Coulson then, which has much less interaction (actually much less than Rhodey/Sam in this case)? If it’s about chemistry, are Steve and Sam just “brothers,” but Bruce and Thor aren’t or, if you don’t ship Bruce/Thor, you still “see it” and get why other people might be into it?

What do you ship, or what ships do you understand even if they’re not for you, and how is that different from ships that follow the same beats? Why are Steve and Bucky not brothers, but Rhodey and Tony are (there are many parallels between the two relationships—and one can argue the latter is more nuanced—than appears at first glance, and Rhodey/Tony can be just as sweet or angsty)? If you like the rivals/enemies-to-lovers or meet-ugly aspect to Steve/Tony, Sam/Bucky, Scott/Jimmy Woo, and M’Baku/T’Challa have that dynamic. You like that superior/subordinate-to-lovers dynamic that Clint/Coulson has? Coulson/Fury. Flirty meet-cutes or love/trust-at-first-sight? Steve/Sam.

I explained why I focused on the MCU here and that most of the fics that feature an MCU character and comics ’verse character tend to be heavily or entirely MCU-influenced here.

Also, characters of color exist in the comics, cartoons, and games too. By this logic, Steve/Sam and Rhodey/Tony should be juggernauts in the MCU fandom considering the depth and history of the characters and relationships. Ask yourself why people are happy to ship MCU Spideypool, to draw on the comics for that relationship and even bring a non-MCU character into the MCU and write him based on his comics history and characterization. Ask yourself why people are unhappy with MCU Clint’s terrible writing and lack of characterization and decide to give him his 616 (usually Fraction-era) characterization. And then ask yourself why people don’t do that for characters of color and then use “___ is a minor character/doesn’t have much development” as an excuse for why they’re uninteresting or not shippable with others.

There are many strong and interesting relationships in the comics, but only a few make it to the MCU fandom and almost all, if not all, of them are white.

It’s more important to see how many fanworks there are for ships of color in a fandom than how many ships of color there are in that fandom. See how few works there are for POC ships other than MJ/Peter in the MCU Spider-Man fandom despite the diversity of the cast. See how the most popular ships are white and three of them involve white characters from the Iron Man fandom (explain to me how Harley/Peter has over 1,000 works, but Ned/Peter has 436).

And sure, you can say almost all of the Black Panther ships feature a character of color so there’s “more” diversity, but see how few works there are for them and how works with a white character fare compare to POC-only ships (almost all have 100-200 or fewer fics, with many having so few that I didn’t include them in the post, while BP ships with a white character have more works despite little to no interaction between the characters).

Both of these, by the way, are critical and box office hits with characters who are clearly supposed to be the faces of the MCU now that the OG6 are gone. Black Panther is an award-winning critical and box office hit, and it is, more than any other film in MCU history, a huge cultural phenomenon with tremendous impact. It broke so many records and milestones, and it’s STILL breaking and making them. It has the most nuanced and balanced ensemble cast with side characters just as three-dimensional as the lead, a rarity in MCU films. Yet, its tag only has 3,966 works, fewer in total for the whole fandom than some of the white M/M ships on this list. Even if you account for BP fanworks that may have been tagged as MCU instead of BP, the number is paltry as you can see in this post. People simply do not want to make fanworks for characters of color (in this case, specifically Black characters) and don’t. It’s not about how diverse or successful a film is.

Some of the characters and ships are popular because white characters get the lion’s share of screen time and development or they appeared in canon earlier.

Yes, that’s true, but fandom has no problem catapulting white ships with minor characters into extreme popularity. See Clint/Coulson. See fics prioritizing Happy and having him show up more than Rhodey in Steve/Tony fics.

It’s not about chronology. Many ships of color came before white ships as a whole and before white ships with the same white character they have. See Bucky/Clint vs. Bucky/Sam.

Lastly, please don’t tell me how certain white M/M ships came to be to explain how they’re exempt or how I’m failing to consider other factors for their popularity. I’ve been in the fandom since 2012, and I’ve seen almost all of the white ships in the fandom be born or boom into popularity. Don’t try to explain, for instance, that Clint/Coulson is big because Coulson has his own show and his fans followed him from the show (this logic falls flat when you look at something like Luke Cage); that ship became huge way before that happened and way before Agents of Shield became “big.” Also, see the section above regarding screen time, development, and fame.

Is it racist to racebend a character?

People’s opinions differ on racebending—and often that comes from personal background and on the situation—so I can’t speak on anyone’s behalf. However, I think everyone can agree on the following:

Racebending a white character is not the same thing as whitewashing a POC. For example, making Tony Stark Indian vs. turning T’Challa white or as canonical examples, making Fury black in Ultimates and the MCU vs. making the Ancient One or the Maximoffs white. The latter (whitewashing T’Challa, the Ancient One, and the Maximoff twins) is racist for various reasons. There’s a long history of POC being erased and white people taking roles from POC, a huge imbalance in representation between white people and POC, the unfortunate perception by the public and media that “white = neutral/standard” (Bruce’s whiteness doesn’t define his characterization and development), and the way race plays a role in influencing the way POC feel, act, and are treated.

Racebending a POC from one ethnicity or racial group to another is also problematic as we’re not interchangeable. Hollywood often does this and goes, “But they’re still a POC! We’re being diverse!”

In general, people who racebend white characters to POC want to see more POC in canon and in the media! These aren’t mutually exclusive.

Sometimes people racebend because they’re not represented at all in their works. (This happens with other marginalized groups too; for instance, some people make cis characters trans in their fanworks as there are few to no trans characters in the canonical source.) For example, there are, as of now, no Latinx superheroes in the MCU films. Even if people wanted to, they can’t make works with an MCU Latinx superhero unless they bring one from the comics or the one Latinx superhero from Agents of Shield (if they know the comics or AoS), make a minor Latinx film character like Luis a superhero, or racebend their favorite white character and put a fresh spin on the character, drawing from their personal experience and background.

There’s a massive difference between fans racebending a character and a creator taking credit by pretending they viewed a character as non-white or didn’t see race all along when it’s clear that the character is canonically white (this is different from a creator saying they support anyone, POC or white, playing that character onscreen or onstage).

Racist language in fics is more important than fandom representation.

We don’t have to pick our battles. Both are important! I focused on fandom representation as it’s much more quantifiable and easy to find and analyze data for than racist language on a fandom-wide scale on my own without any tools. You’re right that the latter is a problem as is racist representation in fanworks, though.

My fanworks tend to focus on one ship and don’t really include other characters in general. When they do, the others mostly talk about that relationship. Am I falling into the trap you mentioned?

If the story is about a relationship (examining that relationship and the feelings of the characters in it) and there isn’t much of a plot outside of that, then that makes sense. However, even in situations like this, consider how much time you dedicate to characters of color vs. white characters. If the story is about a ship featuring a POC, do you spend more time on the white character of that relationship? Their white friends and how they feel about that relationship? If it’s about a white ship, do white side characters appear more than side characters of color even if the latter have a closer relationship with the protagonists? For example, does Wanda show up more than Sam or play a bigger role than him in a Steve/Bucky fic? Do you have Pepper show up all the time (or even Happy), but Rhodey is chronically absent? Do only the white characters get to be more than the tropes you’re using, if you’re using any, while the POC don’t get to be nuanced? Are there any stereotypes that you’re reducing the POC to?

I feel guilty about not including or writing about *character of color’s name here*.

See “It doesn’t make sense to include every single POC in my work.” Include the character(s) who make sense for the story, perspective you’re writing/drawing from if applicable, and central group or ship if this is a ship-specific work. For example, if you’re drawing the Avengers and you include the newer Avengers, Rhodey and Sam should appear too, not just Wanda, Scott, Bucky, and/or Carol (this happens a lot). If you’re writing a Tony POV fic that includes other characters, depending on the story, it may make sense that Sam doesn’t appear much as he and Tony aren’t close whereas he would in a Steve POV fic.

How do I ensure that I don’t offend anyone if I include POC in my work?

You can’t ensure anything as POC aren’t a monolith, but you can try to be as informed as possible and avoid common pitfalls while writing. You can do research, just the way you might research anything you’re not familiar with. You can ask if anyone is willing to do a sensitivity read while you write or before you post. You can look for betas. There are a lot of resources out there, but these are good places to start if you’re looking for more information and help:

Writing with Color - resources

Writing with Color - Stereotypes and Tropes page

Reference for Writers - POC tag

What should I do to examine myself for any implicit biases?

We should all take stock of:

our feelings about different characters and relationships, both platonic and romantic, who we prioritize in our works, and how much they’re prioritized

our decision whether or not to seek or make content with characters of color. This includes content for white ships because sometimes every white character in the MCU shows up as a side character, but characters of color don’t or all of the white characters play bigger roles than the POC despite how close they are to the protagonist(s)

the way we interpret and write/draw those characters. For example, is Sam a yes-man? A figurative or literal therapist for white friends? The bro who only cracks jokes and/or gives sage advice but seems to not have any flaws, struggles, or life of his own outside of his white friends? The BFF who thinks his white best friend is being ridiculous about another white guy and wants them to get their act together already? Does the character of color talk in the way you perceive everyone of that race to talk rather than the way they personally do (e.g., does Luis randomly and awkwardly switch into Spanish when he talks just because he’s Latinx despite never speaking Spanish with Scott? Does Sam use AAVE with Steve, Bucky, and Natasha when he doesn’t do that with them?)?

Also, here’s a Google doc with more anti-racist resources.

Even well-meaning people can slip up or not be as proactive as they hoped they would be so it’s just good practice to check in with ourselves every once in a while and see if there’s anything we missed or didn’t notice.

#fandom #marvel fandom #mcu fandom #resource

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yourmcu · 4 years

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Wish You Were Here (ii)

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader, Peter Parker x Stark!reader (platonic)

Summary:

an Infinity War/Endgame AU where Tony Stark’s daughter (you) is one of half the population that vanishes in the snap, Tony finds out later on when he arrives back to Earth, devastated, then you come back like the others to help fight Thanos.

Word count: 3,115

A/n: (moved to the end of the fic!)

Warnings: angst, death, swearing, Morgan’s a cutie! and no seriously I miss him so much

read it on ao3!

Part 1

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

Just like the others, you were brought back when the Avengers succeeded in retrieving all the infinity stones.

You're laying on the ground at the same place you were last time: Wakanda. Once you gain consciousness you struggle to get up, your legs wobbly.

“Hello?” You call out, but you're alone, can’t even contact anyone since your suit is out of power. You have no clear memory of what happened, just that you had an anxiety attack while Natasha held you, then you blacked out and - that’s it.

You felt a strong breeze and footsteps behind you.

“[Y/N] Stark,” a man’s voice says. “Come with me.”

The man is ancient looking, had a cape and his facial hair weirdly reminds you of Tony’s. “Who are you? And how long was I out?” You look at a sparking yellow portal far behind him, “did you do that?”

“Stick together and stick with Wong,” the man calls out before the portal closes. You have no idea who he was talking to since they already got in. “Doctor Stephen Strange. We need to find Pepper Potts and... get you suited.”

“I already am suited it’s just - no juice. What’s going on?”

“It’s been five years. It’s time, your father and the others need our help to defeat Thanos,” Doctor Strange opens up another portal to an unfamiliar cabin. Your eyes light up at the mention of Tony. “Quickly. We do not have much time.”

Five years? Unbelievable. That’s just insane. You like sleeping a lot but you couldn’t imagine being asleep for five long years.

“Are - are you sure we’re in the right pla - okay, sorry, don’t have much time, yeah,” you knock on the door when Doctor Strange gives you a stern and impatient look. It gets answered right away.

“[Y/N]? Oh my god,” Pepper says breathlessly. You could feel her sobbing while she hugs you tightly.

“Hey, you guys didn’t tell me you moved,” you frown. “Is all my stuff here? Mr. Strange wants me to get ready and this isn’t the only suit I have-”

“Doctor Strange.”

“It’s upstairs, last room on the left,” Pepper smiles as she wipes her tears. You nod and went up the stairs as the magic doctor told her everything.

All your stuff were in boxes and your spare iron suit was standing in a corner. You wiped away the dust off and checked if it was in good condition. It was ready to go.

You quickly charged the weapons and blasters on the suit, and you still needed to-

You hear a small gasp from behind the door.

Confused, you turn around to see a girl with an amazed smile on her face. “Y/N!”

You cautiously walk over to the small girl, “yeah, I’m Y/N, what’s your name?”

“Morgan,” she replies, then her eyes widen as she hides something behind her back. “Daddy said I can borrow your stuff as long as I put it back. They all look really cool.”

You still aren’t sure, but you start to put the pieces together in your mind: you were ‘gone’ for five years, this girl is living with Pepper, and if you guessed right, ‘daddy’ is Tony.

She’s your sister.

“It’s okay, and thanks,” she gives you a small hug which you return slightly, you feel a smile growing on your face since you find her really precious. “It’s nice to meet you, Morgan.

“Hey, so, there’s this weirdo man downstairs and he wants me and Pep - mom to do an errand for him,” you say to her once you remember you have to go. Morgan nods understandingly, “we can play and catch up when I get back, okay? That’s a promise.”

She runs back to her room and you get suited up, power at its maximum.

“Welcome back, Ms. Stark.”

“Glad to be. I missed you - actually, how Dad’s doing? Is he alright?”

“Mr. Stark had a concussion earlier, but as of now he is waking up again.”

“Oh,” you exhale and start worrying about him a bit. “Okay. That’s fine, I guess,”

Once you go back down a portal was already open and a nanny by the door (you assumed for Morgan). You fly right in before it closed up.

“Holy shit.”

There's armies coming out of many different portals, from people to aircrafts, to mutants. You all gather at the Avengers compound, or what used to be the compound.

“I forgot to mention,” you point out and Pepper turns to you, “That’s a pretty badass suit.”

You could feel Pepper roll her eyes from inside her suit. You follow her as she flies all the way to the front.

Your eyes dart everywhere to look for Tony. And there he is, getting up from the ground and flying back to the Avengers. He looks worn out, ragged, tired; you notice before his iron head covered him up. There’s so many people that you doubt he even saw you. God, you miss him so much.

Cap, Thor, Rhodey, Clint, Peter, Wanda, Bucky, Sam, Bruce - or Hulk, everyone was there, but where’s Natasha?

“Avengers!” Cap shouts, a hand extended as he catches Mjolnir without stumbling - whoa, what? - “assemble.”

That’s it. The battle begins.

It's your first time using your backup suit, you obviously didn’t have the time to test it out first. Good thing it works fine.

You're flying around, shooting enemies whenever they get in your way and helping anyone on your side who needed it.

What got you confused (not that you were complaining) was how the other Avengers were a bit too happy to see you than they normally should. You brushed it off though, they probably just love you so much like you love them.

“Aye, mind if you launch me? I need to be over there,” a raccoon holding a gun states and pointed to the direction. You recognize him immediately.

"Sure thing, bud,” you obliged, grabbing him, levitating off the ground and to thrust your iron arm forward like a cannon.

After a while the battle died down a bit and you saw Tony embracing Peter in a distance.

You smile sadly. Peter’s your best friend, but you really wish that it’s you who Tony was hugging.

Your jealousy fades when one of those giant flying Chitauri makes its way to their direction, ready to attack.

“Friday, activate the mega blaster,” you fly closer to the pair.

“Which one?” For fuck’s sake, Friday,

“The biggest one, please, now!” Once the blaster's out, you aim at the monster who's literally meters away from Tony and Peter and fire. When it crashes to the ground lifeless, you land beside them.

“Sorry, that was,” you pant, opening up your iron helmet. “It was literally going to eat you guys, so, uh, sorry for ruining the moment.”

Peter smiles, nodding and Tony looks at you as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He hadn’t seen you in so long that your sudden presence fucking took his breath away. You're here, alive and back. If you guys weren’t in such a situation he’d go on and tell you about all the things you missed.

“I’m probably in trouble, right? I mean.. look Dad, I’m in a battlefield,” you laugh nervously, shooting a creature from the corner of your eye. “In my defense, Doctor Strange was the one who came to me, I didn’t-”

You're cut off when Tony wraps his arms around you. Right now he didn’t care about your excuses as to why you were here. But if Tony from five years ago could see you now he’d definitely ground you for life and take away your lab privileges.

“You’re doing great.” his voice slightly muffled from the hug. You let out a squeak, not expecting that from him at all. Tony smiles and plants a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, kid.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

The battle carries on and you're being swarmed by more enemies. You got really beaten up as it went on - what really knocked you out was when Thanos’ spaceship rained fire.

Unable to get shelter, you try your best to dodge everything that came out of the ship. You could barely see anymore because of the chaos and the clouds of dust everywhere.

“Ms. Stark, you need to get somewhere safe! Your heart rate is also increasing dangerously fast.”

“Not - not helping, Fri-” you get cut off when one of the blue fires hit you on the head, sending you to the ground unconscious.

----

“[Y/N], come on buddy, you need to get up,” Peter. He found your body a while after he handed the gauntlet to Captain Marvel. The battle's still ongoing, but he’s focusing on keeping you away from it while he waits for you to wake up.

You quickly sit up and gasp for air, looking at your best friend. “Did we win? Did we - wait, Peter, look out!” You push him out of the way when a group of monsters make their way to both of you. They turn into dust before they could lunge forward, however.

“...what the..?”

He helps you up and the both of you run to where Rhodey and Tony are at. You nearly break down when you see the state he's in.

“Mr. Stark? Hey - Mr. Stark? It’s Peter... and look, Y/N’s here- she’s okay, sir-” While Peter tries to talk to him you kneel down beside him, placing a hand on his arm while you do your best not to cry.

Then he looks at you, mouthing it’s okay.

But you know it isn’t. On your part, anyway. It seems really selfish but you don’t know what you’d do without him. Tony has always been there for you, he always kept you going.

Pepper kneels beside you, gave you a reassuring look before looking at her husband. “Friday?”

“Life functions critical.” That makes you whimper, pulling yourself closer to Tony.

“Tony, look at me. We’re going to be okay. You can rest now.”

You nod, sniffling, resting your head on his shoulder lightly. “I love you. I’ll take good care of Morgan, dad. Don’t worry.”

When the light of his arc reactor goes out, that’s when both you and Pepper break down, comforting each other around Tony’s lifeless body.

----

Dresses really weren’t your thing. So were skirts and shorts. But you wore a short, black dress for Tony’s funeral. You didn’t care if you weren’t comfortable, it was for him. You’d do anything for him.

You barely got any sleep since the battle, you couldn’t now that he was gone. It didn’t feel right. You had no idea how to cope, how you could move on from this.

What made things worse is when Steve and Thor told you about what happened to Natasha, that’s why you didn’t see her in the battle. She gave her own life just to get everybody else back.

You must’ve zoned out again because Rhodey and Pepper are now setting something up in the living room. An Iron Man helmet.

“S’that going to be new decoration?” You force out a chuckle, sniffling afterwards, sitting down on the sofa behind them.

Iron Man’s eyes light up when Rhodey presses a button. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Tony sitting on a chair, a hologram.

He turns it off before hologram Tony could say a word. “That’s,” he sighs, “that’s for later.”

“I can’t do this,” you get up, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t. I’ll - I’ll break down, I know I will. Can I take a walk? Please?”

“Take your time.” Steve gives you a comforting smile.

Pepper nods. “Some air would do you good. Be back when it’s time, okay?”

You take longer calming yourself down in the woods near the cabin. You cried, you mumbled to yourself, paced back and forth,

Cause a picture is all that I have, To remind me that you're never coming back If I picture it now it just makes me sad And right now I just wish you were here.

You stop when you heard leaves crunching. Peter just arrived, along with his aunt.

“Hey,” Peter silently greets, pulling you into a hug. It's obvious he isn’t getting any sleep either. “Are you okay?”

“Of course not,” you murmur, pulling away. “I should probably head back inside.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

You slowly walk to the porch, stopping when you hear Tony’s voice inside. You decide to just wait outside the door, you definitely don’t want to see his face, not right now, it'd be too painful.

“If we pull this thing off, and get everyone back,” Tony pauses. “Tell [Y/N] I left something in her room, yeah?”

Then he does the secret rhythm to a clap only the both of you memorized and knew.

You assume he’s done, since you don’t hear his voice anymore after that. Everyone goes out of the house and you hold Morgan’s hand as all of you walk to the lake for one last goodbye.

After that you talked to everybody who came for a while. Bruce, Steve, Clint and Thor tried to get you to look at the bright side, which you appreciated, you met the rest of the guardians who came, Doctor Strange who gave you a sympathetic look and apologized for your loss, and the guy you remembered Tony told you about, the one who helped him when his suit powered down and got stranded years ago. You made a mental note to ask him to hang out with you and Peter sometime.

“Hey... I’m heading to bed now,” you inform Pepper, Happy and Rhodey (both men were staying at the cabin for a few days) who're in the living room staring at the fireplace.

Before you go to your own room you check up on Morgan, who’s fast asleep. She's wearing her little Iron Man glove, pressed to her chest. She doesn’t deserve this.

Your room is still unpacked and they just sort of removed your bed from the compound and moved it here. You sit on the bed, already thinking of ways to move on that you know wouldn’t work anyway.

You remember your father claimed he had something for you here, so taking a deep breath, you clap the secret rhythm,

“Dad... you’ve gotta be kidding me,” you whine, covering your face with both palms.

Another hologram.

“Hey legacy,” Tony chuckles, looking at you. You shake your head at the ridiculous nickname, also avoiding his eyes, which you’re sure would make you cry if you did look. “I... uh, this is just a little video. For you. Sure you won’t see this but... I like to pretend I could still talk to you. I miss you, a lot.”

You fiddle with your hands, still not looking at him but you listen to him talk.

“But we’ll see. We’ll figure something out. I hope to see you soon, [Y/N]. I love you.”

He has both hands in his pockets as he looked at you with a warm smile, before disappearing.

But he reappears a second after.

“We’re doing it tomorrow. The... uh, time travel thing.”

The stress in his voice make you look up at him, but this time he isn’t looking at you. It seems like he was pacing while he recorded it.

“I just finished doing one of these for, well, in case I somehow die while we attempt to do it. If you think about it, it’s highly likely. Going back in time, yada yada, possibilities are endless,” he sighs. “But I figured I owe my firstborn a final message if that happens, right?”

“Honestly I feel,” he makes motions with his hands. “Bit anxious... right now. We were the only ones helping each other out when one of us felt this way but... seeing as you’re not here, I just have to deal with it.”

“[Y/N], look at me,” Tony crouches down to be in level with you, like he knew you were actually here watching this, like he was actually there, the one talking to you. But it’s how he programmed it. “You wanna know what my best decision in life was?”

“Yeah?”

“Taking you in,” he smiles. “When we fight you always bring up that I had the choice not to, and you were right. But guess what? I have no regrets.”

You smile, blinking back tears.

“You mean the world to me, I just feel like I don’t say it enough,” Tony cocks his head slightly, still looking at you. “We both have no idea what the afterlife’s like but that won’t matter, I’ll always look after you girls.”

“Speaking of which, your sister reminded me so much of you when she was first born, god, I still wish you were around for that. I know you’ll love her, she’s just brilliant. Take care of her for me, yeah?”

“Maybe there’s a way to get you back,” Tony sighs at your words, already knowing that it’s not going to work out. “I - I just need some time. I can bring you back, Dad-”

He places a hand on your shoulder. You couldn’t feel it, but you did feel a light breeze. “The deed’s already done, honey. Don’t worry about me. Come on, don’t cry,” he kneels in front of you as you let yourself go, crying hard into your palms.

Don't say everything's meant to be, Cause you know it's not what I believe Can't help but think that it should've been me In the end, I just wish you were here.

You open your eyes when you hear a beep, even Tony turns around. The recording had ten seconds left. “The recording’s about to end, [Y/N],”

“I love you tons,” you whisper, looking up at him.

Tony smiles, caressing your cheek. “I love you 3,000.”

Yeah, they say you're in a better place, Either way I still wish you were here ‘Cause they say you're in a better place In the end, I just wish you were here.

----

so here’s part 2. I miss him y’all, it’s missing-Tony-so-much hours for me

just like the first part, I got the title from this amazing song by Neck Deep which you can listen to here.

[taglist: @creation-magician (which I would like to personally thank for wanting to be tagged)]

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naralanis · 3 years

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Fic Writer Review!

Thanks @mssirey for the tag! I totally didn't have a crisis with the very last question, not at all bwhahaha

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

41, soon to be 42. ASJKLDBLAHSDSD how. And also why. But mostly, how.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

565,934 EXCUSE ME WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I was going to check my unpublished works but ya know what. Maybe I've written enough akdjsa

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

Technically speaking, I've written and published fics for five fandoms. However, I only have one story for OUAT (and I have @shadowdianne to thank for that... or do I?) and one for Captain Marvel. Mirandy was my first love, Cissamione the second, and Supercorp has burrowed in my brain and just won't let go.

I've also technically written for Xena, Legend of Korra, and Criminal Minds, but since I never published those, we're going to pretend they don't exist!

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

Only two are WIPs! YEAH! They're the top two, but WHO CARES, here they are:

1) Perhaps, aka my baby, my child, my darling, the apple of my eye. If I ever had to choose to finish only ONE of my WIPs, this would be the one. This story has grown with me, and I think you can tell when you read. Or maybe not!

2) For the Better. If the former is my baby, this one is like... my moody teenager. I love it dearly, but... it takes a lot out of me. An ode to one of the first fandoms I actively wrote for, it sits unfinished, but nearly, oh so nearly done. I will finish it, damn ittt.

3) The Date. Honestly, this one really surprised me -- it's one of my oldest one-shots, and something I definitely dashed off between lectures back in Scotland, maybe alternating with FtB chapters. It's one of my first attempts at humour, I think.

4) Bits and Pieces. AYY, I wasn't sure Supercorp would make the cut, WOOOT! This one was the second Supercorp fic I ever wrote, and I did it because Lena Is Baby and the idea just wouldn't leave my brain.

And lastly, the fabulous number 5... Perfect. AKA Nara's First (published) Explicit Fic, featuring Praise Kink and an Enchanted Dildo (for... reasons). I'm not gonna lie, I am so HAPPY this one made it, because it has a special place in my heart. It's where Soft Butch Hermione comes to life, and if you don't love Soft Butch Hermione, I'm sorry, we can't be friends. I love her.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

Eeermmm... some? I do want to respond, but I'm terrible with keeping up with comments, I really am. For whatever reason, even when I do my best, I don't really love responding directly on AO3. I also turned off all email notifications for AO3 because turns out my brain WILL be distracted by even a single one.

I'm much more responsive on Tumblr, I promise!

6. A fic you've written with the angstiest ending:

Any of my Narlily works, I guess? Like... All Flowers Wither or Carry On.

Unshackled would be another one, though it's Cissamione... but I caved and made a happy(ish) second part for that one.

7. Do you write crossovers?

Nope! Crossovers just don't do it for me, generally speaking (reading or writing).

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

EvEr rEcEIvEd hAtE-- yes. Oh, yes. I've been told my writing is terrible, I've been told my stories were a 'waste of time,' or 'overhyped,' I've had people tell me there was only One Way to write a certain pairing and my way was definitely Not The Way.

The list goes on.

It used to really, really bother me--still does, but in a much smaller way. Delete/Block buttons are my friends.

9. Do you write smut?

I write an absurd amount of smut. I just don't publish any of it because. Fear.

My pretty, pretty pens have created some filthy, filthy things.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

A couple of times -- only once or twice like, straight up attributed to someone else who acted like they were the one writing it. The other times were reposts or translations (without my permission, so still. stolen).

11. Ever had a fic translated?

I've authorized a couple of translations of a few of my DWP works. I'm usually cool with people translating my stuff IF THEY ASK ME FIRST and GIVE ME PROPER CREDIT.

9/10 it's some Brazilian who translates it to Portuguese without my permission and then gets upset when I, another Brazilian, do not endorse it and politely ask them to take the thing down. Thankfully it's been a while. ASK ME, DAMN IT.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Nothing published bwhaha!

13. All-time favourite ship?

Right now SuperCorp is definitely barking a little louder, so to speak, but I don't really have one favourite overall. It depends on the fandom, sometimes! Cissamione is very dear to my heart, because it's just so fucking out there and literally every one in this ship has some of the most fascinating headcanons for this pairing and it's just. So wonderful.

14. WIP you want to finish, but don't think you ever will?

Eeeeuuughhh.... Right now? Probably The Appraisal. I forget what I wanted to do with it, I'm not sure if I'm still feeling the premise... IDK.

I think the same could be said of For the Better, but I PROMISED to finish it, and GOD DAMN IT, I am so close I can't throw in the towel just yet.

15. Writing strengths?

You want ME to say good things about MYSELF? I'm still learning how to do that asldkjbasdn it's a work in progress. But I think I'd say... maybe world-building, at least on my longer works?

I would also like to think I do pretty OK in... IDK, some of the punchy stuff? The 'oh wait a minute' moment? IDK if that makes sense!

16. Writing weaknesses?

Organizing. Plot (HAHA IKR). Consistency. Editing (which is rich from someone who literally edits shit for a living... but go figure). Pacing. Weirdly long sentences? Commas for DAYS.

I could go on.

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I am a-OK attempting it in French/Spanish/Portuguese. It may not sound natural, but it will be correct. If I'm trying another language, I'll definitely get help! But I've got no problem with it.

18. First fandom you ever wrote for?

Harry Potter, Dramione specifically, and you'll never find a shred of it. I was like 12, and almost a decade later I figured out Hermione was much better off with Draco's mother.

19. What's your fav fic you've written so far?

DON'T MAKE ME CHOOOSE asdkljasdl I CAAANNN'TTTT

I mean, obviously Perhaps is one of them -- it is my baby, that has been established. I think Little Bumps in the Road is also up there, because it was just a random writing exercise that got out of hand, and honestly? I'm here for it. Andddd.... I GUESS I'll put A Valentine's Evening up there as well, because it was the first time I didn't second guess every word I wrote when posting smut. I just... felt it, went for it, wrote it, and it felt really, really good to release some of that into the world lol

WHEW, this was a long one! I'll be tagging @intheinkpot, @shadowdianne, @delirious-comfort, and @16-pennies because I am a curious bastard. But, as always, feel free to treat this as an open tag. Go nuts!

#tag game #this was illuminating in several ways #aka i need to finish my wips #(though that ain't exactly news)#but more importantly #i've written way more than I think I have #and ya know what #it's OK to be proud of that #i am proud of all my children #and i love them all equally #*side eyes Decisions Decisions Decisions*#even you #nara rambles

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trillgutterbug · 3 years

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Fic Writer Questions!

tagged by @palamedessextus 😊 thanks friend!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

64! only five more to the magic number ayyyyy and then i’m legally obligated to never post another one.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

289,575 apparently??? which seems way way way higher than i ever would have guessed, wow. who knew!

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

31 on ao3, although that’s lumping, eg, all marvel subfandoms together. but i have a ridiculous amount of wips in all kinds of other fandoms that i haven’t/won’t post, soooo.... more than that! and i don’t want to list them all bc that’d be a long boring read!

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

it serenely disdains to destroy us, a magnus archives fic that, i somewhat vainly note, has been orbiting in the top few top kudosed fics in the tag since i posted it womp womp.

concerning flight, because we all thirsty for thor/loki+gender and i for one support us.

untitled porny snippet (yes that’s actually what it’s called), because same as above. (i see u, kudos-to-comment ratio and i aint mad but.... i see u. all you dirty birds out there shamefully yet silently jerking it. kudos to YOU.)

an experiment in posthumous subsistence, a batman/joker zombie au i wrote fucking TEN YEARS AGO ALMOST. why???? why is this fic so popular?? i’m barely a good writer now and i sure as shit wasn’t one a decade ago! the terrible title alone should disqualify it from being read, but i guess the people want what they want. and what they want is batman and joker handcuffed together, trying to escape the zombie apocalypse ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

all good things, some stucky hydra trash party-adjacent smut regarding piercings. i stand by this one 100%, it deserves every kudo(s?) tbh.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

i do, depending on the comment! i don’t think comments like “loved this!” / “thanks for writing!” are written with the intent to receive a response (or at least, when i write them on other people’s fics, i certainly don’t expect one). they’re like an extra kudo(s?), and i appreciate them a lot, but they’re not really an invitation to Discuss. whereas if someone clearly has put a lot of thought into a comment, or asked a question, or made some observations that i jive with, or just seems like they want to engage, then hell yeah i jump in there. love that shit.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

i guess arguably thine own self, which is some hydra husbands abo. laugh all you want, it’s one of my fave of all my fics lmao. probably specifically bc of the unpleasant/open ending.

7) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

probably moderation is a memory! since it, unlike 99% of all my other stuff, isn’t just total smut, and the whole point of writing it was to wallow as deep as possible in the sauce of giddy teenage infatuation, it got the opportunity to have an actual emotional arc (more or less). furthermore i could not possibly bring myself to break johnny lawrence’s tender little heart ever, that would hurt me far more than it would hurt him.

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

i only realised while answering this question that apparently.... no i don’t write crossovers! which is not at all a deliberate choice, i guess a compelling enough one just hasn’t occurred to me yet!

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

shockingly no! by some accidental miracle i’ve managed to fly under the radar so far, despite some of the really buckwild stuff i’ve posted. however, considering some of the stuff i’m probably ABOUT to post.... that clean track record might soon come to an end lmao.

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

lmao. uhhhh. almost exclusively, and i guess??? all kinds? this is clearly a question composed by someone who does not write smut.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of, and i wouldn’t really care if i did.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

yeah i think a few....? a number of people have asked anyway and i always say yes, so probably there’s at least one floating around out there somewhere.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i have! just once, and we really made it count. it’s called a reptile dysfunction, which should tell you all you need to know.

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

thorki, probably. i always have and always will come back to it, no matter what. it’s got such a ferociously timeless staying power and so much potential variation, i don’t think i could ever get bored of it, regardless of what level of marvel-exhaustion i might feel at a given time, or what tropes, kinks, or stage of literary pretension i’m at. truly the oh tee pee.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

ohhhhh all 836575927 of them, but. there’s this one thorki fic i started almost ten years ago as an experiment with a new-to-me style, which turned out over the intervening years to become my main style, and looking back on that fic, which for many years was a touchstone of writing-to-aspire to for me, it’s actually Not Very Good lol. but i still love the core concept, which is a canon divergence berserker thor au, but not only is it a somewhat inaccessible (admittedly less so since the deadpool movies came out, which was a hilarious pipe dream back when i started writing it) x-force comics crossover, but i wrote myself into a bunch of corners and have yet to dig up the energy to write myself back out of them! i go and reread it every year or so and think “hmm... maybe now...” but tbh it’s just not really good enough to bother! perhaps someday i’ll repurpose the best elements of it into something new.

16) What are your writing strengths?

man, it’s so hard to say. in much the same way that you can spend hours every day staring at yourself in a mirror, yet be utterly incapable of picking yourself out of a lineup, i spend a lot of time eyeballing my writing, but stepping back it seems like a chaotic mass of nonsense with few cohesive throughlines. i’m good at writing smut, i know that much! and in that vein, i think i am good at smut bc i am very good at committing to the bit, as it were. getting into the nitty gritty of experience and sensation (physical or emotional) and rendering largely abstract internal concepts in fairly comprehensible ways. i think my prose is quite decent on a sentence level too.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

utterly incapable of finishing anything! or plotting anything! can’t mange a cohesive emotional arc! write myself into overly structured corners or out onto a vast plain with no structure in sight! all the macro elements of storytelling totally elude me, which is very frustrating when i have all this tasty fleshed out micro-level character stuff, but no narrative skeleton upon which to drape it.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? don’t! unless you are very sure you know what you’re doing, and the other language bits are a) very few, b) easily contextually understood, and c) actually adding something other than a weird flex that you know google translate exists.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

11yo me wrote spock/kirk/janice rand and thought she invented the concept of a threesome. brand been stronk since day one 🤘. (the vulcan salute is right next to the devil horns in my emoji list, so....)

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

i love the (ongoing) better with you series very much, not least because i’m still absolutely flabbergasted that i wrote something that long. i think it’s actually pretty good all things considered and it’s very dear to me on many many levels. but the fic that i just viscerally adore, that i love the style of, and that i had such a transcendent, invigorating, organic Experience writing, is temper its strength, adding honey until quite cold, which is a terror fic with the inexplicable pairing of edward little/hartnell, featuring crossdressing and gender stuff. it just burst out of me fully formed one day and i don’t think i’ve managed to top it yet!

lowkey tagging @lingua-mortua @pitcherplant @kaasknot @froggy-babyy @deputychairman @nomercyonlytears @clockheartedcrocodile

#writing meme #whoops it's 3:30am #excellent life choices courtesy of: yours truly

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Down with the Recipe, Bake from the Heart, 1/10 (Multi) - Juno

Summary: This year’s Great British Bake Off will see some baking for sure, but also a few surprises. Tayce goes into the Bake Off tent determined to bring the winning cake stand to Wales, along with a few Star Baker badges, but her attention may not be on baking for too long as she gets to know fellow baker Aurora, on the same row as her. And judging by the other contestants, Tayce might not be the only one focusing on something other than baking this season.

A/N: This is a DRUK2 group based on GBBO - there are a few ships! It’s also on AO3 with 12 chapters but I will post here with 10 for ease as the first two and last two will are being done together. No CWs for this chapter! I hope you enjoy.

PROLOGUE - October 2021

It had been Cheryl who had suggested a live react to the grand finale of this season of Bake Off, so the twelve finalists could all gather together, watch the finale, and then the winner’s reaction could be captured on film and put on the internet for the whole world to see. Cheryl hadn’t even been in the cast - she’d been on the previous season - but she said she’d become invested in the season and the bakers so much so that she hadn’t wanted to let them go yet.

And judging by the public’s reaction to her tweet about it, she wasn’t alone.

Pip had mentioned in their group chat that her sister had a big town house in the Wirral, and she’d offered to let them all use it as a base for their live watch. Channel 4 didn’t have anything purpose-built for them, and the filming location wasn’t available, so they’d all jumped at the chance. Plus, Liverpool served as a good mid-point for them all - it saved Joe having to go all the way to Dundee or Ellie having to go to Brighton.

Aurora had marvelled at the amount of space there was once they’d all arrived the previous day. The living room and dining area were one, with a dining table probably big enough to fit a couple of football teams at it; and the kitchen led into the room with an arched doorway. The kitchen itself was enormous too, in highly polished white surfaces that Aurora was terrified to touch with her probably-impure fingers

“Bit posh, isn’t it!” She’d muttered to Tayce.

Pip’s sister and her husband were staying away, and they had the place all to themselves - the twelve of them reunited, with just Blu and Cheryl for company, operating a handheld camera with the intention of sending the finale footage for Channel 4.

As three endings had been recorded back in June, with each of the finalists winning one of the takes, the actual winner’s reveal would be a surprise to all of them, including the three finalists, and ensure no slip ups from the production team.

That didn’t stop all twelve of them worrying. None of them had slept a wink, all of them keeping an eye on Prue’s twitter to make sure she hadn’t accidentally tweeted the winner again. But mostly they’d been together, reminiscing on some of the moments from the season that had made them laugh. All the funny moments, all the tense moments, and one or two viral moments loaded with innuendo.

Not to mention everything else that had blossomed in tandem with nature that springtime.

It had been quite a season. They’d started out as strangers, and now they were so tightly-knit that they hadn’t even entertained the thought that they would possibly be watching the finale without all of them in the same space.

Aurora swilled the glass of champagne that Joe had insisted on pouring for everyone, and watched all of the people she’d grown close to on the season, a peaceful atmosphere in the room as they waited for the finale to start.

Well, not all of them were peaceful. Lawrence and Ellie were being their usual loud selves, jousting with wooden spoons and shrieking as loudly as they ever did - but Bimini was utterly still for the first time since Aurora had met them, laid against Asttina’s chest as they both reclined on one of the sofas, while Asttina raked her fingers through their mullet; and Bimini’s eyes were closed, their lips in a sleepy smile.

Aurora felt familiar hands creep around her waist, a familiar chin rest on her shoulder from behind, and familiar lips at her cheek.

“I can’t believe it’s coming to an end now,” Aurora murmured, her thoughts escaping her unfiltered, as they sometimes did with Tayce at this close range.

“Well, it was never gonna be forever,” Tayce said into her ear. “But we’re all gonna be friends after this, aren’t we! The wonders of technology! Come into the twenty-first century, Rory. We have this thing called the internet, and group chats, and phones -”

“We’re not all just gonna be friends, though, are we?” Aurora replied.

“We’re all just besties, nothing more than that. Rory, I’m joking!” Tayce laughed at Aurora’s horrified expression. “All I’m saying is that this isn’t the end - just the beginning.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

“Yeah, but I’m right, you can’t deny that!”

Aurora let her eyes drift around everyone else in the room.

Tia and Veronica who had barely left their corner of the sofa, hands and legs wound tightly together, both with hearts in their eyes and bigger smiles than anyone else in the room as they chatted quietly, simply enjoying each others’ company.

Lawrence and Ellie, wooden spoons still in hand, making the most noise in the room in delighted laughter as they jousted with each other, almost knocking Pip over as she carried in another tray of snacks to lay on the dining table.

Bimini resting against Asttina’s chest as they reclined on the other sofa, Asttina still running her fingers through Bimini’s freshly-dyed mullet, both of them letting out a contented sigh in tandem.

“Yeah,” Aurora murmured, as Tayce held her tighter, “I guess so.”

——

WEEK 1: BISCUIT WEEK

April 2021

Tayce grinned at the cameras as they panned around everyone. She’d given the interviewer her spiel about how much she’d always dreamt of being in the gingham tent and how excited she was to bring the winning cake stand to Wales for the first time in Bake Off history; and a surprising calm settled in her chest, nerves dissipating, at the genuine warm aura from everyone and everything in the room.

At least Tayce wasn’t in full view of the judges right at the front. That privilege was reserved for two people from London, both of whom looked right at home in front of the cameras, although their names were a mystery for now.

It was all very familiar from seeing it on the telly the last eleven years. Immaculate worktops with varnish that shone like glass; the tent walls decorated with bunting and flowers, and the pastel shelves and adorned with china cups; the multi-coloured KitchenAids ready to whisk, fold and anything else - Tayce’s was pure white, while the woman from Nottingham on the bench opposite her had a turquoise one.

Tayce chanced another glance at her; the tight-lipped smile showed a single dimple, and her long blonde hair was tied off her face, but her fingers drummed nervously on the workbench, and she evidently wasn’t as poised as the veneer she displayed for the cameras.

Tayce smiled to herself. It’ll be fun winning this thing.

——

Signature: 24 Iced Biscuits

The best bit of the show when it was on the telly was the banter between Matt and Noel. Seeing them in person, even from a distance away, made Tayce’s stomach bubble with excitement, and she had to cling to the workbench a little tighter to stay upright.

“Well, bakers, welcome to the gingham tent! Back for another season of Prue-Paul’s Baking Race!”

Prue’s sweet smile was complemented by her brightly-coloured glasses and sharp, matching blazer, while Paul’s cool stare lingered on everyone in the room a split second longer than they all would have liked.

“For the signature today,” Matt said, “the judges would like you to make twenty-four iced biscuits. The biscuits can be any flavour -“

“ - but should tell the judges a little bit about yourselves or where you’re from.”

“Where are you from, Noel?”

“Oh, you know, the moon.”

Everyone was laughing, even Tayce; although it wasn’t that funny - but the whole room was dancing with nerves by now, starting to become contagious from the people around her.

“On your marks -“

“Get set -“

“BAKE!”

Once Matt Lucas and Noel Fielding had declared the immortal lines to the room, everyone was scrambling for ingredients from their bags and the fridges.

Tayce was still cringing a bit at the dragon-shaped cookie-cutter her mum had found in some gift shop near the castle in Cardiff. She didn’t understand why tourists would be making dragon-shaped biscuits inspired by their trip to Wales, but for once she was thankful for tourists. Her friend Cara had customised it a little when she’d seen her a couple of weeks ago, by melting the tail with her lighter, elongating it a little, and extending the jaw and ears to make it look a little more ferocious.

“Can’t have people thinking you’re not breathing fire,” she’d said, passing the cigarette back to Tayce, “otherwise they won’t think you’re competition.”

And Tayce had nodded, holding smoke in her lungs half a beat longer than usual, wondering if she cared whether anyone thought of her as competition. After all, it was Bake Off. The last sabotage attempt there had been a national scandal the following day.

The most unproblematic, drama-free show on the telly.

Nothing was going to happen here.

——

“The judges are coming for you next,” one of the cameramen nudged Tayce out of her thoughts, just as she was measuring out her flour, causing it to fly upwards in a cloud “Just a heads up. Oh, sorry love.”

“Right, right.” Tayce nodded, brushing flour from her face. “What do I say to them again?”

“Just … talk. It’s the first episode. Show them your personality.”

“Personality,” Tayce repeated, nodding. “I’ve got oodles of that.”

“Great stuff. And don’t forget to be doing something bake-ey while they’re coming over.”

The cameraman dodged out of the way to make room for the medical team, running to help the woman in front of Nottingham, who had managed to slice her finger on something already.

“Here they are,” Tayce muttered to herself, taking a deep breath and straightening as the judges, along with Matt and Noel, came over to her.

“Morning, Tayce!”

Paul Hollywood was shorter than he appeared to be, and Prue Leith was taller, but nothing prepared Tayce for meeting either of them. Tayce held her breath for a split second, smiling somewhat mechanically to try to mask the sudden heat in her face.

“Bore da, folks! I’ve brought the weather with me!” Tayce beamed, indicating the heaving downpour of rain that was falling outside the tent; and they all laughed politely.

Tayce momentarily stopped concentrating on the judges and noticed the woman opposite her, turning to watch Tayce interact with the judges. And every time she was describing the perfect quality that her dragon-shaped shortbread biscuits would turn out, she seemed to slow her actions, looking up over at them.

The conversation was light, but Tayce could feel the calm authority of both judges before her, making words freeze on her tongue. It only went on for a minute or two, but Tayce was left feeling as if she should have prepared more.

Oh well. What’s done is done.

The ingredients for her biscuits were mixing slowly in the KitchenAid, the gentle whirr of the blades almost lulling Tayce to sleep as she sipped her cup of tea, before she took out the ball of shortbread dough and rolled it out to cut into biscuits.

“Your accent is so nice.”

Tayce looked up from her biscuits, to see the woman from Nottingham had come over, tucking her hair behind her ear, leaving her hand resting at the back of her neck to play absently with the strings of her apron. Up close, the dimple in her cheek was emphasised as a shy smile twitched at the corners of her mouth.

“Thank you!” Tayce stood to her full height. “This place doesn’t look like Barry Island yet but give it some time!” She leaned against the workbench, tossing her hair away from her shoulders.

“My accent is … well, it’s just … northern,” she continued with a giggle. “I’m Aurora, by the way. I’m so bad at names, I’m sorry, you’ve probably already said yours!”

“Don’t worry, I am too. I’m Tayce. And if I forget your name, well - yeah, same.”

Aurora’s gaze lingered half a second too long as she tested the name on her tongue.

“Tayce.” Her smile widened. “Nice to meet you.”

——

Tayce was terrible at names. She had no idea how she was going to remember who all eleven of these other people were, especially as one of them would be going every week - the pool of people getting smaller and smaller until Tayce would be remaining with whoever else was any good out of these lot.

As the day went on, she started to pick them up.

She had to learn Asttina’s for one, because Asttina seemed to know everyone’s name from the word go. Asttina was one of the two Londoners at the front, and was the only one of the group who had made a deliberate effort to come round to all their workbenches to formally introduce herself during the bake itself, her demeanour confident but her handshake gentle and light as air.

“Nice to meet you, Tayce,” she’d said, with a cool smile that reminded Tayce of a Miss World competition. “Looking forward to tasting all your bakes!”

She knew Pip’s name too, on the bench just behind Asttina, as she’d turned up in the tent wearing elf ears, claiming they were for luck. Everyone had been staring at her workbench, where she’d positioned a tiny blue handbag with a red circle in the middle, saying she took it with her wherever she went.

“I had a sesh with a psychic,” Pip explained to them all as a group of them crowded round her. “She’s a bit of a local celeb in Liverpool, Psychic Sally they call her, but - anyway, she told me to look for a sign in blue and red, said it was from me great-grandpa - and the same day I walked past one of those handbag shops on Paradise Street and there it was, in the window, 70% off!”

“Definitely couldn’t have been a coincidence, Pippa,” Tayce grinned, and Pip shook her head in agreement, but she had a mischievous glint in her eye and Tayce wasn’t entirely sure how serious she was about the whole affair.

Ellie’s name too had become familiar, because of the amount of times the show’s medics would groan it when she managed to hurt herself on something that episode. Ellie herself had been quiet most of the day, seemingly a little shy and evidently the youngest in the room; but she’d bounced on the balls of her feet at meeting Matt Lucas, garbling something about her and her brother doing all the impersonations as kids.

The soft-spoken woman in front of Tayce was called Cherry, and Tayce had found that out because she’d pointed it out to everyone when she put cherry flavouring in her biscuits.

“Does that actually, y’know, work as a flavour?” Tia had asked her when she was explaining it to them.

Tia was another name that Tayce knew, mainly because the woman was so tall and striking. She looked like she’d come straight off a catwalk and wandered into the Bake Off tent by complete accident on her way to London Fashion Week, happening to become covered in flour in the process.

Cherry had huffed. “I don’t know, but you eat cherry-flavoured things all the time! What could go wrong with putting it in biscuits?”

Tia grimaced. “Wait. Have you … never put cherry flavouring in biscuits before? Didn’t you practise at home?”

Tayce couldn’t help but feel a twinge of mirth as she watched Cherry chew her tongue, her cheeks flushing, but her jaw set obstinately. “I know what I’m doing. I can do this.”

“You haven’t even practised this bake? Okay. So how late do the trains run from here to Newcastle?” Tayce had asked Cherry, and Aurora had doubled over in wheezing laughter as Cherry had folded her arms.

“Darlington. Darlington, not Newcastle. And there’s been trains there for nearly two hundred years, love.”

That had just made Aurora laugh harder, clutching her stomach and shaking in silent giggles, leaning on Tayce as Tayce had led her back to her workbench and let her wipe the tears from her eyes before continuing with her biscuit dough.

That was the most important thing Tayce had learned so far in the tent. The woman from Nottingham opposite her was Aurora, and Aurora lit up the whole bench.

When the judges had stood with her earlier, she’d cooed about how much she adored baking everything for all her family - making fairy cakes for charity bakes for work, birthday cakes for her family, tipsy cakes for her best friends for their birthdays, or anniversaries, or whenever they were just feeling crap.

From the smile that she couldn’t hold back, Tayce knew that Aurora was the only person in the room who meant it when she said that she loved baking.

——

“One hour break, folks, and then filming starts for Technical, okay?”

The first bake was over, and Tayce’s shortbread biscuits shaped like dragons had gone down pretty well with the judges. She wasn��t sure if she’d had the best feedback, her nerves kicking in and blocking out most of the other contestants’ comments; but she thought she’d done enough for this round at least.

One of the producers herded them like sheep - or maybe cats, judging by how Ginny had gone chasing after a squirrel they’d seen - back into Norton Hall where they were all staying for the weekends while filming was happening. It was a huge, Georgian manor mouse with ceilings touching the clouds, far more halls than were necessary, and so many excessive bedrooms that each contestant had a room each.

Tayce had half-expected four-poster regal luxury as she’d opened the door to her own, twice the size of her room in her flat; but no such luck - it was furnished sparingly, and all the beds were normal. A small double, she noted. Not that she was likely to get lucky with these master bakers, but a woman could dream.

The floorboards creaked as she crossed the room and flopped backwards onto the bed, gazing at the ceiling, the elation sending a shiver through her skin as she realised again that she had made it to Bake Off.

The Bake Off!

They weren’t meant to change clothes between takes unless they’d made a huge mess with the food, so Tayce just retouched her eyeliner and went back down to the communal room, where most of them had gathered back in the group, polite conversations carrying on amongst relative strangers as they sampled each others’ biscuits.

What a surreal scene.

A group of almost strangers, half of their names unfamiliar, and she was meant to discuss baking with them all.

“Alright, babs?” She heard someone pushing a plate in front of her. “My name’s Ginny, Ginny Lemon, and if you don’t like lemon, well - just skip my biccies, alright love?”

“No, lemon is great,” Tayce forced a smile, taking one of Ginny’s biscuits. “Thanks hun.”

“You’re welcome! Which ones did you make - wait, I remember, the Welsh dragons?”

“Now how did you guess that one?” Tayce raised an eyebrow at them. “My mum’s idea, she was like, do it for the Welsh! So of course she found a dragon-shaped cookie cutter from somewhere. One of the tourist shops in Cardiff. Tourists love dragon biscuits apparently.”

“Oh I know love, I know - speaking of weird biscuits, have you ever tried a Worcester sauce biscuit? I don’t recommend it if you haven’t, but have you?” Ginny shook their head, tutting. “Tastes like shit! Waste of biscuit. Waste of Worcester sauce too, though. Anyway, Pip’s looking lonely without me. Nice to see you!”

And Ginny fled from Tayce’s arm, scurrying back over to Pip. Tayce tasted the biscuit, bracing herself for Worcester sauce, blinking with surprise to find it was actually pretty good, the lemon flavour really tasty, and finding she wanted another.

Most of the rest of the biscuits were arranged on a bench at the back. Tayce picked up another of her own and went down the line, eager to see which had depleted the most.

Gravestone biscuits were the biggest shocker for her - two different sets of biscuits were there, iced to resemble gravestones, mostly untouched - but Tayce politely picked up the better-looking of the two and found a lovely chilli kick to it when she tasted. But gravestones weren’t the only common theme - two different rose patterns were there, one set iced in different shades of pink, and the other with a deep red icing. The pink roses were almost all gone, and Tayce took the second-to-last one, enjoying the raspberry flavour, and grabbing one of the other roses to go.

Tayce peered around the room at the other contestants from her vantage point at the table. Most of them had dropped into twos and threes - with twelve people it was bound to happen - chatting amongst themselves, quietly and politely for the most part, although the two Scottish women in one corner were laughing as if they’d known each other for years.

Eventually, she joined Aurora, who was talking to someone whose white-blonde hair and pencil-thin eyebrows looked very familiar …

“Joe Black,” she said, extending a heavily-tattooed hand to Tayce, whose stomach flipped upon hearing the name.

“You’re - on Instagram, that woman -“

“My internet infamy precedes me, but in that case I hope so too do my bakes, and of course my sense of fun.” Joe’s voice was theatrical, her gestures affected; but her smile was warm, and Cherry looked as enamoured with her as Tayce was feeling.

“And who wins the biscuit version of the wars of the roses?” Joe continued, pointing down at the two rose-shaped iced biscuits on Tayce’s plate. “Lawrence, or Veronica? I must say, the amount that Veronica worried about her own bake, that time probably could have been spent thinking up a better biscuit flavour than rosewater, don’t you agree?”

Tayce glanced at Veronica’s biscuit, then up at Aurora. “Does it taste that bad?”

But before Aurora could answer, they were interrupted by “Alright, babes! How’s it hanging?”

The woman joining them had rich violet hair scraped off her face into a bun at the crown of her head, and an intense green stare. Tayce took the hand that was extended to her, finding a firmer handshake than Asttina’s, trying to follow the stream of words from this woman’s mouth.

“I’m Lauren, but you might as well call me Lawrence, that’s all Ellie’s been calling me all day, thinks she’s fucking hilarious, and I’ve not really met any of you yet because, you know,” Lawrence paused for breath, waving her hands, “baking contest, ooh I’m not here to make friends, et cetera, but now that we’re all here and we’re not baking right now, I thought I’d better find out who everyone is! Are you the one who made the dragon biccies?”

“That’s me, baby!” Tayce grinned. “Bore da, bitches!”

“See, I knew you were Welsh, and there Ellie was trying to convince me the dragon biccies were by someone who just really liked Puff the Magic Dragon, she owes me a tenner now - and you’re - oh wait, I know you!” Lawrence wagged her finger at Joe, whose expression didn’t change apart from the slow blink. “That Instagram video!”

Joe fixed Lawrence with a stare. “Yes, that Instagram video; I know that precedes me, but I hope by the end of this competition that can be eclipsed by my culinary skills.” Her voice still kept the throaty drawl, but Tayce was starting to sense her irritation at the association.

Cherry had already offered her hand to shake, and Lawrence took it. “Alright, I remember your name, because you put it in your biccies as flavouring! Where’re you from, do they grow cherries there?”

“No - I’m from Darlington.”

Lawrence blinked, frowning. “Darlington, near Sweetie-shire is that?”

“No, it’s near -“

“I’m joking babes, I’m joking! I know it’s - hey, hey Ellie!” Lawrence stopped to shout to Ellie, who had evidently reappeared. “Els! It’s not Puff the Magic Dragon! Where’s my tenner? Hey!” And she was gone in an instant, Tayce turning to watch her chase Ellie as she scurried out.

“Anyway,” Joe continued, motioning to Tayce’s plate and one of the gravestone biscuits, “I’m so glad you’re enjoying mine! I know my sense of humour is a little … ah, morbid, but I didn’t count on being one of two people with this bake, let me tell you that!”

Joe glanced over to the left out the sides of her eyes; Tayce followed her gaze to Pip, oblivious, making herself a cup of tea.

“She didn’t - like, you don’t think she -“

“Oh, no, not in a month of Sundays! But it’s a strange little coincidence, isn’t it? The viewers will love the drama!”

Joe opened her mouth wide to let out a violent cackle, a sound that might have made a shiver glide down Tayce’s spine if she hadn’t been mid-biscuit.

——

Technical: 8 Wagon Wheels

The Technical challenge was the first time Tayce felt her nerves return in a rush.

Everyone had identical ingredients and an identical recipe, but nothing prepared any of them for whipping the gingham cloth from them all and flipping the instructions over. Tayce ran her pencil down them, her head spinning.

On the first read, she recalled nothing.

Focus.

She took one steadying breath, letting go of as many nerves as she could, and then ran her pencil back down the list, jotting down timings and a couple of notes. They only had an hour and a half; precision was key.

On her right, Aurora was fidgeting with her apron, twisting her hair around her finger, before grabbing as many bowls as she could from the drawers and setting them all down ready.

It almost felt like more pressure, rather than less, having no judges in the room - just Matt and Noel, and they couldn’t really interact with the bakers at this point, mostly just talking amongst each other and having to film occasional silly quips for the television interludes.

You’re not gonna get this finished if you keep looking at Matt and Noel!

So Tayce mentally blocked out everything and anything around her, not taking her eyes off her workbench. Instructions, ingredients, whisk, repeat. Oven, timers, filling, cooling, done.

She barely remembered anything else that happened in the room.

As she put the last wagon wheel on the tray to take to the front, she wiped her brow, took a swig of tea, and then heard the immortal lines.

“Bakers! You have one minute to go!”

Tayce looked around the room. Tia, three desks ahead, was looking flustered, covered in flour from head to toe - a difficult feat when you were six feet tall - and Veronica, just behind her, was rounding the corner to help her move the biscuits over to the tray one by one as she spread on the jam and marshmallow fluff. Bimini, who Tayce was sure had finished about ten minutes earlier than everyone else, was doing the same thing for Asttina, leaning over her workbench and talking soothingly to her as they both moved biscuits around.

On the other side, Ginny was rubbing Pip’s back, trying to help her load wagon wheels onto the tray but only succeeding in knocking the handbag to the ground. Ellie broke two of her wagon wheels by dropping a palette knife on them, her squeak causing Lawrence to turn from her bench and put her hands on her hips.

But Tayce felt an unexpected wave of relief when she saw Aurora finishing her own biscuits right on schedule, stepping back with a sigh, rolling her head and her eyes to the ceiling.

They had to bring the biscuits to the front table, and put them behind their respective photographs for blind judging. Looking at the other biscuits on the bench, Tayce nodded to herself in satisfaction. She definitely wasn’t the worst. The photos were all a blur, but there was definitely one disaster, chocolate and marshmallow oozing; Ellie’s broken biscuits; and another tray with a biscuit missing.

It was easy to breathe a sigh of relief for herself.

“Just get into any order,” the producer said, pointing to the stools that had been set in front of the table, “but don’t sit directly behind your photo. Otherwise it just looks obvious.”

Tayce’s biscuits were second from the right, so she bunched towards the left, and found herself between Aurora and Joe. Joe had pretended to trip over her feet while carrying her own biscuits up, cackling gleefully at Veronica’s pained expression as she watched. Veronica, mercifully, had sat as far from Joe as she could.

Aurora was breathing rapidly next to her, and Tayce gave her a nudge with her knee.

“Chill girl! Relax! It will be fine!”

Aurora nodded, but said nothing, focusing on trying to breathe at a normal rate once again. Tayce could practically hear her heart hammering. She nudged her again playfully, and Aurora nudged her back, taking a deep breath out and seeming to calm from then.

Once Prue and Paul were back, Tayce grew a little sleepy. The judging went on for much longer than on telly, and tent was hot from all the baking and warm bodies, plus Aurora’s knee jogging rhythmically was enough to make her feel a little drowsy. Her biscuits were second to last, and Tayce wasn’t really focusing on any of the other critiques as they went down the line, not even those of the two women on either side of her.

She hated tents. They reminded her of camping. This one wasn’t like any of the camping tents, propped by firm wooden walls and decorations but it still reminded her of trips to the Gower when she was at primary school. And thinking of the Gower made her think of day-tripping to Tenby, where the air was hazy with salt and fresh fish, and the sea was far too cold as they skimmed stones, watching them bounce once, twice, three times …

A nudge at her side from Aurora brought her down from her reverie; blinking, Tayce saw the judges had reached the biscuits behind her photo, looking up expectantly to see who would claim them.

Oh, yeah. It’s the Technical, and I’m here to be judged.

She raised her hand, realising that she’d been in a dream so long that she didn’t even know what place the judges had called her for.

“Tayce - good flavour, biscuits had a good crunch, and the chocolate has set well; it just wasn’t quite filled enough.”

Nodding and smiling, she waited for them to move on to the next person before she leaned over towards Aurora, muttering from the corner of her mouth “Where did they put me again?”

But before Aurora could answer, Paul spoke up. “And in second place, we have -“

“You came third, you bitch!” Aurora whispered, her mouth open in awe, and she looped her hand into Tayce’s and squeezed. “How do you do it? You always look so put-together! Not like - Miss Second-Place down there.”

Tayce glanced at Veronica, right at the end of the line of bakers on their stools, whose hand was raised to claim second place. She was nodding earnestly at the praise, but she still wasn’t smiling, her lips tight and her other hand still quivering a little in her lap.

“That means that first place goes to - Asttina!”

But Aurora hadn’t let go of Tayce’s hand, and Tayce was suddenly more aware of that contact than whoever the winner was, even as she slowly drew her hand away for the polite applause that followed.

“Where did you come?” Tayce asked her in a whisper.

“Seventh. Not great. I over-baked them a little bit,” Aurora shrugged. “I’m never gonna be good at technical.”

——

“Congrats on coming top of Technical!” Tia clapped Asttina on the back as they came back into Norton Hall, and Asttina responded with her winning smile.

“Thanks, babe. I thought you all deserved a taste of what I can do!”

There was a collective amused murmur around the other bakers at Asttina’s slightly smug tone. Tayce grinned, staying silent for now, wondering what the others would have to say to that.

“Oh, there’s more to come, is there?” Tia continued.

“I should hope so.” Asttina licked her lips. “From all of you lot as well.”

“There’s no need to be cocky,” Veronica said, the first time any of them had really heard her speak. Veronica was tiny, with blonde hair and a nasal voice that was louder than any of them had expected; most likely feeling the sting of coming second.

Asttina shook her hair back. “I’m not cocky, Veronica, I just know what I can do. Read the CV, it’s all there! If you want to win stuff, you need to know yourself. Do you want to win?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?” Veronica retorted.

It was Tia’s snort of laughter that started them all off, diffusing the vague tension creeping into the room. Asttina’s laugh was only drowned out by Veronica’s as she realised what she’d said.

“Is the Pope a Catholic, does a bear shit in the woods … I know, I know. I mean, yeah, I definitely do want to win.”

Asttina shrugged. “Then there’s no point being modest about what you can do. Let your bakes do the talking!”

One of the producers came in at that moment, motioning for them all to come round, and they all bunched together.

“Alright folks, the day’s filming is done, we’ll begin tomorrow at nine sharp for the Showstopper challenges. Until then you’re free to relax and have a nice time - please don’t go into any areas marked as Private, and no excessive drinking, but otherwise, have a good night!”

“Thank you!” They chorused, clapping for some unknown reason, as some of the staff rounded up the leftover biscuits and cleared them away.

“The filming crew get them,” Veronica explained to Tia, “I asked earlier what happened to them all because I knew we wouldn’t be able to eat them all.”

“You know what this means?” Cherry said, addressing them all from on top of one of the sofas. “This is the last evening we’ll all be together. Let’s all cheers to the cast of GBBO!”

She pulled a bottle of something from her bag, and the rest of them grabbed a mug each, sharing out the gin Cherry had brought, and bringing all their drinks together in cheers.

——

Showstopper: A gingerbread sculpture of a place that makes you nostalgic.

The Showstopper was about as broad as you could get. Everyone seemed to have something different in mind. Bimini and Asttina, on the two front benches, looked as poised and confident as they had all the previous day; and Asttina, buoyed by her Technical challenge win, puffed her chest in pride.

Tayce had practised her gingerbread over and over, but nothing prepared any of them for being in the tent, where the pastel colours and the novelty of the bright, friendly conversations started to switch to a competitive edge.

Especially after the Technical, where they had all been ranked. Having a number against your name now, combined with a vague grade against the Signature challenge, meant the Showstopper was the be-all and end-all for some of them.

That was it Tayce thought to herself, as she watched Aurora’s grim determination pass her face every second.

And she wasn’t the only one.

Cherry, on the workbench in front of her, had come sixth; but she’d been much quieter all morning, concentrating on reading and re-reading her instructions, tapping her pencil against her chin and growling frustratedly every now and then.

Ellie, wearing a pair or Pip’s elf ears, was doing even worse. Being ranked eleventh had done very little to ease the nerves she had displayed the day before, and her morning had already started with another blue plaster on yet another finger.

But Aurora was the only person Tayce was concentrating on. Something about the way she’d held her hand … and Tayce was far too quick to let her mind run away without her, thinking it meant anything, when obviously it probably didn’t.

“What are you doing?” Tayce called to Aurora over the chatter of everyone else around the room; but Aurora didn’t reply, her tongue running over her lips as she surveyed the mess that was the butter and sugar mix before her.

“Aurora?” She asked, making her way to stand by her behind the bench.

Aurora was still silent, but the noise from the bowls and KitchenAid she was using spoke volumes for her without her needing to say a word.

“D’you want a cup of tea?” Tayce asked her eventually, waiting for the curt nod from Aurora before sprinting to the tea station, in a tent outside.

When she got back, Aurora had moved up to Ellie’s workbench, and even though her back was to Tayce, she could see her shoulders shaking and Ellie’s hand rubbing her back, before offering her a can of the Monster she always had to have, the label covered in masking tape to escape product placement.

Tayce approached them both to comfort Aurora too, but as she did, cameras zoomed in on all three of them. Aurora pushed them both away and walked out of the tent, covering her face.

Ellie looked from the camera to Tayce and then back again, confused more than anything, and Lawrence, turning from her bench, looked back at them all with a frown.

“What’s going on here? Is she alright?” Lawrence pointed to Aurora, who was busy wiping her tears away in the far corner, with Matt Lucas at her side and a camera in her face.

“No,” Tayce muttered, “and she won’t be while there’s a lens on her.”

After that, Tayce kept half an eye on Aurora as she baked. She mostly ignored the cameramen as they hurried around the tent, taking stock footage of them cutting gingerbread shapes, using their ovens, and decorating, but Tayce purposely kept her mouth tightly closed, and her expression firmly neutral.

As Noel called for ten minutes remaining, Tayce was finishing the detailing of the roof of the stadium. The band were meant to be playing biscuit instruments and there was meant to be a crowd, but Tayce had settled for calling it a backstage pass moment, where VIPs could meet them, and just made models of herself and her friends.

“Time is up! Bakers, step away from your bakes!”

Noel called time, and Tayce took a step back to properly admire her finished product - and really, she was blown away by her own bake. The gingerbread houses she’d made in practise had gone alright, but this one, even in the pressure cooker environment of the tent, had gone almost perfectly, down to the timing of the bakes.

“Wow,” Tayce whispered to herself, “week one is done!”

She took a few seconds to admire everyone else’s in the tent. Some were much better than others. Joe’s looked a little strange - she’d meant to do a wedding scene with the gingerbread church, but the roof was crooked, and the gravestones falling over, not supported by the sticky sugar mixture they’d all used as adhesive. Cherry’s ambitious building was incomplete, and Tayce didn’t even know what it was meant to be.

But Asttina’s was incredible - a beautiful beach scene with a model of a beach hut and even a Ferris wheel. Ellie’s technical slip up was definitely repaired by the pub she’d built, adding fondant banners inside and making the dull gingerbread colours come alive with her imaginative take on the icing outside; while Lawrence had made a theatre, melting jelly babies to create beautiful stained glass in the windows, something Tayce kicked herself for not thinking of.

They all had a chance to leave the tent for a break, to sit outside in the shelter, and to have a breather before the actual judging of the bakes was done.

“I don’t envy the judges,” Joe said, her drawling voice awed, as she took in all of the gingerbread houses from their vantage point outside the tent. “They definitely have their work cut out for them, don’t they?”

“Everyone did amazing,” Aurora nodded, “it’s just a case of who did less amazing. D’you reckon they’ll just take this into account, or the whole weekend?”

Tayce didn’t know why she was worrying. Aurora had come middle of the pack in technical, but had been praised for her Signature, and her gingerbread house - modelled on her Nan’s, she had said - was so prim and dainty that Tayce knew the judges were going to eat it up, and not only literally.

“It won’t be you, chillax!” Tayce reached to rub her hand.

“Who d’you reckon it will be then?”

“Well, they tend to take into account the numbers assigned at the Technical challenge, and the Signature comments, to make the first analysis, at least,” Joe chuckled, “that’s what we see on the television. Who were the bottom three for Technical? I was tenth, Ellie was eleventh, who was twelfth again?”

“It’s - erm,” Aurora pointed, but the name escaped her for a second. “Tia. Tia was twelfth.”

“It’s probably between the three of us, then,” Joe said brightly, “unless something goes … horribly wrong to one of the Showstoppers. And how likely is that?”

As they looked through the panels of the tent, one of the gingerbread houses collapsed into pieces onto the tray it was set on.

Tayce glanced around the other eleven bakers to see whose it was.

One of the bakers had her head in her hands, shoulders tensed, while the two people on either side of her hugged her tightly.

——

“Seriously, Joe, how did you make that happen?” Aurora’s voice was hushed, tense, after the award for Star Baker and the first elimination had taken place.

Joe’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “I don’t quite know - maybe it was just something, spoken into the universe, made to happen.”

“Or maybe it was just gravity and shitty caramelised sugar sticking it all together,” Tayce added.

“Yes,” Joe replied, “or that too.”

Joe, Ellie and Tia had all survived their stint in the bottom at Technical - but Pip, who had come ninth in Technical, and whose Signature had received mediocre feedback, had laughed behind gritted teeth at presenting her collapsed gingerbread house - “More of an Ikea house,” Paul had commented cheerily - which had ultimately turned out to be too hard to bite into and had sealed her fate. Not even the lucky elf ears saved her from the first elimination.

“I was so sure I was going home this week,” Aurora sighed later that night, back at Norton Hall, where everyone had eaten so much of each others’ gingerbread houses that they all felt ill.

“You wouldn’t have, yours was good!” Tayce rubbed her arm. “Relax! It’s done now. Just focus on next week instead.”

“And I can’t believe Prue said she’d like to try a bit of carpet when they were looking at Ellie’s pub,” Aurora said, shaking her head. “Did anyone else catch that?”

“Yeah, I did!” Tayce sniggered. “They’re so innocent! This is just gonna be a load of innuendos all season, isn’t it? Imagine what they’re gonna say for next week too.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s cake week, isn’t it?” Aurora seemed to perk up. “That’s a bit more my comfort zone.”

Suddenly the door opened, and Asttina was led back inside the area by the cameraman and a producer. Everyone broke into applause - this time genuine, not the muted, polite sound that had echoed round the tent in the technical. Asttina had just given her winner’s interview and called her family, and now wore the Star Baker badge proudly on the lapel of her jacket, her grin wider than the Cheshire Cat’s.

“How did your mum react when you said you were Star Baker this week?” Bimini asked her.

Asttina smiled the warmest smile any of them had seen all weekend from her at the mention of her family. “They screamed so loud that you probably all heard it in here. My mum was falling off the sofa, my dad was waving a wooden spoon, my brother was banging on the floor with his feet - oh, it was great.”

“Well-deserved, babes,” Bimini nodded, and Asttina pulled them in for a hug.

Everyone else was clamouring around Asttina, congratulating her on her Star Baker win this week and admiring the badge she’d won - biscuit-shaped, or at least cookie-shaped - but Tayce hung back, exchanging a glance with Aurora, a glint in her eye; and both of them knew what the other was thinking.

Let’s not cross Joe Black. She might make our Showstoppers crumble.

——

ELEVEN BAKERS REMAIN

18 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 3 years

Text

'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 13 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: very very brief mentions of death

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 13: Lesser Celandine Means ‘Joys to Come’

The nine-year-old bounded out before Alex and Thomas through the botanical garden. They had been living together for about three years already and life was treating them right.

Both still worked for Washington, they still argued about small stuff – which they claimed were discussions in good faith and their friends called bickering like a married couple – and Philip was doing well in school.

They had fallen into a routine together that the versions of themselves from five years ago could have never pictured. As much as they started as jagged edges running along each other, they now found themselves puzzle pieces fitting together.

It was early May and one of the first few beautiful days of the month after a lot of rain, so the three had decided to go to the botanical garden nearby.

However, Alex didn’t know that Thomas and Philip were in on a plot together, a plot to do with a little box in Thomas’s pocket.

Philip pointed at a cactus and yelled: “Look, it got spikes!”

“I can see that, kiddo,” Thomas called out to him, “Can it flower?”

After reading the little sign for a moment, Philip pouted and yelled back: “No.”

“That’s a pity,” Thomas said, then called out: “This one here had beautiful peach colored flowers, if you want to see.”

“That’s not peach,” Alex butted in.

“Yes, it is,” Thomas retorted.

“No, it’s obviously orange.”

“What do you think orange looks like?” Thomas sounded more distressed than anything.

If Alex looked again, he could see that it was indeed peach and the lighting had made it appear more orange than it actually was, but now he had taken a stance. So, he said: “Kind of like that, though I will give you that it’s light orange.”

“Peach is pastel orange, you know that right?” Thomas said.

“So, then I’m right and it’s orange,” Alex shrugged.

“No, because there are many shades of orange and this particular one is peach,” Thomas sounded frustrated.

“I don’t know, Tom,” Alex made a great show of observing the peach colored flower, “If I look at it now, it looks more like apricot.”

“Peach is the lighter and pastel version apricot,” Thomas exclaimed, “The difference is literally super small, but I know my colors and this is lighter than apricot, okay. It’s peach.”

Alex grinned at him and the realization dawned, Thomas tiredly stated: “You’re just doing this to fuck with me.”

“You know me so well,” Alex smirked.

From between them, Philip spoke up: “I think it looks pretty.”

“It does,” Alex agreed, before reading the signs and saying: “Oeh, there’s a butterfly greenhouse, we should go.”

Thomas took Philip’s hand and offered Alex his arm: “Lead the way, darlin’.”

In the butterfly greenhouse they marveled at the butterflies fluttering around. Alex looked mostly up, but Thomas and Philip made sure to read each sign, since they had agreed on a certainflower for it to happen.

When they walked past a particular patch of flowers, Thomas got distracted by Alex, who gasped when a butterfly landed on his face. He grinned at Thomas, who snapped a picture. Then Philip elbowed him in the side and pointed at a sign.

They found it.

Philip quietly retreated to the background with the camera, while Thomas squatted and pretended to read the little sign.

He hummed and read: “Lesser Celandine, or Ficaria verna. Classified as a noxious weed, since it flowers before much of the native fauna, establishing dominance over native species.”

Alex stopped looking up and inspected the small yellow flowers. He hummed: “Interesting, what made that flower catch you eye?”

“Well,” Thomas said, here it was, “I happen to know their meaning.”

“Is that so?” Alex asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

“Yes, they mean ‘joys to come’,” Thomas shifted and reached into his pocket, “And I was wondering if you would want to explore all of the joys in the world with me.”

Gasping Alex looked at him with wide eyes, completely speechless.

“We’ve been through so much together,” Thomas went on, “You gave me so much more than I’d ever thought I’d have. So, Alexander, will you marry me?”

Alex didn’t care that he looked like the ultimate gay stereotype as he fanned his hands in excitement, tears in his eyes as he nodded and chocked out: “Yes!”

Thomas grinned and took out the ring to slip on Alex’s finger. Philip ran up behind him, camera still in hand as he threw his arms around Thomas’s neck, still at the perfect height from where he was knelt and babbled: “You said yes, right, Papa? You and Da are getting married!”

“I did, Pip,” Alex grinned, admiring the simple band with purple stone, “And I suppose you were in on it, little rascal.”

“Of course,” Philip smiled toothily as Thomas stood up, lifting Philip in a piggy back, “Da had to ask someone for your hand.”

“You asked Pip for permission?” Alex laughed.

Thomas shrugged: “Seemed the best option. I felt like he should get a say.”

“And I knew who he could trust,” Philip added.

“Oh yeah?” Alex asked, amused.

“Hm-hm,” Philip nodded.

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed, “It was smart to not involve Laf in this, just Eliza.”

“Dork,” Alex rolled his eyes, but he knew Eliza still had his ring size from when he and her went to find rings for his wedding to John.

“But I’m your dork,” Thomas informed him, “And you’ve just agreed to that being permanent, so I feel like that’s more on you than on me.”

“You’re insufferable,” was Alex’s reply, but they all saw he couldn't stop smiling.

“I know,” Thomas agreed, putting Philip down.

Alex pulled him into a kiss, while Pip made slight gagging noises that they both ignored. When they pulled apart, Alex whispered against his lips: “This was perfect, you’re perfect. Thank you.”

“Charmer.”

“God, I can’t wait to tell everyone!” Alex gushed. He had been the one to ask John, so he never got the excitement of sharing, just the stress of asking. The novelty of this new feeling, making him even more excited about it.

Thomas smiled at him, love filled eyes. Alex didn’t even know how beautiful he looked right now, basked in sunlight with butterflies fluttering around him as his eyes sparkled and his smile tried to break his face in two.

He kissed him.

“What was that for?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Who’s the charmer now?” Alex teased.

“Da, Da, did you show him your ring?” Philip tugged on Thomas’s hand.

“I hope you don’t mind that I got myself one, I just had an idea,” Thomas shrugged, when he saw Alex’s quirked brow.

“I helped pick!” Philip told him proudly.

“Really?”

“Jup,” Thomas confirmed as he showed him the ring. It was identical to Alex’s, except that the stone was green instead of purple. Thomas said: “You know, those few years ago, I thought it was kind of obvious that we wouldn’t like each other, because purple and green are on other sides of the color spectrum, but I had forgotten how well they go together.”

“Only you’d judge people based on their color pallet,” Alex rolled his eyes, but his voice betrayed how touched he was.

“Do you like them?” Philip asked, eyes shining.

“I love them, Pip,” Alex ruffled his hair.

Thomas offered him his arm and that way Alex could look at his own hand, resting on Thomas’s arm with the ring reflecting the light. As they walked through the rest of the garden, Alex missed most of the flowers by being distracted.

That evening they invited their friends for drinks, when they were all sitting around Eliza spoke up, she had been the one involved, so she knew why this was happening: “So, Alex, any reason for the sudden get together?”

Alex grinned at her: “Well, Betsy, there is actually.”

“Is that so?” Eliza smirked.

“Jup, I got some jewelry today,” Alex told her, holding up his hand to show off the ring.

It was quiet for a second, then everyone seemed to make the connection and there was a wall of noise as everyone congratulated them, asked them how or when, as well as demanded to see the rings.

As Laf held their hands to see and compare the rings, he cried: “These are beautiful, but why wasn’t I told.”

“To be fair, I did think about it, but I was warned against it,” Thomas told him.

“Why!” Laf pouted.

“Because you nearly told John, by bursting out in tears when you saw him,” Eliza cut in, “I had to tell him your pet bird back in France died and he looked like him.”

“Oh, so that’s why he gave me a drawing of a bird,” Laf nodded, then moved on, “Anyway, I have grown, I would have been the perfect wingman in this.”

“I think Philip did a great job,” Thomas disagreed, “Right, kiddo?”

“Yeah, I got it on camera,” Philip said proudly, inviting a new round of chaos as everyone demanded to see.

“Ahw, ‘Lexi, you cried,” Angelica cooed, teasingly.

“I didn’t,” Alex huffed.

Herc looked at the video again and said: “Well, man, it kinda looks like you did.”

“Give me that,” Alex studied it, “No, maybe there was a bit of moist happening, but I feel like that’s more all the pollen in the air. We were in a big garden after all.”

“First of, using moist and grossing everyone out isn’t working,” Peggy said, “Second of, you fucking cried, just admit it.”

“I will agree to teary eyed, but no more,” Alex told her.

“Alright, Mr. Teary Eyed Little Baby Man,” Peggy rolled her eyes.

“Now that’s just plain rude,” Alex pouted.

“No,” James said, from where he had gotten a hold of the recording, “that’s truth, I can see it clearly here in this frame.”

“Gimme,” Lafayette snatched it and snapped a picture of it, “We need to start collecting pictures to show at the wedding.”

“Oh no, you’re all going to be terrible,” Alex whined.

“No, we’re going to be helpful,” Laf corrected.

“I somehow doubt that,” Thomas sided with Alex.

In the end they did have to come back on that. Their friends were absolute champions when it came to wedding planning. Though Thomas and Alex mostly made decisions themselves, the others were all there to give second opinions or double check for them.

They had decided on a late spring/ early summer wedding, so it would take a little less than a year, before they actually got married, but wedding planning took time and Alex took great joy in the word fiance.

Thomas did too, he just didn’t want to admit it.

That summer they arrived in Monticello – as had become tradition – however, instead of the usual greetings, they were met with: “Show us the rings.”

“No, hello, how are you, long time no see, what have you been up to. Of course not, why would they ask about us instead of some shiny pieces of metal,” Thomas grumbled playfully as he and Alex were practically passed around by the family.

Alex just grinned and let them, still amazed by the family he had accumulated.

Thomas had been right back then when he had told Alex that with Ma and Mary on their side everyone was bound to like him too, but Alex had still been nervous each time he met one of Thomas’s siblings. A fear he could now hardly imagine with how comfortable he had gotten in his family, a family he would soon be officially part of.

When he got to Ma, she pulled him into a hug: “I’m so happy for the two of you, son.”

And Alex couldn't do anything, but hug back and say: “Me too, Ma, me too.”

The months came and went and soon they were sending out the wedding invitations out. It was plain white paper, with on the back the date and place as well as the instruction to come dressed in white. While the front bore a poem written in cursive:

let us live like flowers

wild and beautiful

and drenched in sun

e.e.

When the day was there, Alex was stressing in the back of the church, while Thomas was waiting in the front. Alex had offered him the position of walking down the aisle, but Thomas had declined claiming it was too much pressure and that he at least knew what to expect if he got to stand.

Thomas was wearing a beautiful tailored magenta suit made by Hercules as he nervously shifted his weight from foot to foot.

The doors at the back of the church opened and first came the groomsmen and the bridesmaids. All decked out in beautiful white with accents in the colors of the bouquet, as well as flowers in their hair.

It began with Eliza and Maria, after them came James and Angelica, Lafayette and Peggy, Randy and Mary with Herc again roped into the position of flower boy, though he was helped by Kitty and Francie.

Once James, Angie, Laf, Randy and Mary had taken their places behind Thomas and Eliza, Maria Herc and Peggy on Alex’s side, the theme for Alex to walk started to play.

He was given away by Jane, who wore an elegant white 50s style dress, while Alex wore a tightly tailored emerald green suit. His hair was braided with flowers in it matching his bouquet of cluster musk rose, Christmas rose, heliotrope and hawthorn.

From the round window the sun illuminated him and Thomas’s breath caught when he saw him walk. There might have been tears, but that was a whole other thing.

Jane gave his hand to Thomas and smiled at him, before going to take her place in the audience with Kitty and Francie and the rest of the Jefferson clan.

Everyone sat and Washington appeared by Alex and Thomas’s side, ready to ordain them. Before he started Philip came down the aisle carrying the rings. He was dressed in an adorable light blue suit and his hair was tied back with a ribbon in the same color.

After he had given the rings to Washington, he stood next to Alex.

Alex had wanted to make him his best man, but since the best man had to sign as witness and Philip was too small for that, he was the ring bearer and Eliza would sign for Alex and James for Thomas, just like both had done before.

Washington started: “We’re here today to witness the union between Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson. Before this is officiated, they will say theirvows.”

“Thomas, when I first saw you I thought you were incredibly handsome and a gigantic asshole. One of my assessments has been proven entirely incorrect. You are one of the most kindhearted souls, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting,” Alex began.

He went on: “To me you are laughter over dinner, jokes in the hallways at works, a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold like an anchor. You are sparkling eyes with crinkles that paint happiness on your features and a mouth that runs as smart as mine.”

“You know how to argue, but also when to let go,” Alex said, “You keep me on my toes, while knowing I sometimes just need to stand. I claim your arguments are shit and while that can be true, they always make me think and I love that.”

“The way you care for Philip and never asked for more than I could give, made my heart grow so fond of you that I cannot possibly picture a life wherein I do not love you,” he told him, “When I come home and see you there, I feel like I am whole.”

“According to Eliza I can’t force everyone to sit through the hundred pages I had written – even though it’s my wedding – which is rude, so I’ll try to wrap it up,” at that Thomas laughed, he could picture the scenario clearly.

“So, Thomas, you are all the little things that make life great,” Alex said, “No matter what, I want to support you and care for you, because I love you so much that it would hurt if it didn’t feel so right. I love you.”

Both were crying a bit and Alex chocked on the last three words as his hands shook while trying to put the ring on Thomas’s finger.

“Darlin’, you came into my life like a forest fire,” Thomas began, “You burned through all my arguments and notions of the world, like that was what you were meant to do. For a long time I thought you were out of control, but you proved me wrong once again.”

“You see, you’re not a forest fire,” he told Alex, “You’re a bonfire, a hearth in the heart of the home, a central place for family to gather. You make sure to keep the ones you care about warm, to illuminate them and pull them out of the darkness.”

He went on: “I always thought you talked too much, but I now know that for all your words, you know how to listen. Your smile can do as much as your words and you know how far a hug can go. The way you can be so intensely caring for the people you love is breathtaking.”

“I wanted to compare you to a thousand other things, but nothing could fully describe your beauty both within and out, which is incredibly corny, yet completely true,” he chuckled, “Anyway, this is my long winded way of telling you that I love you too.”

Now it was Thomas’s turn to struggle with the ring through the tears while behind them Washington began to speak again: “Alexander Hamilton, do you take Thomas Jefferson to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,‘till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“And Thomas Jefferson, do you take Alexander Hamilton to be your lawfully wedded husband, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish‘till death do you part?”

“I do.”

“Then you may now kiss the groom.”

Neither hesitated to kiss the other lovingly, while beside them the church burst out in cheers and applause.

After they broke apart, they waved at everyone as they walked out of the church, with Philip between them.

Outside they took pictures with everyone, since everyone who had come was decked out in white, the three spots of color stood out all the more.

The time came to do one with the entire family, Alex cried again as both his friends and Thomas’s relatives gathered around them. When he had gotten to America he was all alone and then he had lost part of his family again, but now he was surrounded by almost more people than he could count.

They also took one where Thomas carried Alex bridal style, something Alex and John – being around the same height – had both failed at when they had tried at their wedding. Before Thomas could do it, Alex asked with apprehension: “Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve done this before, it’ll be fine,” Thomas smiled reassuringly, before literally sweeping Alex off his feet. He informed Alex of that fact and got an annoyed look in return, which was beautifully captured and framed by Angelica for on their desks at work.

The Schuyler sister insisted on taking one with Alex, because he was practically their brother anyways.

They took one with the Washingtons and Jane, a picture in which Alex had never felt so short in his entire life.

Herc and Laf, roped Randy and James into taking a picture where they carried the two groomsmen on their shoulders, something that most definitely went almost wrong on multiple occasions.

However, Alex’s favorite picture was the one where he and Thomas held Philip between them and both kissed a cheek, while Philip beamed.

Later he would hang that picture on the mantle between the other two wedding pictures, finally filling the promise that had been in the empty space.

But for now they went to the wedding venue for the reception.

When they were greeting all the guests at the reception, Burr congratulated themwith Theodosia at his side, little Theo had already disappeared with Philip, Kitty and Francie. He shook Alex’s hand: “Congratulations to both of you.”

“What a nice change to see you both here, you were even at the ceremony,” Alex grinned as he also shook Theodosia’s hand. Her smiling and congratulating them both.

“You’re never letting that go, aren’t you?” Burr sighed tiredly.

“Never,” Alex confirmed, “Good to have you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Burr waved as they disappeared into the crowd.

“What’s the story there?” Thomas asked, leaning in.

“I’ll tell you later,” Alex whispered back, before smiling and greeting the next guests.

Once everyone was there Alex and Thomas got to cut the cake. They had both agreed that neither of them would push cake into the other’s face, which meant that both ended up with cake in their face, naturally.

They mingled until dinner, when it was time for everyone’s speeches.

Thomas’s siblings all had rewritten a song from Thomas’s youth to fit the two of them and preformed it badly, but with a lot of love.

“I don’t know them,” Thomas whispered to Alex when they did that, making Alex laugh.

Jane retold embarrassing childhood from Thomas’s youth while Herc and Peggy had put together a PowerPoint of all Alex’s lowest points college and after.

Highlights included him standing on a table in a bar, tie around his head with a group surrounding him from that time he had attempted a revolution.

There was a picture of him surrounded by empty coffee cups, while he was passed out between them, face covered with sharpie.

Him with a cat on his lap, while he looked very displeased. Herc and Peggy took great joy in explaining why the cat had put that look on Alex’s face.

And it ended with the frozen frame of Alex crying – still claiming misty eyed, Pegs – while Thomas proposed to him, obviously they’d had help from Lafayette, but the Frenchman had an entire speech for them, mostly existing out of ‘I told you so’s.’

Washington had a short heartfelt speech about seeing them grow at work together as well as a few army stories about Alex.

Then Angelica stood up to give a speech: “I have to admit that when Thomas fell onto my couch over fouryears ago proclaiming that he couldn't flirt, I could not have predicted that we would be here now. Naturally I rooted for them, but you have to know that Thomas and Alex could be like water and oil at work, or maybe oil and fire would be a better description.”

A few chuckles from colleagues were heard.

“But here we are and I have seen how much you two have grown together,” Angelica went on, “Did I have to bribe and threaten you both to get that information? Maybe, but I did get to know everything.”

Thomas and Alex laughed at that.

“I remember the little humble beginnings, the tentative flirting, the first dates, the panic, the good times,” Angelica said, “And I knew you both for many years before that, I have seen you both happy and sad. And I am not the poetic one here, but I know what love looks like in your eyes and I can see it on both of your faces.”

She raised her glass: “To the grooms.”

The room echoed.

“From you friend, who is always by your side,” she went on, “To your union.”

“To your union.”

“And the family you have build,” she finished, “May you always be content and satisfied.”

She gave them both a kiss on the cheek and ignored they were all crying before she went back to her seat and Philip got to the front.

With Eliza as hypewoman, he walked in the Schuyler sister’s footsteps with a poem he had written and preformed as a rap:

“My name is Philip, I am poet

I wrote this poem just to show it

And I, can speech fine

You can find family, but you can’t find mine!

I practice French and play kite with my father

I have a Papa, and he’s a great fellow robber

My daddies tying the knot on this day, swank

Un, duex, trois, quatre, cinq!”

Everyone cheered and cooed as he ran into Alex’s arms afterwards and made himself at home on their laps as Eliza said a few words: “Alex is the speech writer between us both while I tell him it can’t be too long, so do not expect essays.”

There were chuckles around the room and Alex rolled his eyes, knowing she added that because she knew he would call her out in his vows, which she had proof read for him many times.

“But I did want to say that you’re a fighter,” she looked at Alex, “You always have been and I can see how much you’ve met your match in Thomas. I’m happy for you both.”

Alex hugged her closely and whispered: “God fucking dammit, Betsy, you’re not allowed to make me cry again on my wedding.”

She whispered back: “Like you weren’t already crying, you big baby.”

“Plausible deniability,” he sniffed.

“We’re filming it,” she smirked, before hugging Thomas as well and patting Philip on his head as she went back to her spot next to Maria.

Lastly, James got up to speak: “I am not a man of many words, so I’m keeping it short,” Thomas smirked and nodded at that, “All the times you annoyed me, Thomas, about what to do, have been worth it to see you so happy again.”

Now it was Thomas’s time to get emotional, hugging James tightly and saying: “I knew you cared,” attempting to tease and obviously failing.

“I know, a shocker,” James pretended it had worked.

After that dinner was served and everyone appreciated the dishes set out. While they ate, the whole room was alight with chatter as people talked, laughed and enjoyed themselves.

When the time came to dance, Thomas lead Alex to the tune of Hozier’s Like Real People Do. It was slightly haunting, but they had picked it, because it fit them so well. The song told the story about the singer recognizing the sadness in his lovers eyes and making them forget, focusing on the now.

As they spun, Thomas looked into Alex’s eyes with that crinkled smile and Alex nearly melted into the floor as he faltered as step.

He unknowingly retaliated, when Thomas picked him up and he beamed down. His braid had loosened slightly and a pluck of hair framed his face, while the lights gave him a halo, causing Thomas to nearly drop him.

Since there wasn’t really a father-daughter dance, Alex danced with Martha Washington, while Thomas danced with Jane. And after that, the two of them danced with Philip, the three of them laughing as they attempted it.

Throughout the night Alex danced with all the Schuyler sisters, Lafayette and Herc, while Thomas was whisked away by his own sister as well as Angelica and Lafayette.

At some point Jane took Alex’s hand and made him dance with her. Once they were on the floor, Alex smiled: “Hey, Ma, enjoying the wedding so far?”

“Immensely, sweetheart,” Jane smiled, patting his cheek, before he spun her.

“You’re an amazing dancer,” he commented.

“I’m spry for my age.”

“What age? You look not a day over thirty,” he grinned.

“Charmer,” she smiled, then said, “But I wanted to properly welcome you to the family. You’ve been a part for a long time, but still, today is a big day.”

She stopped dancing and reached into her purse. Out of it she got an old time watch with a leather arm band. As she handed it to Alex, she said: “When Thomas came out as pan to me, I prepared a wedding gift for all genders, just in case. Martha got my grandmother’s necklace, but this was my late husbands watch.”

“I- I don’t know what to say,” Alex stared at it with big eyes, he’d never had a family item.

“Maybe a thank you,” Jane grinned.

“Yeah, of course, thank you so much,” Alex hugged her, and repeated,“Thank you so much, Ma.”

She patted her cheek when he let go and said: “No problem, you’re one of us now and we don’t let go easily.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Alex smiled.

They parted ways again when the song was over and Thomas appeared at his side: “What was that about?”

Alex showed his wrist: “She gave me this.”

Thomas looked at it, then smiled sadly: “I remember that. It suits you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Thomas told him, “I also know that Lafayette and Herc are about to do what they’re calling a classic college trick at the chocolate fountain and I need you to either stop them if it’s bad or help them.”

“Oh, definitely helping,” Alex remembered this one, “Grab your phone and film it. We’ll get them back if they ever get married.”

After an eventful night with enough tomfoolery that they were probably permanently banned to ever rent a venue from that company again, they returned home.

Thomas carried Philip to bed, while Alex put away their wedding gifts. When he was done, he joined Thomas’s in Philip’s threshold.

“He’s still so young,” Thomas commented, “But he looks like when I first met him when he sleeps.”

“That’s already so long ago,” Alex hugged Thomas’s arm, leaning heavily on the other man.

“It seems crazy,” Thomas agreed.

Alex hummed, then they stood there in silence, before Alex asked: “Did you have a good day?”

“Of course, I did,” Thomas replied, then after a beat, “Though I am fucking exhausted after this, why did we invite all those people again? I hate talking to people.”

“Because we wanted to actually fill the church,” Alex grinned, “But you’re right, I could sleep for a week.”

“Well, sleeping beauty, you will have to make do to with,” Thomas checked the time, “five whole hours, then we have to catch a plane.”

“Ah, yes,” Alex said, “Paris is waiting.”

“Along with the future.”

“You fucking sap.”

“Excuse you, that’s your fucking forever sap, Mister.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.”

“Who’s the sap now?”

“Oh, shut up,” Alex said, but didn’t protest when Thomas lead him back to their bedroom. They still had a future waiting for them. ‘Till death to them part, after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N:

Today in I try to write a natural time skip between chapters.

Me describing a scene in a botanical garden with one flower as the end goal along with a whole ass wedding with flowers, is such a struggle lmao, but that’s what I get for making flowers important.

Btw the wedding bouquet means charming (cluster musk rose), relieve my anxiety (Christmas rose), devotion/faithfulness (heliotrope) and hope (hawthorn). Fun fact: I wanted to name this chapter after heliotrope at first, but that felt a bit too cliché.

Also the bit of poetry is from ‘i saw you as a flower’I got the book! It’s so cute and I love it, I’ve never been a poetry person, but I’ve always wanted to be, so here’s to me trying stuff :D

I am never getting married for the sole reason that I do not want to write vows ever again.

Also, the wedding bouquet:

#RR writing #tw: death mention #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #philip hamilton #eliza schuyler #angelica schuyler #lafayette #marquis de lafayette #james maddison #hercules mulligan #washington #everyone kinda lmao #Jamilton #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 13 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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pulledpurplecurtains · 3 years

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all the odd ones for the fic questions pls and thank you pepster

all the odd ones, meaning 1, 3 etc right? oh BOY are we gonna be here for a while (and i love it 🥰)

it’s morning right now so let’s see how long throughout the day this is gonna take me sdfghjk let’s do it!!

1) what was the first fandom you got involved in?

hmmmm. i wanna say harry potter, more than a decade ago? specifically dramione and scorose

3) what is the best fandom you’ve been involved in?

for all that it has given me i have to say bechloe

5) which fandoms have you written fanfiction for?

so far just for bechloe

7) list your NoTPs from each fandom you’ve been in

i’m only gonna list pairs i have strong feelings against and from only the fandoms i’ve been most involved in

harry potter: snape and hermione

frozen: elsa and hans (no but for real. why)

pitch perfect: beca and jessie, chloe and chicago

marvel: hm hm surprisingly nothing comes to mind

the haunting of bly manor: same as for marvel

9) what are the best things about your current fandom?

having a space where i can fully be myself, expressing myself freely through my writing, meeting so many wonderful people, having a previously unexplored side of myself revealed to me, finding and delving into characters that make me feel less alone, and so much more. it’s been a real blessing, having this fandom in my life

11) who is your current OTP?

bechloe

(this was the point where tumblr lost me ALL MY ANSWERS FROM QUESTIONS 13 TO 33 so let’s do this again SHALL WE??? i’ll be saving each answer as we go dear god)

13) any NoTPs?

already answered!

15) is there an obscure ship which you love?

hmm i don’t think so? none that comes to mind at least

17) who was your first OTP and are they still your favorite?

my first OTP, before i even knew what an OTP was, was scorpius and rose from harry potter. it’s not still on top of my OTP list, but always has a special place in my heart

19) is there a ship which you wished you could get behind, but you just don’t feel them?

not really? i mean, there are popular ships that i don’t support, like hermione with bellatrix or natasha with wanda for example. i can see their appeal and i get why people like them. they’re just not for me and i’m okay with that

21) what was the first fanfic you ever wrote?

ah my accidental multi chap baby sdfghjkdfg

All is Fair in Love and War was posted as an one shot, and that was all it was supposed to be. it was my first finished written piece. and then a couple of people in the comments were really nice abt sharing thoughts of where the story could go next and what they’d like to see happen, and they were very enthusiastic abt wanting to see more of that story. so the second chapter was born

sooo one thing led to the other and before i knew it that fic had become an 8 chapter, over 60k words story sdfghjkdf i’m amused and grateful to this day

23) name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of and explain why you like it

how can you ask a mother to pick her favorite of her kids HUH

no but for real, i love all of my stories equally. i’m a perfectionist, so nothing gets posted before it’s perfect in my eyes. plus, all my stories are my babies. each has its flaws and imperfections, each in their own ways. but they’re all beautiful and meaningful to me

what i will say is, i have a particular soft spot for (wondering if you knew) i was enchanted to meet you. i truly think my writing peaked in that story, in all the parallels and tiny but very important things that are in there

25) what’s your most popular fanfic?

based on views and kudos, it’s All is fair in Love and War

ofc that’s a multi chap, so maybe the numbers aren’t exactly equivalent to popularity

my most popular one shot, by a very large margin at that, is (i’ll let you in) and baby, that’s when

27) what do you hate more: coming up with titles or writing summaries?

i honestly love coming up with titles

writing summaries, on the other hand, is the bane of my existence

29) do you have a beta reader? why/why not?

i don’t, and it’s bc i’m literally incapable of taking any kind of critique over anything unfinished. once it’s posted and out in the world it’s fair game; but until then? that’s a big no for me

31) what’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said about your writing?

i honestly can’t answer this question bc every comment is so so special and important to me. i often go back and read them all. even right now while writing this there are so many different comments swirling around in my head. i appreciate and am grateful for all the kind words always 💜

33) do you write one shots, multi chapters, or huge epics?

sdfghjkk definitely not huge epics

i’ve written both of the other two. in the beginning i preferred and wanted to write multi chapters. however nowadays and for the past year or so, i lean more heavily towards one shots

35) do you write drabbles? if so, what do you normally write them about?

i am physically and mentally incapable of writing short things sdfghjkd so no, i don’t write drabbles

37) first person or third person? what do you write in and why?

always third person. idk the idea of first person narration always seemed weird to me. plus, i see my stories as me retelling the events the characters have confided in me. so third person makes sense and it’s also why i use past tense in my stories

39) what is your greatest strength as a writer?

describing and narrating emotions and using metaphors

41) list and link to five fanfics you’re currently reading

my reader’s block has been going strong, so i’m not reading anything currently unfortunately

43) is there anyone in your fandom who really inspires you?

my squirrels 💜

45) what is your all time favorite fanfic?

i have to say Experimentation i just have to

i also love Perdition, what an incredible piece of writing

47) ao3, ff.net or tumblr - where do you prefer to post and why?

definitely ao3, i just love its interface i guess?

49) do you care if people comment on/ reblog your writing? why/why not?

okay so here’s the deal. ofc i care. every artist who shares their work, every creator, cares; at least to a degree. it’s why we share. we want people to see and love and appreciate our work, we want it recognised and celebrated even. we want people to engage with it, show it to their friends, talk abt it, have thoughts abt it. it’s only natural and ofc i’m absolutely no exception

with that said. i’ve always tried to remind myself that kudos/likes are also engagement. that even just reading is engagement. that everyone’s limit or ability for engagement isn’t the same, and that ultimately it’s their choice how or if they’ll engage with my writing. i try to, and i do, value everyone who even just reads my stories. i share something with the world for free and it’s my choice to do and continue to do so. what happens after that isn’t up to me

so yes i do care a lot abt reblogs and comments. they make me very happy, they validate and encourage me. but people have no obligation, in my eyes at least, to engage with my works a specific way. just like i have no specific obligation to provide a certain type of content on set periods of time or with a set limit of words or to continue to provide stories; or literally any other obligation. no one can police my actions and choices up until i’ve posted a story and i can’t police anyone’s actions or choices after i’ve posted it. and that’s the beauty of fandom for me - we’re all here bc we want to and bc it makes us happy, with no expectations or obligations

ending this with an essay seems only suitable sdfghjkd thank you my egg for giving me the opportunity to talk abt myself in such length 😌💜

#ask #snowonebutyou #ask game #i don’t even know if i did this right sdfghj #but i loved it #btw it’s 6:30pm right now lmao

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eidetictelekinetic · 3 years

Text

Fic Interview Meme

Thanks for the tag, @rubickk7 !

How many works do you have on AO3?

I have 115 fics.

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

1,553,954

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3:

The Magicians (TV) (28)

A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin (21)

Inception (2010) (20)

Suits (US TV) (17)

Game of Thrones (TV) (12)

Black Sails (7)

Supernatural (6)

The Avengers (Marvel Movies) (5)

A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms (5)

The Tudors (TV) (3)

The Hobbit - All Media Types (2)

X-Men (Movieverse) (2)

Marvel Cinematic Universe (2)

The Hobbit (Jackson Movies) (2)

Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies) (2)

X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies) (2)

American Gods - Neil Gaiman (1)

Conviction (TV 2006) (1)

16th Century CE RPF (1)

Star Wars Legends - All Media Types (1)

Star Wars - All Media Types (1)

Star Wars Sequel Trilogy (1)

Whitechapel (TV) (1)

Chronicles of Narnia (Movies) (1)

Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett (1)

Here’s the list from my fanfiction.net days (some overlap here):

Song of the Lioness

Star Wars

Stargate: SG-1

Harry Potter

In The Forests of the Night

X-Men: The Movie

Circle of Magic

Doctor Who

House, M.D.

Wicked

Law and Order: SVU

Torchwood

Charmed

Primeval

NCIS

Tudors

Inception

Supernatural

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Lady of Rivers and Storms [ASOIAF]: When Lysa miscarries Petyr's child before anyone learns of her pregnancy, her father negotiates a different marriage for her instead. Married to the second Baratheon son, will the future be any easier for either of them?

In the Middle (Before I Knew I Had Begun) [Suits]: It's an accident, when Mike touches Lyla. But everything follows from there. (Or maybe everything follows from the moment Rhi saw the golden tiger and all she could think was how beautiful she was.)

Skyfall Is Where We Start [ASOIAF]: 'At least Stannis won't laugh at Renly if the boy tries to follow him around when he's a bit older and takes a tumble on the flagstones. It's not much, not much at all, but perhaps it's enough to be going on with.'

Robert never loved his brothers, but this is not a story about Robert. This is about Stannis, and Renly, and glimpses of how they might have been different, had they let themselves love each other as brothers usually do.

Breakin’ Out the Institution [Suits]: “OK, so, before we start, a few things you should know about me. My name’s Mike Ross, not Rick Sorkin. I am a lawyer, I just didn’t go to Harvard. But you should hear me out anyway.”

Where Mike is actually a lawyer, a Brooklyn ADA looking for a change of pace, and gatecrashes Harvey's interviews entirely on purpose.

Lay Me Down (Pockets Full of Stones) [The Magicians]: The world spins, and Quentin doesn’t even feel his knees buckle, or how his head hits the wall on the way down. All he knows is the fall into the quiet dark.

In which Quentin survives the events of 4.13 by taking such bad care of himself he never actually makes it to the Mirror Realm. Also in which everyone loses him for a day, and Eliot is Not Happy about this.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yeah; I like getting responses to my comments so I do my best to reply to comments I get.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I had to go back to fanfiction.net for this because I never crossposted these to AO3, but Kiss My Eyes for The Tudors. It was Anne of Cleves/Cromwell, which was tragic mostly because it was historically compliant so a deathfic. Honorable mention, same fandom, was And In That Hour, Charles Brandon/Margaret Tudor and Charles Brandon/Henry VIII, unrequited love for the latter.

Fun fact about the latter, it was the first m/m fic I ever wrote; the deal was I’d write a slash fic if one of my forum friends did a femslash one.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Ha. Hahahahahaha. So, back when I was 17-18 I was working on a verse titled A Moment To Be Real, and it was a crossover verse that, taking all the relevant fics into account, included Charmed, Primeval, the Whoniverse, and NCIS in major capacities. In more minor capacities, the plans for the verse also included Fringe, Supernatural, Stargate SG1/Atlantis, and Warehouse 13. Oh, and there were two main timelines and two minor ones the stories spent time in. Heh. Yeah, that was a thing, yes it was way too big a project and I didn’t finish it, but I truly think that working to juggle all that was very helpful to my later work.

I don’t write a lot of major crossovers anymore, but I tend to just... live in the idea that certain canons can feasibly coexist so when I can do little crossover cameos I like to do them. One recent exception is return to the sunlit lands, which is a Magicians/Narnia crossover.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not recently; a long time ago back on ff.net, I left a comment that was misunderstood as hate (I said something was bad, meaning the characters’ situation, but the author thought I meant her writing) and the author of that fic responded in kind. Once I clarified, they were nicer in a subsequent review. I’ve been very lucky in that regard; I’ve had friends who have had to deal with a lot of drama in that sense.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I didn’t for a long time, but recently I’ve begun to! So far, it’s been m/m and f/f, though there was an intentionally-vague m/m/f scene and I’m... currently avoiding writing a more detailed one because I’m nervous as hell about it, lol.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, actually! Two of my older ASOIAF fics, All the Traveled Roads and I Will Not Fall, I Will Not Break have translations, which is just really neat to me.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

About ten years ago I was working on a joint project about modern day Tudors; never did get posted, alas. I’m not sure I’d be very well suited to co-writing a single story; co-writing a verse where different authors do different stories might work, though.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

God, I have no idea, but I still and always have strong feelings about Sam/Jack from Stargate SG1, so let’s go with that for longevity?

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

A Moment To Be Real, actually; it’s not so much that I want to finish it as that I know I won’t and I regret it. I have another verse that I probably won’t finish but one of these days I’ll at least post an outline of where I saw it going so that there will be some degree of closure. Pretty much every other fic has at least a faint chance I might go back to it, or I genuinely don’t want to.

What are your writing strengths?

Worldbuilding and handling the moving pieces of a canon divergent AU. I’ve also been told I’m pretty good with ensembles.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes, which is unfortunate when I find myself definitely needing to write a battle, and I suspect is part of my smut hang-ups too.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I have done it occasionally, but honestly I feel it’s usually easier to italicize English dialogue and put the other language in the narration - I think it’s probably easier to read, too.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Stargate SG1

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I couldn’t possibly pick one, really.

Tagging @theemightypen @cosmonauthill @jayneladybright @ofthedirewolves @portraitofemmy @nellie-elizabeth @mihrsuri

#kate writes fic #this took a while!

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chaosqueery · 4 years

Text

Title: The Great Train Escape

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,765

Characters/Ships: Louise Belcher/ Rudolph “Regular Sized Rudy” Steiblitz

Description: When Louise hears that Rudy's father is still making him spend his Saturdays in the Juice Caboose, she decides to do something about it.

Alternative Links: (AO3)

A/N: This idea came to me after watching both 'My Girl' and 'Bridge to Terabithia' within a relatively short time of each other. But don't worry. Both make it out alive just fine in this.

Rudy sat on the hard floor of his Saturday morning cell, the juice caboose, lonely and without any proper stimulation. Every week, he tried to put a positive spin on it. At least he got all the juice he could possibly want, right? Plus, it was a nice time to get his weekend homework done, while nearly all the other kids in his class waited until Sunday night and had to rush to finish. So, yeah. He could still manage a smile and maintain his politeness when boarding the train.

At the moment, however, he couldn’t be any more bored.

Rudy emptied the last bit of grape juice from its box and threw it at the wastebasket. When he missed, he let out a small groan, walked the few steps it took to grab the empty box, returned to his spot, and tried again. He repeated it a few more times, never making a basket until he saw something fly past the corner of his eye.

Interest peaked, he turned to investigate and found a paper airplane had landed on the floor. He was almost too excited for the break-in his monotonous trek around the lake, he hurried toward the plane, and unfolded it. A hastily written message was scrawled out on the page reading: ‘Prison break! Go to the window. -LB’

His breathing labored a bit with excitement, so after taking a puff off his inhaler he rushed over to the open window and saw his best friend, Louise, riding her bike alongside the train.

“Louise!” He called out happily. “What are you doing?”

“Ugh! Didn’t you read the note? I am busting you out of there!”

“But I don’t have anything to climb down with.”

“I got you covered, buddy.” She takes one hand off the handlebars of her bike and shrugs off her backpack. “Move your head away from the window!” Louise ordered, preparing to throw the bag.

Rudy did as he was told and a moment later the backpack flew in through the window on her first try. Damn. Her aim was most certainly better than his. He opened the bag and wound up pulling out a long rope ladder.

“You got it?” He heard Louise yell.

“Yeah!”

“Then hook it on the bottom of the window and climb down!”

Rudy was about to follow her instructions when something suddenly occurred to him. “Hold on a minute!” Rudy rushed out of the bathroom and grabbed his own backpack. He then ripped out a clean sheet of paper from one of his notebooks, wrote a quick note, then placed it on the floor where it could easily be found.

Ready to go, Rudy went back over to the window, hooked the metal part of the ladder over the bottom edge, and threw the rest of it over to dangle outside. He then gripped tightly onto the rope and climbed out of the window. He tried to take one step at a time as gracefully as he could, but the swaying of the ladder made it hard. Thankfully he managed to finally make it to the bottom and stepped off.

“So you can climb down a ladder out of a moving train, but can’t climb off a bunk bed without breaking your arm?” Louise asked when she stopped her bike next to him and planted her feet on the ground.

“Yeah, well…” He scratched the back of his head, not really having an explanation for it.

“What took you so long anyway?”

“I had to leave a note for Ethan saying I was okay and that I’d be back.”

“Oh, crap.”Louise face-palmed. “I don’t know how I forgot about him. Will he get you in trouble?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s been super nice to me ever since the last time you were here. I think he feels a lot of remorse for what he did to Bean Bag.” Rudy frowned at the thought of his poor old friend who was torn apart. “What made you want to come to bust me out anyway?”

Louise shrugged casually. Really, she felt bad when he told her the other day that his father still dragged him on these wine train trips and had to spend a significant amount of his Saturday alone with nothing to do. She wouldn’t care if it were anyone else. But Rudy was always so nice about everything and rarely ever complained. His weekends should be better than this. Louise, however, was not about to reveal the soft spot she had for him. “Today was one of the few Saturdays I have off from working at the restaurant while Tina and Gene don’t. I got bored, thought I’d spring ya. No big deal.”

“Well, thanks for thinking of me! I don’t know how many more times I can go around Lake Waste Water without losing it.” He said gratefully.

Louise got off her bike and grabbed Rudy by the wrist to look at his watch. “Looks like we have about two and a half hours to get you back. What do you want to do?”

“Anything! I’m up for just about anything.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Hey, Louise! Look what I can do!” Rudy called for his friend’s attention from a low branch of the tree they were climbing. When she directed her attention to the boy about 15 feet closer to the ground than her, she saw him shift his weight and fall backward, dangling from the branch by his legs.

“Neat.” She commented, not really that impressed. Dangling was the easy part. “Just don’t crack your head open.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” He sounded a little less sure of himself now that he didn’t quite know how to pull himself back up. “But everything looks pretty cool upside-down. You should try it!”

“It’s cooler up here, Rudy. You should focus on getting right-side-up again and get up here.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” He swung back and forth, trying to gather enough momentum to pull himself back up. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t manage it. “Uhhhh, Louise?”

She let out a groan. “You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

Louise groaned again, this time longer and more frustrated. Partly because he needed help, but mostly because she found herself willing to give it. “Fine. Just hang tight.”

“I’m hanging on as tightly as I can!”

The strain in his voice urged Louise to move faster as she descended down the tree, fearing he would fall and seriously injure himself. That’s all that kid needed. Thankfully she had climbed enough trees to be sure-footed going down. When she eventually reached the branch he was hanging on, she extended her hand to grab one of his and hoisted him back up.

“Woah, head rush.” he breathed out as he wiggled on the branch to right himself. “Thanks, pal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get gross on me.” She said, rejecting the idea of a moment too mushy for her liking. It wasn’t much of anything, but she had a badass reputation to protect here! With how sweet she knows Rudy can be, she had to stop it before it started. “Now come on. We gotta get to the top.”

Rudy looked up the trunk of the tree and realized there is quite a far way yet to go. “Uh-well… okay, I guess.” His voice sounded a little unsure.

“Just stick close by. I’ll even slow down for you.” She stuck true to her word, stopping at every branch to wait for him to catch up. She even held in a groan when he needed to take a break for another puff on his inhaler. Slowly and surely, they finally climbed their way to the top.

Rudy pushed back some of the smaller branches in their way. When he caught sight of all that was around them, his mouth dropped open. It wasn’t that marvelous a sight, Louise thought. She could see the expanse of treetops that surrounded them, the lake, The Warf- nothing you couldn’t see from the top of the Ferris Wheel. There weren’t any people on the ground she could get excited to be towering over and mock. Really, all she appreciated was the accomplishment. She knew that Rudy did too, which is what made her so determined to make sure he did it. Her friend deserved more experiences like this. So when she saw the look of joyous wonder on his face, Louise had to turn her head to hide a smile.

They sat there for a while, Rudy excitedly pointing to all the cool things he could see, but eventually, Louise realized it had been a while since they left the train. Quickly, she grabbed Rudy’s wrist again to check the time. “Crap! We need to go now if you are going to make it back in time.”

“Aw, really?”

“Yes, really! You took too long climbing.” She grumbled, already starting to make her way back down.

~*~*~*~*~

“That was fun, but I’m sorry for being such a slowpoke.” Rudy apologized when they made it back to the train tracks.

“Stop being such a push-over, Rudes. It’s not like I was expecting Spiderman anyway.”

He gave a chuckle and shrugged. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“It was still a good time,” Louise assured him, nonchalantly. Then she gave him a punch on the arm that was meant to be friendly but wound up being a little too hard. Thankfully, he knew her and where it was coming from. “Maybe next time we can build a fort or something instead.”

“Next time?” The hopefulness to his voice was unmistakable.

“Uh-yeah. Sure. If I am confronted with another boring-ass day, I could make it out again.” Louise took a few extra seconds getting situated on her bike, afraid to see a look of disappointment on his face over her lack of enthusiasm. She couldn’t let herself show that she was honestly excited about the idea of more of these adventures. Not unless she was willing to reveal the fact that she enjoyed her time with more than she did with most people (the only exceptions being her family). When she finally looked at him, however, he looked as pleased as ever.

Her heart melted -just a tiny itsy bit- and she kind of hated him for it. Her hand was twitching to slap him across the face, but she didn’t. Instead, Louise brushed it off as much as she could and turned the conversation toward the train starting to pass.

“Alright, here’s your ride. You think you can grab hold of the ladder?”

Rudy put up his hands and shifted his weight from foot to foot, readying himself. “I got this!” They waited while each compartment passed, and when the Juice Caboose neared, he started to count off. “One, for the money. Two, for the show. Three, to-”’

“RUDY JUST JUMP!” Louise yelled, cutting him off before he missed it.

He did as he was told and leaped with all his might toward the back of the train and landed with an ‘oomf!’ on the small platform. After a short breath of relief, he moved to grab the ladder and climbed it as awkwardly as he had climbed down. But he was alive-at least he was alive. ‘I’d like to see Spiderman do that’

“Yes! You did it!” He heard Louise cheer.

Once he was able to crawl back into the train, he grabbed her backpack and returned to the window so he could roll up the ladder and stuff it back into her bag. He then tossed it out to her, and she brought her bike to a halt to pick it up.

“Thanks for breaking me out! See you at school!” He called out with a wave.

“Yeah, see ya, buddy!” She waved back as watched him ride off ahead of her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: I am CONSIDERING making this into a series. But, as always, I can't promise anything.

Anyway, any like, reblogs, or comments are greatly appreciated!!!

#louwheeze #louise belcher #regular-sized rudy #rudy steiblitz #bob's burgers #fanfic #roudise #rouise

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 4 years

Photo

The Love Cruise - by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Tagging: @stahlop @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Chapter 2: On Your Feet for the Captain

Killian stood at the base of the plank staring up at the large ship he was about to board. He marveled to think that he, Killian Jones, was about to Captain such a large vessel.

“Can I help you?” Killian turned to his left and down at the short girl staring up at him.

“Sorry, Lass, just admiring the view. She’s a beauty.” He gestured toward the ship in front of them.

“She’s a game changer.” The woman marveled. “State of the art medical equipment. Best in her class.”

“Aye, so I’ve been told, do you work in the Medical center?”

“I do. Name’s Tink Bell.” She announced with an enthusiastic smile. “Are you working on the ship?”

“Aye, I’m her Captain.” He nodded to the girl and looked back up at the massive ship. “It’s nice meeting you, Lady Bell.”

“The girls are gonna get a kick out of you.” She mused, staring at him adoringly before she headed up the plank.

“A goddamned love cruise.” He groaned and mumbled to himself as he followed her up the plank.

“Welcome aboard Captain.” The man greeted him at the end of the gang plank.

“Thank you, can you direct me to my quarters? I’d like to drop off my things before I head to the bridge.”

“Certainly, sir, follow me.”

Killian followed the man through the narrow hallways, his hands lightly teasing the walls as he examined every nook and cranny of his new lover. When he was left alone in his quarters, he stood on his balcony, inhaling the smell of the sea. “Ok girl, I promise to take care of you, if you take care of me.” There was a knock on the door.

Opening the door revealed a man in a white uniform. “Good afternoon, Captain, they are ready to provide the brief on the bridge.”

“Thank you, I’ll be up there in a minute.” The man left him alone and Killian changed in silence into his uniform. Checking his reflection in the mirror, he exhaled and headed to the bridge. He loved the quietness of the ship only the crew on board before allowing passengers to board, he passed many of his crew members, nodding as they strolled by him along the way.

As approached the bridge, he whispered under his breath. “Ok Jones, get your shit together.”

“On your feet for the Captain.”

His chest puffed as he entered the bridge. He had to admit, he felt like a schoolkid walking into the room. Listening to his First Mate, Smee, walk through procedures was almost like a drug to him. When the report was done, he made his way through the ship, introducing himself to each member of the crew he met. When he made it to the atrium, he spotted Robin standing at his desk.

“Well, we made it.” He remarked. “Ready to witness all the debauchery and indecency my heart can handle.”

“Captain Jones, these next two weeks will be a defining moment of our lives.” Robin proclaimed, holding his hand to his heart.

“If I survive the next two weeks, that may be my defining moment.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Killian turned toward the angry voice, seeing Regina Mills making a beeline toward them. “Why are you here?” She glared at Robin.

“Hello, M’Lady, we meet again. You are still as ravishing as the last time I saw you.” Killian rolled his eyes; his friend was really laying it on thick.

“Don’t M’Lady me, why are you here?”

“I work here.” He announced proudly. “Looks like you and I will have plenty of time to get to know each other finally.”

She scoffed, “Not on your life, it’s a big ship, just steer clear of me.” She turned to face Killian. “I see he brought his whipping boy with him. Whatever did they hire you two to do? Cook, entertainer,” She turned with disgust at Robin. “Janitor.” She said looking down her nose at him.

“You might want to offer a bit more respect to your Captain.” Robin said with a shrug.

“You?” She said in horror.

“That would be me.” Killian interjected, holding out his hand. “Captain Jones. I don’t think we’ve officially met, last time I came in right about the time the liquid started flying.”

She paled slightly. “I hope you have better manners than this one.”

“Aye, I’ll ensure he behaves this time, Ms. Mills.”

“See that you do.” She added before stomping away.

“Maybe this is going to be more fun that I thought.” He mused as Robin’s eyes followed her adoringly until she rounded the corner and disappeared.

~*~

“So, you’ll be here when I get back from camp?”

Emma looked over at her son’s face, his small round features staring at her expectedly. “Of course, sweetie, I’ll be home before you even get back from camp.”

“Good because I want to tell you all about it when I get home.”

“And you know how much I love when you give me all the details.”

“And the ship won’t sink right?”

“Henry, we’ve talked about this, the ship won’t sink. People go on cruises all the time.”

“I just want you to come home to me.”

“I will always come home to you, Henry.”

“I love you mom.”

“I love you too, Peanut.”

Emma dropped Henry off at Granny’s, kissing him on the forehead and getting in a cab on her way to The Wooden Nickle to meet with the rest of her group.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up.” August teased her as she entered the bar.

“Well, you know me, I’m not one to skip out on a challenge.” She shrugged, “Besides, I’m just going to have fun with my friends.”

“I’m happy you agreed to do this.” He said honestly. “You deserve to be happy.”

“I am happy, August.”

“So, you’ve said.” He said simply as Ruby and Will came stumbling into the bar, their hands full of luggage.

“My God, it’s two weeks, not two months.” August teased.

“You can’t limit me to one outfit a day. There are going to be men I have never met on this ship; they haven’t seen all my outfits.” Ruby complained with a pout.

“Explain that to the bloody person who has to carry all this garbage.” Will dropped the bag from his hands onto the ground.

Behind them David walked in the door with his suitcase, staring at the array of bags at Will’s feet. “I thought we were only going for two weeks?”

~*~

Killian read through his checklist from his seat on the bridge. He glanced at his watch; they would be boarding passengers in the next 30 minutes. He felt the familiar flutter of butterflies as he called out items from his list to confirm they were ready to sail. He was excited and nervous to Captain such a large vessel. The sea was the place that he felt the most at peace.

Perhaps that is why he moved into a houseboat after Milah’s death, despite the protests from his brother and Robin.

He couldn’t imagine sleeping in the bed they shared with her no longer there. He also couldn’t sleep there without waking up in a cold sweat remembering the night the phone rang, an unfamiliar person offering him condolences. His wife gone in an instant from an aneurism. There were no goodbyes, no last kiss, she was just gone in a single heartbeat.

But he had to admit that he wouldn’t miss his bed on the houseboat either. Robin had been honest about the size of his quarters on the ship. Perhaps the next 3 months at sea would be a good change for him, a chance to get his head right.

“Sir, passengers are boarding now.”

“Thank you, First Officer Smee, let’s run through the rest of the checklist.”

~*~

“Name and Identification please.” The portly woman standing behind the counter of the cruise ship terminal stood waiting for their documents as they checked in.

“Ruby Lucas.” She announced, handing over her ID.

“Emma Nolan.” Emma passed the ID to the woman.

“I can’t believe we are about to get on that for the next two weeks.” Ruby stared up toward the ship and Emma had to admit it was quite impressive standing below the immaculate ship.

“I hope I don’t get seasick. Do you think I should take my Dramamine now?”

“The worst of it should only last for the first 48 hours.” The lady behind the desk offered. “But I would take it before you get on board. It can be quite disorienting at first.”

Emma dug in her bag, popping the pills into her mouth, and swallowing with the last gulp of her water bottle.

“Alright ladies, you are all set. Here are your cruise ID’s, these will open the door to your room so don’t lose them.”

They finished signing their documents and met up with the boys who had all checked in before them.

“How come you get your own room?” Will was whining as they joined the group.

“Because I paid for this whole trip.” August shrugged and Will winced.

“Works for me, I guess we’re roomies Mate.” Will patted David on the shoulder.

~*~

“Oh my God, look at this room.” Ruby threw herself down on the bed as soon as they entered their room.

“Wow, August must have paid a pretty penny for this.” Emma was astounded at the room, complete with a small sitting area and large balcony.

“This is going to be the best two weeks ever.”

While Emma was nervous about being away from Henry for so long, she knew she would have been away from him at home while he was at camp anyway. At least this way she could distract herself and she had to admit, being on board this luxurious ship was not a bad way to do it.

There was a knock on their door and Ruby jumped up to answer it. “Hello Beautiful.” Will was leaning in their door frame, he was wearing the most ridiculous looking button-down shirt, covered in palm trees and flamingos.

“What are you wearing?”

“It’s my vacation look, like it?” He modeled his shirt, walking through their room and spinning quickly as he got to the other end. “My shorts are khaki.” He ran his hand down his shorts and back up to his shirt. “And this, is the money maker.” He flipped the collar up on his shirt. “Now, which one of you ladies is escorting me to tonight’s launch party on the Lido deck?” He looked between them.

Emma jumped up from the bed and wrapped her arms around Will’s neck, planting her lips on his cheek. “My hero.” She giggled. “Find your own, Rubes, this one’s mine.”

“You heard the lady.” Will said proudly.

“I’m just going to change really quick. Are we meeting you guys up there?”

“Aye, we are heading up in a minute, your brother takes a long time to get ready. Are you aware of that?”

Emma snorted loudly. “Try growing up with him. That hair, right?”

“Bloody hell, he’s worse than a woman with that. I left him fluffing it in the bathroom. I was feeling less like a man the longer he took. No wonder he’s single, eh?” He shut the door behind him, and Emma and Ruby quickly changed into their sundresses for the party.

Once they were ready to leave, they hooked their arms together and found their way to the Lido deck. “My God look at all the fresh meat.” Ruby marveled as Emma felt her anxiety increase at the number of men and women gathered on the deck, many already coupling and pairing up for the evening.

As soon as she saw Will standing by the railing, she ran to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. “There’s my date.” She giggled, holding on to him like a life vest.

“Hello, love. Are you ready to set sail?”

“Ready for the adventure of a lifetime.” She jumped when a loud horn blared on deck signaling the ship being ready to push away from the dock.

She felt an arm around her shoulder and looked over to see her brother, smiling brightly. “You look happy.” She chuckled.

“We are on the ocean, wind in our hair, our whole future in front of us, what’s not to be happy about?”

“Well, Will says it took you an hour to do your hair, you sure you’re excited about the whole wind scenario?”

“You aren’t going to ruin my mood with your negativity, sis.”

“Will, I’m pretty sure that girl is checking you out.” Emma turned to seek out the woman that Ruby was pointing out to Will. A few groups away was a short, brunette, smiling in his direction.

“Bloody hell, I’m not a piece of meat. Where’s my girlfriend?” He turned, dragging Emma back to his side and wrapping a protective arm around her neck.

“She’s cute.” Emma whispered.

“Hey, I thought you were on my side?” He whined.

“Where did David go?” She asked, looking around.

“He’s talking to that girl over there.” Emma swung around and located her brother, standing by the bar, laughing with a short haired woman.

“That was quick.”

“Always the charmer.” Will added.

David came back toward the group with a bucket full of beer. He passed one to each of the group. “Already meeting people?” Emma inquired.

“Sorry?”

“Don’t act innocent, I know what the David Nolan flirt looks like.” She flipped her hair and laughed, her head tilting back as she exhaled.

“Whatever, she tried to steal my beer, so I introduced myself.”

“A thief, those are the worst kind.” Will scowled.

“Well, it was a misunderstanding, so it was all good.”

“What’s her name?” August asked stepping into the conversation.

“Mary Margaret. She’s actually friends with the woman who’s been eye fucking Will.”

“Shit, she has spies already.” He reached out, grabbing Emma by the hand.

“Must be really hard to be you, William.” Emma teased.

“It’s the worst.” He groaned.

~*~

“Let’s take her out, Smee.” Killian announced with an adventurous smirk, guiding the ship out of the dock and into the open seas. The feel of the ship shuddering beneath his feet, the controls in his hand as he turned her toward the ocean was exhilarating and brought him back to the time Liam let him take the helm of the Battleship during their time in the Navy. The sea was an intoxicating mistress and one that he would love for his entire life.

A few hours later after the ship was full speed ahead in the open waters, Killian excused himself from the bridge and made his way back to his quarters.

“Jones, I was just coming up to see you.” He turned to see Robin approaching his room.

“I see you are still alive, so Ms. Mills has not made you walk the plank yet.”

“I’m about to go check her out. She’s giving her ‘Welcome Aboard’ speech on the Lido deck right now. Thought I’d go give her a hand.”

“One that she will most likely break.” He laughed as Robin ignored his comment.

“You coming?”

“To the launch party? I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Mate. It’s your first night as the Captain of this beautiful vessel, don’t you want everyone to greet and fall in love with Captain Jones?”

“That is my exact fear.”

“Fine, but you will have to show yourself eventually around the decks. Passengers always have questions for the Captain. At least put on some civvies and head up top to watch the sunset tonight.” Robin left him in the hallway, mulling over his options for the evening.

~*~

“And again, I want to welcome you all aboard The Love Cruise, may our home be yours for the next two weeks.”

The dark-haired woman was giving a speech about all the fun they were about to embark on, but all Emma could focus on was the claustrophobic feeling of being surrounded from all sides. “I’m just gonna get some air.” She yelled into Will’s ear.

“Beer? Yes, I’ll take one.” He yelled back. Emma nodded and then pushed her way through the crowd. Perhaps a drink wasn’t a bad idea.

“What’s the drink of the day?” She asked the bartender as she approached, happy to be away from the large crowd behind her.

“Pineapple margarita.” He held up the large pineapple, “Comes in a pineapple.”

She laughed. “Who could say no to that?” She handed over her ID card and turned to watch as the crowd was whipped into a frenzy, the cruise director and another man hyping the crowd as the music started to blare through the speakers.

“Here you go Miss.”

She took the large pineapple, complete with umbrella and flower and walked further down the deck toward the front of the ship, away from the crowd and noise. The drink was ridiculously over the top, but she reminded herself that she was on an over-the-top cruise where singles came to meet up and perhaps an adult drink in a large fruit wasn’t that ridiculous after all.

She sipped her drink as she leaned over the rail, watching the water in the ships wake ripple in the last light left before the sun dipped below the ocean’s view.

“I hope you have no plans to jump, I’m a fairly good swimmer but the water is quite cold.”

Emma flinched and turned to the offending intruder when her heart caught in her throat. Standing before her was the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. The waning sun shimmered in the dark strands of his hair, his blue eyes reflecting like pools of bright light staring back at her.

Oh my God Emma, say something!

“No plans currently at the moment but I’m reserving my right to jump later.��

“Well then I guess you’ll have to alert me when the time comes so that someone will be there to fetch you.”

His voice was smooth and addicting and she was conflicted on being annoyed that he was interrupting her private moment but also trying to come up with an excuse to get him to continue speaking to her with his incredibly sexy accent.

Stop it.

She realized he was still looking at her and suddenly she didn’t know how long she had been standing there in silence looking like a cat that swallowed a canary. She did the only thing she could do and started laughing. However, she was sure if that was not an improvement on the silence or if she suddenly just turned into a crazy person laughing for no reason.

As if recognizing her inner turmoil, he leaned against the rail beside her and spoke again. “This is my favorite part of the ship.”

“The rail?”

What the fuck, Emma. Why would she say that?

He chuckled, “The bow of the ship. Looking out at the ocean, seeing where she’s taking you, no other feeling like it.”

“You aren’t about to expose some weird kink to me and ask me to pose like they did on the titanic or anything, right?”

He scrunched his nose, “That’s a kink? Perhaps I don’t understand that word as well as I thought I did.”

She couldn’t stop the snort from escaping her and quickly cupped her mouth.

“So, tell me love, why are you not at the party with all the other desperate singles?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was blackmailed into coming on this cruise?”

It was his turn to laugh loudly and she immediately noticed the adorable way his eyes crinkled when he did.

“Blackmailed? Well, that is scandalous.”

“I could ask you the same, unless you were stalking me and followed me back here to get me alone?”

“I can assure you, there was no nefarious plot besides wanting to get away from the crowd, the same as yourself.”

“Blackmailed as well?” She joked.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“My friends mean well, but I’m just not, into this.” She looked around at the boat, and back toward the crowd of people dancing.

“Aye, I suppose I’ve never been a fan of the smell of desperation, honestly.”

She found herself laughing again, something he seemed to be very good at eliciting from her. “I should get back to my friends before they send out a search party or think I’ve hooked up with someone and ask for a million details.”

He nodded to her as she pushed off the rail. “Might I ask for your name?” He paused, “In case you are in need of assistance when you throw yourself overboard in the future.”

She bit her lip, staring at him in the moonlight. It can’t hurt to give him your name, it’s not like you’re going to run into him again on this giant ship. “It’s Emma. Emma Swan.” She stated quickly, hoping if he was a stalker that giving him her nickname instead of her last name would slow him down in finding her again.

“Nice to meet you, Emma.”

She turned, walking quickly back towards her friends. When she found them, Will was looking around nervously. “Oi, I thought you dumped me already.” He put his arm back around her shoulder and she leaned against him, swaying to the music as they listened to a band performing on the stage under the stars. “Hey, where’s my beer?”

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