#I hope their relationship will get fleshed out a bit more in Shadow of the Erdtree

[warriordragonart]

I find the connection of Miquella likely being Torrent’s former owner - the Spirit Calling Bell being entrusted to Ranni by Torrent’s former owner - Miquella being depicted alongside three wolves in a statue - and Ranni having the Lone Wolf Spirit ashes to be really interesting so here’s a dubiously canon compliant headcanon based on that!

[a-hound-will-die-for-you]

Pride and Jealousy

Masterlist

Summary: Sandor has serious self-esteem issues. He insanely jealous and possessive of anyone who gets close to you. After a huge argument, things between you two go cold as ice; but Sandor’s not ready to let you go. He will fight for you. Even if it means doing the one thing he swore he’d never do. [Reader's POV!] Word count: 5600 Notes: highborn lady f!reader x Sandor Clegane; preestablished relationship; huge argument; jealousy; possessiveness; a bit of rough treatment; Ser Loras is kind to you; you're angry and hurt - but Sandor will fix it. English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes I might make. Constructive feedback is welcomed, I am here to share and learn <3 Dedicated to @mrsrincewind for their incredible art about Sandor <3.

You barely had time to brace your hands against the mattress. Your chin sank into the silk pillow as a rough hand seized your hair, shoving you mercilessly down against the bed.

“Sandor, he didn’t touch me!” your voice sounded muffled by the fine sheets. Above you, the towering form of the King's shield loomed large over your helpless body.

“He laid hands on your waist,” he growled, and his knees sunk deep into the mattress on either side of your bare thighs. You twisted and kicked backward as his free hand pushed your skirts higher.

“He was taking my measurements!” 

The man's arm snaked around your middle and hauled you up so that your knees were left dangling in the air. The motion only stoked your fury. You tried to drive your heels into him. As if you could hope to harm one of the deadliest men in the Seven Kingdoms. But the dark figure pinned you more firmly to the four-post bed and let out a mocking, cruel laugh. 

“Let’s settle this like we always do, woman. By bloody fucking.”

That was your bond with Sandor Clegane.

Raw, primal, and savage.

A connection forged not in silk or songs, but in need and flesh, far beyond conventions and the traditional forms of courtship. No honeyed words, no pleasantries to soften the edge. What existed between you neither of you had yet named. But it burned.

In a court full of schemers, Sandor had become your loyal fighting dog. A strong and steadfast ally who sought pleasure in the shadows of your chamber whenever his duties afforded him a respite. But for all that he was fierce and deadly, he was just as damned insecure when it came to you. The man hated himself more than anything else in the world, and that festering self-loathing convinced him that he was unworthy of your attentions.

You had lain together more times than you could count, yet every time he walked away from your door, the shadow of the thought that it might have been the last time he held you in his arms, tormented him.

Ironically, that self-contempt never drove him to step back and set you free.

Gods, no.

You were the best thing that had ever happened to him in all his wretched life, and the fear of losing you terrified him more than burning in the fires of the Seven Hells. For all of that, he had become fiercely possessive and aggressively hostile toward any man who dared to come near you.

Of course, you were well aware of it.

You had confronted him about it on several occasions. But instead of the situation improving, it had only worsened. And there were many men now with broken ribs and noses, all for nothing more than offering their hand to help you down from a carriage.

That very afternoon, the court’s new tailor had come to your chambers to take your measurements for a new gown. Hours later, word reached you that the poor man had been found beaten in an alleyway. Three molars was he seen to spit out.

It was intolerable. 

When Sandor came to your room later that evening, you raised your voice before he even stepped past the threshold. You would not endure another outburst of savage jealousy, no matter if he was the king’s dog.

The argument was fierce. One more among the countless ones you'd already had over the same matter.

He did not yield to your shouting. Gruff and scornful, he flung back every reproach with twice the venom. Both of you said things you regretted the moment they left your mouths. And then, in an attempt to end the quarrel and set things right, Sandor resorted to what always worked for you both.

He lifted your body mid-sentence, cutting you off in the roughest way and tossing you unceremoniously onto the bed.

You both enjoyed the fantasy of the helpless maiden being forced by a warrior. Every time, Sandor would ravage you with the fury of a charging beast, claiming every inch of you while the intense pleasure drowned your reproaches in gasps and moans.

But tonight, you weren’t having it.

As you kept fighting and begging him to release you, the hand gripping your head released you to shift behind your back. The metallic clinking you knew all too well told you he was unbuckling his belt. You kicked harder, striking his thigh. The attack only earned you another coarse laugh and a harsher grip on your hips.

“That’s it, woman,” came his vicious voice from above, “give me an excuse to get rough.”

Furious and with a fire rising uncontrollably in your chest, you screamed and braced your hands on the mattress, shoving hard to twist beneath him. So much rage must have poured from your throat that the man, startled, eased his weight for you to turn onto your back. You pushed up onto your elbows, and your hand shot upward in a wide arc aimed at his scarred cheek. The man caught your wrist with the swiftness of a wolfhound, stopping you just an inch from his face.

You had never reached this point before.

Something shattered between you.

You both were breathing hard from the surge of adrenaline. Your lips parted and trembled. In his eyes burned a storm of fury and endless sorrow in equal measure. He released your wrist roughly and tilted his burned chin upward.

“Go on. Slap me if that’s what you want,” he whispered hoarsely, offering you that terrible, ruined face.

You stared at him with a glacial glare, but the words you spoke next were colder still.

“Get out. If you cannot master yourself… if you cannot do it for me and set aside your pride over this, then do not come back to me,” your heart thundered against your ribs as though the Smith himself were trying to shatter your ribcage from within.

Sandor’s dark eyes dimmed in an instant. He gave you the emptiest, deadest look as he straightened up. The space that opened between your body and his burned like a wound. He didn’t speak another word. Only fastened his belt in silence, bowed his head, and turned toward the door with heavy, miserable steps. 

The sound of the iron bolt slamming shut made you flinch, though that wasn’t why your hands were trembling.

-*-

An entire sennight passed without either of you speaking again. He didn’t come looking for you. And you spent your days surrounded by your ladies-in-waiting, distracting yourself as best you could with the tasks of daily life - reading, chatting, or embroidering. 

You would lie if you said you didn’t miss him terribly. Every morning, you woke to find your bed empty and cold, and the aching pain in your guts only grew with each passing day. 

Often, when you found yourself in the Great Hall and King Joffrey honored you all with his presence, your eyes would drift toward the space behind the throne. For just a few seconds, they would linger on the threatening shadow that always stood there - alert and vigilant. Yet you would barely catch a glimpse of his worn chestplate before your gaze quickly withdrew, fearing you would meet his eyes. 

Before you even realized, the week had turned to two. The court was immersed in preparations for King Joffrey’s name day. Banquets, royal hunts, tournaments... Everyone spoke eagerly about it, for an event of such caliber was always cause for joy and merriment. 

The ladies whispered among themselves at the imminent arrival of the handsome knights who would ride in the jousts. Most attention was on the Tyrell and Tarly houses, though some lesser houses like the Swyfts, Leffords, and Westerlings also drew interest. Such a display of beauty, wealth, and power left hardly anyone indifferent.

You, however, paid no mind to the ladies' gossip. Nor did you care in the slightest about the upcoming events. Dismissing your ladies-in-waiting, you spent most of your time in solitude, wandering quietly through the blooming gardens around the Red Keep.

Your mind wandered time and time again to Sandor Clegane. You missed his gravelly voice, the scent of metal, earth, and sweat after a day in the training yard. You missed his presence, feared by all, but comforting to you. You couldn’t understand how a man who had told you he was willing to lay down his life for you couldn’t set aside his pride if you asked him. Perhaps there were different kinds of courage? Perhaps you weren’t important enough to him?

Your thoughts caught in your throat as you fiddled with the peas on your silver plate. You didn’t even know why you had come to lunch in the Great Hall that day. Your stomach struggled to accept the food, and the frantic hustle and bustle of the servants, carrying banners of the houses for the next day’s tournament, was irritating. With a long sigh, you placed your ivory-handled fork on the table and made to rise.

A beautiful white rose greeted you as you stood, held by delicate hands that extended it gracefully before your eyes.

"For you, milady, if I may be so bold,” the bearer of the rose spoke. “I saw you admiring the flowers earlier in the gardens, and though none could compare to your beauty, perhaps this one might help soften the sadness in your eyes."

Your gaze focused on the young man. He was lovely as a maid, with a crown of chestnut curls and eyes like molten gold. The knight of flowers, you thought. Of course, the guests had already arrived for the festivities, and you had hardly noticed. He would likely be competing in the joust tomorrow.

“Thank you, Ser,” you said, taking the flower and smiling politely at him. He offered you a radiant smile of his own, full of perfect white teeth.

“Ser Loras Tyrell, at your service, my lady,” he said in a pleasant voice, then gently brought your hand to his lips.

Your smile seemed to please him, as he offered you his arm with an elegant movement that made his cloak flutter.

“It’s a splendid day. Will you walk with me? I promise to be an entertaining companion and keep you safe from... any possible bee stings we may chance upon in the garden."

His boldness, combined with his light sense of humor, made you laugh. It was a discreet laugh, but sincere and spontaneous. You realized then that you hadn’t laughed in a long time. After a brief moment of thought, you concluded that you could use some flattery from this man who seemed more than willing to make you smile and delight your ears.

“Of course,” you answered, taking his arm.

Loras Tyrell kept his promise to be a pleasant and courteous escort. He was everything Sandor Clegane despised. A man who set himself upon a pedestal, the very picture of all the virtues enshrined in the noble code of chivalry. In little more than an hour, he had boasted of his valor and piety more times than you cared to count. 

You had long since ceased to be a girl who believed in such fool’s tales of gallant knights. Sandor had seen to that. And far were you from being the swooning, starry-eyed damsel the famed Knight of the Flowers had taken you for.

But truth be told, you were enjoying yourself, and his knowledge of the different types of flowers that adorned the garden was quite impressive. You were both watching with interest the way the fruits of the trees had ripened, when the childish voice of King Joffrey came from behind you.

“Ah, Ser Loras, I see you are enjoying… the flowers of the court.”

“Your Grace,” you immediately turned and curtsied, lowering your eyes to the floor. The boy was vile and cruel, but for some reason, he seemed to take a liking to you. Who knew for how long.

He prompted you to lift your face. Behind him, his guard dog loomed like an imposing, dangerous black shadow. You didn’t look at him directly, but you felt his eyes first settle on Loras’s arm around yours, then on the white rose you held in your hand. The king’s fingers, laden with gold rings, gently brushed your chin. 

“And what better flower than my lady. Beautifully bloomed, but still not watered.”

“Indeed, Your Majesty,” Ser Loras replied, his caramel-colored eyes gazing at you.

Fortunately, you were an expert in the art of subtlety. But by the gods, it was hard to maintain your composure and not scoff at his words. Out of habit, your eyes searched for a hint of complicity in Sandor’s gaze. He would usually return your glance with a nearly imperceptible twitch or a roll of his eyes. 

But today, your gaze did nothing to change the unreadable face he wore. His eyes were fixed on a point behind you, and his mask of indifference felt like a thousand wasp stings to your already shattered heart.

The conversation between the two men continued, talking about the weather and the joust the following day. After an exchange of compliments, the king made his desire to continue his walk known. Ser Loras made a small bow and secured his arm around yours. You lowered your head as the little Lannister held your hand to kiss it.

The small royal procession resumed its march, and so did the metallic clinking of Sandor’s armor with every step. He stood more than a head taller than your escort as he passed by your side. His white cloak brushed your hip in passing, but his gaze remained fixed ahead, his brow set in a deep frown. On another occasion, he might have slipped a gauntleted hand over your skirt without anyone noticing. Impossible to do so now, with his fist tense and closed around the hilt of his sword.

Your walk with Ser Loras lasted little longer. Your guts were twisted into the world's tightest, ugliest knot, but you could not tell him so. The setting sun on the horizon provided the perfect excuse to retire to your chambers. Even so, he insisted on accompanying you.

Once in your room, your mind spun around the way Sandor had ignored you in the gardens. You collapsed onto the bed, still dressed and with your shoes on, and covered your face with your hands. 

Was it over? Was this how your encounters would end? 

You were angry with him for being unable to contain his possessive impulses. What were these terrible jealousies born of? Hadn't you shown him, time and time again, by dishonoring your name and risking your reputation, that you had no affections for anyone else? 

Affections, you thought. When had he ever shown you affection? Desire, yes. Lust and passion, too. But affection? Your body shuddered at the thought. It was true that The Hound was not a man of sweet words. But still, you longed for him to verbally express his feelings for you.

If he had any. 

Nothing would please you more than to hear from his lips what every lady dreamed of hearing from her chosen knight. A bitter and sad laugh escaped your chest. You were ashamed of longing for those words, but most of all, you knew he would never utter them in his life.

Your eyes wandered across your room until they landed on the upper frame of the door. You remembered your first kiss. The way you had stood on your toes in the hallway, tugging at his gorget to pull him down to you. He had pressed his lips to yours with inexperienced fervor as you stumbled blindly into your chambers, so enthralled that he forgot to duck upon entering and struck his forehead against the frame.

That night, you had been equals. 

For you, it was the first time you had a man between your thighs, his body starving for warmth as it entered yours, pressing into your maidenhead with a wildness you had never known before.

And for him? It was the first time he kissed, and was kissed in return. The first time he held a woman in his arms, chests bumping against one another as you looked him in the eyes - unafraid, and with no coin to be counted afterward.

Uncontrollable sobs shook your chest. You pulled your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly in search of some comfort.

It never came. You slept poorly, on a pillow soaked with bitter, hot tears.

-*-

The next morning, the sound of hurried footsteps interrupted the little sleep you had managed to grasp. Heavy curtains were drawn apart, and the sudden, bothersome light that poured through the window fell cruelly upon your reddened eyelids.

“My lady, we must make haste. In less than two hours you are expected in the stands,” urged the sharp yet pleasant voice of your handmaid.

You let out a groan most unbefitting of a lady as the woman helped you sit up in bed. Without saying a word about why you had passed the night fully clothed, she unlaced your shoes and prompted another maid to bring a porcelain basin filled with cold water. At the far end of your chamber, two girls pulled your new dress from the wardrobe and brushed it with haste.

“My lady, your face looks weary. Are you unwell?” the same woman asked, frowning as she patted your cheeks with a damp cloth.

You shook your head, though you should have said yes, had you remembered your duties for the day.

“Thank the gods,” she added as she refreshed your neck and shoulders. “It would be a shame if you could not attend the tourney.” 

Your eyes widened at once. 

The tourney.

“Oh no.” You stared at her with round, tearful eyes. “No... I don’t want to go…” 

"You must go, my lady," she said, helping you to your feet. "The king expects you in the noble stands. The entire royal family is counting on your presence… and the lords." 

A short gasp escaped your lips as she stripped you down, leaving you as bare as on your name day. Behind you, the other girls whispered to one another about how handsome the knights might be. You cared for none of it. All you wanted was to return to your bed and weep.

While you put on fresh smallclothes, your handmaid held up two dresses, one in each hand. You shook your head, refusing to cooperate, but before you realized it, she had tossed them both on the bed and was pulling a tight corset over your head. You grasped one of the bedposts and let her lace the strings, too exhausted to protest.

“My lady, many knights will look at you today…” she tried to lift your spirits as she cinched the garment around your waist.

You exhaled, dry and mocking. You had not the slightest interest in any knight watching you. The maid mistook your contempt for mere doubt, and as she chose the more elegant of the two dresses you had dismissed, she went on, hopeful. 

“Perhaps one of them might even fight for you.”

You barely heard her. Your arms and legs had gone weak as the beautiful velvet gown slipped over your skin. 

Once fully clothed, you let your weight fall onto the chair before your vanity. Someone had left a silver tray with grapes and a honey-scented tea on it. As your handmaid undid the messy braid from the day before, you picked a grape and bit into it. Its juice burst across your tongue, far too sweet for the sadness that lingered within you. When the maid finished a hairstyle that highlighted your beauty and grace, she leaned slightly toward you and smiled at you through the mirror.

"The whole court is talking about how Ser Loras Tyrell was enchanted by you while you walked the gardens yesterday."

You sighed. The memory of your garden stroll brought with it a far more bitter one. Sandor Clegane, standing behind the king and ignoring you. The woman must have mistaken again your frailty for love’s weakness, for she carried on.

“He is a handsome man. All the ladies of the court envy you.”

“They’ve nothing to envy,” you said in a somber tone. The last thing you needed was all the women of the court against you.

Your handmaid smiled again, then held up a lovely pearl necklace between her fingers as she looked at you through the mirror. You shook your head, and she frowned when she saw you reach for a simple silk ribbon instead, tying it around your neck as an ornament. It was not the choice she would have made for such a dress, but given your mood, she let it be.

“You look radiant," she said in a last attempt to draw a smile from you. "They say Ser Loras always rides with a white rose tied to his lance. I’m certain he’ll ask for your favor and offer it to you.”

Her effort failed, for you froze.

Gods help you if the man were foolish enough to do such a thing.

-*-

No matter how quickly your maids worked, you were among the last ladies to arrive at the festivities. The master of ceremonies had already begun announcing the tournament. The knights who would face each other had been called, and their titles declared.

The noble stands teemed with color and silk, each house proud in its finery. Ladies whispered behind lace fans while their lords murmured wagers on the tilt below. It was crowded with spectators from all corners of the realm, and the seat you usually occupied had already been taken by another lady. As soon as she saw you, she rose and offered you your chair, but you motioned for her to stay, taking a seat lower down with a poorer view. 

More discreet, you thought. Much better.

Once settled, your gaze drifted to the royal stand, where the king and queen offered you a slight nod of acknowledgment. You did the same, with an elegant but brief curtsy. 

It did not escape your notice that Sandor Clegane was not behind the lions. Instead, two members of the Kingsguard stood on either side of the king. You found it odd that, on such an important and crowded day, the royal family had dispensed with their dog’s services. The king had many enemies, and many of them were fool enough to try to harm him even in broad daylight.

Then your gaze swept over the muddy jousting field. The earth had been compressed, but the rain had left the ground soft and unstable, unfavorable for heavier horses. Squires and stableboys ran from side to side adjusting saddles, sharpening lances, or preparing ornate armors. 

You leaned back in your seat with disinterest. The rasping, scornful voice of the Hound could almost be heard in your head, mocking the false fanfare of the knights and the fevered glances the perfumed ladies cast upon them. The man had infected you with his distaste for such a circus, though the little girl inside you still sometimes dreamed of romance.

Only sometimes, and always in embarrassment, for he was right. They were cunts, the lot of them, with coin and nothing better to do.

With little enthusiasm, you watched as several knights took the field. The stands roared with fervor when Ser Jaime Lannister unhorsed Lord Bryce Caron in a single tilt. You merely sighed under your breath and offered a brief, courteous clap. Then came Ser Balon Swann, Lord Renly, and Lord Beric Dondarrion, all of them as effective and victorious as they were boring to you.

The entrance of an elegant, grey mare, led by a young squire, confirmed that the next participant would be the Knight of the Flowers. The ladies in the stands gasped, and a great ovation arose from the spectators as Loras Tyrell, in his silver armor adorned with sapphires and black vines, appeared before the crowd. A white rose was indeed tied to his lance. You immediately lowered your eyes.

By the Seven, may he not see me and approach. 

Your eyes were still fixed on the ground when you heard a familiar neigh and the sound of heavy horse hooves sinking into the mud.

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

Stranger. 

The applause of the stands dwindled, and you immediately raised your head to look at Sandor Clegane, guiding his enormous, ill-tempered stallion across the tiltyard.

“Do not worry, my lady,” said a nearby lord. “Ser Loras is skilled with a lance and will defend himself.”

You barely heard him, so focused you were on the black steed and its rider. He wore the same battered, blackened armor as always. Unlike his opponent, he did not look at the crowd. His gaze was fixed on his nervous mount, which whinnied and resisted. 

You looked at the horse with a tightness in your chest. You knew him well. When you crossed paths with Sandor in the stables, the sullen animal would nudge you gently with its muzzle. Sandor often jested about this, reprimanding him for stealing all your attention. The black destrier was as strong and stubborn as they came, and the jousts made him nervous. That was why Sandor rarely participated in them. And that was why he was patting the beast affectionately as they were met with boos and jeers from the stands. 

Your blood boiled in your veins. Normally, no one would dare boo Sandor Clegane. But in tournaments, there were always favorites, and the anonymity of the stands gave rise to such things. In any case, as much as it enraged you, Sandor was used to not having the favor of the crowd. And he couldn’t give less of a damn.

Once he managed to calm Stranger down, he placed his dreadful, dog’s helmet on, put a foot in the stirrup, and mounted upon the warhorse in search of a lance. Meanwhile, Ser Loras Tyrell was helped into the saddle by his squire, more concerned with the mud staining his gleaming armor. Then, the Knight of Flowers spurred his mare into a slow trot, and wherever he rode, was met with applause.

From the other side, the Hound had already chosen any available lance to compete and was rotating his right shoulder to warm up. He then leaned forward in his saddle, whispered something to the horse and tightened the reins to urge it into a gallop across the tiltyard. 

“Whoa!” he bellowed, and the horse’s hooves sank into the mud as its rider brought it to a halt before the noble stands. The ladies gasped and squealed. The lords hissed. You watched the scene with wide eyes, unable to understand.

Sandor Clegane seemed confused. He looked this way and that at the crowd, angrily raising the visor of his helmet to get a better view. The horse, sensing its rider’s confusion, snorted nervously. Sandor yanked the reins to one side and urged the animal forward a few paces along the stands, his eyes still fixed on the crowd. Some women looked away as he passed directly before them, but he kept searching.

Searching.

Then you understood. He was looking for the place where you always sat. The spot that, due to your tardiness, was now occupied by another lady. 

In an almost involuntary act of compassion, you leaned forward and rested your arms on the wooden railing, making yourself stand out in the crowd. And just then, Sandor Clegane’s dark eyes fixed on you.

“Hyah!” he bellowed, and Stranger seemed to recognize you as well, for it trotted cheerfully up to stand right in front of you. 

The women around you held their breath as Sandor’s gloved hand reached for his helmet and yanked it upward, freeing himself from it before you. You felt your blood pulse strongly through your veins. The entire crowd fell silent as the man gazed at you wordlessly, with a seriousness that surpassed his usual sullen expression. His black eyes were locked onto yours like two dark prayers. Still, you could see the devotion behind the darkness. A devotion he had never failed to hold since the first time moment your paths crossed.

“Hey, dog!” you heard the impatient voice of the king shout from the royal stand, “your place is on the other side!”

At this, some in the crowd laughed. Yet Sandor did not avert his gaze from you, nor did you from him. Stranger took a step forward without any command from its rider, and in that moment, the man raised his voice, speaking before the entire kingdom the words he never thought he would say in all his miserable life.

“I ask for the lady’s favor!”

The crowd fell silent once more. The request was more a roar than a spoken plea, likely an attempt to impose his will over his own embarrassment. Your bewilderment kept your body from reacting, not even a breath of air entered your lungs.

Sandor’s deep eyes stared at you with intensity, waiting for your answer. His face was serious, but the unscarred side of his face betrayed a sadness. The soft chuckles returned to the stands, and you realized that your inaction was making a fool of him.

You snapped back to yourself. With a force that nearly made you jump from your seat, you stood up and said in the loudest, clearest voice you could muster.

“You have it, Sandor Clegane. May honor and victory ride with your lance.”

The last words came out somewhat hoarsely. No knight had ever asked for your favor, and you’d never rehearsed the scene. You didn’t know if your words had been the right ones, but what mattered was showing your support to him. And the way the harsh lines of his face softened made you think you had done it right.

Your lips trembled with emotion before curling into a beautiful smile. His eyes lit up at that, and the unburned corner of his mouth twitched upward into the grimace he often made when he saw something that pleased him. 

You thought that with that exchange, the man would turn Stranger and the tournament would begin. But he didn’t move. He stayed rooted in the sand, staring at you. Around you, whispers began to rise again in the stands. You looked at the people, confused, and Sandor’s voice made you focus your eyes back on him.

“The token, my lady…” he said softly, his brow quirked with slight amusement.

Oh! How could you be so foolish! You had to give him something! Stricken with the nervousness of feeling all eyes on you, your mind seemed too clouded to think clearly. 

You weren’t wearing jewelry, nor a veil. You weren’t wearing gloves, nor had you made a flower crown... Your hands fumbled clumsily over the sleeves of your dress, searching for a handkerchief, but finding nothing. Then they climbed up to your neck and, trembling, untied the simple silk ribbon you had chosen that morning. 

Sandor removed his leather glove and raised his hand to meet yours as you held onto the railing. Were it not dulled by blows, his spaulder might have nearly gleamed with the movement. He closed his hand around yours, and his thick thumb briefly caressed your knuckles. Your heart seemed to leap out of your mouth. The roughness of his hand felt incredibly sweet against your skin after so many days without his touch. The gesture was inappropriately intimate for such a moment, and even the horse seemed to notice, for from the royal stand they watched the animal wag its tail and bring its rider even closer to you.

“Dog!” the king called out with a mocking tone, “Your beast seems to be in love with the lady!”

Sandor grunted, making himself heard over the laughter that echoed through the stands.

“Aye!” He growled, then you heard his voice again, a rough whisper meant for your ears alone. “He loves her. Deeply… and more than his own damn pride.”

The warmth that spilled far beyond your chest made your heart swell, and you laughed, breathless and lowering your head to hide the flush that bloomed across your cheeks. In his eyes burned a desperate question he could not bring himself to ask, but the glimmer in your eyes when you looked up again, put an end to his torment. 

Reconciliation. 

You were granting him leave to come to you that night. 

Sandor drew his hand away from yours and carefully tucked the ribbon into a slit of his vambrace. Then, he dipped his head to you, and after you nodded, kicked his horse into a gallop to take his place upon the tiltyard.

-*-

Ser Loras proved to be a swift and skilled opponent on horseback, but Sandor Clegane won the tournament that day. 

How could he not, with you by his side? 

But that night, amidst tears and caresses and embraces in your chamber, he won something far more important than applause or a purse of coins. For as he made a commitment of restraint, he earned your forgiveness and your trust. He earned the delight of your smile, and the warmth of your laughter. And kissing you almost as a knight of old would, he earned the beats of your heart, sealing his bond to you with a promise of loyalty and eternal love.

...............

Thanks for reading! <3

What do you think? A comment would give me life, and encourage me to write more :)

[avocado-writing]

crawling in as per your bg3 request..

astarion with a tav/reader that’s just constantly cold, like shivering a little bit all the time and their hands & feet are just. ice cold

rating: T

pairing: astarion x reader

“Good gods, you’re freezing!” Astarion complains as his hand accidentally brushes yours before it jolts back in shock. You groan. 

“I know.”

“Even more than me, and I’m practically a corpse.”

“Yes, thank you, Astarion,” you mutter through your gritted jaw. You’re having to clench your teeth together in order to prevent them from chattering, although unfortunately you’re having little success. As if in apology your paramour shifts in his cocoon of an embrace around you, bringing you against him tighter.

This is a new level of cold, even for you.

You always run on the chilly side. You can often be found scooted up close to the fire when you make camp, or tucked in the corner of your tent with extra blankets on top of your bedroll. It’s always been bearable, a bit funny, even - something to joke about with your travelling party - but that was until you got to the Shadow Lands. 

You haven’t been able to feel your fingers or toes for days. It’s torture. The sun doesn’t shine in this place so of course there’s no warmth. You can get a good night of sleep at Last Light Inn where Isobel’s magic keeps it at bay, but on the road? Well, there’s no hope. You’re reduced to a shivering wreck. 

Though Astarion complains, he has been trying to help you where he can. Right now he’s holding you in his arms, attempting to warm you up with his nonexistent body heat. Acting as if the pair of you are just normal lovers and not two weirdos thrown together by fate while attempting to stop a mindflayer invasion. 

A scant few weeks ago he’d have been offering to warm you up in a rather more physical way; with him buried inside of you, lips ghosting your neck, hands on whatever willing flesh he could find. But your relationship has changed, now. Evolved. Become something more, something solid and real. He’s not so eager to dive beneath the covers - at least like that - and you wouldn’t ask him to. You’ll give him all the time he needs. 

It’s nice, what’s happening between the two of you. But at the moment you’re turning every cuddle into a mass of shivering limbs. 

Astarion sighs again. But then he speaks and it’s gentle. 

“You know, you could ask Karlach to come and act as your hot water bottle. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Or maybe that druid, Halsin - he’s been looking at you like he wouldn’t mind cuddling up…”

Though he tries to joke you can tell there’s an undercurrent of self-doubt in there. You harrumph and settle deeper into his arms, opting for a simple retort:

“I don’t want them, I want you.”

You feel him still against you at that unexpected flash of affection. Process it. Then he slowly extricates himself from your grasp. 

A little whine slips from your throat and he pats the top of your head. 

“Now, now. Stay put, pet, and I’ll be right back.”

You grumble but do as you’re bid. He steps out of your tent and you have no choice but to remain as a frozen little ball, foetus-curled and chilled to the bone. It’s a relief when he returns with more blankets and a pot of tea, likely brewed over the fire pit outside. 

“Where did you get—?” you begin to ask, as he tucks the extra bedding around you.

“Well, Gale is fast asleep, he won’t notice he’s missing them until the morning,” Astarion reasons. You laugh, not sure if he’s joking or not, but not really wanting to know the truth - you’re holding onto this even if it was pilfered off the camp’s resident wizard. 

You watch as Astarion pours you both a cup from the little metal teapot. Steam rises soothingly from it, warming up the tent interior. It makes sense he has one for you, of course, but…

“I thought you didn’t like drinking tea,” you say. What you mean is, I thought you didn’t like drinking anything that wasn’t blood. 

“I don’t,” Astarion sighs, but brings the cup to his lips and chugs it down anyway. It must be far too hot to be comfortable, and you’re about to ask what he’s doing - but then he reaches out to untangle your hands from where you have them vice-gripping the edges of your blankets. He folds them in his own, softly and sweetly, then brings them to his mouth where he breathes out a long, slow stream of tea-warmed breath into your palms. 

“Oh, Astarion…” you whisper, finally able to feel your fingers for the first time in days. You feel him smile against your hands. 

“Mmm, I wouldn’t get used to it,” he tells you in a way which suggests he wouldn’t really mind you getting used to it at all. 

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget

[skittlesfics]

something soft

name: something soft

pairing: Joel Miller x gn!Reader

word count: 1212

summary: Settling down in Jackson has given you and Joel back a lot of things.

content/warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, established relationship, Jackson!Joel, vague references to outbreak difficulties, unbetad

author's note: OMG, so I have been writing Joel fics/Pedro character fics for over a year now and have been too much of a coward to actually post anything. I decided to finally suck it up and join an event so that I was forced to post. This is a valentine for @beskarandblasters . Hope you enjoy! Happy Valentine's Day, y'all. -

Joel’s hand was warm where it wrapped around your ankle, his thumb stroking idly at the skin just below the joint as he turned to the next page of his book. It was a large-type Western that you had looted from an old library as a joke – but one that he became more appreciative of as the strain of years on alert made it harder and harder to focus on smaller script at night.

Many things were different now that you were settled into Jackson proper, but this was definitely one of your favorites.

Quiet moments out on the road meant that Joel was planning your next move or that all three of you were gathering energy for whatever horror was to come next. There was no space for leisure or relaxation in that quiet, even if there were rare moments of levity dappled into the shadows of survival. Here, though, in Jackson, you were both learning to let the quiet in.

Joel pushed his thumb into your ankle a little harder, just enough to pull you out of your reverie. Those memories were a dangerous path that you both had trodden too many times; He could see the spiral starting in your expression even before you knew it was there. When you lifted your eyes to meet his gaze, he smiled, sliding the bookmark Ellie had drawn for him as a Christmas gift into place. (Holidays were another thing that Jackson had given back to the three of you.) You let your eyes get drawn to the sketch of the astronaut floating over something that vaguely resembled the moon. I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. It’s impossible to put down!

“Got something to show you, if you’re amenable.” He said after setting the book down carefully on the fraying arm of the couch. His voice was rich and low, thick with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes seeking something in yours. If you didn’t know any better, you might have said that Joel Miller was nervous.

You couldn’t hold back your own soft smile, swinging one leg off of Joel’s lap in an attempt to sit up. He held onto your other ankle for a moment, tracing idle circles into your flesh with his thumb before realizing his error and releasing you.

You sat up and bookmarked your own novel. Well Read Mother Clucker is what yours said, with a drawing of what you supposed must be yourself as a chicken. “I suppose I’m amenable.” You answered, nudging his shoulder as you stretched to loosen your taught muscles.

He huffed, fond smile still crooked on his lips, and stood.

“You stay right here and close those pretty eyes. Give me a minute.” He commanded. He pushed himself up with an audible complaint from his knees, a soft grunt marking the effort in the motion that he had hidden from you for so long before Jackson. You bit back your giggle, letting him believe that the sound blended in with the staccato crackles from the wood in the fireplace.

With your eyes closed, you tried to map Joel’s path through the room. You could hear his footsteps leading away towards the kitchen, the board next to the dining table groaning in protest. He didn’t say it, but you could already hear his grumble. Gotta fix that come springtime. That was a new thing in Jackson as well, planning for the future in this one place. Building a home. The thought brought a warmth to your chest that distracted you from his next movements.

Firelight danced behind your eyelids, and you let yourself sink back into the couch, shifting into the pocket of warmth Joel had abandoned as you heard him open a cabinet door. It creaked only slightly – the China cabinet perhaps? You wondered if he had finally listened to your complaints about chipped plates and managed to loot something whole to eat off of. Or maybe he’d managed to find another bag of stale coffee out there somewhere to replenish your dwindling supply. Practicalities that felt like luxuries.

Joel didn’t leave you waiting long. You followed the path of his footsteps back to you, tilting your head towards him even with your eyes closed. He leaned in and pressed a soft, warm kiss against your forehead, reaching out to cup your cheek before straightening again and placing something on the coffee table in front of you with a heavy clunk. The plates then?

“You can open.” He said, sinking into the seat you had abandoned in pursuit of his warmth. “It’s not much, but…”

You weren’t sure if he trailed off or if your brain simply stopped processing sound as you opened your eyes to reveal a small red crock speckled with white and black spots. There was a clumsy ribbon tied out of strips of sun-bleached red fabric from God-knows-where around it, but inside. Delicate, carefully crafted roses were arranged in an explosion of natural wood tones. If it weren’t for the colors, they would have appeared lifelike, almost. You reached out, carefully stroking one of the petals. It was nearly translucent, but undoubtably wood. He had made them.

When you looked over at him it was through watery eyes. He was watching you, expression impassive, betrayed only by the slightest quirk at the edge of his mouth.

“You made these?” You asked, breathless.

“’s hard to get fresh flowers in February up here.” He explained with a shrug, like that explained it. Like it hadn’t taken hours of painstaking labor to shave each individual petal out of wood that he had cut down and prepared with his own hands. Like he hadn’t filled your heart to bursting.

He opened his arms and you slid into his lap, throwing your arms around his shoulders and squeezing tight, like he might try to get away. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as you rained kisses across his face, one large hand finding your hip and resting there, the other finding your chin to pull you in and kiss you properly. It was a slow kiss, soft and reverent, like he wanted to memorize the press of your lips against his, the soft sigh you let out against his mouth, the way your body relaxed into the warmth of him.

“They’re beautiful, Joel, they’re everything.” You whispered finally, dropping your head down to rest against his strong shoulder.

“They’re alright.” He deflected, cradling you against his chest, “Next Valentine’s Day, I’ll get you something nicer.”

It struck you then, the date. Another thing that Jackson had given back to you was a calendar to go by. You hadn’t gotten used to tracking the days as the passed yet, more focused on the weather than a number. But of course Joel would notice, especially after he saw what Christmas had done for you and for Ellie. Valentine’s Day here, after the end of the world.

You burrowed your face into the warm cotton of his shirt, knowing that he would feel the wetness of your happy tears against his chest and not caring. He held you there, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head. Something simple, something soft, something yours.

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -CHAPTER 2-

Masterlist

Approximately 2,663 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Moderately strong language

A/n: This is the chapter giving more context and backstory to the Hewitts and the rude farmhand. Things pick up from here and will continue to keep on that exciting trajectory but remind yourself that I am the lord of the slow burn lol, I like building up to the fleshy bits. The artwork is what's keeping these chapters from coming out so quickly, I didn't want to go full flat color this time but goddamn my ADHD symptoms are making shit a lot harder to focus on so please have patience, I assure you all it is worth it. Please enjoy and keep an eye on the masterlist linked above for updates.

tag list: @fan-goddess

Chapter 2

The next day came with less heat than the first, the sun was frequently blocked out by thick white clouds that rolled against its light causing brief shadows to lay on the land. You started unpacking more and more things from the container you shipped to the house before you moved, making sure that everything that you needed was properly put away. Eventually it was time to head over to Luda Mae’s house and you wanted to make sure to look presentable for tea time. Thoughts of what her family was like raced through your head, you especially wanted to know who the mysterious masked man was. You slipped on a nice pink sundress that you made yourself, you covered your shoulders with a white cropped cardigan and some white sandals that were comfortable to walk in.

You decide to visit the farmhand again in an attempt to make friends so he wouldn’t be so hostile, you grab your things and head down before you make your way to Luda Mae’s home. You spot him tending to a peach tree and you walk over.

“Hey there, I don’t mean to bug you when you’re busy but I just wanted to see if you would take a break and chat for a bit?” you tried to use your friendliest smile.

“Ya can’t see I’m busy girl? Why don’t you go screw off with your riches and leave the farm to the only person caring for it all these years!” his words were so needlessly callous, but you continue,

“I know you’re busy but why don’t you tell me what I can do to help? It doesn’t have to all land on your shoulders anymore”

 He laughs to himself and says “Why? So, ya can just fire me when ya get the hang o’ things? Women can’t do this kinda labor, why dontcha just sit there and look pretty”

The sexism was shocking but you didn’t want to let that garbage stop you “I understand you are upset from the change but I assure you I just want to be friendly and helpful”

He turns to you with a smug look “What kinda friendly we talkin’ ‘bout here?”

You get creeped out as he stops his work and looks at you in a more predatory way, but you persist,

“I just mean you don’t have to worry about doing all the work by yourself, I can help you, and by friendly... I just want to have a civil professional relationship with you, nothing more”

“Thinkin’ ya deserve some kinda good treatment huh? How ‘bout me? Don’t I deserve compensation for the work I did all these years? I ain’t talkin’ bout wages neither”

You wonder what he means by that, so you try offering solutions “What do you need? Maybe I can get you a better living situation or more tools to make the work easier?”

He didn’t like anything you had to say, “Ya think it’s just that simple? I like where I live, I like being left ALONE!”

You feel a knot forming in your throat, being treated like this was so hurtful “Ok, well, I’ll leave you to it then. Have a good rest of the day”

He made you feel like shit, all the memories of people bullying you and your old friend were coming back and you just wanted to get away. Your heart was racing with anger and the familiar feeling of an old depression started to creep back in.

You start making your way towards Luda Mae’s home and hope that the walk calms your nerves and lifts your spirits enough to enjoy the rest of your day. The sun was peeking out from behind the thick clouds and brightened the dry road before you, tiny little white flowers sparsely lined the sides of the road and made you smile. You closed your eyes and made your mind blank, only listening to the gentle wisps of the wind rustling the tall wheatgrass, and the crunch of dry dirt with every step you took, some birds could be heard in the distance chirping cheerfully. You felt like you were in a different universe where time stood still and it was just you and the earth around you.

Shortly, you arrive at Luda Mae’s property, she had a wire fence blocking the four grazing cows in and there were a lot of cars sitting in a lot near the main house, it seemed odd but you just assumed maybe one of them was a mechanic. You walk up toward the barn and hope to see that mysterious masked man but the barn is empty minus some clucking chickens strutting around. You make your way up to the door and knock, an older man answers it, he looks you up and down and smiles,

“Well now, I didn’t know it was my birthday” he says. You can hear Luda Mae yell at him to shut up and let you in. He drops the smile and waves you in, making you walk closely to get past him. Luda Mae meets you as you walk in and she introduces you,

“Sorry ‘bout him sweetheart, this is my brother Charlie. Come on in dear, I can’t wait to talk with you, Loretta brought some real good tea for us to enjoy” She gestures for you to follow her and you speak to Charlie as you pass through,

“Nice to meet you Charlie, I’m Y/N*”

He smiles as he looks at you saying “Mhmm, I’ll remember that” you feel a shiver of discomfort after he says that.

You follow Luda Mae through the house which has very old furnishings, its large with high ceilings that are dotted with large fans to circulate the air; The décor was definitely very dated but kept clean, the furnishings may have once displayed wealth in a past long gone. In a large living room, you see a man reading a newspaper, Luda Mae stops at the doorway,

“Hey Monty, turn ‘round a sec”

The man was older, he turns around peering through his large thick glasses “Yeah?”

“I’d like you to meet the young woman who took over Tilly’s orchard!”

He sets down his paper and tried to turn to face you better “Oh! I didn’t know Tilly had children?”

Luda Mae replies “No, this is Y/N, she is a distant relative of hers”

You make a shy response “It’s nice to meet you sir”

He smiles “Well she’s real polite ain’t she? Nice to meet you too kiddo, I’m uncle Monty”

Luda Mae guides you over to the back porch which has Loretta already seated at the table. Luda Mae waves to her and says,

“Loretta, this is Tilly’s family, the one I told you ‘bout”

Loretta was a big woman, her cheeks were rosy and full, her dyed black hair was perfectly styled up into pin curls remniscent of another time, she smiled and said “Well, now ain’t she just a pretty little thing!”

Luda Mae gave you a smile and sits you down in the chair next to Loretta, you set down your basket and go to shake her hand saying “It’s really nice to meet you Loretta, my name in Y/N”

Loretta smiles and Luda Mae asks what you have in the basket you brought. You lift the basket onto the table and show them the fruits you picked for them today. Luda Mae claps in approval saying,

“That is so kind of you to bring some fruit over, I ain’t had a good peach since Tilly passed.”

You still weren’t quite sure about the way Tilly had died, you did not get much information out of the Lawyer and the files said there was no reason for an autopsy since she was so old. You ask Luda Mae and Loretta about it

“I don’t want to open old wounds or anything but, do either of you know how she died? I never got a proper answer”

They both looked at each other and Loretta answered “Well now Tilly was very well liked by everyone who knew her, she lived here a while you know. While yes, she was old, she was still in good shape and the sheriff’s department in the next town over didn’t give us any details, just said it was from old age and left it at that”

Luda Mae chimes in “I am suspicious that Dover did it”

“Luda Mae!” Loretta shouted in shock.

Luda Mae crosses her arms and continues “That farmhand has been a cruel and unappreciative man for as long as I remember, I tried to tell her to get rid of him what with all his talk about taking the orchard someday, but she was too kind-hearted and wasn’t able to keep up with the demands of caring for the trees. She was always looking for the good in people, even the evil ones. Bless that woman.”

Loretta nodded in agreement that Tilly was kind, she looked at you and said,

“You know, Fuller was doing well in the past, there was big business in cattle and meat packing. Everyone was makin’ good money ‘til the ranchers died and their property managers sold off the cattle to northern companies, that killed this towns economy. People were leaving in droves and so was the money.”

Luda Mae looked out into the field and added “It got to the point where we all had to resort to terrible things just to survive, but there was no way I’d let my family starve.”

Loretta gave Luda Mae a stern look, her eyes wide, she cut in “That is until Tilly decided to plant a bunch of fruit trees from the seeds of the fruit she bought from the store. The Texas sun made those little sprouts explode into full size trees, and she had us all fed by the fruits they made, we didn’t have to just survive no more, we were able to live normally again. It was all thanks to her”

You smile at the fact that someone from your family was regarded so highly, it gave you a warm feeling. Luda Mae pours you some tea and follows up with,

“Tilly made sure that we had animals to provide us with bounty, everyone shared what they had, even before the trees were makin’ enough to bring in money, in return we gave her the manure for the trees.”

Loretta looked antsy, she changed the subject “Well now, that’s enough of those depressing times.”

Luda Mae and Loretta started talking about the town and how things used to be, you sat listening to them for an hour until you noticed the mysterious masked man. He was heading toward the barn and you could see him tending to the cows inside, he was even bigger in person, his body looked like it was used to working hard, his muscles were large but had no hard edges as if his strength was supplemented with a rich diet full of American cooking. The man was brushing the cows, plumes of dust and dirt would fly out from each swish of the brush. To see him close was astonishing, you felt like you were seeing a new kind of human, he was so gentle with the animals and yet his appearance was very intimidating. You tried to look and see if you could get a glimpse of his face but his back was turned to you.

Luda Mae notices you looking and says “I see you’ve noticed my boy there”

You snap out of your trance and blush in embarrassment, she laughs and adds,

“He’s a real handsome one if I do say so myself, his name is Thomas. He’s real shy, but as sweet as they come. He’s a good boy, extremely helpful with managing the animals and taking care of the property.” She pauses and puts her hand to her chin “You know, he’s ‘round your age and its high time he meets someone nice, I’m gonna call him over.”

You felt butterflies for the first time in years, you quickly respond “That’s ok, he looks pretty busy, maybe he should be left alone”

Luda Mae smiles “Come now dear, he can come say hi, it ain’t no bother” She calls out to him “TOMMY! COME SAY HELLO TO THIS NICE YOUNG LADY!”

Tommy looks up quickly, he spots you on the porch and freezes.

Luda Mae yells after him again, “THOMAS BROWN HEWITT, YOU COME HERE RIGHT QUICK! DON’T BE RUDE NOW!”

He furiously shakes his head, turns and runs into the barn out of sight.

Luda Mae sighs “I’m sorry sweetheart, he really is a very nice boy, he’s just awfully shy, especially ‘round pretty girls, the poor dear”

You felt a wave of relief that someone else was maybe as anxious about meeting new people like you were, you reply “It’s ok, I’m sure I’ll meet him when he’s ready”

Luda Mae gently places her hand on yours “I’ll make sure of it, he needs to make some friends, it gets mighty lonely ‘round here. With someone as sweet as you I’m sure you two’d get along just fine”

Loretta takes a final sip of tea and gets up saying “Well, time for me ‘n Monty to head home, thanks for the conversation, Y/N, it was a real treat to meet you”

Luda Mae thanks Loretta for the tea and says goodbye, she then turns to you and says,

“Well, I know you probably want to get back to that orchard, please don’t let that prickly pear Dover get to you, Tilly kept him ‘round because he worked hard, no matter how awful he behaved, just let him be, pay him and ignore him the rest of the time. If you make friends with my Tommy, well, I’m sure Dover won’t be a terror”

You get up from your seat and say “Luda Mae, am I in danger with Dover?”

Luda Mae puts her hand on her heart and says “I’m so sorry for scaring you dear that was real thoughtless of me. I’m suspicious of Dover yes, but there’s no way he will hurt you, none of us will let him”

You thank her for the tea and leave from the back porch making your way towards the barn hoping to get a closer look at Tommy. When you reach the barn doors you see Tommy on the opposite side of the barn facing the open doors fiddling with some hay. The butterflies are welling up in your stomach making you feel sick with excitement, you stand there watching this enormous man whose back was extremely wide and his forearms were thick and scarred. You were struggling to take in as much of his image as you could before you could quietly sneak off, just as your eyes started travelling down south, he turned around and saw you.

“I-I’m sorry!” you squeaked as you bolted off down the driveway.

You felt so embarrassed at being caught watching him, you hoped he didn’t think poorly of you. You spent the walk home trying to calm the butterflies and stop blushing -I can’t believe how creepy of me that was, he is going to think I’m a freak!-. When you get home, you see that Dover was in his small house watching something on a small tube tv with a large bunny ear antenna. You feel sad that his accommodations are so meager and decide to speak with him again tomorrow to try just one more time to get in his good graces, you always believed that you could kill them with kindness, especially in the event that he really was a danger as Luda Mae said, then you would want to be in his good graces. You start to make dinner and think to yourself -I hope I am able to properly meet Tommy-.

Next chapter-

[transnightfury]

👁️, 💭, and ⚡ for both shadow and riptide :3

☔ for shadow

🐸 for riptide

bonus: ⚔️ and ❗for harley!

YAAYYY!!!ALSO HARLEYMENTION YES

this is gonna be a long post bc i yap so ill put it under a cut. get ready for me not directly answereing questions at all everybodys favourite

👁️(how do people perceive your oc?) tbh .. i dont know? i have had someone think that riptide was gonna be some chill surfer dude and shadow be a stereotypical aloof emo boy LOL which i can totally see that. riptide is like 2 steps away from being a chill surfer dude...idk if that fits him as a hobby tho. in some alternate universe this is how they ended up being ACTUALLY. SHADOW WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THAT !!!!!!!!!!!! but now shes the total opposite except shes still an emo boy

💭(How is their mental health? Do they struggle with guilt or shame?) im copy pasting these now bc im too lazy to write them out LMAO . hmmm. generally deepseaship r in that stage now wehre theyre Getting better. they r in a place where they feel safe and can be themselves and have good people around them they can trust so they dont struggle as much as they used to... shadow definitely out of the two of them i imagine would feel alot of guilt? she has a bad habit of being angry/lashes out easily and overprotective and maybe a bit impulsive and its lead to a few hiccups in their relationship.....shes very emotional so the guilt over those things she does and says get to her alot ..... ive been tryong to figure out how to rewrite their entire backstories recently so i can make those problems they have more obvious but ive been stuck cos its really hard to redo everything when they are So Deepseaship to me 🤷‍♂️

⚡(Does this oc have any unusual or “irrational” fears?) riptide is TERRIFIED OF BUGS. maybe its not unsual but i think its really funny. he tries to avoid killign them as much as possible and he makes shadow cup and paper them. and he hates thunderstorms. which i know. thats really funny bc its me. and he used to be one of my fursonas. for shadow?? im like sure she has at least one but i cannot think of any rn.

☔(How does this oc feel about rain?) SHE LOVES IT!!! and she loves thunderstorms lol so it balances it out between him and riptide. very important to mention that riptide is obsessed with rain but he hates the sound of thunder. i mean its water. from the sky. sorry i started talking about riptide this is about shadow....LOL.....shadow is the type to just stay inside and enjoy the weather like a normal person and then riptide is insane like me and goes out shirtless in the rain

🐸(What’s this oc’s sense of humor like?) fart and penis and poop

⚔️(How does this oc handle conflict?) unfortunately. i. have no idea? harley is still a pretty underdeveloped character in alot of places... her backstory is really only the building blocks right now and i havent really dug into how its effected her/how she handles anything like that in general .....IM SORRY.....

❗(What are the highest priorities to this oc (at a point in their life of your choosing)?) again . a question id need to flesh her out more abit over. i would just say something related to her and lucy or cross current but i dunno.. id like to answer with something more personal to her. she isnt selfish at all realy but she. hm. how do i put this. its on the tip of my tongue. she would 1000% do anything for her friedns and shes extremely caring about them but she would focus on herself before anything else (unless theres more important things to look out for). i totally know theres an easier probably one word description for that but thats how im explaining it rn LOL. i guess shes just confident about herself? is that what im trying to say ?? not quite the question but i hope that answers it enough FJNKSDF whatever her highest priority is, it would be personal towards herself, rather than me just saying "the other people in her life" obviously she wants to care for them and shes probably one of my most caring/overprotective ocs i can think of skjshdmddj

[havenesc]

for the ask meme: 5/6, 8, 11, and 16!!!!

(love your fandom ask meme)

HELLO SWEET FRIEND thank you for sending these :^)) had to put my thinking cap on for these

5. something you see in fics a lot and love

Oh gosh. I like a really good Tim and Jason brotherly relationship -- I love Jason navigating all of his familial relationships, good and bad, and when I say "good" in context of Jason and Tim I don't necessarily always mean "happy and healthy" either. I love when people tackle their very specific dynamic of being neither the first nor the last to wear the colors, the replacement to the replacement, the "don't follow in my footsteps because I can't save you from what I have to do to stop you" kind of shit. There's so many different ways to parse their relationship, and so many of them really are fascinating. Like. Oh my god. Bookmarked. Kudos'd. Guaranteed silent car ride while I digest what I just read for the next 5-7 business days.

6. something you see in art a lot and love

Not to be fucked up but I love whump and I love angst and I love emotional turmoil. Seeing art meant to wound both the viewer and the subject is like salt and vinegar chips for the Haven soul.

(I also once was a Jason Todd white streak hater way, WAY back in the day when I was still begrudgingly like, trying to figure out if I was into Batman as a whole like a southern kid trying to figure out if they might be queer (an experience I lived once already), but now I get such a kick whenever official DC artists actually commit to the bit and give our boy his white streak like the rest of us. I am a white hair Jason TRUTHER)

8. you hope more people will come to appreciate __ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc)

SOFIA GIGANTE AS A ROGUES GALLERY CHARACTER MY GOD THE POTENTIAL GOOD LOOOOOOOOORD

I'm sure it will come. I am so sure of it. This is just my lesbian pining for Sofia Gigante. But I need her to be passive aggressive with the Batfamily, be untouchable in ways that The Penguin or Zucco or the other mobsters aren't. I need her to play a fucking game of 4D chess with the Batman and I need Dick to lose a bitch contest to her and I need her to begrudgingly sympathize with Jason's outcasting and we have already gone down that rabbit hole but I just need to say it aGAIN

11. if you're a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?

Fic-wise, my best work to date is nothing grows to burn, a still-in-progress fic about loss, grief and love in the eyes of a has-been figure skater and an unconventional rising star hockey player. My very first fic I have ever posted was a Batman fic and it shows, but I am actually working on picking up the pieces of it and making it work :^)

Art-wise, definitely my achilles come down. My favorite (and first!) piece I have done since I came back to DC. I have peaked. I was not high when I made it but I look back and have no idea how I made it at all. Self-high five.

16. a tiny detail in canon that you want more people to appreciate

Honestly, I'm relatively new to being back in my DC lane after a two-year stint in JJK, so it may very well be appreciated to death already and that's why my ignorant eyes have not seen much of it -- and it's not exactly a tiny detail! BUT.

The very specific scar of Jason having his throat cut by Bruce. That is not a byproduct of the Joker or Jason's death, like the autopsy scar, but it sure as hell is a byproduct of Jason living and having autonomy out of the shadow of thy father -- and by god did he suffer those consequences when he faced Bruce down with a problem Bruce could not correctly solve. They might not be flesh and blood but the sting of your own paternal figure taking the risk of killing you again over killing the Joker, your actual murderer. WHOOMPH.

[malinaa]

2023 WRITING REVIEW

tagged: no one i just wanted to do this and i forgot about it soz </3 tagging : board of directors i'd tag u here but this is mostly fic-based so sorree... anyway if u have already done this my b.... i wld like to see ur post tho @evcndiaz | @brimay | @usignedupforthis | @seek--rest | @posallys | @dustorangeheartssnowman | @adhd-merlin | @queerofthedagger

number of stories posted to ao3: 34 ±1 bc i updated a fic from a while back <3

word counted posted for last year: 90k... a feat (i wrote more but it was ofic so add like maybe 10k to that)

fandoms i wrote for: alex stern series, merlin, house md, pjo, spidey, hunger games, doctor who, & the grisha trilogy

pairings: merthur / arwen / mergwenthur / mergana, darlingstern, hilson, percabeth, petermj, everlark, tenrose, malina

stories with the most KUDOS: jealousy, jealousy (house md) with 522 <3 BOOKMARKS: except my life (merlin) with 137 <3 COMMENT THREADS: rip current (pjo) with 38 <3 *technically the answer to all of these is tested with torment but that's a fic i updated so i don't reallyyyyyy count it

work i'm most proud of (and why): thread of gold (arwen, bbc merlin) because i don't exactly post 2nd person fic and tbh most people HATEEEEE 2nd person fic AND i got people to enjoy it. HA!

work i'm least proud of (and why): coffee drinker (gen fic, bbc merlin) because it was just a promptfic and i didn't even really feel like posting it but i wrote it so i might as well yk?

share or describe a favorite review you received: any review that quotes a line but this one from judas kiss (arwen, bbc merlin)...

THIS. IS. WONDERFUL ❤️❤️❤️ *creates bookmark with gusto* I LOVE that you dug into what it might have been like for Gwen while she was under that enchantment! It was so creative to have her past memories blurring with glimpses of the present during the enchantment. I *felt* her disorientation, and it *hurt*. I felt so bad for Gwen all over again! 😭😭😭 That aspect of this story could have been a fantastic standalone one-shot in its own right, but noooo, you raised the bar and KEPT GOING and made it even better!!! I love that you showed Gwen and Merlin staying friends after Gwen becomes queen, and I love how she confides in him and how he immediately drops everything to go look for the offending piece of jewelry. The bit about Arthur’s incredulity at Merlin’s method of testing the enchantment was a great dash of humor, and I love that you fleshed out the concept of the enchantment to be something the others could experience so that they could truly *know* that Gwen had been innocent. And don’t even get me started on how much I love Arthur’s “Forgive me.” I love how he doesn’t think twice about humbling himself in front of everyone because his focus is solely on Gwen, consumed by the urgency of doing the right, honorable, and loving thing in that moment. You write Arthur and Gwen’s relationship so beautifully. 💕 Well done; I hate you (/affectionate) for all these feels. 🥰🫂👏

a time when writing was really, really hard: august through october... idek why i was literally in agony not writing

a scene or character you wrote that surprised you: writing jj in spider-man: homewrecker because i've NEVER written him before (in my memory) and i was like. Hello .

a favorite excerpt of your writing: cannae lie i have a few favs so... killing is a love language (mergana, bbc merlin) Heartbreak snakes up his throat, constricting him at the sight of her. Morgana’s beauty is incontestable even like this, but her hatred wore her down to her bones. Gone were the full cheeks and rosy lips, the perfectly combed hair, the wardrobe that would put princesses to shame. Now, her face is sunken in, her hair a curled storm, her dress is merely black rags at this point. thread of gold (arwen, bbc merlin) Your father’s presence is larger than life. Larger than love. It looms. It casts shadows long enough to hide every hope and dream you’ve ever had for yourself. the boy and the girl (malina, the grisha trilogy) Memory fractures into shards. Real or not real? There’s Mal in the meadow. Mal buried beneath the hanging tree. Mal cold in her palms. There’s a sky darker than night. Her hands bloodied. A knife lodged in his heart. Her knife. His blood. Her fault. She killed him. She loves him. Her fault. Rest her head on his still chest. Her fault. No heartbeat. Her fault. No warmth. Cold light spilling from her palms. She killed him. The Saint’s only true worshipper martyred.

how did you grow as a writer last year: my hopes from last year was that i finally finish a multichap fic.... 😭 does a short 3-shot count. besides that i wrote more consistently and i'm finally Used to my writing style. i think.

how do you hope to grow this year: hell if i know if i could write something longer than 20k that'd be great 😭😭😭😭

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc.): the board.... @rosesau / @bipercabeth / @stellwood fnh...... i'd tag katie but she absconded from tumblr smh. anyway hi freaks n geeks

anything from your real life show up in your writing last year: oh i don't even know. nothing ig

any new wisdom you can share with other writers: bro idek the more i write the more writing becomes fundamentally so hard to talk about ... sorreeee

any projects you're looking to starting (or finishing) this year: IF I DON'T FUCKING MAKE PROGRESS ON MY PLAY I WILL BASH MY HEAD INTO A WALL. THIS CAN'T KEEP HAPPENING. ATLAS AND VIVIAN YOU WILL BE WRITTEN ON THE PAGE INSHALLAH

[moonstonediamond]

Okay so I know I said I was working on my D&D story, wich I am, but I had finally finished this OSD idea that @thegreatpapyrus759-blog had from the Nightmare tournament. They commented on @calcium-cat post about how they would like to see someone make a fic about OSD Nightmare taking care of Dream and passive Nightmare. So I wrote my Idea of how I think it would work out.

Disclaimer/Background info: In my interpretation this passive Nightmare is the "manifestation" of Midnight's lie to Dream. Basically this Nightmare/Nighty had to deal with the villagers chopping down the tree and being taken away from Dream, but it also didn't play out exactly how Midnight described it. I already planned out a few chapters but I'm not 100% sure if I'm going to turn it into a full series. Also the, I guess I would call it a preview of Chapter 1 happens after Chapter 8 and before Chapter 10 my reason for before chapter 10 and not 12 all goes back to how I already planned a few chapters and there's a certain character from chapter 10 that would really help me flesh out Nighty's personality and relationship with the other Characters and would help explain his reaction to later advents example being the advent in Chapter 12.

Now with that out of the way I now Present to you (Still working on the title) OSN a OSD AU.

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

Waiting for Midnight and the gang to return is dull, and Dream’s ability to keep himself busy is mediocre. He had colored enough to fill an art museum; playing by himself had already gotten boring, and he hadn’t dared to touch the board game he and the guys were playing.

*Portal opening*

“Midnight!” Dream excitedly exclaims as he promptly sits up to the familiar sound.

Dream rushes over excitedly to see the guys, but his excitement is short-lived as there is just an unfamiliar-looking portal in the middle of the room.

“Midnight?” Dream called

No response

“Crossy?”

No response

He called for Dusty, Kiki, and Rory but still no response.

Dream waited for a bit, but no one walked out. Dream started to get anxious; who or what was on the other side? Why are they taking so long to exit the portal? Is the person good or bad? Are Midnight and the guys on the other side, and if they are, were they in trouble… was he going to lose them too?

These questions kept spinning around in his head until he couldn’t take the uncertainty; he walked up to the portal fully prepared to walk through… except he wasn’t fully prepared, it was more half prepared. He stopped just a few inches from the portal when new questions formed in his head.

What if it’s dangerous? What if the portal closes behind him? Would he be trapped on the other side? Will Midnight get mad at him for leaving the castle again?

Dream paused for a second before coming up with a brilliant idea. He doesn’t have to fully walk through; he could just poke his head through, so he is technically not leaving the castle.

So that is what Dream did.

__________________________________________________

In an instant, a gust of cold air hits Dream’s face; he looks around, barely able to make anything out past the portal’s light. The only thing illuminated was the cracked, mossy stone brick floor.

Dream opened his mouth to call out, but someone spoke up.

“I already said I don’t know.”

The voice sounded desolate, somber, and timid. Like whoever said, it had lost hope, but most of all, it sounded… familiar.

Dream took a step out of the portal.

“N-nighty?” Dream felt a bit hesitant.

After a moment of silence, Dream heard a creaking noise, like someone was standing up from a creaky bed. A figure, around the same height as Dream, stepped forward from the shadows.

“D-Dream?” Nighty sounded shocked

“Nighty!” Dream exclaimed as he ran over to “his” brother to pull him into a hug, but Nighty stopped him, backing further into the dark.

“How did you get here?”

Dream paused for a second; why did Nighty back away?

“Through there” Dream pointed to the portal before looking back at Nighty, trying to look closer at his facial expression.

The shadows cover up most of his face, but based on how dim and wavy his eye lights are…

"Y-you have to go." Nighty's anxious-sounding voice snapped Dream back into the conversation.

"What?"

"You have to go, Dream." Nighty sounded a bit more stern, "It's not safe."

"Well, I'm not leaving you here." Dream grabs Nighty's hand, causing him to flinch as he gets pulled toward the portal.

__________________________________________________

Nighty shields his eyes from the sudden change in lighting; he shifts his feet against the hard floor. We’re not outside.

"Nighty!" Dream's voice shouted, sounding concerned

Nighty flinches quickly, opening his eyes, ignoring the stinging pain as he looks around; I knew they wouldn’t have made it this easy; of course, they would...

"Nighty, you're hurt!"

I’m… What? Nighty looked at Dream, holding his scarred arms; Oh right… Nighty was relieved that it wasn't the villagers.

"Yeah, I’m-"

"I'll be right back." Dream interrupts as he lets go of Nighty's arms, leaving him alone.

Nighty moved his arm to try to stop Dream, but he was too fast. He looked around the room he stood in the middle of. There was a couch and some other stuff unfamiliar to him.

He looked behind him where the portal would be, but it wasn't there.

"I'm back." Dream announced as he walked over to Nighty with a small box in his hands. "I found the band-aids."

Nighty watches as Dream takes a small handful of dino band-aids from the box and starts to open them, placing each one over every scratch, scrape, and scar.

"Thank you," Nighty mumbled once Dream was done.

"You're welcome." Dream grind, he looked at Nighty’s expression, pain. Dream wanted to hug Nighty, but…

"Where are we?" Nighty mumbled, quickly looking away from Dream.

"We're in Midnight's castle," Dream answered, pretending he didn't notice Nighty avoiding eye contact.

"Midnight?" Nighty's tone shifts sounding apprehensive, eye lights glace toward Dream

Dream nods as he starts to talk about Midnight and the guys and how nice they are.

Nighty waits until Dream is finished. "Where are they?" His tone doesn't change

"They went out, but they'll be back."

Nighty doesn't say anything; he is still scared.

"Do you want to play?" Dream asks, feeling more anxious to help Nighty

After a few seconds, Nighty nods.

Dream smiles and takes Nighy's hand showing him to his room.

I hope this works.

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

So this is basically what I have so far, if I do end up making this a series I'll probably edit it if I think it needs to be, also I don't really think I need to explain this but I'm going to just incase, the words in italics are when a character is thinking, I don't use italics for every thought I just use it on the ones that the Narrator/I don't mention is a thought.

I'm still working on my D&D story I'm just currently working on the notes and revamping/changing the character sheets, notes, and world building. I'm hoping it would make my job a lot easier when writing the story.

Also I drew a quick little drawing of Nighty to go along with the story and there are some lore in the drawing as well as hidden details that connects to the lore.

(Teal Words: Chiped Tooth, Arm Scars and Palette)

[dumbsmoothie]

I can't help but be curious on how you came up with the concept of Eir, especially for your fanfic One's Duty? Also do you have any head canons for Eir?

When we fought Titan, the first thing that I thought was, "Imagine being a normal person who is nearby." 😂 At first, (nameless) Eir was just a stand-in for conversations where I would joke about in-game events.

While Joshua was my favorite character, I was very underwhelmed with his certain parts of his story. He was lurking in the shadows, helping Clive, had been supposedly doing research for years--and for what? We didn't really learn anything about what he had actually been doing! It made a bit more sense when the Ultimania came out and confirmed that he had been in a coma for years, but it felt like insult to injury when he was blindsided in the end as well.

When I first saw Jote with him, I was so interested to learn more about her as well. A character that appears to be a cute gijinka of a Tonberry? Surely, I would learn more about her when we are reunited with Joshu--haha, no. I had thought that she had been older than Joshua and perhaps only served him while traveling due to her skill. When the Ultimania came out, we learned that not only was she much younger, but she had been serving him since she was a child herself. That made Joshua's actions seem a bit colder, but only because the game itself immediately drops her for the most part. The simple pat on the shoulder at the end is a bit unforgivable though. 😂

So, I started focusing a lot on what Joshua may have been doing, why Jote is the way she is, why their relationship is a bit weird, and so on. It was a bit dull, though. Clearly, Joshua had made progress at a snail's pace. Jote had willingly allowed herself to be locked in the friendzone.

That's when "normal person" became Eir. Not only did I want her to be a part of the journey, but I also wanted her to follow the game's theme of finding hope even in despair. She'd be a person who tries her best to smile to keep everyone else in high spirits because she knows how much the weight of depression can hurt.

Her backstory was created through trying to help make things make sense. "How would she meet Joshua?" She's an ordinary person, so it would have to be by chance. It'll be a little funny is she just runs right into him. "Why would he want to help her?" As shown with Mid, that gentlemanly side of him is still very much ingrained. "But he could just walk away after that." She is used to people being shitty, so she'd be a bit intrigued to talk to him, and he may be too polite to just walk away. "So, she'd be willing to trust him just like that?" No, that'd be boring too. Let's make her a Bearer, and she thinks she has met a fellow Bearer! She would have to be unbranded since she walks around freely, however. "How was she able to avoid being branded?" Cid, Martha, and others are proof that there are people willing to help Bearers.

That's when her "brother" and village were fleshed out. Those backstories helped shape her personality as well. They also helped me decide on her name! The goddess/valkyrie can be tied to medicine and healing. Her father had studied to be a doctor. She actually doesn't like her name all that much, which is why she had chosen many other names when tricking people. When she finally learns that it actually has meaning, she comes to appreciate it. With her "brother," I wanted to solidify that she is not one who will be willing to sit idly by when someone she cares for is throwing themselves in danger--which will help provide healthy tension between her and Joshua.

For the concept of her design, I wanted her to be cute or conventionally attractive. It needed to be believable that she could trick people! I also wanted her to struggle with it a little. She gets warm easily, so despite having long hair, she always ties it up. She wears a dress, but because she generally lacks poise and isn't afraid to brawl or climb trees, she wears shorts underneath. Since Joshua and Jote each had animals they were likened to, I gave her small "bunny ears." Despite trying to move forward, she is still stuck in the past by clinging to her "brother's" coat.

In general, I wanted her to be fun but balanced in as many ways as possible. I also wanted her to still be able to relate to both Joshua and Jote while also being different enough to explore other sides to them as well. I hope that it is coming across well in the story!

I'm honestly not sure if I have any head canons for her that won't be shown either in the story or on here at some point.

I apologize for the rambling, and I hope I answered the question enough! 😂

[beeextraordinary123]

Hi! I’ve started reading your fic WWS after encountering some fanart, and I am in love with the story, the characterizations, and your quality of writing. I’m writing a fic myself that I’ve realized I really want to sink my heels into and flesh out— what would you say is your process in terms of worldbuilding and the progression of your plot? Have you had any moments in the brainstorming process where you were divided between how the story should go, and if so how did you navigate that? Apologies if you’ve been asked this question already!

I have not been asked this yet, no! Thank you for coming and asking, it's always fun to talk shop with other fic writers. Long, rambling answer about my process writing WWS below for you, hope any of it helps - and can't wait to read your stuff!

What Was Stolen is a bit of an anomaly because I've been sitting on this idea - dreaming and scheming about it - for almost 8 years. It was just always in the back of my mind, and I was always passively thinking "oh, that would be a fun moment to include!" or "oh, I'd like to make sure these two characters have this type of interaction!".

The long and the short of it is that to get to that micro plotting, you have to start macro. For me, it was about knowing the full expanse of the story in broad strokes - beginning, middle, and end. Act 1, Act 2, Act 3.

So the idea started as simply as this: Amy is a Princess who wants to become queen, she meets Sonic, a thief, and they strike a deal (Act 1). Eventually they are found out by Scourge who is the main villain and Sonic must kidnap Amy for the thieves (Act 2). There's a fallout from this, the tournament happens and (INSERT RESOLUTION HERE, NO SPOILERS!!!) (Act 3).

It started as just an arc - Meet-up, falling out, resolution and tournament.

After that it was about placing characters in the world and coming up with what the circumstances were. Worldbuilding for me was super soft - I wasn't interested in like, the politics of the world if it didn't affect the relationship of my two main characters. For example - the politics of the thieves and the camps was something I had to know early on, because it directly affects how Sonic interacts with Amy and the world and others. But I don't know what Kingdoms the Rose Kingdom is at war with or how big it is or what their main export is - because that doesn't really matter to what Amy is up to in the castle. I started asking questions to help bridge how I GET from Act 1 to Act 2 to Act 3. For example: How is Amy going to become the queen? Answer: there's a tournament she can win that will help her case. Info about this will be delivered by Shadow. Why does Sonic need to strike a deal with Amy? Answer: He needs to rescue a friend. That places Silver and Blaze in the world. Who are the villains and obstacles in the way of them achieving their goals? Answer: For Sonic, Scourge is the camp leader and pretty obviously the villain. For Amy, her father the King represents the expectations and oppressions of her status in the world.

After I had those big, connective pieces (and 8 years of dreams about little moments), I just started writing. And I wrote until I got to the ball - I wrote 22 chapters without publishing anything, because I knew that there were a lot of plot kinks to work out, and I didn't hit the point where I simply could not carry on writing without working those kinks out until 22 chapters in.

Fun fact: originally, I wrote all 22 of these chapters so that all the events of WWS took place within 2-3 WEEKS. And when I got to the ball and realized that I wanted Sonic and Amy to be well and truly and desperately in love by that point in the story - to really drive home the betrayal of this moment - I had to stop and go back and give them more time to get there. I lengthened the timeline of the piece to 3-4 months, and then filled in scenes accordingly. Now Amy has time to spend flirting with Sonic. Now Amy has time to discover secrets about Knuckles. Now Sonic has time to make a deal with an assassin to ratchet up the anticipation. Now he has time to talk things out with his team of thieves more. Adding that time for the characters to interact and fuck up just gave more space for me to flush out the EMOTIONAL arcs - because intimacy comes with time. So that was a long re-write process of just DIGGING into what moments needed more space so that it really felt like they LOVED each other - believably - by the time the ball rolled around. After that rewrite, I started publishing chapters because I knew the timeline was set.

Otherwise, for me it's just about dreaming of moments. For a long time, I knew I wanted Amy to get sick, because that forces Sonic to return to the castle if he wants to see her. That takes them out of the training space and into a TALKING space. I knew I wanted the knife-lift for the spice and the physical intimacy, and the alcove bit for the same reason. I knew I wanted a moment of all three boys scrapping in the forest over finding out Sonic's secret because I liked the mental image, and I knew I wanted a scene of all four of them, gathered around while Sonic sang a folk song as their last bit of peace before the storm.

So, like how WWS needed to be rewritten to have more time literally in the plot of the story, so too is my biggest piece of advice for finding depth in your story: give yourself TIME to sit with your story. Write out as far as you can go, and when you hit a sticking point and think "man it would've been nice if I had given myself a symbolic object for Sonic to have and then give away as a token of his affection," go back, and put it in there. I know it's fun to rush into publishing chapters, but you find your story and your symbolism and your timeline if you give yourself the time to go back and put it in there. My story's first draft certainly didn't have a lot of the depth it has now, but because I had given myself plenty of ground to work with before even thinking about publishing, I was able to go back and dig, and plant in the soil that I had laid down.

I hope this helps - apologies if it was self-indulgent or overly long. This story is my baby, it came straight from my heart, so I could talk about it forever. Thank you for letting me talk about it, and I am so excited for what you create! <3

[p5x-theories]

May I share a hot take/rambling? While Riko for now its my favorite, i feel like focusing the arc on Kataya takes away screentime from her.

Its not *too* bad, after all Riko fits a pretty popular anime archype, rich anime girl good at school and with a lot of pressures its quite common. But at the same time, showing her relationship with her dad in a 2 minute flashback its a bit Meh.

Compared to Makoto, who we see her relationship with Sae a lot, or Haru, who we see interact with her dad and fiancee multiple times, even if her arc too dosent foxus too much on her; Riko feels a tad bland. I hope her confidant will explore more her personality beside 'smart rich girl'

Honestly, I hope this doesn't come across as rude (because I really don't mean it that way!), but I'm surprised she's your favorite right now if that's how you feel about her, heh! It sounds like you don't really like what they're doing with her, so I'm not sure the plot/her arc is going to suddenly pivot to something you like better, if that's how you already feel about it.

I do think you're looking at this the wrong way, though. Makoto's relationship with Sae, and Haru's relationship with her dad, are kind of core relationships to their characters, and notably both cases are their relationships with Palace rulers. Riko's dad isn't the Palace ruler of this arc, Katayama is. Katayama is repeatedly shown to care about Riko's wellbeing, and her Shadow is what finally breaks Riko down and makes her acknowledge she wants genuine relationships and love. Riko's dad is shown twice: once in Katayama's flashback, where he reiterates that dedicating herself to being the perfect heiress is what Riko wants, and then later in Riko's flashback right before her awakening, where a very young Riko comes to him for praise after doing well on a test, and he just tells her she needs to do better. Katayama's relationship with Riko, and her influence on Riko, is the core relationship of this arc (from what we've seen so far); Riko's dad is just presented as part of the reason she repressed herself so much in the first place. We haven't seen any desire from Riko to connect with her dad emotionally; we have seen her acknowledge how important Katayama is to her, and it's her motivation for her awakening and reason for investigating Akashi in the first place, really.

Do you see what I mean? It's possible her Confidant will focus more on her relationship with her father, but we've already been shown he was always this bad. It's not like Sae or Okumura, who became worse over time and partially due to outside pressures. Riko's dad seems to have been this way for as long as Riko can remember. Riko's dad doesn't matter to this story arc; he's simply one aspect informing Riko's present personality. Katayama, thus far, has been the Sae/Okumura equivalent you're expecting Riko's dad to be, and considering it's her Palace, I don't really think that will change. It doesn't have to be a direct family member of Riko's to be an important relationship; in fact, I think it's more interesting because it isn't.

I do agree that she's the "smart rich girl" archetype, but I don't think starting with a trope necessarily means the character is bland. Her awakening certainly made her stand out to me compared to the other smart/responsible girl teammates in this series (who aren't always the rich ones, which is the only reason why I drop the "rich" there- I'm including Makoto, for instance). Obviously, we're going to get to see more of her in the story as it progresses, and in her Confidant, and that'll flesh her out more, but she really hasn't felt "bland" to me right now, so much as just a character that we're in the middle of being introduced to, heh.

[panzershrike-pretz]

HIIIIIII PRETZ! which of your ocs would fit "the tradition" by halsey? really interested to see who...

HEY BLUUUUUU, SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG- O had to get in the mood for new music and finally inspiration struck. SO

First of all, this somg is fucking amazing?? Why did I take so long to actually listen to it??

Anyway this turned out longe than i expected so to the depts of the "read more" it goes

Going off of voice alone, I could very well see this as a voice claim for Juni- but the song doesn't fit her. It actually made me think of Emma!

I'm still working on her sheet, but in short, before Emma ended up with her current family she did have some troubles in her past; with her biological family, former relationships and life in general.

"Oh, the loneliest girl in town is bought for pennies of prize

We dress her up in lovely gowns, she's easy on the eyes

Her soul is black and it's a fact that a sneer will eat you alive

And the buyer always brings her back because all she does is cry"

Right off the bat I knew this song would fit her. Emma was born to a wealthy family around the 1900's, all of which were magic - except for her, so she always felt that loneliness. She dressed up pretty, to be shown off by her dad, but at the end of the day she was very very miserable. She felt like the main attraction of a circus whenever her dad would show her off-

She grew out of it tho, and so did her powers as they developed! (By almost burning her half brother alive by accident but oh well. Sometimes tou gotta blow up un flames at the dinner table) and then she became more confident in herself and her ideals.

"So take what you want, take what you can

Take what you please, don't give a damn

Ask for forgiveness, never permission

Take what you want, take what you can

Take what you please, don't give a damn

It's in the blood and this is tradition"

^ the last line makes me think of her magical-pureblood lineage, and how she was seen as lesser because she didn't have powers for so long.

Ok, funny thing is. Emma was a thief for much of her life after she ran away from home (away from that family). She lived in the slums of France for a couple years as she took upon herself to try and get a chance to get away from Europe (her plans were to travel to Brazil, so she could study the magical plants found there; she was on her way to be a Magical-herbologist)

... But as First World War happened she saw herself having to deal with it and her plans were cut short. She decided to enlist as a nurse ans so she did, until she found herself falling head over heals for this stupid haunted soldier man who needs a name but i'm a lazy shit :> (and they were hunted down by the Creatures of Shadows until they were found and rescued by Miss Seagull but that's besides the point)

"You can take it back, it's good as gone

Well, flesh amnesiac, this is your song

And I hope what's left will last all summer long

And they said that boys were boys, but they were wrong"

From my interpretation of this bit, I can connect it with her brief (?) relationship with The Guy (nameless bitch), as in- she was so so in love and he. Fucked Off one day,,, left my baby there to feel sad and alone again (yeah she had the other peculiar children with her but It Wasn't The Same).

She was stuck there on a Time Loop for all of about 80(?) years. 80 years of everyday being the same summer day, unable to move on from her love until the loop colapsed and they were forced to flee- and her mind came crumbling down on her because while she was stuck, he mooved the fuck on and grew old and fucking died (this bit here was inspired by MPHFPC, so yeah,,,)

Anyway she's still a thief :3 but now she gets paid to do it :3

Here is my analysis of the song + character- i'd say it fits only past Emma, as she's now over it (fucking finally-), but its still Emma nonetheless

Here, have this doodle of Emma Crying Over A Man and Ottilie being so done

Ottilie the Olorotitan is the official psychologist. She can't take it anymore-

[beanieman]

WRITE THE BG3 PARAGRAPH! (Only if you want to ofc)

Well....since you asked I guess I have to. (I have been wanting to write a BG3 paragraph since the game came out.)

BG3 is so good. I've never seen a game have so many choices that have effects on both the story itself and your relationship with your companions. You can a 100 different versions of the same game and it'll feel like a new experience every time. Plus I love how open ended your player character and how you can truly make them your own.

My Tav is an elf bard who can talk herself out of any situation. She's mostly a good person, but every now and then she has a chaotic lapse that throws the party into unimaginable situations. Like when she brought down the entire creche trying to grab a rare weapon that was not supposed to be touched. However, the chaos in her life suits her just fine because she has an entertainer background and honestly she just lives to have fun. Which is partly why she romanced Astarion even though she considered Karlach or Shadowheart for a bit there. (She is a pansexual queen.)

More Undercut

Also, outside of the player character the companions all have such good stories. Every single one of them are so fleshed out and easy to get attached to! Even though my party ended up being Astarion, Shadowheart, and Karlach, I'm still really attached to Gale, Wyll, and Lae'zel even without experiencing their stories fully. Which just means I need to do another playthrough to give them a time to shine.

Also Act 2 has the best writing in any video ever in my very biased opinion. It's fantastic how you're introduced to the shadow curse and then all of your companions stories start coming into focus while you're faced with trying to heal the land and finding the Nightsong. Also also the song that plays when you free the Nightsong?? Cinematic genius. The entire OST is a 10/10 though, including in The House Of Hope. Having one of the main villains give a full Disney performance while you fight him was such a good idea. I don't know who decided to do that but they need a raise.

So if you can't tell I clearly have plenty of thoughts about BG3. I'm going to leave a screenshot of my Tav here because I genuinely love her and kind of want to write something with her as the main character.

[night-market-if]

So I joined Patreon and after reading Hazels post chapter 12, I realized Lucinda reminds me so much of Shadow Weaver from She-Ra and now I will forever hear Lorraine Toussaint's voice when reading Lucinda's dialogue lol.

Also I feel a tiny bit better after reading post 12 chapter stuff for Milo so thank you. I am still messed up over what happened and tear up even thinking about it, but I do have hope that my MC and Milo will move past this. It all depends on how everything plays out, I do want to make choices that are true to my character. I also was not planning to do Malcom x Milos poly route, but then Malcom had to call MC lamp light and give everyone that talk about using him and I was like 👀 okay this might be a thing. I feel like MC, Milo, and Malcom may all be healthy for each other depending on how book 2 goes down, but on the other hand I feel like my MC may not be able to handle another partner and might need to focus on rebuilding with Milo alone. I actually really like not knowing what my own MC is going to end up doing and I love that your story is making me think this hard about all this! Major kudos and I can't wait for more!!! 💕

Ooooo! I'm not familiar with Sh-Ra. Lucinda so far has been inspired by a few things but I want to keep them close to chest because of her character arc. Needless to say, she is a big part of book 2 and a big big part of Hazel's arc.

The post chapter stories that are on my Patreon I think help give a lot of good insight into the game. Since the Night market is from the MC perspective, we really only have a small scope of the things actually going on. That's why I write those post shorts. I feel they help flesh out characters and their motivations a bit more.

As for the poly route in book 2, it will be a much slower burn because no matter what, the MC and Milo have things they need to work on. Relationships in any form for that RO option will be taking a much slower pace. Which is kind of something I had planned from the get go since you can pretty much start up with Milo immediately in book 1.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 2/5

Book Blurb: Storms and pirates are nothing compared to the evil within men’s hearts.

After a lifetime of abuse at the hands of superstitious townsfolk, Ophelia Young, a bastard child of the notorious pirate queen, is tired of paying for the sins of her mother. Despite playing by the rules her whole life, she’s earned nothing but spite and suspicion. So when a naval officer saves her from the jeering crowd at her mother’s hanging, Ophelia hatches a new hope of enlisting in the navy to escape her mother’s legacy and redeem her own reputation for good. But Ophelia soon discovers that a life at sea isn’t as honorable as she hoped.

Betsy Young is as different as she could be from her half-sister Ophelia. She’s a nervous homebody who wants to keep her family safe and longs to be in love. So naturally, she’s devastated when the son of their family’s business partner rejects her hand in marriage and her sister joins the navy. But when her father contracts a life-threatening illness as well, Betsy has to bring Ophelia home to save the family business.

Unfortunately for the Young sisters, Betsy trying to get Ophelia recalled reveals that Ophelia enlisted fraudulently under Betsy’s name, a secret which Ophelia struggles to keep from crewmates who would kill her if they knew she was the pirate queen’s daughter. To save Ophelia from the naval authorities, Betsy will have to board a ship during hurricane season and brave all the dangers of the sea to get them both home safe.

Review:

Two sisters, deadly pirate adventures, a family legacy, and all the trouble the sea could offer. Ophelia Young has lived in the shadow of her mother's death ever since she was young, she is the bastard child of the notorious pirate queen who was hanged... and before she was hanged she cursed the island. Ophelia has tried to play by the rules her entire life to avoid people's suspicion and to beat her mother's reputation. All she dreams about is escaping the island filled with people who hate her and she plans on joining the navy to redeem her own reputation for good. Betsy Young is as different from her half-sister as can be, she's shy and timid and longs to find love. Betsy lives in her sister's shadow and wants someone to notice her, yet when the son of their family's business partner brutally rejects her hand in marriage thinking it was meant for her sister, it's the last straw for Betsy. To make matters worse, Ophelia runs off to the navy and their father contracts a life threatening illness, which means Betsy will bring Ophelia back no matter what to save the family business... yet nothing is easy for the Young sisters as they realize that life at sea is much more brutal than either of them could ever imagine from being attacked by pirates, lashed on a navy ship, nearly murdered (multiple times), and facing hurricane season.... they'll have to find a way to survive before they can even meet each other again. This book was nothing like I thought it was going to be, it just felt kind of bland if I'm going to be honest. I was expecting a fun high seas pirate adventure with a dash of romance and while this book did have a lot of action and a tiny bit of romance it just didn't really feel all that exciting. The characters didn't exactly feel like they had a lot of dimension and I just felt like they weren't all that fleshed out. I did love the representation of an Aro/Ace female protagonist and other queer relationships shown in this though. The overall story was fine but it just wasn't great, I didn't hate reading this I just don't think I would recommend it. Overall, if you want a pirate book with a strong sister relationship give this one a go, maybe you'll have a better time with it than I did.

*Thanks Netgalley and Page Street Publishing, Page Street YA for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*