#I’ve got a few modern(ish) au ideas in the works

[froggi-mushroom]

I’m on a roll for really self-indulgent fics at the moment

[atlantablack]

Stranger Things/Narnia Crossover

Okay, so, this was originally just me rambling in the tags on @steveshairychest’s post but uhhh i ran out of tags…..which has never happened to me before …..and then I didn’t want to hijack their post because it got wayyyyy too long and there are three parts because I have A LOT of thoughts for the lion, the witch, & the wardrobe; prince Caspian; & voyage of the dawn treader so like, this is part 1 i guess, bear with me here

Okay so, I’ve decided to go with, this is a canon compliant Stranger Things AU though Season 3 and then Season 4 still happens, but Eddie doesn’t exist in the modern world. Not 100% sure on how S4 would go in that case but hand waving that away, basic plot points happen, except they defeat Vecna, happy-ish ending, Max is FINE. Cool cool. Moving on.

In the OG post I saw @munsonsduchess mentioned in the replies Eddie as Caspian and I have ENTHUSIASTICALLY taken that to heart, not 100% sure how to work Wayne in there but that’s a problem for me an hour from now (but i have IDEAS for the steddie of it all so I will make it work)

So, The Lion, The Witch, & The Wardrobe:

So, post canon, at some point a few years post-S4, let’s say summer break between the kids Junior and Senior years, Steve, Robin, Dustin, & Max go on a vacation together. Which makes sense because the Sinclair’s, Byers, and Wheeler’s are probably all having family vacations. But Ms. Henderson and Susan Hargrove can’t take time off work to do that and Robin just wants to spend vacation with Steve, so they all go on a vacation to Europe and stay in this bougie ass Bed & Breakfast.

The Bed and Breakfast off is course Professor Kirke’s old house. Now, so we know time in Narnia isn’t accurate to time in England, so theoretically even tho it’s 1988, the kids could go through the wardrobe and still end up at the end of the long winter. I’m thinking in this universe the Pevensie’s never got to sent to Professor Kirke’s house during the war and he passed away in 1949 so the wardrobe just kind of got left in the house when it was turned into a bed and breakfast.

So, the four of them are there, Dustin and Steve are both in the room that have the wardrobe, and Robin and Max are sharing a room. At some point in the first couple of days there, Steve, Robin and Max are outside doing something and Dustin is just exploring as much of the house as he can get away with and for whatever reason, he gets it into his head that maybe the wardrobe has a false back!!! Because you know old house, old wardrobe, why not right?

And ofc it then spits him out in Narnia which is not a false back but is infinitely cooler in his opinion. Unfortunately, Dustin “what if I raise this baby demodog what could possibly go wrong” Henderson does not immediately turn around and go back, but instead goes exploring and then is happened upon by Jadis. Now, see, here’s where it changes, because Dustin’s played D&D for years and he might not have the good sense god gave a goose to not going run around a random new universe, but he does manage to clock, almost immediately, that Jadis doesn’t have his best intentions in mind. but he’d quite like to not get murdered thanks and so he plays along and mentally rolls dice and promises to bring her his “siblings” and then fucking hightails it the fuck out there

So, Dustin is back in the room, and immediately goes to tell the others. Change Number 2: they’ve all already gone through the upside down bullshit four times, and while they’re slightly skeptical, they also believe him pretty fast. It would not be the craziest thing to happen to them.

So, instead of doing the sensible thing and simply not going back into the wardrobe, they stash a bunch of supplies in it and start going in as a group to check it like once every hour or two to see if it’ll let them back in. It takes sixteen hours, by which point Steve is thoroughly over the whole thing and Max is starting to suspiciously wonder if Dustin is playing the longest prank ever on them, but it does indeed open back up and they grab their supplies and wander back into Narnia

If Nancy was there she’d be completely appalled that they don’t have any weapons on them except for Steve’s pocket knife and the kitchen knife Robin managed to steal. Unfortunately, Nancy is back in the states with her family and unaware of this.

So, into Narnia they go, Mr. Tumnus is there, since he didn’t meet Dustin the first time around, and wasn’t implicated. And then they run into the beavers etc father christmas all that

basically, book events happen similar-ish, Steve gets his sword & shield and Robin gets a bow & arrow and her horn. Because really, like, Steve is self-explanatory, going from a nailbat to a sword is the logical conclusion and by god does that boy need a shield. I think Robin would do well with a bow & arrow honestly, especially considering she seemed to do fine throwing the molotov’s and holding a bow doesn’t involve much walking/running unless the enemy gets too close.

Now, I was thinking on the cordial & dagger, and i technically slotted max into the role of lucy because dustin was the one to originally run into Jadis, but neither of them fully fit either of those characters, and I’m not really trying to make them fit perfectly. But so I do feel like the cordial and dagger fits Dustin more, especially if we want to assume he still watched someone die in S4. Not sure who…….but let’s just say he did. I’m not writing this as a full fic so that’s a problem for me never. But that would fit his character then.

We don’t have a canonical fourth gift set since Edmund wasn’t there, but I think, since they all received a weapon of some type, Max would do well with a set of dagger short swords for two handed fighting, and then maybe a map that always shows the right path? to tie in with her being the party’s zoomer?

so they get their gifts and keep going, whatever happens in the book happens I guess (I really don’t remember the small plot points) and then since no one betrayed anyone and we’re ignoring the bible metaphor of it all Aslan’s sacrifice isn’t needed and the battle is fought and won and the kids become the kings and queens of Narnia.

Now, they talk sometimes in the first couple years about trying to find the wardrobe and go home. They’re not really aware that time moves differently in Narnia than in their universe, and they’re sure that the rest of the party must be worried sick about them. But they’ve been handed an entire kingdom and Steve, whenever it’s brought up, always says that if they want to try and find their way back they should but he’s going to stay because this asshole has a savior complex and refuses to leave the kingdom he’s been given responsibility of and well, the other three refuse to leave him, and so in the end none of them leave.

But then, just like in the books, the memories fade and then it’s fifteen years later and completely by accident, they stumble back through the wardrobe and back into 1988.

The In Between:

So, they’re mentally 15 years older (36 / 35 / 32 respectively if my math is right) and now they���re back in their younger bodies in England and it’s only been maybe an hour or two and no one even knows they were gone.

Obviously, when they get back to Hawkins, which was an ordeal in itself while they tried to reorient themselves to the modern world, they call a code red and the party has a meeting where the four of them try to explain what the fuck happened.

The rest of the party wants to not believe them so bad because honestly, it’s horrifying, all four of them gone for years and years and none of them even noticed because time just, passed differently there (which is fascinatingly reminiscent of the upside down btw). The party doesn’t want to believe it, but they do, because Steve is matter of factly talking about the intricacies of running a kingdom and planning battles and treaty negotiations and Robin is explaining how you keep track of crop yield and making sure a kingdom is fed and taken care of and how to make sure you have back up reserves in case a winter runs crueler or longer than the last. Dustin casually talks about hosting castle functions when visiting rulers had come to Cair Paravel and Max talks about hunting and the dryads that taught her how to understand a river’s voice.

They don’t want to believe them but the party doesn’t lie, not about stuff like this, and no one can really deny the way that the four came back from England and no longer seem to fit.

It’s hard on the party of course. Dustin and Max can’t just slip back into their friendships with the others that easily. It’s been fifteen years for them, they’ve forgotten so much. It’s even harder for them to go home to their mother’s and pretend to be children. Robin and Steve have an easier time of it, time had only made them closer, and they’re still together even if they are back in Hawkins. It’s hard on Nancy who had started to grow close with Robin and had been looking forward to seeing Robin after they all got back from their family vacations.

But life moves on and it takes months but eventually all four of them start to slip back into their lives in Hawkins. But they still don’t quite fit, no matter how hard they try.

Steve and Max get into a mock fight one day when they’re out by the pool. Someone had brought a bunch of fake weapons, because they were getting ready for a LARP festival, and no one had thought about it past “that sounds like a fun thing to do” and one minute they’re all laughing and the next Steve has picked up a sword and Max has picked up a pair of short swords and they’re off.

They miss training is the thing, they never say it but there is so much about Narnia that they miss that it feels like they’ve lost a limb some days. Dustin misses Narnia less with every day that passes and Robin thinks some days that she’s fine in either world as long as Steve is there. But Steve and Max feel like they’ve lost a vital part of themselves and so of course they’re not going to pass up a chance to capture even a little bit of Narnia back.

The party goes dead silent as they watch Steve and Max fight. It’s obvious they’ve done this before. Max is fast her on feet and Steve is grinning, sharp in a way he never used to be. Neither of them are pulling their punches and Max jabs Steve hard in the side at one point right as he brings the sword down hard on her arm. “Guess that’s a draw,” he says, cheery as anything and Max laughs, says, “Don’t be ridiculous, you know that one’s mine. One of us would be bleeding out and it wouldn’t be me.”

They go kind of still when they turn and find everyone watching them but Robin hoots and starts making fun of Steve for losing before the silence can carry too long. Dustin joins in making fun of Max for getting hit at all. “I swear you used to be faster than that,” he says.

“Yeah, well, I used to have properly weighted swords too.”

He grimaces and concedes the point.

The point is, it gets easier and it gets harder and they try to move on because they don’t really see what other choice they have and the party does their goddamn best to get used to the new habits and idiosyncrasies of the four that came back.

It gets easier and then of course, a year later, in 1989, Steve, Robin, Dustin, and Max get called back.

to be continued.....

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

1. How many works do you have on A03?

22! :D

2. What’s your total A03 word count?

61,979 (more than I thought there’d be, honestly)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Dream SMP, though lately I’ve been working on several fics for The Wingfeather Saga :0

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Promise Me You Won’t Leave (This Time)

Cool People Don’t Draw Bees

It Was Always Meant To Be (it was never meant to be)

Pebbles, Wood Lice, and Other Alright Things

Bloody Miracles

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

ALWAYS!!! I like to show the readers that their comments are seen and appreciated and cherished :)

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

Oooh… gotta be It Was Always Meant To Be (it was never meant to be). I ended this one on such a terrible note. No one is having a good time and someone is Dead.

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

I think a fair bit of my fics end on happy notes, but the happiest one might be Little Songs. That whole dang fic is happy and fluffy and innocent and plotless. Not a lick of angst in this one.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

So far no!

9. Do you write smut?

No and I never shall!!! I don’t want that stuff in my mind, on my computer, or on my A03 account. Absolutely none of that.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not regularly, but yes! At the moment I’m working on four different crossovers; two for Star Wars, one for Interstellar, and one for Spider-Man: No Way Home :)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

YES

Back when I was on Wattpad, there was this other site that acted kinda like a mirror, and would automatically repost every single thing that you posted to Wattpad onto the mirror-site. I had a few stories wind up there 😭 I wonder if they’re still up…

I just checked and they’re gone yayyyy :D

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be really hekkin cool!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not on A03! Two-ish years ago, me and a friend starting working on an original story together, but we only got a few chapters into it.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I honestly don’t have many ships :0 But I do really like Loki x Sylvie!! They’re the only ship that I’ve actively sought out fanfics for XD

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

:(

There’s this modern AU I started a while back, wrote one chapter of, and then lost all motivation for 😭 Which sucks because I had such vivid ideas for it, and really enjoyed writing that first chapter! Maybe one day I’ll jump back in, but I haven’t had any inspiration for it in a while.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Dialogue :) I loooove writing dialogue, and I’ve been told that I’m quite good at it! There’s an abundance of poorly written dialogue in today’s stories and movies, which very much grates on my nerves, so I’m determined to provide people with realistic dialogue to counter XD

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

I tend to lose inspiration quickly if I have to write a lot of descriptions or inner thoughts. They’re not as easy for me to grasp as things like dialogue or gestures, and I’m slowwwww with writing them. I can do short descriptions just fine, but if it’s paragraphs and paragraphs of it then I lose interest.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I’d be up for it, yeah! Only if I feel semi-confident in my ability to understand that language though, or if I have a friend who’s fluent in that language to help me out :)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I wrote lots of really random, short, and unfinished snippets of fanfics for like two animated films: Bolt and How To Train Your Dragon.

But my first real, fully-finished fics were for Star Wars The Clone Wars :D

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Oooh… the Ghostbur & Tommy Modern AU is pretty up there :) I haven’t posted it, but I’ve had just about the best time writing it.

No pressure tags: @biathediamond @saltedcaramelchaos @kanerallels @cryingtulips @thisistheendtimes @fairytale-lights @icyfox17 @ohmagosh-i-love-bees @pevensiechase @approximately12lbs-of-ducks and Pinestripe, as well as anyone else who wants to hop in! :)

20 Questions for Writers

Thanks for the tag, @musewrangler! This looks fun.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

94.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

852,051. (Holy cow.)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

A lot! Tolkien, Star Wars, Marvel, and Hornblower are the ones I've written most for, but I've also written stories for the 1985 movie Silverado, and for The Three Musketeers, Dune, The Hunt for Red October, and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Jat'ca'nara, The War of the Ring, Pirunir Sur'haaise, break my bonds and be bound to me (what. the. heck.), and Ba'slan Shev'la.

I will admit, I was not expecting all of those. The Star Wars ones (all the Mando'a titles) make sense, WOTR is my first and longest fic and also in the Tolkien fandom, but break my bonds is one of the RAREST of rare pairs and despite it being in the Star Wars fandom too, it's focussed on some comparatively minor characters, so I am...very surprised by that.

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

Yes! Always. I love receiving comments so the least I can do is respond to them. Also, I nearly always have thoughts to share with my readers in response to their thoughts on my fic.

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

Unquestionably Cuyan'e. It's a character study of two very deeply broken men who have both lost everything, one at the hands of the other, and it earns its 'hurt no comfort' tag. The title means "Survivors" because they're both the last survivors of their families. It's very unusual for me to write a fic this painful without putting in a happy ending, but that story pretty much showed up to my brain written the way it is, and when that happens I write what I'm given.

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

That's much harder to answer than the last one! A significant majority of my fics have happy endings, or at least happier ones than canon. However, I'll have to go with Tegaanal, the climax of my Star Wars fix-it series, because it's such an earned happy ending and we watched the characters fight for it every step of the way.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Nope! I review my comments on the first couple of fics of any series, until I have an idea of what my reader base is like, and that seems to ward off the weirdos.

9. Do you write smut?

Heck no. I don't need that in my head.

10. Do you write crossovers?

On occasion! Usually because the muses show up and start jumping on the table banging pans together until I write them something.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to the best of my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I HAVE had a piece of music inspired by a fic. I wrote a poem (in Mando'a and in English) for Partaylir, and the absolutely fantastic Siena_Alexandria actually wrote a tune for it and recorded the result. If you like Mandalorians, Mando'a, conlangs, or just good music, listen to it here! (Each chapter is a different version of the poem.)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yep, several! Mostly with @musewrangler.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I don't really have one, as I don't tend to get all that deeply invested in ships. Characters, yes, but not specific ships. I guess I have a soft spot for Walon Vau/Shmi Skywalker, though, since it's a canoe I launched all by myself (see my boggled reaction to break my bonds and be bound to me being one of my most-kudosed fics above).

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

*grits teeth* I. Will. Finish. All. My. WIPs. (There's only one that is arguably in danger of abandonment, Of the History of the White Tree, and I'm going to come back to it as soon as I've reread the source material.)

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Hmm...I would say it's my character writing, above all else. Once I have a clear mental picture of what someone would or wouldn't do, I can basically drop him into situations and just let them play out and see what happens, pretty much trusting the character to respond the way he should. A lot of my fics are consist of this, and the consensus from my readers has been that I do it well.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Strong emotions, and people who are open with their emotions, are difficult for me to write. Whenever I write a scene that involves feelings and vulnerability, I have a holy terror of becoming kitschy. And people who actually show their emotions voluntarily by default are kind of a mystery to me, so I don't really write them because I don't understand them.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Fun to do when I know the language and/or enough of it to get by! I put in quite a lot of Mando'a for my Star Wars stories and I enjoy working within the constraints of its limited vocabulary because it forces me to pare down my usually verbose writing style into just the core of the meaning I intend to convey.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Tolkien! My first, most lasting, and perhaps dearest fandom.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

HOW CAN I PICK JUST ONE???? My favourite fic is nearly always the one I'm writing now, though, so right now it's So We Can Learn to Pick Ourselves Up, the latest instalment of what started as post-Endgame MCU fix-it and has now grown into a live-action Spider-man multiverse fix-it.

No-pressure tags for @ramblingsofachristiannerd, @hollers-and-holmes, @lady-merian, @ghosts-and-blue-sweaters, @thatonebasicfan, and anyone who'd like to jump on!

[theoreticslut]

「 if this is the end 」

fred weasley x reader

summary: fred overhears you say something about leaving & gets upset.

requested: yes - as part of my inspiration party

word count: 2.2k

warnings: band au, angst, raised voices/arguing, slight physical restraint, fluff ending

a/n: all i’ve got to say is i must be in an angsty mindset lately. i do kind of like how this fic turned out, but i know its not one of my best. i never feel like i do modern-ish aus justice. idk, i just don’t feel like i write them well in the slightest. i hope you like it regardless. feedback is appreciated!

lyrics from ‘a beautiful mess’ by yours truly

Sighing, you check your phone for the upteenth time. You guys were supposed to be practicing by now, but here you are waiting on fred.

As much as you hate to say it, this isn’t abnormal for Fred. Especially when he’s got a lady friend, because lord knows he’d never seriously date - no matter how much you wish he would.

“Dude, where’ve you been? We were supposed to start twenty minutes ago.” Oliver questions the redhead as he finally comes strolling into the garage.

“Sorry, mate. I didn’t mean to be late.”

“Course you didn’t.” You can’t help but mutter to yourself.

If Fred heard you, he doesn’t care to reply, which is fine by you. Although you’ve had a crush on him for the longest time, his antics have started to grow old. 

“You ready to start then? We’ve got a new song we’re working on today.” Oliver informs fred as he gets himself situated at his drums.

“Yeah. This the song?” He questions, picking up the sheet music sitting on his instrument.

“Mhm. Y/n’s got all the vocals on this one, we’re just doing backup. It’s all marked on the paper there.”

“Got it. Let’s go.”

~.~

“If this is the end, then I’m sorry that we met.” You sing, feeling the same emotion you had when writing the piece. You never thought it’d sound so amazing put all together though. 

Between your emotion, the heavy presence of Fred’s drums, and oliver & lee’s background vocals the song sounds far better than you could have ever imagined.

“I don’t wanna pretend, when it’s easier to forget. It’s a beautiful mess; nothing more and nothing less.”

“And I don’t wanna be friends ‘cause when the spark goes out i-“ you stumble, distracted by Fred mixing up a few beats.

“Fuck! Sorry, guys. I don’t know why that bit is so hard for me to get.” 

“It’s fine, Fred. We have been working on this for a while now. We could probably all use a break.”

“That sounds like a great idea, Ollie. Anyone want a soda?” You question, stepping back from the microphone.

At the guys’ various sounds of approval, you make your way towards the stairs leading to the house, knowing that oliver and his mum always keep sodas in the house.

~.~

“Y/n. Nice to see you, sweetheart.” Rene greets, smiling warmly as you close the garage door.

“Hi, Mrs wood! How are you?”

“Just lovely. How about you? That song you guys are working on, did you write it?” She questions, dropping whatever she was doing to talk with you.

Although you and Oliver had never been close, his mum took a liking to you and has almost taken you in as a daughter. You’re not complaining though, not when your own mother is the complete opposite.

“I did. What do you think of it?”

“It’s amazing, sweetheart!”

“Yeah?” You can’t help but question, feeling yourself blush lightly with her praise.

“Absolutely. I have to ask, though, was it written about someone in particular? Maybe a certain redhead?”

You can’t help but chuckle, feeling your cheeks flush more as you nod lightly.

“Yeah. Yeah, you could say that. I just…I can’t do it anymore, Rene.” You sigh, talking about the crush you’ve had on fred since you met him back in high school.

Of course Mrs. Wood knows all about it, though, having been your stand-in mum for a good four years, at least, now.

“Especially with everything potentially changing in the next few months.” 

“Did you hear back on the internship?” She questions, hopefully excited.

“I got an email the other day about it. They said they’d love to have me, but I need to let them know if I want the position for sure by this coming Monday.”

“Oh! That’s great, y/n! I’m sure you’ll love it. Plus it’s what you’ve been needing. You’ve been stuck here for too long, dear.”

“I know. I know, but is this really the best thing for me? What if I hate it? What if I find out that I’m not cut out for it?”

“Then you move on to something else. Just because you take this job, doesn’t mean you’re married to it.” She states, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

You sigh, nodding as you take a seat at the kitchen island.

“I don’t know. I want to do it, but I also don’t want to leave them.” 

“Y-you’re leaving?” A voice cuts between the two of you. Without even looking you know it’s Fred.

You look to Mrs wood in slight terror, but she only gives you a warm smile and a small wink before excusing herself from the room.

“Y/n…are you leaving us? Are you leaving the band?” Fred asks, walking over to you so you have to look at him.

“I don’t know, Fred. Nothing is set in stone yet, but I’m on a deadline to make my decision.” You sigh.

“Let me make it easier for you - stay.”

“Seriously, Fred? I wouldn’t have considered leaving if a part of me didn’t want to go. There’s things here that I’m not sure I can handle anymore.”

“So you just want to run away from them?”

“I wouldn’t be running away. Good god, Fred. If I left it’d be in search of better things.” You huff, getting up from your stool to grab the sodas from the fridge.

“But you’d still be running away from these things you can’t handle.”

Letting the fridge door shut a bit loudly behind you, you start to head back down to the garage, not wanting to argue with fred right now.

“You’re running away right now.” He points out, following you down the stairs.

“I’m not running. I’m just not giving my energy to something that doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t matter?”

“This conversation doesn’t matter. Just let it go, Fred.” You sigh, nearly shoving his soda into his hands.

Making your way to the bottom of the stairs, you go to hand Oliver and Lee their sodas.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Ollie asks, not missing the frustration and tiredness in your features.

“It’s nothing, Ollie.”

He frowns at you, knowing how you like to ignore and bury your emotions.

“I’ll tell you later. Promise.”

“Why don’t you tell him now, y/n? Or are you going to keep it hidden until you’re already gone?” Fred cuts in.

“Oh my god, Fred! I told you that nothing is set in stone yet. Besides, why does it matter if I leave? It’s not hurting you any!” 

“You’d be breaking up the band!”

“How so? I’m just a vocalist, Fred. You three are the ones who actually make the music, and I know you’re all more than capable of singing.”

“But all four of us started this band.”

“And you three can still keep it going without me. Again, I’m just a vocalist.”

“It won’t be the same though!”

“So?! Things change, Fred. And sometimes it’s for the better. Who knows, maybe without me you three will get big!” You shout back at the redhead, voice cracking as you hate that thought.

“Hey, let’s take a breath. Is this about that internship you were telling me about?” Oliver asks, placing a hand on your shoulder and pulling you into his side as you try to catch your breath.

“Unfortunately.” You mutter.

“So you heard back then?” He questions, focusing his attention on you as Fred simply watches on.

“They want a definite answer by Monday.” 

“That’s great, y/n. I knew they’d like you!” Lee congratulates. 

“You both knew?” Fred asks, face falling in disbelief.

“We were waiting to hear back on if they wanted y/n in the first place before we were going to tell you.” Oliver sighs.

“This is a huge opportunity for y/n. She’d be working alongside big record producers and could get her name out there.” He explains, rubbing comforting circles on your back as you fight back tears from the wave of emotions you went through.

“You know y/n, though. She was going to forgo getting her name out there to get ours out instead. No matter how much we’ve tried to convince her otherwise, she’d rather our dreams come true than hers.” Lee speaks up, shaking his head at you.

“You guys deserve it. You’re the heart of the band.” You hiccup.

“How blind are you?” Fred questions.

“Excuse me?”

“We’d be nothing as a band without you and your voice, y/n.” 

“Well you’ll have to learn how to be. If I’m working with the producers, I can’t be in the band.” You argue.

“You know you can be, y/n. You’re only saying that because of the other issue at hand.” Oliver states and at the moment you wish you could hate him.

“What other issue?” Fred questions.

“Well-“ Oliver starts before you cut him off.

“Don’t you dare, wood. I’ve told you to stay out of it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“And I have stayed out of it, but honestly, I think it’d help a lot if you’d just be honest.”

“It won’t make a difference! If it does it’ll just be out of pity. I’m not doing that, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut about it.” You threaten.

“What is going on?” Fred asks, confused by the entire situation right now.

“Y/n likes you, man. As more than a friend.”

“OLIVER!” You cry, not believing he’d go against you like this.

“What?” Fred deadpans, and you’re sure he’s trying to find a way to make this out to be a joke. He doesn’t, will never, like you the same way.

“Yeah, but you’re too blind to see it. Instead you keep flaunting the fact that you have a new girl every week.” Oliver sighs, keeping his hold on you as you try to leave the situation.

You don’t want to be here right now. You can’t be here when Fred says he’ll never see you in the same way. You don’t want to see him feeling guilty and saying anything he can to make himself feel better.

Unfortunately, Oliver has a strong grip on you and isn’t letting you leave.

“Y/n…” Fred starts.

“No. Just keep it to yourself, please. I can’t hear you say what I know you’re going to.” You state as you keep fighting against Oliver to let you go.

“Y/n, I like you too.” 

With those words, all fight leaves your body and all sound seems to leave the garage.

“You what?”

“I like you too. The only reason I was with a different girl every week was because I was trying to find someone that could help me forget about the girl I couldn’t have.”

“I didn’t think you liked me, and I didn’t want to chance the band or any of our friendships by telling you how I felt.” He admits, watching as you try to make sense of his words.

“You’re not just saying this to spare my feelings?”

“Not at all. Lee can corroborate for me.”

“I can. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve spent on the phone with him because he was fawning over you.” Lee pipes up, having been watching the entire situation unfold.

“So you actually like me? As more than a friend.”

“I really like you, and definitely as more than a friend.”

“O-okay.” You murmur, your mind running in circles with this new information.

“So, what’re you thinking, y/n?” Oliver asks.

“I don’t know.” You admit.

“If you want to take that internship thing, I think you should. On one condition.” Fred states.

You hum, looking up at him as you try to figure out what his condition could possibly be.

“You stay in the band with us.”

“Yeah. Lee and I already told you that we’d be more than willing to move out there with you so we’re all together.” Oliver reminds you.

“What do you say, y/n? Take the internship but stay in the band with us. If we get big, we want you - I want you - with us.” Fred says.

“Alright. So I guess I’m telling them I want the position?”

“If you don’t I’m going to be a little disappointed in you.” Oliver states, chuckling as he sends you a smile before kissing your temple.

“Okay. Thank you guys for being supportive of me.” You smile, looking between Lee and Oliver.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, Fred.  If I’m being honest, I was trying to use it as a means to run away from my feelings. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright. I get it, and I forgive you. I’m just glad we both know how we feel now. I’m sorry it took a fight to bring them to light.” He apologizes, frowning lightly.

“I’m just glad it all worked out in the end.” Oliver chuckles. 

You nod, smiling up at him before looking over to Fred, his eyes already on you with a smile on his face.

You always knew it was a bad idea to have a crush on your band mate, and yet you still agreed to be in the band alongside him all because he was still your friend. At least your crush on him has yet to break the band apart, but you’re sure it’s only due to the fact he happened to have a crush on you too. Either way, it seems that things can only get better from here.

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[phoenixyfriend]

The Family Tree is... a Disaster

Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.

This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."

Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)

----

"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"

"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."

Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."

Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."

"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."

"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"

"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"

"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."

"...how old is he?"

"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."

"Oh, lovely."

Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."

"Gay?"

"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."

"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."

"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."

Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."

"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."

"She fought my father?"

"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."

"Bad news auntie, got it."

"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."

"How'd she join?" Cody asks.

"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."

"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."

It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"

"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."

"So that sounds like... a story."

"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."

Cody nods.

"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."

"I met her, right?" Cody asks.

"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."

"She was nice."

"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."

Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"

"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."

"His son?"

"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."

"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.

"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."

"Noted."

"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."

"So Shmi is stepmother number two."

"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."

"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."

"Nevada?"

"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."

"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."

"I already know about Kryze, at least."

There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."

He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."

"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'

"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."

"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"

"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."

"Resources, then."

Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."

"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."

"She works with Maul sometimes."

"...the man who killed your father?"

"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."

Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."

Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."

"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"

"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."

He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"

Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"

"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.

"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."

"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."

"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.

"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."

Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'

Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."

"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.

Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."

"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."

"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.

Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."

Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."

"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.

"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"

"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.

"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"

Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."

"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.

Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.

"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.

"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.

"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.

"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."

"Ahsoka!"

"What? He is."

"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."

"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"

"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."

"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.

"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."

Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.

"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"

"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"

"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"

"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."

Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"

Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."

Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."

"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."

"Only because Aayla moved out east."

Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"

"Let go!"

"Never!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."

"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"

"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."

Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.

It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.

Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.

"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.

"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."

Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."

He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."

Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."

"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."

"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."

Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."

"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."

"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."

"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."

"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"

"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."

Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.

(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)

"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"

"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."

"But?"

"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."

"For fuck's sake..."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."

Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."

"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."

"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."

[maadorii]

you’re gonna wanna be my best friend— y. itadori x gn! reader

max.note’s: this is my child, my baby and i love it. probably my favorite fic i’ve ever wrote uwu i think the ending is bit rushed but that’s i was writing this at 4am (i’m also trying out a new layout-ish so yea) 

synopsis—where you and Itadori came up with the greatest, yet stupidest idea in your lives: getting married to lower your tuition cost. what could go wrong? well, there’s getting caught by the government, and then there’s potentially falling in love with your best friend. 

warning/tags: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, characters aged up (18+), high school/college au, modern au, fluff & crack, megumi is the only one with a working brain cell 

w. count— 3.1k

“yuuji, what’re we gonna do!?” you exclaimed, pacing around the open space of said boy’s bedroom. itadori groaned loudly from his spot on his bed, tugging at the skin underneath his eyes with him. 

looking down at the bright, bold red letters of the opened email on your phone screen, you internally cried to yourself, because… fuck. this is what all the hard work all four-years of high school led up to?

25, 580 dollars worth tuition left to pay, out of pocket. 

“i don’t fucking know. ...wait, do you think megumi would have an answer?” he perked up at his own, and quite frankly, idiotic idea like an excited puppy. if you squint you can see a tail wagging behind him. turning around to look at the pink headed boy, you practically leaped across the room to slap him repeatedly upside his head. 

“ow– hey... ouch! what the fuck?!” itadori whined, lifting his arms up to shield himself way from your merciless assault. “yuuji, are you dumb? we cannot, for the love of god, ask megumi. he’ll probably tell us to apply for a loan or something.” you snapped. 

“we’ll do that then, it can’t be that hard.” 

“have you seen your credit? there’s no way we're getting approved for a loan.” you exasperated as you folded your arms across your chest, plopping yourself down next to itadori. and the both of you were left to sit in condemning silence that laid itself like a thick, winter blanket over you. itadori could’ve sworn he heard the gears turning in your head because of the stark silence. 

you suddenly gasped, jumping to your feet. it was almost like a lightbulb went off on the top of your head. itadori gaped at you as your eyes lit up like stars, turning to him, it was your ‘aha’ moment. the biggest smile he’s ever seen on your face. he couldn’t help the tinge of nervousness settle in the pit of his tummy, probably for good reason.  

“here me out– what if we got married?” 

-

you and itadori meet in the lunchroom on the first day of school your freshman year of high school.

to say you meet by pure coincidence is actually a perfect explanation to describe what really went down. you remember how you sat alone at the lunch table, scrolling through your phone on social media when all of a sudden a rather energetic boy with pink hair crashed into your table. face planted in your bowl of greek yogurt. and it was the fancy kind too. 

the cafeteria around you erupted in laughter at the... spontaneous display happening before you. and although you wanted to laugh (in all honesty, it was funny), the boy below hasn’t moved an inch. truthfully, you were worried. 

“hey, um, are you okay?” you asked, nudging the top of his head. itadori didn’t show any sign of getting up. you nudged him a little harder, shaking his shoulder. with a gurgled grunt, itadori lifted his head from the bowl and the first thing that caught your eye was the crimson colored blood smeared along the stark white of the yogurt. there was a delirious look in his eye as if he wasn’t completely there in the real world. the laughter has long since died down, only a few strangers coming up to the table to record the aftermath. 

when itadori came to, he peered up at you through his yogurt clumped eyelashes and he felt his heart tighten considerably in his chest. 

“you okay? you’re... bleeding, a lot.” you asked again, gesturing to the entirety of his face. he didn’t say anything as he wiped around his nose, seeing the blood covered dairy. he looked mortified, now catching onto the stares and cameras by nosy teenagers being shoved in his face. reacting quickly, you reached out to one his unoccupied hand, gently guiding him in the direction of the nurses office. your footsteps echoed as you walked down the empty hallway, itadori following close behind you. neither of you said anything during the trip, nor when you entered the nurse’s office. it wasn’t until you had a warm wash rag against itadori’s cheek, wiping away the food and blood mixture, that he finally said something. 

“i’m... sorry, for ruining your lunch...” you stopped in your tracks, left to ponder in your thoughts. he’s sitting here with a busted lip and a shattered dignity... and he’s apologizing for face planting in your yogurt?

“hey, you have bigger things to worry about. so, what’s your name?” you continued to wipe at his face, waiting for him to reply.

“yuuji itadori.” and you saw the slightest glimpse of a smile tugging at the corner of his rosy lips. you returned the smile, teeth showing. 

from then on, you two were joined at the hip. there wasn’t anything you didn’t do together. 

there was something about itadori that brought out the inner child in you. he was sweet, loyal and compassionate. he was a lamp to a moth– hard to resist. hard to ignore. he was your first taste of an easy going life, being able to enjoy being a kid. 

on the other hand, you were the foundation he needed. you were open minded, authentic and grounded. you were the first thing in itadori’s life that felt stable. obtainable. your ambition turned into his drive; he wanted to be by your side for as long as possible. 

you both were something– somebody, each other needed the most. it’s like what they say: the best people in your life come when you need them the most. 

-

“are you two dumb or something? now, i expect this kinda thing from yuuji, but not you.”megumi quipped, left eyebrow arched in concern as he gestured towards your direction with his pencil. nobara in a similar state next to him, working on the worksheet the teacher handed out earlier. it was currently mid-way through the school day, you, itadori, megumi and nobara sat at your assigned table in statistics. it’s been about a week since your discussion with itadori about your... rather brilliant idea. 

“well, that’s harsh.” itadori grumbled, flipping him off. megumi snorted as he returned the gesture. “okay, now listen! they’re explaining the thingy.” 

you cleared your throat, sitting up straight to try to make yourself look dignified. “when applying for financial aid, if you’re married, we’ll be considered an independent on the document. meaning? more money!” 

“okay, well that’s great and all but, you do know you’ll be responsible for each other legally? as in, medical and money expenses. what would you do if either one of you dies? ” megumi questioned. you chuckled, wrapping your arm around itadori’s neck. “i’ve been legally responsible for him since freshman year, what’ll be the difference?” 

megumi rolled his eyes, burying his head in his hands. “god, you’re both so helpless.” 

“you know what megumi? i hope both sides of your pillow are warm when you go to sleep tonight.” itadori gasped in shock, hand reaching up to grip the cotton fabric of the shirt he was wearing. nobara snickered behind her hand to which megumi prompted to shift in her direction, whispering something along the lines of “don’t encourage them!”

“(y/n)! you did not just say that!?”

“i sure as hell did. and i’ll say it again!” you snapped your fingers, jutting out your hip. “and they’ll say it again!” itadori said, copying your actions.

megumi and nobara only watched in pity as the two of you continued to embarrass yourself in the middle of the classroom, other classmates turning to catch a peak of the commotion.

“wait, i got one, i got one! ahem, i hope you pour yourself a nice, big bowl of cereal of— what do you eat? apple jacks? only for there to be no milk!” 

you sputtered out a laugh, pounding your fist on the table. itadori was loud with laughter as well, body slung over the back of the chair.

megumi sighed, picking up his pencil to erase a mistake he spotted on his paper. he watched as the eraser smudged the lead on the paper instead of actually erasing it. watching the scene unfold before you, wheezing out another laugh, and clutching on to your stomach for relief. 

“shut the fuck up, the both of you.”

-

graduation was only a month away. 

teachers were cramming review lessons left and right. completing any last minute work to turn in. senior activities, trips, prom, and getting ready for what was to be the biggest day of your life. where all your hard work and putting up with the shitty ass public school system for 13 years will finally pay off. 

at least that’s how they make it seem. 

itadori was currently sitting in megumi’s living room, sprawled out on the floor like a starfish. his political science textbook laid open next to him. he’s been unusually quiet this afternoon, megumi noted when he would glance up from his own textbook in his lap.

“hey, yuuji? something the matter?”

itadori didn’t respond right away, instead, he shifted himself closer to megumi to lay his head on the other boy's lap. caught surprised by his actions, megumi tried to shove his head off but itadori being the stubborn man he was wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“god, you’re so annoying—“

“then why are you still friends with me?” his words were quick and sharp like a kitchen knife. and megumi had to take a second to pause. “is this what this is about?” itadori still hasn’t said anything, his body curling in on itself. eventually, he shook his head no. 

“alright... then what’s wrong?” 

megumi watched as itadori twiddled with fingers, reluctant to share his feelings with the other male. you see, the thing is that although megumi and itadori have been friends since middle school, they found it hard to share each other's feelings. especially megumi. they’ve always been the “i don’t know how to talk about my feelings so let me enjoy your company for a while?” type of friends. except for that one time. 

“it’s just... i’m not so sure if i want to marry (y/n) anymore...” megumi could barely hear what itadori said, but he caught it. and color him surprised. “have you finally come to senses that it’s a stupid idea?” 

“no, it’s not that–” megumi sighed internally, “–it’s just, what if our relationship changes after it’s finalized? we planned to do it after graduation a-and– it’s just a really scary thing to think about.” itadori’s voice began to warble, and megumi could feel his body tremble as the boy beneath tried to hold in his tears. 

in all the years they’ve known each other, itadori has only cried once in front of him. and that was the night of his 16th birthday. because itadori didn’t come from the best home, and at the time, only megumi knew of such disclosed information. 

“they said it themselves, you guys have always taken care of each other. so why do you think it’ll change things?” he gently tried to coax itadori into calming down, his hand stroking the soft tufts of his hair. thumb caressing his buzzcut. itadori sniffed, and megumi can hear the disgusting sound of snot being sucked back in his nostrils, but he refrained himself from reacting. 

“b-because, i just don’t want my feelings to get in the way, ya’ know? this is simply supposed to be platonic, but it isn’t anymore. at least for me.” 

and right then and there, megumi’s suspicions were confirmed. itadori did have feelings for you. more than what a best friend should have. “your feelings? and what might these feelings be, yuuji?” 

“that i want to spend a very long time with them, by their side. but not as their best friend. something more than that.” he let out a shuddered  exhale, and the room was engulfed with silence. megumi took this time to process what itadori said, the last four words resonating in his mind. 

something more than that.

megumi shifted itadori’s body off his, moving to sit up on his own. and that’s when he saw his face for the first time; his red-brimmed eyes and how the tears clumped his willowy eyelashes together. the tremble in his lips because, damn, he’s trying so hard to hold it in. 

he didn’t have anything to say– there wasn’t much to say to begin with, but megumi wrapped his arms around itadori in a hug. he felt him relax against his body, taking in the cool scent of his sweater. 

“it’s okay to be scared, yuuji, but i believe... you’re smart enough to make the right decision.” 

 - 

standing underneath the blazing summer heat, you stood in front of the court house waiting for itadori to show up. today was supposed to be the day, where you and itadori were to be married. it’s been thirty minutes and no itadori in sight. which is unlike him considering that he is, surprisingly, very punctual. he hasn’t even responded to any of your texts or calls, which also isn’t very much like him.

but those thirty minutes turned into an hour, that soon turned into two hours. 

and to say you were angry, was a complete understatement. you were livid. and that’s how you found yourself banging on itadori’s front door, ignoring the stares of the noisy next door neighbor peeping through their window. 

“yuuji! open the fucking door! i know your ass is in there, i can see your minecraft lamp turned on from your window.” you shouted, breathing heavily through your nose. there wasn’t an immediate response, only dead silence, which prompted you to raise your fist to go another round of beating up the door until the faint sound of footsteps reached the door. opening with a creak. 

there stood the man of the hour, yuuji ita- fucking- dori.

“there you are! dude, what the hell happened? why didn’t you show up at the courthouse today? did you forget or...” you were quick to jump the gun, bombarding him with questions left and right. 

“no... i didn’t forget.” was his reply, eye downcast to look at his sock clad feet. anywhere but your face right now. 

“then what yuuji? what could’ve been so important that you decided to just forget?” you flayed your arms around like a mad man, the anger rolling off your body in waves. you knew that you weren’t necessarily being fair to him right now, you can tell by his stand-offish attitude since opening the door. but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. 

itadori was reluctant to answer, his legs wobbly with the anxiety running rampant in his system. he was tempted to say sorry and be done with this, but then he remembered megumi’s words.    

...you’re smart enough to make the right decision. 

“because... because this isn’t a good idea anymore.” now you’re more confused than angry. 

“what do you mean this isn’t a good idea anymore,” you asked, placing your hand on your hip. “that's not what you said 4 months ago.” 

itadori sighed, starting to feel the twinge of annoyance in the tips of his fingers. he was starting to regret his choice of words. “i know what i said 4 months ago. but now 4 months later, i’ve changed my mind.” 

you wanted to laugh, but you couldn’t muster a bubble of it in your system. was he for real right now? 

“oh really? and why do you say that?” 

“it’ll change everything.” the reply was short. straight to the point. 

“what? no, it won’t! don’t be silly, we’ll still be best friends!” you try to muse, but itadori wasn’t budging. his face was disdained, detached from the world. the answer was sitting on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t ready to say it. especially in front of you. 

taking in his physique, your mind started to slow. you didn’t want to go there but you couldn’t help it. it was only natural, right? 

he’s been off putting since the graduation ceremony two weeks ago. he was so bright and happy that day, shoving his diploma in megumi’s face a numerous number of times. you remember the scream he let out when your name was called to walk across the stage of the arena. how embarrassed you felt as you did so, but a twinge of giddy happiness filled your chest. because he was calling out your name. your heart always did leap with joy when his attention was on you, and only you. the way he had you wrapped around his finger, without him even knowing. it takes you back to when you two first met, how you were so captivated by his amber eyes. the sudden urge to be there. to always be there and to be more. 

so... “do you not like me anymore? is this what this is about now?” it came out a whispered, and itadori was shocked nonetheless. now what were you talking about? 

“what, no! of course i still like you!” you almost laughed at how quickly he responded.

“then why? why did you–”

“i just didn’t want to make things awkward between us! i didn’t want to ruin our friendship with my... stupid feelings.” glancing up, you can see the slightest tint of pink on the roundness of his cheeks. awkward? ruin? 

you took a step forward, your hand reaching to hold his. kindly, thumbing his knuckles with your thumb. the way he always liked it. 

“yuuji, your feelings are never stupid. i’m your best friend–” with a frustrated huff, itadori ripped his hand away from yours. 

“but that’s the thing though! best friend this and best friend that– what if i don’t want to be your best friend anymore, hm? what if–” make the right decision, “what if i want to be more than that?”

more than that?

“you want to be more than friends? is what you’re saying.” itadori can almost feel himself shit his pants. 

that giddy feeling that always erupted whenever you were around him expanded ten fold. you’ll be damned: your best friend of four and a half years, was in love with you. the smile that you struggled to fight bloomed with mirth on your face. and itadori followed suit, reaching out to hold your hand once more.

not much needed to be said, the smile on your face was enough for him to put it all together. for once, he was actually smart enough to make a decision. a good one at that. 

copyright © 2021 maadorii. all rights reserved. 

[tintinwrites]

Poe Dameron Imagines Masterlist

I haven’t made a masterlist in a while and some people have asked for one!!

Series:

fifty ways to kiss someone (has NSFW chapters)

love (Modern)

the stars were made for falling

tonight (has NSFW chapters)

a friend in me (has NSFW chapters)

the light side | one two three

soft | one two (Modern)

arranged | one two (1800′s AU)

provocative | one two (Professor!Poe)

captain dameron | one two (Pirate!Poe)

a stranger in paradise | one

please never fall in love again | one two (Bartender!Poe)

phobias | snakes heights blood draws claustrophobia the dark/power outages spiders thunderstorms

not while i’m around | one (SVU AU)

you will be found | one (Zombie Apocalypse AU)

what kind of fool am i | one two

forbidden fruit | one two (NSFW) (First Order!Poe)

first series | first commander first time (NSFW) (First Order!Poe)

forgive me, please forgive me | one

out of my dreams (Modern)

the fallen soul | One (Priest!Poe) (Regency Era)

One-Shots:

Smut

hypnagogic: You can’t sleep, so Poe suggests another activity.

Fluff

ineffable: You and your husband, Poe Dameron, are captured and need to escape.

quixotic: Poe is always there for you when you fall which happens often.

dulcet: You don’t want to make friends in the Resistance, but Poe is gonna try anyway.

contentment: The war is over and you and Poe have a daughter who wakes her father up at night because you fell asleep in her bed.

caf: You need caf and Poe took the last of it.

benevolent: You and Poe try to do some things in a closet and are brought in for a talk with Leia.

redamancy: Finn and you apparently love each other. Except you don’t and a certain pilot has a problem with all of this.

Angst

eccedentesiast: Poe is hurt during a mission and just wants to see you smile.

eunoia: Poe imagines you freeing him as he’s being tortured by the First Order.

latibule: You comfort Poe when he has a nightmare about the First Order.

desideratum: You express to Poe how much the war is affecting you mentally.

AU

the wasted years (Modern AU): You go to see the Phantom of the Opera and find yourself relating to the title character.

Poe singing Dean Martin (Modern AU): Poe sings Everybody Loves Somebody and the two of you dance.

gli occhi belli

figure

pour some sugar on (NSFW)

requited (NSFW)

something stupid

characters witness their baby’s first laugh (Modern)

character introduces their baby to their pets (Modern)

bloodlust (Vampire!Poe)

enceinte

alone

romance

dawn

c’est lui pour moi

i’ve got my love to keep me warm (Modern)

insatiable

mistletoe underwear

procrastination

but beautiful

if you are but a dream

you are not alone

i never before loved life so much

the story of a starry night (1950′s AU)

so this is love

hold my hand (NSFW)

the beach

ignorance then bliss (NSFW)

pretty moon

reader meets Poe’s corgi (Modern)

perfection (Modern)

i do, you know

how you might have met Poe (Modern)

forget about the boy

you don’t have to convince me (Regency AU)

sympathy, tenderness

melts in your mouth (NSFW) (Modern)

ghosts would be preferable (College AU)

you can see me? (Ghost!Reader) (Modern)

the sky is blue (Soulmates AU) (Modern)

with only a word (Modern)

and then they are bored of me

mr. pilot

everything else goes away

��Shit, are you crying? I didn’t mean to do it that hard.”

Christmas sweaters

have yourself a merry little Christmas

the arena

rain

try to remember

entitled

some enchanted evening

reunited and it’s kind of awkward

wisdom? (Modern)

breathe, baby (NSFW)

bondage and discipline (NSFW)

yes, general (NSFW)

“How would you like to have a sexual encounter so intense it could conceivably change your political views?” (First Order!Poe)

they’ll never believe me

when love is all that i recall (NSFW)

sweet mystery of life (NSFW)

“You know, hiding one’s face behind a mask only works for Ren and his Knights.” (First Order!Poe)

“We all have our reasons, love.” (First Order!Poe)

“For a spy in hiding, you’re making a lot more waves than I expected...I like it.” (First Order!Poe)

“Well, we’re both stranded, so you have no choice but to work with me, sweetheart.” (First Order!Poe)

Poe taking you over a small desk (First Order!Poe) (NSFW)

“Sweetheart, panic as much as you like, but you can’t hide what you want from me.” (First Order!Poe)

Poe hates your daughter’s boyfriend of course

Poe singing to his little son (Modern)

till there was you (NSFW)

“I’m sure the Resistance can’t give you what I can give you.” (First Order!Poe)

A, B, C (Modern)

sanisteamy (NSFW-ish)

above ‘em

Poe holding you

a table for two (Modern)

“You can’t just take the X-wing whenever you want, young lady!”

Road trip with Poe and your kids (Modern)

oh

“His finger was right on the trigger, but he wasn’t fast enough.”

“We need to understand that we did love each other, but that wasn’t enough.”

Reader dominating Poe (NSFW)

First Order!Poe taking you against the wall (NSFW)

“If you hurt her...” (First Order!Poe)

“I can’t believe I got the first date, let alone a year.” (Modern)

the drop (Modern)

“I can’t believe we’ll actually be parents in a few days.” (Modern)

“I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen.”

“Well, I’m not in school anymore, but you could teach me too, if you’d like.” (Modern)

“I just want to take my time with you.” (First Order!Poe)

“You’re all I have too, you know.”

that reminds me of you too (Modern)

please say you’ll think of me (Modern)

it was a pretty good bad idea, though (NSFW)

Headcanons:

being married to Poe (Modern)

domestic Poe x Reader (Modern)

Poe teaching reader how to dance (Modern)

deciding with Poe not to have kids and then wanting them later (Modern)

[whocalledhimannux]

@peregrer the What. 👀👀👀 *insert John Mulaney gif of "say more right now"*

ok so when I say "the extent to which I've fleshed out the QT GBBO AU in my head is getting to be embarrassing," I truly and deeply mean it, please enjoy 1,900 words of utter ridiculousness.

first, our competitors:

Legarus - performs so poorly that viewers are a bit confused how he got on the show in the first place, a la Jamie (series 10) or that one guy who made a lime and chocolate cake in the first week.

Chloe - nice flavors and good ideas for decorations, but pretty sloppy. was up for elimination in the first week but came back with a great showstopper.

Melheret - good but not as good as he thinks he is (hence his bread week elimination because of sloppy technique), heavy-handed with the alcohol flavoring

Agape - solid competitor, not flashy but tasty + pretty results. I haven't worked out exact week-by-week themes (that would indeed be Too Much) but I imagine this is something like "Dairy" or "Caramel" or "Vegan," some particular element she just happens to not be strong on. viewers are disappointed by her early elimination

Teleus - Dad contestant. brings in a bunch of weird pans and gadgets he made up himself, does pretty well until it comes to Fiddly Foreign Foods he doesn't know (probably eliminated in French or Patisserie week)

Laela - typically has good flavors and pretty designs but technical knowledge is a bit lacking, so there are usually some flaws in the execution and she's often in the bottom half of technicals

Phresine - Grandma contestant. nails the classics but ultimately isn't creative enough to make it further.

Magus - the "Ian (series 6)" flavor of Dad contestant, often brings in foraged ingredients or eggs from his own chickens or whatnot and revives old recipes/flavor combinations no one else knows about. one week, some of those turn out to just be too weird, leading to his elimination.

Sophos - pretty elaborate decorations and good flavors (on the border of classic and new), but he tends to try a million different embellishments on everything and struggles with timing, occasionally to the detriment of technique.

Kamet - always has really interesting and different flavors and tends to do well in technicals especially, assuming he doesn't get overwhelmed. which is... an assumption (Finalist)

Costis - leans towards classic and indulgent flavors, although sometimes a bit sloppy--the kind of contestant where the judges look at his dishes and say "it's a bit of a mess" and then Paul Hollywood starts laughing because it still tastes delicious (Finalist)

Irene - absolutely stunning visually, queen of the technicals, occasionally gets the "style over substance" warning (Winner)

more details below the cut

I've gone back and forth on whether Eugenides should be in it but ultimately I decided no because I wanted to maintain a pre-show relationship between Laela + Kamet (I thought otherwise at first but then I realized I hadn't left Kamet any longterm friends or family for his finalist video and that's depressing af) and Irene and Sophos which to my knowledge hasn't happened once on the show so far? so having a married couple on top of that seems like it would be a stretch, and also then I think I'd need to make Eugenides the winner on principle and you know what? he can stand to be second fiddle to his wife for a little bit. My alternate backstory for him is that he was actually the winner of MasterChef one year (good with knives), so in the first episode Irene's first little chat to camera is something like "my husband's been bugging me for years to try out and I keep telling him he's got a skewed perspective on cooking competitions, finally I applied just to shut him up... and here we are." Her little video introduction is about how baking is a stress relief from her bigshot job. Her decorations tend to be abstract and gorgeous rather than cutesy.

Kamet, likewise, was nagged into applying by Laela, but she very cleverly framed it as she wanted to apply and wanted him to do it to for moral support. both were confident the other would get in and surprised that they did themselves. This is one of those series where everyone's friendships are immediate and obvious and super adorable (cast of series 10 my beloved...), and in particular these two are holding hands in episode 1. Laela's deep blue robe from TaT sticks in my head for whatever reason so I imagine her making an elaborate blue peacock cake or something one week that wins her star baker. somebody always does a peacock something and it's always impressiev.

Phresine is cool as a cucumber under pressure, always has lovely things to say about everyone else's bakes, and is the go-to last-minute helper because she usually comes in under the time. Irene starts out similar but as the weeks go by she starts to feel the pressure a bit more and cuts it a bit close. Sophos is the worst on timings, and mentions his wife at least once an episode. (I also played with him being single on the show and meeting Helen later through Irene and Eugenides, but this idea is too cute to pass up tbh.) Teleus lives with Relius, a fact that isn't mentioned until a few weeks in when he comments that Relius likes a recipe or gave him an idea for a flavor or something (Relius does not bake himself but will happily sample practice bakes), to the surprised delight of every viewer whose favorite contestant is the oldest gay in any given series (me, me, that person is me).

Costis tends to use a lot of chocolate and, as I said, pretty "classic" flavors--one of those people who makes a full English savory bake at some point. He's usually in the top half of the competition but doesn't get the top until one of the later weeks in the competition, which is a Honey themed week, and he absolutely nails it. The delicate decorations of his honey nut cakes and his use of honeycomb are particularly praised and that's the week he gets star baker. One of those bakers who flirts with elimination the first few weeks but noticeably improves over the course of the show.

My most, like, plot-y ideas are about Kamet (SHOCKER). I imagine he was born in Setra (I usually make Setra a non-autonomous region in my AUs) but arrived in Britain as a child due to [Unspecified Crisis] and ended up with foster dad Jeffa, who was roughly from the same region but not Setra itself; whenever Kamet wanted Setran food as a kid, Jeffa would take him to the library to find recipes and that was what sparked his love of baking. He's well-read on the subject and knows about foods from a lot of different cultures, so he's usually heard of the technical challenges even if he hasn't made or eaten them. He does a lot of fusion flavors, and is ALL ABOUT bread week.

I don't usually make the his-relationship-with-Nahuseresh-is-romantic leap in modern AUs but I think it works for this one because of the nature of the format--Nahuseresh doesn't actually appear on camera but is alluded to once or twice, ends up being Very Displeased that Kamet is doing something for himself, and during the week following Laela's elimination they have the fight that makes Kamet realizes this is actually a terrible relationship and he needs to leave now. He calls Laela to let her know what's up and mentions that, since he'll need to stay in a motel and has presumbly lost his job as a secretary (yeah working for your boyfriend is Bad, he's realized that now), he's going to have to drop out of the show. Laela, despite living in a studio flat without room to host him, immediately thinks "um fuck that" and calls Costis, and within an hour Costis and Aris and a few rugby buddies have moved all of Kamet's things into Costis and Aris's flat, where Costis insists that he'll squeeze into Aris's room (they've shared before, it's fine) and that Kamet gets first dibs on the kitchen for all bake off practices.

None of them actually reveal any of this to the show's producers. Kamet gets a little overwhelmed the following week and nearly walks away from the tent, but Costis jumps in to keep his bake from being ruined, and some soothing words from Irene + the hosts calm him down and he returns to finish. The only mention of the Drama comes in the finale, during the longer video clips they do on each of the contestants. Kamet is deliberately vague about the details of the situation, but Aris shows up in both Costis's and Kamet's videos and references the fact that having TWO flatmates in the bake off is a bit difficult because they only have a standard size kitchen, so he hasn't cooked for himself in a month and has been living off cake and savory breads. one of the hosts talks to Kamet in the tent after that clip is shown and he still won't talk about it in more detail, but says that he wanted to tell people so they could appreciate why Costis hasn't practiced as much the last few weeks (the judges scolded him for winging it a couple of times), and admits that he totally copied some of Costis's techniques for honey week based on watching him at home.

I imagine the finale task is something like an illusion cake--probably with a bunch of additional required elements because the show has been going bonkers with the finale showstoppers in the newer seasons--and Irene wins with a jewelry box containing, among other things, ruby earrings made out of candy. Kamet does a stepwell, and Costis does something architectural (I was thinking castle but something visibly Greek-ish so maybe a temple or a megaron? idk). Irene wins but they're all BFFs and that's obvious, so everyone's delighted for her. The little montage at the end reveals that Irene + Gen are expecting twins, that everybody hangs out all the time, and that Costis + co recently helped Kamet move into his own flat where he's now working on a novel (Immakuk and Ennikar inspired, obvi, leaning heavily on the honey-shared-on-the-road thing and including some recipes that actually work in the narration, albeit still written in an ancient-novel-like-way).

[Obviously not part of the show, but when Kamet mentions that it's time for him to look for his own place, Costis tries to v awkwardly invite him to stay forever and Kamet is like "nope I've got to try this on my own but yes we will go on a date once I've moved out and see how it goes from there."]

[This is so far beyond the scope of the show but also several of them go on to have more baking-related careers and have active social media presences and at one point they're all hanging out and Eugenides pulls out a camera and demands they all produce baking pick-up lines. Teleus refuses and also doesn't believe anyone knows baking pick-up lines off the top of their head or could make them up on the spot. Sophos sort of proves him right by coming up with "you're the apple of my pie," which Eugenides instantly mocks because Sophos's three greatest loves are baking, Helen, and poetry, and that's the best he can do? Helen comes up with "I like my cake the way I like my men--rich, sweet, and bright red," to which Sophos blushes on cue. Irene's is "when I'm with you, I feel like chocolate heated to 50 degrees--I struggle to maintain my temper." Eugenides protests this is more like an anti-pickup line. Irene insists this is the most accurate marriage-related baking pun anyone could ever come up with.

[Laela's is "You and I are like custard--I hope we never split." Kamet's is "You remind me of bread, because I knead you." Costis freezes for a minute and finally comes up with "Fancy a cream horn?" which produces a lot of giggling and makes Kamet slap his arm in such a way that, hen Eugenides posts this video to instagram, fans of the show all go WAIT ARE THEY DATING NOW] [by this point, yes they are] [I didn't even have to google baking pickup lines for this, guys, I legit came up with them on my own, please clap.]

am I obsessed? I might be obsessed

[tsundanire]

Seasonal WIP Update

Hey friends, lurkers, and those who have yet to decide if they want to follow this hot mess...

It’s that time of year when I give you guys an idea of what I’m working on and what you can expect to see in the near (and probably far) future. I just wanted to clear things up for anyone following me from specific fandoms, and want to know if I was going to make anymore content for that fandom. The answer is: Yes. I’ve got something (or multiple somethings depending on the fandom) for everyone sooooo without further ado, let’s go to the breakdown!

Drarry

Big Bang - Despite the fest being over, this is still very much a WIP and probably will be for a while because it’s a lengthy project, and there’s large sections of the plot being rejigged. Est WC: 60-100k by the end. 

LCD Project - I had an idea for something for @lcdrarry a year or so ago and just never really plotted it out until this summer. I’ve got the first chapter or so written but have put it aside while I work through some other projects first. If all goes well I might try to submit it for LCD this coming year. Est WC: 50k ish. 

The incubi drabble - It’s on my list, and somehow I’ve completely forgotten to go back and finish this. Featuring Incubus!Draco (sort of), and prey!Harry. 

L.A. Devotee - Featuring Demon!Harry. It’s currently sitting around 10k ish? But got pushed way down the list when Big bang popped up. With any luck, I will have it finished and posted this year. Est WC: 50K+

Two Geldings... - The first chapter to this was already posted on AO3. I do have an outline for this and will get back to it, I swear, but it too got bumped down the list. We can all thank my ADHD for that. Featuring 8th Year Drarry taking care of magical horses. 

The Serial Killer project with @lyskari - Because we love writing really dark shit and planned this for whumptober and then we both subsequently got SUPER busy.  We will also be writing this eventually when things slow down. But I got a lot on my plate and I know they do too. 

Sirius/Charlie

Kiss your baby - This should actually be out pretty soon. It’s written, and we’re just going through some edits on it. I might add some extra bits here and there but it’ll likely be the first thing I post coming up. Possibly. 

Darklina

The Devil is a Gentleman - Currently a posted WIP, with chapter two finished. (Just need to actually edit it) Featuring Modern Au, COO!Aleksander, Engineer!Alina, and a bunch of tropes. 

The 50 Reasons to have sex series - In which I write Darklina drabbles/fics based on the ‘How I met your Mother’s’ 50 reasons to have sex list. Varied. Not all related. 

Merthur

The one where Arthur gets off to Merlin cussing - This one was supposed to be done already, technically it’s almost done. It just took a turn for the loving and soft which made me go... wait wtf just happened. SO I might have to pause that while I figure out what went wrong. 

The really special Christmas one - My plan is to start posting this on the 14th. I’m about 6 out of 12 chapters in, 18k I believe? I revised some stuff I just have to put a lot of time into it over the next few days in order to get it done done. 

Camboy!Arthur - What it says on the tin, but also features Roommate!Merlin and honestly? I think it’s going to be equal parts hilarious and sexy. It’s completely outlined and the first chapter or so is already done. But it was also put aside while I finish this christmas one. 

That College AU - Again, what it says on the tin + a large amount of just random plot. This has also been pushed to next year. 

That other College AU feat. Fratboy!Arthur with @zaharya - Who actually knows when we get to this one but it lives in my head rent free almost all the time. 

Witcher!Arthur - Is currently just a series of snippets that live in my docs. Will this ever see the light of day? maybe. I wouldn’t hold your breath for any time soon though. 

Geraskier

Our boys as Corpsekunno - The boys as youtube/streamers who flirt. Geralt is faceless but has a voice that destroys most people’s loins. Jaskier is the soft flirt who loves everyone. 

That’s not everything but those are the ones I’m really hoping to finish this coming year. Fingers crossed as many of them will probably take most of my sanity to finish. HOWEVER, I hope yall will stick with me for the ride regardless. 

Cheers~!

[tae-cup]

Old Money and Brooklyn Babies

Pairing: Park Jimin x Reader

Summary:  “Those summer nights seem long ago. And so is the girl you used to call The queen of New York City. But if you send for me, you know I'll come. And if you call for me, you know I'll run” - Lana Del Rey (Old Money) 

Genre: Modern/Realistic Au, Angst, like Fluff if you squint, rich people au??

Warnings: Yandere-ish themes, LANGUAGE, drinking, sexual tension (but no smut!), unhealthy relationships, heavy topics, maybe at the end if you think about it maybe depression?, Pathological liar (s?) are involved, your brain has been warned #trust no one. 

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 7.3k Words 

A/N: Ahhh this was such a challenge for me to write but I hope you guys enjoy it! PS I’m sorry. And I’m really nervous to post this because I don’t know how it will turn out askldfhsalkdfh

Other: Masterlist

      Loving him was intense, a whirlwind of emotions that could only be compared to a hurricane, a tornado. There was a time when loving him was explosive, a train on its way to be wrecked. The feeling hadn’t disappeared. 

      You knew it when you saw him standing on the staircase, a new love around his arm. You felt the room buzz when he saw you. Now, standing in this bar of sweat and alcohol where you could barely pay for your next drink, you wondered how things went so wrong. 

     Just a few weeks ago, you were the queen of New York City, the heiress everyone was talking about, and now you were a nothing, just another nobody in a sea of other nobodies. 

     Did he see it in your eyes? Did he see the desperation? The same look you had given him a few months ago, the kind of look that he had described as beautiful and exhilarating. Now he turned away in disgust. You tightened your grasp on your glass. 

It was your fault. 

You had ruined it all. Like you always did. 

Six Months Ago 

1 A.M. wake up. 

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day and plan it meticulously in your mind. 

3 A.M. 

Get out of bed. 

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while. 

    You stood tall, you knew you were a beautiful woman. After all, everyone had been telling you this since you were little. You could easily pass for royalty, that’s what you always thought and you wore it well. 

    You jutted your chin out, running a hand along your jawline. Then you made sure to put every hair in place, perfectly positioned. The mirror had a small crack in the corner, you made a mental note to buy a new one. 

     You put on your dark shades sunglasses so that you could barely even see inside. Nonetheless, you stumbled around your apartment like a model, refusing to look unfashionable even in the cold abyss of your living room. Who knew if someone was peering through the windows? That’s why you kept it as dark as possible. 

     You tripped over the couch. Since when was that there? You asked yourself angrily, as if you hadn’t been living here for the past year, a pretty bubble world built up carefully over a year of work and dedication. 

    Reality couldn’t catch you here. You stumbled around blindly for a while and then found the door handle.

5 A.M. 

 With a decisive click, your day had begun. 

      Astteria Jewelry, a company your father had invested in dearly when he visited the states. You hadn’t been there, but you’d heard a lot about the visit from the newspapers.

“Hello?” You cleared your throat, tapping on the top of the glass counter until someone came over, looking a bit annoyed. The woman’s face was twisted uncomfortably before she plastered a kind smile on her face. 

“How may I help you?”

“Yes, yes, I need to try those on.” You pointed to the chunkiest rings in the case. They were encrusted with large and small diamonds, all glittering beautifully. 

     The woman shot you a skeptical look. You just peered down at her through your dark shaded glasses. She was really straining for that pleasant smile now. 

“Of course.” She said tightly and reached under, unlocking the case, and bringing the rings out. 

“Ah, I quite like this one.” You gasped happily. The rock on your finger was hard to even hold up, but you liked it well enough. “I’ll take it, as you probably know, my father will be quite happy with this gift.” 

“That will be $247,000.” The woman pursed her lips as she removed the ring and placed it back in a box. 

“Perfect.” You declared.

“I need your card.”

“Nonsense! Do you even know who I am?” 

     The woman shook her head, her irritation visibly growing.

“That’s quite alright. You know, my father is a great friend and investor in this company. He has often bought for my mother from this very fine store. I think he even gave us a discount at some point?” You said casually. “My father is the chairman of Sinopec, I think you know it?” 

    The woman stilled then she looked suspiciously at the door and back at you. “I’ll give Mr. Betta a call.” 

“You better.” You snapped back, your patience wearing thin. You were the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman. Everyone knew you, obviously. 

    The dial tone was especially loud in the quiet store. A few rings and he picked up. 

“Yes?” You heard the muffled voice. 

“Sir, there’s someone here claiming you gave her family a discount?”

“Who?”

“From Sinopec.” The woman turned away, whispering furiously. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. Okay okay, I will.” 

“Well?” You turned to her, looking every part the agitated socialite, 

“Mr. Betta seems to be under the impression...that you should be allowed this ring and we’ll charge your father.” 

“Of course.” You said quickly, taking the box out of her hands and striding out of the store. 

    Your heart was racing. You felt a weight on your chest and it wasn’t the ring. 

     Heather was rich. You knew her to be Old Money, everyone did. You always expertly placed yourself next to her in class. She didn’t seem to mind. She was beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than you, but you would never allow that thought to come to fruition. 

     Heather held herself like a commoner, to put it lightly. She got her morning starbucks, waited in line, ordered and waited patiently, got on a bus, commuted to school and got to class early. You realized a big part of being a ‘normal’ person was waiting around. 

“Heather, I was also at that party the other night.” You said to her as she scrolled through her photo album. 

“Oh? Really?” She chewed on gum, the sound smacking across her lips. You felt an itch of irritation, but pushed it away. 

“Yeah, really.” You drawled.

     You carefully placed your ringed finger close to her line of sight. She glanced down for a second then back at her phone, then back at the ring. She put down her phone. 

“Where did you get that ring?” She inquired, suddenly very interested in you. She picked up your hand and surveyed the ring from several angles. 

“Astteria.” You said nonchalantly. “My father is a good friend of Simon Betta.”

“Who’s your father?” She glanced upwards with a confused look. 

“Zhao Dong.” You said easily. 

“The chairman of Sinopec?” Heather looked up, confused. “I’m surprised I didn’t recognize you! You’ve changed since I last saw you.” 

    You smiled and nodded at her words. 

“I know. I spent some time away.” You looked nonchalantly at your nails. 

“Well you look great, Y/N.” She continued with a small smile. 

“Thank you, I know.” You tossed your hair. “Tell me, Heather, are we close? Would you consider me a close friend?” 

“I…” She stuttered awkwardly. “N-not close close, but I know your father and...your mother?” She interlaced her fingers and looked away, embarrassed. “Truth be told, I haven’t been keeping up with Sinopec as of late.”

“That’s perfectly alright.” You assured her. “Now, I’ve been looking for a charity to donate to. My dad has been bugging me about the yearly donations.” You said the words so easily, like water out of a waterfall. 

“Oh really?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you know any because...well, I know you’re into those charities and non-profits.”

     The sound of pages being turned filled the room and you turned back to your work. You didn’t even bother reading the page or taking notes, you had another mission at hand. Heather turned back to her work and after a while, she cleared her throat slightly. 

“There’s actually...a gala for an organization that helps fight for LGBTQ+ rights. Would you like to come? I could get you an invite if you just send me your address.” She lowered her voice.

     You glanced around. Everyone was focused on their work so you nodded. 

“I’m really into helping out when I can, you know? Here I’ll give you my number-” you stopped, thinking it over. “Actually, give me your number.” You prompted. 

“Oh? Alright?” She recited her number and you typed it into your phone. You felt her heated stare on the old phone in your hand. 

“It’s a friend of mine’s old phone.” You said. “My father has yet to send me the latest one.” 

“I see.” Heather narrowed her eyes and went back to taking notes. 

     You sent her a quick hello and smirked, going back to write down notes. Columbia College had been quite pleased to hear about all the non profit work and extracurriculars, not to mention your straight As in school. It was what you deserved.

 “Y/N!” Heather waved you over and you descended the stairs with a smile.

     There stood Heather in the middle of this grand ballroom. You tried not to look impressed. 

“Heather.” You greeted her with a smile.

      She pulled you into a quick hug and then grabbed two champagne glasses. Gold rimmed and bubbling with clear yellow liquid, she handed you a glass. The room was decorated lavishly with red drapes covering dark alcoves and chaise lounges positioned in the corners. These lounges were occupied by men and women all dressed to the nines. This type of luxury was what you deserved. 

“You look gorgeous!” She complimented as she took in your appearance. 

      You had borrowed a dress from your much richer friend, though you personally believed that you pulled off the look better than her. You were the most beautiful after all. 

“Ah, thank you. You look exquisite as well.” You brushed a stray hair from your face. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N.” 

     You turned to the voice and were met with a familiar face. You were shocked to even see him at a place like this. He hadn’t struck you as this kind of person.

     You had first met Park Jimin in a club. The lights were dim and you could barely make out his face, but you knew he was beautiful, just like you. The club was a world of beautiful people, all pressed against each other and sweating. 

“How old are you?” He asked, looking you up and down as you sat at the bar. You smiled slyly, swirling your drink to the pounding music. 

“Probably too young for you.” You shouted over the music. 

His hands went to his hair. “Listen! My hair looks gray but I can assure you I am a 25 year old man in good standing!” 

    You laughed. He seemed nice, genuine. It was a breath of fresh air. His entire aura screamed that he was important, yet his personality quite opposed this notion. You looked him up and down. 

    He was a man of stature, standing tall and proud amongst the crowd, his hair was a silver gray, his eyes of a similar shade. Jimin was either high society or had no idea how to have fun. You were a perfect match. 

“I believe you.” You replied happily, setting down your drink. “Want to get some fresh air?” 

     He smoothed down his coat and you wondered why he was dressed so formally to go to a nightclub. 

“I’d like that very much.”

 “Jimin.” You greeted him happily. He gently took your hand in his and kissed the back. 

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He said cordially, a hint of mischief in his eyes. 

“And you.” You bowed your head gracefully. 

    The music of the gala swelled and Heather cleared her throat. Her eyebrows were raised as high as the bronze arches that hung above you. 

“You two...know each other?” She asked, eyeing Jimin. 

Jimin nodded. “Yes, we met, achem, a little while ago.” You were grateful he didn’t mention the club. 

“Well, Jimin is actually performing tonight, aren’t you?” Heather turned to him expectantly. 

“Oh? Performing?” 

The man seemed embarrassed by the sudden attention on him. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Ah, yeah, well, I’m just singing-”

“Jimin is an excellent singer.” Heather nodded and you followed suit. 

“I’m not that great. My mom just had enough money to bribe the manager.” He joked and you chuckled along. 

“Yeah, I get that.” You agreed. “But I’m sure you’re an amazing singer, Jimin.” You looked him up and down, a smile growing. 

“He is!” The other girl chimed in before Jimin could protest. The clock chimed 8:00 P.M. and you glanced upwards. 

“I think that’s my cue to go.” Jimin announced, waving off a waiter who offered him a glass. 

“Alright! Best of luck, Jimin.” You bowed your head politely and he did the same.

    Heather watched the interaction intently. Once he was gone, she started laughing which caused you to look over at her sharply. 

“You guys really just eye fucked each other for a whole five minutes. I didn’t think it was possible after seeing Anna’s reaction to him. At least it was mutual this time.” 

“Anna?”

“Yeah, the daughter of the guy who made Adobe or whatever.”

“Oh, of course, I remember her.” You said easily, grabbing another glass of champagne.

  You were going to need a lot of alcohol to make it through this night, but these luxuries were what you had always wanted. 

 “I would be careful, though, Y/N.” She glanced around. “He doesn’t have the best track record with women, though he attracts them like bees to flowers.” 

“Oh I see.” You followed her eyes. “But from the way you look at him, I can assume you’ve been one of those women?” 

               She narrowed her eyes and then chuckled, though the sound was a bit strained. 

 “Me And Jimin? No, no. I can admit he is handsome, but we would never make a good pair.” Heather was quiet for a moment and then she crossed her arms, her gaze growing distant. “He’s too caught up in himself. You remind me of him.” 

 “I beg your pardon?

 “Forget I said anything.” 

     The music began to swell and you looked up from your conversation as the curtain on the stage began to lift. The din of the room died down. A man with a rainbow pin and black tuxedo stood center stage. He held himself with confidence.

“Thank you, everyone, for attending this charity event for the Audre Lorde Project. Today, we are so grateful to be able to present Mr. Park Jimin as our entertainment for the night. If you donate, he will sing a song of your choosing!” The MC leaned in. “Just don’t be inappropriate, folks.” He winked.

 “Now presenting….Park Jimin!” 

       You watched as the familiar man walked on stage. He looked quite dashing, sporting a rainbow tuxedo and white shoes. You were sure they must have cost a fortune. His rings alone must have cost at least $21,000. Then his shoes, oh, his shoes. They were perfectly clean, so white they could reflect the dim lighting. 

       People were quick to go up and pay for a song. The songs started at $1,000 and you pursed your lips, checking your wallet. Did you have enough? Yes, of course you have enough, you’re the daughter of Sinopec. 

      You set your mind on deciding a song. Heather began chatting to you about school, but you were hardly paying attention. You started drifting towards the box that held the donations. Heather moved along with you, unknowing to your next move. You straightened, holding up a hand, which quickly silenced Heather, and zeroed in on the box. 

    Withdrawing your money, you wrote a quick check for $1,000. Then you haphazardly tossed it into the box. Then you wrote your song on the sign up sheet and went back to the center of the room. You waited, tapping your foot impatiently. You wanted everything now, but you could try to be patient for once. 

   Heather continued talking about...whatever she was talking about. Halfway through her rambling, a familiar tune began to play. Your eyes shot up from where they were resting on your drink to the stage. You could feel Jimin’s heated stare.

“I think I'm too cool to know ya. You say I'm like the ice, I freeze. I'm churnin' out novels like Beat poetry on Amphetamines.” He sang and his voice was a perfect tune.

    You felt your toes curl pleasantly as his sweet voice tingled your eardrums. Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey. You eyed him up and down, taking note of a particularly expensive looking Rolex watch. 

     As you made eye contact with him through the crowd, your heart thumped an untimely beat. Mine. 

     Jimin left hand in hand with you. What a sight to see. A couple that no one had expected, one out of the blue. You giggled, shifting over in the back of the cab to Jimin’s place.

     His hand slowly inched its way over to your thigh and gave it a light squeeze. Your eyes stayed trained on his face. The dark city streets casted eerie shadows over your figures, but you felt calm nonetheless. 

    Your hand reached out and touched his cheek. A wordless communication. May I? To be answered with you may. And he leaned in, diving into your arms, melding his lips against yours like you were meant to be. You both gasped for air, but it was a battle for dominance and neither of you were about to back down. 

    You bit playfully at his lips, devouring his strawberry lip balm like it was your last meal. He pushed against you so your back thumped against the door. His hands found your hips and he pressed into you tightly. 

    Your hands gripped his hair and you refused to part from his lips, the cold metal of his Rolex dug into the fabric of your dress. You wanted that watch. 

    The taxi slowly pulled up to the apartment complex and you both hurried out. Jimin haphazardly overpaid the driver and you both took a break to get your bearings before walking into his high end apartment building. 

“Hey, let’s try to look like we didn’t just make out like animals, okay?” Jimin patted your arm.

    So you went about smoothing down your hair, pulling down your skirt a little lower, and patting your cheeks gently to try and, in vain, dispel the light flush. 

     You both stumbled your way inside, laughing drunkenly. He helped stand you upright, a strong arm wrapped around your waist. There was a jingle of something falling to the ground, but you paid it no mind. He helped you all the way up to his apartment where you leaned against the wall while he searched for his keys. 

“Shit!” He cursed, sinking down beside you, his back thumping against the wall. “I lost my keys.” He grumbled. 

“Ah, that’s fine.” You laughed, “Just my luck.” 

“You seem pretty lucky, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I’m lucky, I guess, but I want a lot more than luck, you know?” 

“And what do you want?” 

“You.” You answered quickly.

     And that was the first time a lie had registered in your addled brain. Because that wasn’t true, no, not at all. Jimin was wonderful, handsome, smart, but you wanted something more material than these flimsy emotions.

    You wanted money. As you watched his expression melt into a lustful haze, you flexed your fingers and clenched them over and over. You could play his game of emotions, you could do it. You thought as he went in for another kiss. 

    It was a cold morning. Jimin had black out curtains. You could hide from the world very nicely here. You were awake at 1 A.M. 

    After a long night of searching and making out, the searching part of which you found far more enjoyable, you found his keys. He had dropped them in the lobby on the way in and the desk attendant had grabbed them. You went through your routine, replacing yourself with a pillow in his arms. 

“Huh. I always thought that only worked in movies?” You tilted your head and went back to your routine. After a while of getting ready, you sat beside the bed, watching him. 

    He breathed steadily. You glanced around, finally deciding to explore. You stood, picking up discarded clothes and observing his apartment. It was big, bigger than yours. 

   There were expensive things everywhere. You could guess he was old money. A glint of gold in the morning light caught your eye. You walked over, carefully not to disturb the floorboards. On his bedside table was the Rolex watch. 

“You can keep it.” His gruff voice said. “It’s not important to me, but you’ve been eyeing it all night.” 

“Why would you give this to me?” You asked, lifting the watch to look at it in the slim sliver of light that cracked through the curtain. You wanted to applaud his awareness and observation skills.  

“There’s something about the desperation in your eyes, Y/N. It’s exhilarating, beautiful, new. People are so...complacent, so okay with their situations nowadays, especially when you’re in positions like you and I. I’m giving it to you as a promise that this wasn’t just a one night thing. I’m serious about this.” Jimin rolled over in bed. “I like people like you, Y/N. I fall in love with people like you.” His words were soft, his expression was stone cold. 

    And you knew what game he was playing at with extravagant promises and carefully chosen words, you were playing the same game. So you simply let him win. 

    You could do that, for him, because as much as you were using him to help yourself gain a boost, your heart was beginning to lead you astray. And you could not let that happen. Still, that scent of cinnamon and the taste of strawberries would likely always remind you of him. 

    Perhaps it was obsession that took you back to his place over and over again. It wasn’t so much him, but the idea of him. Maybe it was the idea that he was rich, that he had money, that he was handsome, but all that aside, you were perfectly incompatible. 

     Jimin was old money, old money that was long gone. For as long as Jimin remembered, his father had worked very very hard to run his company into the ground. Whether it be with the drinking or the extravagant parties, his money was gone. 

     He had an unquenchable thirst for money. Some could call it an unhealthy obsession. So when he met you...oh boy. You exuded this confidence, the kind only old money could have. He wanted it. 

   Call him cruel, but he didn’t mind stepping on a few toes to get where he needed to be. He didn’t mind crushing some woman’s poor dreams. He really didn’t mind. You were another stepping stone. You were supposed to be just another tool for success. 

     In his alcohol induced state, probably drug induced state as well, he came to the conclusion that you two would make quite a pair indeed, a power couple. But he needed you to become more powerful. It would be a mutually beneficial relationship. 

“I don’t know, Jimin, I can get pretty nervous at interviews.” You had told him in response, but there was a gleam of excitement in your eyes, he didn’t read too much into it. 

“I think you’ll be fine.” He patted your back with a smile.

      Looking back, he never should have gotten you that interview with the New York Times. It was a poor decision on his part. Maybe if things had gone better, if he still remained ignorant of his situation and drank himself into debt like his father, he would be able to continue living his fantasy world. However, this would not be the case. He was not someone who was afraid of getting his hands dirty. And oh how dirty they were to become. 

 “Thank you, Miss Y/N, for joining us.” The reporter settled down across from you. 

“Ah, it’s a pleasure.” You smiled. The woman smiled back and prepared her notepad. 

    She was a hardworking woman. She wore flats and a nice outfit for this interview, but as you analyzed her posture and position, you knew she would most likely prefer something more comfortable. She slumped ever so slightly, her lipstick was well applied but her nail polish was cracking and half peeled. 

“I’m Anna and I’ll be interviewing you.” 

“Anna? As in Anna, Adobe Inc’s daughter?” 

“Yes!” She nodded happily. “I’m glad you remember me! You know, I only met you once really and we were children so I’m not surprised to see you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. Let’s see here…” 

    The interview began. 

“What was it like, growing up with Zhao Dong as a father?” 

“Well, Anna, he was absent a lot.” You said without a second thought, thinking back to your childhood sadly. “But he tried his best. I think I get a lot of my outgoing nature from him. He’s really a role model for me.” 

“And do you have the same goals and aspirations that he has for the company?” 

     You chuckled lightly at the question. 

“Oh dear, oh no.” You said, like it was some preposterous question. “Honey, he is all about the money. I am nothing like that. I’m all about human connection.” 

   Anna seemed pleased by this. Her eyes lit up and she hurriedly went to write down notes. 

“You seem like such a nice, down to Earth, person, Y/N, how do you get this mindset after being raised so...well, rich.” 

“I’ve gotten used to a lot of luxury, yes, but this does not take away from the fact that my father was always strict on discipline. He put a huge emphasis on respecting others and respecting situations we cannot comprehend. It is a valuable lesson I take to heart.” You nodded seriously, your hands gently folded in your lap. 

   Anna was, once again, pleased by your answer. You seemed to be telling her the right things. 

    Soon enough, your face was on the cover of every newspaper. The rich heiress to Sinopec is here in New York City! Or Y/N Dong, the future of the wealthy and elite. 

     You could bathe in the attention all day. In fact, you bought about 15 copies of the story and spread them around your apartment. You meticulously cut out each and every sentence that called you beautiful, complimented you, or even mentioned you and pasted them to the blank walls of your home. Even bad press was still press. After you were done with your hard work, you collapsed on the sofa. 

 “Knock knock!” 

      You jolted upright. You looked around your apartment. The curtains were drawn over the windows, just like they always were. You looked around. Your apartment was a mess. 

     The floor was littered with pieces of paper, the fridge stood open and there were expertly placed scissors just lying on the ground waiting to be stepped on. You blinked wearily. It was a disorientation akin to being hungover but not quite. 

“Knock knock?” 

    Your neck almost snapped with how hard you looked at the door. Shit. You immediately stood up, groaning in pain as you ripped your hand from the couch. You had somehow managed to glue your fingers to the fabric and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. 

    You started madly sweeping the paper, quite literally, under the rug. Then you threw open your windows and were reminded of why you kept them closed. They faced a brick wall. A lovely sight to see. 

    You frowned, but rubbed your eyes and carried on in your cleaning frenzy nonetheless. The knocks sounded once more and you finally answered.

“One sec-” You cleared your gruff voice. “One second!” 

    You tripped over the coffee table and you withheld a scream of frustration. Instead you threw your hands up in anger and let out a silent shout. 

“Everything alright in there?” 

“Yup! Just- give me- a moment-” You held your stubbed toe and every curse you knew flew through your head. 

    You then ran to the mirror and quickly brushed through your hair. Finally, you made it to the front door, looking as presentable as possible. 

    When you opened the door, two familiar people shoved their way in. 

“Ah, this place is smaller than I expected.” Heather announced, setting down a gift bag, Jimin entered after her with a shy smile. His face conveyed Heather’s words. 

“Yeah, sorry, it’s only temporary. I used to live down at Wall Street but then there was a pipe problem with my neighbor and you know...water damage is a real problem.” You clicked your tongue unhappily and they nodded sympathetically. 

“That’s completely understandable.” Heather said, moving to get a closer look at your walls. “Interesting decorations.” 

“I like words of affirmation to hang around my apartment. It helps build self confidence.” 

“Looks like you already have enough of that from the article I read.” Jimin chuckled, fingers brushing over a sentence plastered on the wall. 

“Oh, you read that?” Your cheeks heated up. “It was nothing, really.” 

“You’re practically everywhere, Y/N.” Heather pointed out. “It’s like knowing a celebrity.” 

“But I’m no celebrity.” You said humbly. “I’m just a normal person.” 

“My normal person.” 

    Possession. It was a common theme in your growing relationship with Jimin. You quite liked it. Your heart would always thump. A smile grew on your face and you gave him a quick kiss, one he returned gladly. 

“You guys are disgusting. Get a room.” Heather huffed. “Anyway,” She turned and grabbed a gift bag as you and Jimin parted. “I’ve got this gift for you. Call it a congratulations for being on your first ever cover. I was only 15 when I was on mine, but whatever.” 

“You didn’t have to.” You exclaimed, but happily took the gift. You threw out the tissue paper like an animal. “Oh! Earrings! I love them!” You exclaimed, surveying the expensive earrings. You assumed they must be at least $30,000. 

“Well, it’s just a little thing. Also, I forgot to mention it, my birthday party is next week and I’d love for you to come! I’ll send you the invites!” Heather interlaced your fingers with hers and you shot her a wry smile. 

“Of course, we’ll be there.” Jimin answered for you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

“Oh! I forgot to ask, has your father seen your article?” Heather inquired, it was a simple ask, one that had you twisting your hands nervously. 

“Oh yeah, I’m sure he has.” You said softly. “But he’s very busy as you know, so he just hasn't gotten in touch yet!” You assured her and when she nodded, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

    You didn’t want to know much about Jimin besides his family, his money, and how he looked. You just wanted him to be yours. 

    Jealousy. Yeah, that was definitely the green monster, as green as a freshly mowed lawn at bucking-fucking-ham palace. This feeling in your stomach was definitely jealousy. You told yourself you couldn’t feel jealous of Heather.

     Heather even explicitly said she’d never fall in love with Park Jimin, but that was a real trick, a trap, because everyone fell for Park Jimin. There was something about the way she held onto his arm that had you transfixed, how she casually brushed his side when reaching for something. 

    You were seeing green and red. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her fucking hand for one second, even when other people were trying to get your attention. The party was high caliber, celebrating the birthday of said woman. But you could care less that it was her birthday, that man was yours. 

     You were like a predator, stalking the perimeter before swooping in for the kill. You puffed out your chest and walked straight into their little conversation. 

“Jimin, Heather.” You greeted them with a warm smile, but inside you were screaming. It was a primal urge. 

“Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it!” Heather pulled you in for a hug and you both balanced your champagne in one hand while doing the awkward one armed move. “Jimin and I were just discussing the latest actions of the Audre Lorde Project.” 

“Oh, that’s wonderful.” You smiled slyly, all teeth and no glimmer of joy in your eyes to be found. “I just wanted to personally deliver my gift to you.” You thrust out the package. 

“Oh no no, you don’t have to! Besides, if you do, then suddenly everyone will want to come over and I just want to talk to you guys for now.” She lowered her voice and smirked. 

    You nodded, though your fingers clenched around the handles tightly. You trudged over to the gift table and haphazardly threw the bag among the other gifts. 

    It wasn’t anything special, just the ring you had gotten from Astteria. You had wanted to get rid of that old thing anyway. You glanced at the two, still talking. You gritted your teeth and stormed away to the bathroom. 

      You and Jimin did many things together. You learned his favorite color, his mother’s name and her favorite song, you learned about his life, his backstory. However, your favorite thing to do with Jimin was to make out. 

      Now, this might seem shallow, but making out with Jimin was like heaven on Earth. He knew how to move his lips, touch just the right spots, to get you melting. 

     He was the sun in a New York City heatwave and you were a popsicle melting below. It was truly a sight to behold, although Heather would disagree. As your hands would play a game of untying ties with his suit, your mind played a different game, a far more deadly one. 

“I love you.” You reeled him in. He followed you like a moth to a light. “I love you a lot.” You declared and he simply fell away under your grasp. 

     You had always enjoyed the sight of people falling beneath you as you stripped away their exteriors to find what made them tick. 

“You’re mine, Jimin, all mine.” You breathed heavily, gasping for breath as he moved to your neck.

     He made quick work of the clean skin, littering it with purple marks, delicately crafted by his skilled lips. His teeth grazed your ear, making you suck in a breath. Your, his, rolex watch pressed into his warm skin. 

“Tell me, Jimin, tell me you’re mine.” You said desperately and he groaned in delight. 

“I love it when you talk to me like that.” He peppered kisses along your jawline. “I love that sound, begging for me like a dog.” He gripped your jaw, pulling you closer, but you didn’t mind. “I’m yours, baby, but only if you’re mine.” 

“I’m all yours.” And he dove back to your lips like an animal.

“I’m madly in love with you, Y/N.” He murmured. “And you’re all mine.” 

    It was a perfect fairytale, but all fairytales need a villain.

     I have no idea who this woman is, posing as my daughter. She is an imposter for sure, or delusional. The subtitles on the T.V. read as you flipped through the article that just landed outside your door. 

     You seethed, feeling your heart sink as one by one, the article undid your many lies. You almost wanted this destruction, because with it came release.

   The release of pressure on your chest, from the weight of all these lies. They were carefully built, framing you in the perfect light, but you didn’t want everything to be undone. 

“What’s going on?” He picked up the phone. Your hands were shaking. “Y/N? Are you alright?” 

“I-I...don’t read the news, meet me outside my apartment door.” You said quickly, your voice quivering. You heard him roll out of bed. 

“Okay. I’ll be right there.” 

     You sent the same sentiments to Heather. You needed to explain this before they found out. You needed Jimin to understand your side of the story. Jimin was yours. No one else should have him. Ever since you’d set your eyes on him, you had known he was to be your newest obsession. 

“Y/N?!” Heather’s screeching voice echoed up the stairs and you knew it was too late for her. 

“I know what you think about me, Y/N, but I don’t feel the need to flaunt my riches. I may seem like a real stupid bitch, but I’m not.” Heather snapped, slapping the newspaper down in front of you while you waited with Jimin.  He picked up the paper before you could stop him. 

“Y/N? Is this true?” He asked cautiously, his eyes scanning the page. 

“Y/N? How could you?” 

“Y/N?” Y/N Y/N Y/N. The chant was dizzying. Everyone wanted a piece of you, damn it. 

“Shut up! Shut up!” You cried, breathless. 

    They both stopped. Heather’s eyes were pure anger, but Jimin looked confused, lost. He abruptly stood and you went along with him. Heather turned on her heel, storming out. 

“Don’t talk to me again, freak.” Heather said, her words bitter as she exited into the cold morning air. Mornings were always cold it seemed. 

“How many things have you lied about? Are you even Y/N? Is that even your name?!” He questioned, the buzz of anger growing. 

“I can’t...I can’t tell you that.” And you couldn’t. You’d lost track a long time ago.

“Jimin! Jimin please! Wait!” You grasped his hand desperately. He turned around furiously, sharply. 

“What do you want? You wore your little disguise so well and I, like a fool, fell for it.” His voice cracked.

“I know I’ve lied about-about a lot of t-things, but I know one thing that’s the truth,” You pleaded. “I love you.” 

His gaze hardened. “How do I know that’s not a lie?” 

    And you couldn’t tell him that either. 

      A pathological liar. Your mother would have been heartbroken by the label placed upon her precious daughter. You would have been offended as well if it weren’t for the objective truth. 

     Even when Columbia University expelled you for not only lying about grades and extracurriculars, but also just for being an awful person as they tried to lightly put it, everything still hadn’t hit home. 

     You were beautiful, fit for a queen. It was such a shame, then, when people also found out that you had no money. It made you hungry for the stuff. Now, the trick was to make sure they didn’t find that out. 

    Your mother had always been a good woman, but your father had easily gambled away all the money saved. Perhaps you got this carefree, flamboyant personality from him? 

     A narcissist. Not what you had expected as a new label either, but if it was in the papers, it must be true. In the end, all your little escapades had gotten you in a lot of debt, but the banks had just kept loaning you money. You had no idea why. Maybe it was like Jimin said, you had worn your disguise so well. 

“Wow, a narcissist, huh?” You studied yourself in the mirror.

   Your apartment was always dark, but you felt a particular chill today. You spoke to yourself, everyone else having had abandoned you. 

“I don’t think that’s right.” You argued back to no one. “I’m...Y/N...the daughter of Zhao Dong. that’s me.” You said over and over, but you were no longer convinced and deep down you knew it was all a sham, a lie. 

   One thing had built on another and another until all the lies piled up and you could no longer dig yourself out. Your head was often spinning trying to remember everything everyone had ever told you. 

   But the thing was, at a certain point, it had no longer been a fib, a disguise. You had become Y/N, the daughter of Sinopec’s chairman Zhao Dong. At a certain point, you had become someone else, and that was all you had ever wanted. 

    Then you started laughing uncontrollably before sweeping your arm across the counter, sending various beauty products tumbling to the floor. Your body shook. 

“No, no, no. It was all a lie.” You giggled. “It was just a lie, you’re just Y/N Y/L/N from a goddamn backwater town.” You slapped your cheeks, hard, as if that could erase all that was done.

   It seemed that you were the villain of this fairytale, but you couldn’t quite believe it. As you looked in the mirror, the darkness of the bathroom slowly closing in around you, you could see yourself clearly. 

    There was no doubt in your mind that you were the evil queen and there was no snow white, just you and your shitty castle. And you were alone. Not even Jimin wanted a thing to do with you, having called your reckless actions disgusting. You had assured him you weren’t a psychopath. 

    You remembered the conversation on the phone after calling him several times. 

“I’m sorry, how can I make it up to you?” You had asked. He had simply laughed bitterly and shifted his phone .

“You’ve already stolen everything from me, Y/N, and I fully intend to take back most of it, but you can keep the watch.” and then he hung up. 

1 A.M. wake up. 

Obsess over what you were going to do for the day. Fall back asleep. 

3 A.M. 

Get out of bed. 

make yourself a cup of coffee and stare in the mirror for a while. 

5 A.M. 

Take a deep breath. 

Start your day. 

    You didn’t have a home to return to. You didn’t have anyone who loved you and you most certainly didn’t have a reputation. With your face staining every front page of a newspaper, you had nowhere to hide, but you were just one person. You needed some fresh air, and where to best do that except at the top of the Empire State Building?

    You were surprised to brush past Jimin on the way up to the top floor, but you should have guessed. You supposed his mother worked there. Either way, he followed you, asking if anything was wrong. Like a fucking psychopath.

“STOP!” You cried, turning to him as you reached the top floor. There had to be roof access somewhere up here. 

“I want to know if you’re okay?” His eyes were kind and you were reminded of how everything had been before. 

    But you had already hurt each other, the past was past, there was only forward in this meaningless space of nothing. 

“Haven’t I hurt you enough?!” You shouted, tears finally making their way down your face.

     He pulled you back as you started to search the top floor, which was deserted save for two workers filing out for the night. 

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered.

      His eyes were furious, a volcano, a matchstick ready to ignite. It caught you off guard. 

“Because, even though I hate you right now with every bone in my goddamn body, I would stop you from doing something stupid, like what I think you’re about to do, over and over again. No matter what.” He stopped, words stuttering, jawline clenching as he searched for the words. 

“And maybe that’s what makes me the fool.” 

     He stepped back into the elevator and the doors slowly closed. You couldn’t bring yourself to join him, simply standing in shock at his declaration. And then he was gone. You saw him once more at a club with Heather on his arm, and after that, you never saw him again. 

     You would sometimes think you saw him; the flash of his silver hair, his figure ducking into a shop, the smell of him when you woke up, the taste of strawberry on your lips but he was never there. You didn’t need the money anymore. You realized...you had just wanted him. 

    Loving him was electrifying, like a hurricane at times and calm waters at others. You were a train on its way to be wrecked, and you had finally...run off the rails. 

 Fin

 Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine Cashmere, cologne and hot sunshine Red racing cars, sunset and vine And we were young and pretty

Taglist: @thereaderstea​ , @sadboibts​, @ditttiii​

[some-stars]

Fic writer questionnaire! Tagged by @deputychairman, thank you!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

65....just waiting for 69 so i can celebrate

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

288,609

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

okay, so, there's a lot so we're gonna collapse some. So, 16: The Witcher (games and show), Supernatural, Dark Angel, Glee, Stargate (both SG1 and SGA), MCU, Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, due South, DC (comics and movies), House of Leaves, Sense8, Harry Potter, Les Miserables (book), Doctor Who, and X-Men movies. Oh, and I wrote a lot of NSYNC RPF back in the day but you will never see it. (Unless you literally read it back then and remember one and want to reread it, I’m not ashamed of them if you were also in the pit with me. If that is the case feel free to ask.)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?  

all some children do is work: this one surprised me, i did NOT think there was this kind of appetite for almost-gen turned-into-a-kid fic, but i do really like the fic itself so i'm contented with its acclaim

method: i mean, it's fake dating, written back when there wasn't much non-modern-AU fake dating in witcher fandom (possibly there still isn't?) so, not surprised

Emergency Pants: this is the one that the Claw chose back in 2012 bc i had written very pornographic tony/bruce about a month after Avengers came out so there was a big appetite for it. i don't much care for it these days except i do still think the tony voice is good

warm you like the sunshine: deeply unsurprised this one is popular (and it's one of my own fics that i reread a lot), it's extremely tender BDSM with a juggernaut pairing, that gets the readers

As often as from thee I go: honestly kinda surprised about this one, which is just a 2500 word confection i wrote for my own satisfaction, but it does have explicit sex and jaskier crying about his feelings so maybe it makes sense

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

I almost always do, but usually just with "Thanks!" unless it's a detailed or lengthy comment.

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

"Long black night, morning frost" (Les Miserables) for absolute certain. One of the very few fics I've written with an outright unhappy and pessimistic ending (although I found it very cathartic to write). For Witcher fics, "Kind" and "go ask alice" are about as sad as I get.

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

Almost all of them, honestly. There's a point in happiness of endings where you really can't distinguish degrees. Probably the most--not saccharine, but distinctly Happy Ending-ish is either "Water like a stone" or "Darling, if you only knew," which to my eternal shame are both Glee fics. In terms of Witcher fics...it's still hard to pick! I think the kidfic trilogy ended very, very happily; I think "If you live through this with me" ended TOO happily.

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

I do not, and I don't read them, at least not since the days of the late 90s/early 2000s when I once read a really good Highlander/X-Files crossover (oh, and Martha's cosmic horror fic where Stargate and Angel and I think something else all cross over but it feels quite natural and right). I don't like fusions, either, most of the time.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Never! In 20 years! I've been extremely lucky.

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

ahahahahahahahhaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

yes...yes you could say i write smut. on occasion. you know, when the urge comes on me. i write mostly kink or at least kink-adjacent fic, but i've done some vanilla scenes too, and i write m/m and m/f and (occasionally) f/f. fun fact, my only rimming scene to date was in a f/f/f threesome!

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

I think so? I can't remember, honestly, which sounds dreadful but like...I don't READ the translation, because I am sadly monolingual, but I get a burst of delight when someone asks to do it (or to make a podfic).

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

I have tried--me and a friend once got like 12k deep into a co-written Tiger and Bunny fic--but it doesn't really work out for me. I am a massive control freak when it comes to writing and absolutely miserable to work with. (Although I wasn't so bad back when we wrote the T&B fic, we just sort of never got around to finishing it. Which is sad, because it was GREAT.)

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

Max/Alec from Dark Angel. I shipped it when I only started watching DA for Jensen's episodes, I shipped it when I fell in love with Max, I shipped it when I frantically hand-wrote notes about the fic I wanted to write, I ship it right now as I'm typing, I will ship it in my grave. Also it's not a het ship bc neither of them are heterosexual, thank you very much.

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

I only post finished fics, but in terms of things I haven't posted, I still think my "For A Good Time Call" fem!jaskier/yennefer(/geralt) AU would have been truly incredible. If you haven't watched that movie go watch it immediately so you can share this beautiful idea with me.

16) What are your writing strengths?

Ohhh, this and the next one are hard, because I truly don't know. Well, besides "porn." I am genuinely good at porn, which is HILARIOUS considering how many more sex scenes I've written than participated in. But overall, I have so much angst and neurosis and tenuous self-worth tied up in writing, I'm a very bad judge of my own skills. Also, it depends on the fandom! In some fandoms I'm good at dialogue, in others not so much. In some fandoms I'm good at pastiching the tone of the source and in others...Not So Much.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

If I had to pick a weakness, though, I'd say concrete imagery/detail. Like, the things that characters are physically doing either out of emotional reaction or just, they're doing something in that scene. Dialogue is usually easier (not sure if it comes out better, but it's easier).

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?  

I used to be mildly annoyed at it but! Now! On AO3! You can put a footnote by the French or whatever, so the reader can jump down to read a translation and then jump right back up. I now feel that if you choose to include dialogue (or any words) in another language from the rest of the story, this is the only acceptable method.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I remember vaguely in 1996 or so writing a couple pages of Kit whump for the Young Wizards books. I wrote some execrable nonsense in X-Files, but in my defense I had just turned 13. I don't THINK I wrote anything for Star Trek, which was my first fandom. Oh, and I attempted to write fic for Homicide, which I watched in 7th and 8th grade and lied about my age to get onto the good mailing lists (they were actually the bad, racist mailing lists, I would later realize, but again I was 13).

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

Sorry to disappoint anyone who follows me for Witcher content, but it's either "The absolute absurdity of end-series items" (House of Leaves) or "A quite unlosable game" (Dark Angel). They are both Big Idea fics, and I feel like in both of them I got the Idea across brilliantly, and I'm truly proud of them and think they're the best things I've ever made. (In terms of Witcher fic, it's the kidfic trilogy for sure.)

I am not going to tag anyone because that always makes me mildly anxious, but if you read this and you want to do it you can say you were tagged by me! :D? :D?

[border-spam]

1. Okay let's be entirely honest you know who I'm going to ask about: you got any headcanons or thoughts on the gay old men? Wainlock enjoyer brainrot is permament I tell you.

2. LL is poggers as fuck, keep up the good work. If I had half as much Power I'd be talking about my secret-ish rewrite all the fucking time. You're poggers too lol

3. What's your opinion on Angel Lives AUs? Do you have any favorite variation of them? Perhaps your own spin on things?

1: I have so many thoughts on the Gay Old Men of Bl3.

I've covered Winny and Alistair a few times before in regards to how I felt they were such a well done set of characters to be added as a new relationship in Bl3, but something I don't think I touched on before is.. them.. being old? Well not old old, past middle age at least, and that was SUCH a damn breath of fresh air in a franchise that is so fucking weird about letting characters actually age. What was so great about them was something I'll touch on with Lorelai in an upcoming ask too - they were so natural. They weren't something "weird", to point attention at or frame as a focal point, they existed naturally within the game world. Their age, Winny's bald spot and blind eye, Alistair's joint issues and overall missing limb chunks, they existed as part of the chars but weren't crutches or limitations for the storytelling for them. They didn't *matter*. Wainwright outran an enraged Troy, who's probably half his age, because he knew the terrain of his family home better than the demigod. He's slower and half blind but 100% as capable. Alistair and him bicker and complain at each other like an old married couple without it being broadcast as a negative, a "This is what marriage is players, roll your eyes and laugh" bullshit trope that's attached to married characters WAY too often even in modern content.

HC wise I have a little idea that both are quite stoic when it comes to chronic pain and the results of all those injuries over the years, and discussing them or even feeling secure enough to raise them is something both men feel is quite an intimate act - only done with people close and trusted.

Opening up about a badly healed shin or the way old shotgun shell scars still burn on bad evenings was part of the conversations they had as time passed and they grew closer, as a relationship formed, and both have a habit of showing tenderness towards ailments they *know* the other suffers with now that they are married. Shoulder rubs, unspoken gifts of soothing creams, little things like that - they seem like average signs of affection to onlookers, but the men understand the intimacy of what they really mean.

2: Awwwwww.

Awww :) You too pal, I need to catch up on that actually... gimme till tomorrow.

3: Angel lives AHHHHH

Ok so - I'll be to the point with this: I don't actually think there was any benefit to her dying from a story POV. I knowww, I knowww, a lot of people will prob disagree with that, but I genuinely think she could have brought more to the stakes of fighting against Jack while being alive than dead, and it was a genuine waste of a long term BL character with a MASSIVE amount of backstory and lore power that we really could have done with. Angel not dying, but being left no longer a real Siren after being disconnected from Eridium? Being brought back to Sanctuary by shellshocked Vault Hunters who just lost Roland AND Lilith at the same time they found out they'd been led on by Jack and this girl they know wasn't at fault.. but .. also know she kind of was? Tannis and her? TANNIS AND HER? A de-powered socialy stunted Siren spending time with a Sirentologist who wouldn't bat an eye at any of her social awkwardness and show non stop intense interest in her as a person? Holy fuck. An actual reason for her to give Tannis her powers when her ill health eventually claims her? I just think that would have been a far better arc ( having her use her actual technical know-how to hack into Hyperion cannon connections and launch moonshots to support you during the Warrior fight while her father rages at all of you), than dying there and then and just being gone. Seeing this girl fight to protect a town she feels she owes the inhabitants of, even though they understandably may never forgive her for what she caused? That's a good character arc - letting her die just to get focus away from her and onto Lilith and Roland after was janky as hell from a storytelling POV. Jack could have hated you just as much for "turning his precious daughter against him" as he did you "killing her."

[sometimesiwrite]

Hooked on a Feeling

The Witcher: Modern Academia AU

Essi/Eskel

A/N: Inspired by this lovely art piece and my general ongoing obsession with Lit Prof Eskel, I bring you this—whatever this is. It came about largely because I want to explore Essi more thoroughly through different pairings, various different planes of existence, etc. The best way for me to think about and develop a character is to put them in with other characters and see what happens. This may or may not become a series, this also might stay where it is. I chose a modern AU because I wanted a challenge. I believe characters change with context, and this has been an interesting time spent with Eskel in this context as well. I’m not sure how I feel about him in this universe (aside from the love and affection I will likely always feel for that man); more specifically, I’m not sure I’ve done him justice, but I suppose I’ll let you decide for yourself. Feedback is usually helpful and always welcome. Cheers, friends! 

Warnings: bit o’ smut, age gap, academic power structures, dialogue-heavy

MASTERLIST

Enjoy!

Strong hands held her steady, warm and luxurious through the cotton-poly-spandex of her skirt as it bunched around the tops of her thighs. A breathless roll of her hips left a spot blooming slippery dark on the red cotton of his boxer briefs, and a hungry moan escaped his throat as he explored the tender flesh and tendons of her neck. Papers crumpled under foot, previously housed on top of the desk, but now relegated to excess carpeting. Roget’s Thesaurus, Crabb’s English Synonyms, Shakespeare’s Lexicon, and other reference materials splayed open helplessly on the office floor as he toed off his shoes and sloughed off his pants. 

She clutched him to her, feeling the shift and flex of his torso beneath her hands as she pressed her right cheek to his. She was overwhelmed with the urge to be closer, to know better, dig deeper into the possibilities of what they could mean to each other. But she could also feel the hesitation lingering between his fingers and her skin like a mirage over hot pavement, and the desire to ease and reassure took over. “You’re holding back,” she whispered, pausing their fervor. “Is this not what you wanted?”  

Her hot breath against his ear sent a rushing tingle down his spine that made him falter, ever-so-briefly, before he regained his composure. He was breathing heavy against her, hair a mess, glasses askew, every muscle in his body quivering as he stood; caught between following the raw satisfaction of impulse, and listening to the unwelcome logic echoing loudly in his head that this was a bad idea. “No, no, believe me, this is very much what I want. I just—I need to make sure tha-ha-ha-haaaaa,” no one, not even him, got to know the end of that sentence as her palm dragged along the bulge in his briefs.

She blinked at him with certainty, pale cheeks blushing from her own boldness. But she wanted him to know that he was wanted: his mind, his body, his whatever-else-he-chose-to-give-her. Slender fingers nimbly worked the pearly buttons on his dress shirt. “You need to make sure that I don’t feel coerced by the difference in our ages or your institutional status.” She ran her hands over the crisp white cotton of his undershirt and smirked, “or your strength.” 

Gods the way she talked sometimes, like her fucking soul belonged somewhere else, the way she just spoke words and meant them like it was the easiest thing in the world to be straightforward. It felt… safe. He could drift in the current of her transparency and never question whether she was holding something back or saying something merely for the sake of placating his insecurity. This woman had no subtext. It was liberating and, if he was perfectly honest, acutely arousing. 

“Yes, of course I want to make sure,” he ran a hand through her hair, smelling sea salt and verbena. “And I want to make sure that you…”

She took his face in her hands and washed his honey-hazel eyes in her startling sea-glass-blue, “I want you.”

__________

Not even a third of the way through the semester, and Essi had already given up on the idea of making coffee and having a “pleasant wakeup” at home before class. It took no less time to roll out of bed and walk all the way to the cafeteria, but at least there was always a blueberry danish for her trouble, and the walk ensured she wouldn’t be tempted back into the warm bundle of blankets on her bed. She blinked heavily and shivered a little, her eyes still bleary from not-enough-sleep. She gripped her contigo travel mug and tried to remember the first two chapters of Gadamer that she’d half-read the night before (earlier that morning) as her eyes drifted closed.

...can I get for you?

Good morning… Miss?

The man in front of her gave a wry smile to the cashier, “Almost seems a shame to wake her up.” He gingerly reached out and nudged Essi’s elbow. She startled and her eyes—her two spectacularly blue eyes—blinked open. “Sorry,” the man said with an endeared smile, “You, uh… you alright?”

Essi blinked herself alert as a piece of strawberry blonde hair escaped a silver clip at the back of her head. She brushed the loose piece back behind her ear. “Yes. Sorry, just… uh, house blend in this, please. Double-double. And a blueberry danish.” She paid the cashier and stepped to the side to wait for her order. The man in front of her, she assumed, was also waiting on his. He leaned to the side, still facing forward.

“Long night?” he asked, clearly still mildly amused by the situation.

She conducted a surreptitious survey of her chatty companion, “You could say that. Philosophy reading got away from me this week.” A keycard was clipped to his breast pocket: Dept. English, E. L. Varga, Ph.D. The lack of photo indicated it was at least a year old if not more—photo IDs had only just become mandatory with the rapid growth of the campus and certain programs. She reckoned he was maybe 37-ish, from the way his hazel eye crinkled a little at the corner and the few bright silver streaks in his dark auburn hair. He looked… distinguished, but without the stiffness of someone whose entire adult life had been fully committed to academia. Post-doc? Assistant Professor?

“Full day ahead?” Essi couldn’t help but think the world of radio was missing a key contributor, his voice was so striking—deep and rich, but without being flashy, an unassuming timbre that came from somewhere deep within and carried a vulnerability with it. 

“Oh, a little. Philosophy seminar followed by Contemporary Poetry this afternoon.”

“Two on a Friday. That’s a bit unkind.” 

“I like them both and the professors are very engaging, it’s just, well…”

“Abrupt end to the week.” 

“Yes exactly…” This unexpected morning companion was an excellent conversationalist. So much so that Essi hardly noticed she’d only seen the left half of him the entire time they’d been standing in line. She didn’t have much time to ponder on it, though, as her travel mug appeared at the same time as Dr. Varga’s order (a coffee and a cream cheese bagel). She glanced at the time and hastily lidded her thermos, hoping to get a bit more reading done before class began. 

“Oh look, we have the same one!” she said, pointing to the turquoise blue, double-walled, spill-proof (as if) container as she tightened the seal on her own. “Funny coincidence.”

“Or maybe,” he offered suspensefully, tucking his bagel into his shoulder bag and lidding his own, “it’s not.” 

Essi offered a sleepy chuckle, “Divine intervention in the form of coffee?”

“You’re the philosopher,” he smiled warmly, and moved to face her fully but stopped himself, instead opting to stare at his hand where it rested on the lid of his thermos. His left eye caught Essi’s inquisitive head tilt as he cleared his throat, “Have a good day.” He pursed his lips in a halfhearted smile and turned away. No doubt he has places to be, she concluded. But a small part of her couldn’t get over his sudden shift. He’d gone from being so open, so warm and charming to being—well, distant. 

Essi’s musings about the mysterious E. L. Varga, Ph.D. were quickly dissolved by her professor’s introduction to Hermeneutics followed by a lively discussion about the nature and qualities of knowing. At the halfway point, the class dispersed for a ten minute break as they all stretched their legs and went to the bathroom. Essi gambled that her coffee would have cooled down to a drinkable temperature, and took a sip. What the—? 

“Oh, damnit!”

“Hm? What’s the matter?” Julian asked, through a mouthful of pita and hummus. 

“This isn’t mine,” she said, half-befuddled, half amused. 

“How do you know they didn’t just get the order wrong? You’re telling me you took a stranger's coffee thermos which just happens  to be identical to your own?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what happened,” Essi stated with certainty, staring into the middle distance. “I should find him after class and give it back.”

“Well, unless you can see through walls now, you’ll need to track down his office. Which,” Julian took another sizeable bite of pita, “I doubt you’ll be able to do without knowing his name, so I say just leave it and—“

“E. L. Varga, Ph. D., English department.”

Julian stared at his cousin, “You’re a little scary sometimes, you know that?” 

________

Essi combed the halls of the English department after her seminar. Several times, she thought about going to the admin office to ask (it was the logical thing to do), but she felt suddenly shy about looking for him. Perhaps Julian was right, perhaps this was more trouble than it was worth. Her head was spinning with questions about whether she was imposing or perhaps impinging on his boundaries, disrespecting his privacy. Perhaps she should just leave the thermos with the Admin office and trust that it would get to him. She could just buy a new one for herself, no problem there. But then a part of her wanted to see him again, make a good impression. He intrigued her, and the small taste of conversation he’d given her that morning made her want to talk with him more about anything at all, no matter how trivial. 

She wasn’t infatuated. Rather he’d made an impression, and something about him—the way he carried himself, presented his thoughts, his general affect—drew her to him in a way she couldn’t explain. Suddenly he mattered, and she was trawling the seemingly-endless network of almost-identical hallways in the hopes of returning what was his, and retrieving what was hers. She finally found the right office, impossibly small, and tucked away at the far end of a cul-de-sac. She knocked quietly. 

“Come in?”

 E. L. Varga, Ph.D. had his back to the door, ankles crossed on a corner of his desk with a stack of papers in his lap. “Just.. one second,” he finished underlining a scrawled turquoise notation in the margin and spun around to face the door, setting his papers down as he turned. “Yes, what can I do for—” he froze, coming face-to-face with dazzling blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair pulled up in a silver clip. “Ah.” 

Essi tried hard to avoid the look of shock that rippled across her face and made her big blue eyes even bigger. Three jagged scars trailed angrily from the corner of his eye and past his mouth, coming to a final stop on the side of his chin. He cleared his throat and gave the same wry smile he’d parted with earlier that morning, adjusting his rectangular, wire-rimmed glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

“I imagine you’ve come for this,” he said, placing Essi’s thermos on the edge of the table. 

“I—yes, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention and, well,” she fished his out from her bag, “here.” She handed it to him and he accepted with a lighthearted raise of his eyebrows. She paused for a moment, meeting his eyes intensely. There was a sadness behind them that made her want to stay, made her want to ask questions, find out the source of his pain and eradicate it. Instead she smiled a little more stiffly than she meant to and lingered in the doorway. 

E. L. Varga scratched at the lines in his cheek, “Was there, uh… something else?”

Essi shook her head pleasantly, “No. I suppose I’ll go now.”

Another pause, “Alright. Well. Enjoy your weeke—.”

“Why do you mark in blue?”

“I beg your pardon?” Dr. Varga blinked, nonplused. 

“When I came in, before you turned around, I saw you leaving a comment on someone’s paper. I assume you were marking?” (he nodded), “You use turquoise. Most professors use red.”

He huffed a small laugh, spinning his marking pen in its cap, “I prefer to use a colour that’s a little less foreboding. It’s still bright and easy to notice, but it doesn’t mean instant panic for those students who, like me, have a Pavlovian panic response to red ink. That and red is my favourite colour, so the last thing I want is to associate it with constructive criticism and a never-ending trail of ‘see me’s.”

“That’s very generous of you. Most professors don’t think about it that hard.”

“The extent to which many professors don’t think is shocking, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I’m glad for your students. They have a thoughtful instructor.” 

Dr. Varga smiled warmly and removed his glasses, “Thank you. Was there something else?” 

“You hid from me this morning,” Essi answered calmly, not knowing how else to bring up something like that—clumsily had been the only other option. 

He answered slowly, “Yes. I did.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

There was a pause as Dr. Varga tried to wrap his head around what exactly was happening. Part of him was feeling exposed and a little too noticed for his own comfort. Another part of him, however, found this straightforwardness refreshing. Most people pretended to ignore the massive scars on the side of his face—which he always thought was a bit ridiculous and usually led to more awkwardness than if they just stared like he knew they wanted to. It wasn’t that she was staring, either, or asking unwelcome questions, but she wasn’t avoiding acknowledging the obvious. He liked that, he decided, even if it did make him feel a bit raw. 

“It depends how you define ‘need’, doesn’t it?”

His averted glance was all Essi needed to realize it wasn’t her he had been trying to spare somehow; rather, he was trying to spare himself from her unpredictable reaction at 8:30 in the morning. A wave of sadness crested inside her at the thought of this warm and charismatic man having to strategically orient his face because he didn’t want a pleasant conversation suddenly filled with maneuvering and overcompensation. He’d just wanted a normal moment of small-talk to start his morning.

“I’m sorry,” Essi said. “Navigating others’ reactions must be exhausting. You deserve better.” 

E. L. Varga shrugged and steered the subject to something a little less eat-pray-love. “Unexpected things surprise us. Like you, finding my secret gremlin office for the sake of two identical thermoses we could just as easily have dumped out and used as our own.”

“But I would have known it wasn’t mine,” Essi answered with an overly-earnest, wide-eyed expression.

He leaned back in his chair, hands folded contemplatively in his lap, ”Would that bother you?”

“Some of the colour has worn off the bottom rim on yours, probably from swirling it on your desk while you think. Whereas mine has a shallow dent in the side from when I dropped it last semester on my way to the library. Yours got the way it did because of you, just like mine did because of me. They both have stories connected to them. I can’t walk around carrying my coffee in someone else’s story. It wouldn’t feel right.” 

Dr. Varga tilted his head, considering this shrewd young woman with seemingly no filter and unnecessary depth. It was a coffee thermos, for Christ’s sake. But she was genuine, poetic, and her eyes were the most alluring shade of blue he’d ever seen.

“Well,” he tapped his pen, “thank you for bringing it back to me safe and sound. Yours should still be drinkable if you unscrew the top. I only took one sip, but in case you’re afraid of cooties…”

“Same with yours, I’ll probably just rinse mine or…” she trailed off, realizing that saying ‘leave it’ would sound a bit strange. “So, Dr. E. L. Varga. Was it a coincidence after all?” Essi asked, a small enigmatic smile pulling at her lips. 

“Eskel,” He said. “My name is Eskel.”

“Essi Daven. Until next time.”

With a little nod, she closed the door behind her, leaving Eskel to release the half-breath he’d been holding. 

_______

The weekend passed all-too quickly. Essi and Julian played a double set at the campus bar—a standing invitation they never missed no matter how busy their schedules were. They both had double lectures on Friday, and nothing quite staved off the risk of burnout like good music and an enthusiastic audience. The rest of the weekend was spent more-or-less curled up in the livingroom with stacks of notebooks, JStor printouts, and dog-eared anthologies as they got to work on their readings for the coming week.

It was Wednesday by the time Essi made it back to the campus cafe, this time a good 45 minutes early and significantly better-rested than she’d been the previous Friday. Still, it didn’t stop her from nearly jumping out of her shoes when… 

“Awake this morning, I see.” 

She turned abruptly at the familiar voice to find Dr. Eskel L. Varga standing behind her, smiling welcomingly. She grasped the outside of his arm while she caught her breath, “Well, if I wasn’t awake before, I am now. Good morning!”

A rich chuckle came from the professor’s throat as he offered her elbow a brief touch of reassurance. “You know, most people do that after they’ve turned around.” 

“You know, I’m not sure how to respond to that,” she answered lightly.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to. It was just—”

“That’s alright, I know what it was,” Essi blinked warmly up at him and Eskel got the distinct feeling she was checking him somehow, the way her eyes hovered and flickered between his own. Satisfied, she turned to the cashier and placed her usual order, stepping aside to wait with Eskel for his bagel. 

“We’ll have to keep a close eye on the twins today,” he said, tucking his wallet into his pocket.

“I think any amount of attention from either of us will be enough to prevent another mishap. But, then again, it’s a shame we won’t have an excuse to distract ourselves with an early afternoon mystery.” Essi thanked the young man behind the counter as she accepted her thermos and blueberry danish.

“Hm, I imagine you’ll be glad not to have to find my office again, though. Cheers,” Eskel held up his own travel mug before taking a sip and lidding it. “I should be off. Busy day today. Good to see you, Essi.”

“I can walk with you if you like.” 

Eskel slowed and turned tentatively back to her, “Sure, alright. If it won’t make you late.”

“No, no, I have time. My class doesn’t start until 9:30. That is, if you want company. You might…  prefer to walk alone?”

Eskel smiled again, the friendly distanced smile of someone who wanted to avoid any and all misunderstandings. You see, there was something about Essi that set this post-doctorate professor on edge—not because she made him uncomfortable. On the contrary: she made him feel surprisingly comfortable. Comfortable in a way he was not accustomed to feeling around someone he’d only just met, and briefly at that. But even the brief few minutes they’d spent in each others’ company had been enough for Eskel to feel strangely drawn to her. There was an inherent intimacy in the way she interacted with him—with everyone, he assumed; the way her large blue eyes blinked slowly and inquisitively at him, the way they penetrated without piercing and lingered on his without darting away. It only served to enhance the subtle, self-possessed sensuality she exuded, and it made Eskel slightly-less-than-comfortable (insofar as he found it unavoidably appealing). 

“I don’t mind a bit of company from time to time,” he offered, having opted for ‘Intriguing Conversation with Interesting Potential Future Student’ as his intention for this and all future encounters. They walked for about a minute in silence, neither quite knowing where to begin. Without the crutch of mistaken coffee-identity, the realm of conversational possibilities seemed a bit daunting. Eskel decided to ease the tension, “So, Essi. You know that I teach in the English department and where my office is. What’s your major? Or are you just doing general studies?” 

“Well, I did do general studies my first year of undergrad,” a small piece of Eskel’s uneasiness eased. So she’s a grad student… “Now, I’m finishing off the first half of my Poetry MFA.”

Essi watched as his face immediately opened, eyes lighting up like a kid at DisneyLand, “Really? What’s your focus?” It was unbearably endearing. 

“Affect and Poetic Performance. I’m examining the relationship between lyric and melody through the lens of Affect Theory.”

“Affect Theory…”

“It’s a way of talking about our ineffable responses to different environments. It’s all well and good to say, ‘well this or that has a certain vibe,’ or ‘something about that person feels off,’ when we’re speaking colloquially, but how do we talk about it in a broader, more objective way for the purposes of research? It’s a kind of philosophy of sensing if you think about it.”

Essi’s entire demeanor had changed on the turn of a dime. She was effusive, incisive, and talking a mile a minute, her gestures captivatingly eccentric as she spoke—Eskel thought it looked like her thoughts were physical things she was trying to pull out of her so she could arrange them properly. He wanted to see more of this side of her. Not just because he was amused and impressed, but because he was genuinely fascinated by where all this discussion of affect was going.

“And so affect itself is…”

“Affect is the thing that happens before emotion; a gut feeling or an intuition. It’s all those feelings we don’t have words for yet still sense acutely and precisely.” Her footsteps were becoming shorter, as though they were trying to keep pace with her thoughts, and her cheeks were starting to flush a pretty shade of pink beneath her light layer of foundation (or powder or whatever it was that made her shimmer slightly). 

“This all sounds very elusive, Essi.”

“Exactly! It is! It’s incredibly elusive! And yet, what is it about a certain song that we can all agree sounds ‘melancholy’? How do we, as artists—poets, actors, sculptors, writers, musicians, gallerists, interior decorators—curate affect in a way that’s consistent and predictable?” 

“Hm…” Eskel had forgotten about being charmed by his companion and was now fully invested in the inquiry at hand. He felt confident that he’d pieced it together so far. “So: how do lyrics and melody work together to form a cohesive, wide-reaching atmosphere...”

“—And how does the singer or musician facilitate that? Precisely.”

“It sounds like you’re digging into some interesting corners. Are you enjoying it?”

“I’m finding it invigorating,” the pink of her cheeks only served to intensify the blue of her irises as they flashed brightly up at him. 

“I’m happy to hear that. It isn’t always the case,” Eskel stopped, having reached the top of the hallway leading to his office. “I should get to work, but. Thank you for the company. You’re thinking about a lot of interesting things.”

“A roundabout way of saying I’m interesting, perhaps.” There was no flirtation in her voice, no slyness on her face, but Eskel felt his face grow warm all the same. He couldn’t decide what was worse: that she wasn’t flirting but stating the obvious; or that her stating the obvious had the same effect as flirting. 

“Yes, well. Duty calls,” he gave Essi a polite wave and turned towards his office.

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

He stopped. “Sure” he replied stiffly, privately bracing himself for the inevitable question. Fine. Alright. It’s natural to be curious. 

“What’s the L stand for?”

Eskel turned back to face her, eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. “Sorry?”

“Eskel L. Varga. What’s the L for?”

“Oh! Sorry I thought…” he scratched gently at his right cheek and Essi’s heart sank. How many callous people had imposed their curiosity on him? A spark of protective anger shot up inside her as she watched his hand and she had an overwhelming urge to reach for him. “It’s, uh, it’s for Llewlyn.”

She swallowed heavily, restraining her hand as it twitched by her side, wanting to touch, to ease, to unburden. “You thought I was going to ask about something else that’s none of my business.”

Eskel rocked on his heels, examining the various dings and dents in the linoleum tiling, “Yes.”

“That’s none of my business.”

“Thank you,” he looked up, his free hand now in his pocket. “Most people don’t… I should go.”

“Have a good week, Eskel.”

“You, too.” 

To say that Eskel retreated behind his office door would be a bit of an overstatement. But in the quiet solitude of his own private space, he had a moment to collect himself, to temper the intense vulnerability pressing on his chest. But there was another feeling, too, that felt more… elastic. A buoyancy driven by stimulating conversation and pleasant company; he was impressed, incredibly impressed; and despite his better judgement there was a part of him that hoped he would see her again on Friday morning. 

Essi made her way to class with an indelible smile on her face as she struggled to convince herself that it was a professor’s job to listen to eager students and find their research topics interesting. Try as she might, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening. She didn’t know what, just yet, but it was something. Only time would tell.

______

@morethangeraskier @the-space-between-heartbeats  @just-a-sad-donut @oxenfurt-archives @thirstyforred @titaniafire @belalugosisdead @lonelygayz @awkward-turtles-world @iloveyouyen @criminaly-supernatural@friendlybelladonna @enkelikauneus @sulkyshengshou

[zkfanworkweek]

ZFAW Content Creator Interviews: OwedBetter

Hey everyone! We hope you’re all excited for ZFAW, and to honor (ha!) ZFAW’s commitment to supporting and celebrating fan content creators in the Zutara fandom, we’re going to be rolling out a series of interviews with well-known and widely-beloved content creators over the next few weeks. We’ve got artists and fanfiction authors, some names you recognize as well as a few phenomenal up-and-coming talents, and we can’t wait for you to meet them all!

I’m super excited about this one! For the sixth (incredibly delayed, I’M SORRY) interview in the cycle, we have Jo, aka @owedbetter. Best known for the absolutely iconic Zutara fanfiction “I’m Still Here,” Jo’s works can be found at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12312357/chapters/27990618

Tell us about how you came to ship Zutara. What does this ship mean to you?

To use one of my favourite lines from Jane Austen, "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun." I started watching Avatar: The Last Airbender when I was just a tiny little baby child at 10 turning 11 years old. I do know for a fact, however, that Zutara had simply always been it for me from the very beginning. I believe it was during "The Storm" that I just knew that there was more to Zuko than what was at surface level. As a brown girl trying to make her way into positions of leadership as a child, Katara's strength, rage, and bravery paved the way for me to survive in the way I have. As a survivor of child abuse myself, Zuko remaining kind and gentle and good was of paramount importance. Together, they were the joining of two souls that met in conflict and chaos but through merit, equal standing, and forgiveness, they were exactly what each other needed. They are not opposites nor two halves of a whole; they are the sky and between them is only the world. Everyone has the need to feel truly seen and understood as they are by another, and Zuko and Katara do exactly that. Other stories come and go, but they're the story I come back to and will continue to call home every single time. I will never tire of them.

2. What inspires you to create Zutara fanworks?

 I've been a professional writer for the last ten years. It's my job to imagine and create stories. I also love consuming stories through every medium possible. The well never dries when you keep it full to the brim. When you do the work I do and you consume as many stories as I do and you've lived a long enough life and paid attention to the life around you as I have trained to do, to be inspired is second nature. For Zutara, however, these are voices that have lived in my brain for fifteen years. When I get an idea for a story, literally any story, it's like my subconscious is naturally attuned to their dynamic that every prompt I come up with is automatically a Zutara prompt. Such is the way. If I ever publish a novel and/or lead my own show/movie, you can bet that it's probably Zutara if you squint.

3. Be selfish - if you could request one fanwork based on your own art/fanfic, what would it be? What would you absolutely love to see someone create? 

To this day, "i'm still here" is probably the single greatest thing I've ever done in my whole stupid life. It would be the greatest honour to see my work interpreted visually. Genuinely, I'd love to see certain scenes as comic panels or something. Katara's realisation at the beach over who she is and she thinks about Yue, her mother, and her grandmother. Zuko and Katara's mutual understanding. The scene that started it all: baby Zuko taking care of baby Azula at the beach. Katara and Iroh talking in Chapter 7. Toph meeting fear for the first time. The entire ending of Chapter 6. As of writing this, I haven't updated the sequel yet but I would love to see visual interpretations of incoming Original Characters because they've been fun to create. I don't even know. If anyone wants to draw something from "i'm still here", I would like to see it. Please let me see it. I will cry. But also, I would like to see visual interpretation of Zutara in my modern quarantine pandemic AU because I would like to see long haired 28 year old Zuko wearing autumn-wear in a public park filled with flowers with 26 year old Katara basically wearing anything I wear because I am projecting in that story for a reason. 

4. Any words for people who are new to the fandom and/or nervous about sharing their work for the first time?Buddy, we're all just a bunch of nerds who are creating things for our enjoyment and the enjoyment of likeminded individuals. Do things for you and because they bring you joy, first and foremost. Everything else can be ignored if you want to ignore it. You're doing great. 

5. What is your favorite Zutara-related thing you’ve made and why is it special to you?

 Again, "i'm still here" is literally the greatest thing I've ever done in my life. Something I get commended for a fair amount with ISH is how I handled Zuko being a child abuse survivor, and his conflicting emotions with his violent abusers because he's still a child who wants his family to love him. That comes from an extremely personal place for me and it means the world to know that other survivors out there resonated so well with it. Also, Masterchef Zuko with that chicken adobo meant me getting a LOT of people saying they tried out the recipe themselves and I can feel my grandmother radiate with pride over knowing I'm so great a cook that I can convince people to want my dish just by writing about it. I'm so proud of everything I did with ISH. I worked really hard on it and I'm so happy to know it means a lot to other people too. 

6. What’s an idea for a fanwork that you have but haven’t gotten around to making?

I have this one modern AU involving dogs that I've put on the backburner since 2017. One day... one day!!! I'm a bit of a workaholic, though, so most of the things I want to do, I just do 'em. 

7. Are you participating in ZFAW? If so, want to give us a hint as to your plans? 👀

I am! I have a draft ready based on one of Hayley Foster's animatics and I'm very excited. Tumblr user hayleynfoster, I owe you my entire life. 

[something-tofightfor]

Hi! Love your writing! Always looking forward to whatever you’re working on and I always can’t wait to tell my friends to read your stories too! Did I see you were posting something that you are writing a story with someone else? (I don’t remember the username of the other person but I don’t think I read anything by them because I don’t think I recognized it when I saw it) So my questions are first are you excited for this story? And also how did you decide who you wanted to work with? Is their style like yours? Can we know anything about it? Ah I’m sorry for all the questions I’m just excited you’re my favorite writer and I hope I can learn some things from you 💖

ANON THANK YOU. And thank you for sharing my work (or trying to) with your friends. I’m so so so glad that you’re enjoying it.

YES. You did see that - @the-blind-assassin-12 and I are co-writing a soooky(ish) Halloween story. We don’t want to reveal too much too soon, but a few things I can tell you:

- It’s a modern AU for a Pedro character

- There are some supernatural elements in it

- It’s not technically a Halloween story in the traditional sense, but a lot of it takes place NEAR the holiday.

- It’s going to be multiple parts

We’re both really, really excited about it. I’ve known Alyssa for a couple years, and we tend to be on the same page about a LOT of things (most of them, really) when it comes to stories and characters and how we interpret motivations and underlying character traits, so this seemed like a thing that was a long time coming.

She had the initial idea for the character, and I suggested that we co-write something … and it turned into what it is currently. (Lots of planning, a detailed outline, some KILLER headers by a good friend, and a lot of offered help and artistic skills by others). It’s coming together slowly … but it’ll be worth the wait.

It’s for a man that we both love very dearly, and one that definitely got the shitty end of things in his canon storyline. While it’s going to draw heavily from canon content, it definitely diverges.

We should be able to post more very soon, at least to gauge interest and see if anyone would like to be added to a tag list … so watch out for that!

Also, if you enjoy my writing, I’m almost 100% certain you’ll enjoy hers, too. Definitely give her masterlist a look; she’s so good at creating worlds and setting scenes that it’s like you’re right there with the characters you’re reading about. Her series for Ezra - Point of No Return - is incredible, but if you’re looking for something shorter, check out what she’s written for Whiskey and Javi. (Also, she’s got a miniseries of sorts for Oberyn called The Viper and the Wild Thing, and it’s beyond words incredible. She knows Oberyn like the back of her hand and it’s like I can HEAR him speaking)

I hope you have a wonderful day, Anon! If you ever have anything else to ask, or just want to say hi… my inbox is always open.

[livesincerely]

I’m very sorry for all of the asks Madam Sincerely, but I’ve just recently gone on a binge of all of your fics, and I don’t think there’s any more questions on the ask game, so can I ask here: Do you have any ideas on future works that you haven’t started writing yet? If so, can we hear some? I was scrolling back through your tumblr to cheer myself up yesterday (my country’s gone back into lockdown) and saw you mentioned a few ideas, like the one in the SubDavey ask? Sorry, just curious <3

No need to be sorry, the asks are lovely! I’m sorry to hear that things have shut down where you are, I’m sure that’s incredibly difficult. Sending all the positivity your way 💕💜✨⭐️💕💜

The Domestic au is the QUEEN of inspiring random story ideas and dangling plot threads. There’s several floating around in the domestic au/ideas for later tags but if I was going to narrow it down to a handful of ideas that have a good chance of existing in the near-ish future, then I’d say 1) the Jack and Davey preparing for college fic 2) the Davey picking Race & Charlie up from the elementary school because Jack’s sick fic 3) the Race and Charlie needing a cuddle pile fic and 4) the bedsharing fic where Jack is struggling under the pressure of fighting for custody and needs some comfort.

I’m just in the mood for some stuff set in the high school/college era of that au, probably because ‘it’s beginning to look a lot like...’ has got me in the mindset. All of these would be one shots, just showing more landmarks in the boys’ history since ‘it’s so easy (too easy) to love you’ sort of just drops you right into the ocean as far as circumstances lol. And also, there’s a lot of family building that goes on before Jack and Davey get together that I’m very interested in exploring! I think Race describes it as ‘eight years of waiting for Jack and Davey to get their shit together?’ Yeah. So definitely lots of domestic au in the upcoming year.

I’ve talked the tiniest bit about ‘there’s you and me (and everyone else)’ and ‘a few letters off’ but after doing the first bits & bobs for each of them, I got distracted by other projects as I so often do, 😅 so I’ll talk about them here. Actually, I’m not even sure if these had working title ideas last time I mentioned them here, it’s been that long lol.

Anyway, these two fics are very similar, but just different enough to need separate fics. The first is a modern, high school au that features different examples of Jack and Davey being the accidental co-parents of their friend group while obliviously pining for each other. I’m thinking it will be individual scenes tied together by the theme; I’ll put the original idea post here and the bits & bobs here. Besides what I already talked about, I also think I want to include a scene where Albert and Crutchie are going on a first date (a pairing that is absolutely inspired by @agentsnickers, you’ve converted me) and they both separately approach Jack and Davey for advice on what to do/wear/etc. Like, a total ‘our-kids-on-their-first-date-get-the-camera’ type thing, plus Jack being an overprotective older brother and giving Charlie a curfew because he’s ridiculous.

“Be home by nine,” Jack says, a little surly. “Nine?” Davey asks, incredulous “They’re seventeen not seven. Eleven o’clock.” “I’m supposed to trust Albert with my baby brother at eleven o’clock?” Jack asks, scowling. “That’s just asking for trouble.” He says trouble in the sort of ominous tone other people reserve for imminent nuclear meltdown or battlefield heart surgery. “What do you think Albert’s gonna do, stick his hand down Crutchie’s pants the moment they walk out the door?” Davey says with a scoff. “It’s Albert.” “Ten-thirty,” Jack eventually offers. Davey nods, then looks back at Albert and Crutchie, who have been following this exchange like a tennis match and are both now a little pink in the face, and shrugs, trying to convey something like ‘pick your battles’. “Great!” Crutchie squeaks out, sounding absolutely mortified. “Great, ten-thirty it is, oh my god, Albert let’s go before theykeeptalking—“

Oh! And I want Davey to full name someone in the ultimate you-fucked-up-and-mom-is-pissed move. I even went and made full names for everyone just to be prepared 😊

Then, ‘a few letters off’ is the Jack-and-Davey’s-friends’-perspectives-on-the-nonsense-that-is-Javid fic. I’ve basically finished the Buttons scene, but I’m also hoping to include one each from the povs of Katherine, Crutchie, Racetrack, Spot, and Albert at minimum.

I’m thinking:

Katherine - catching Jack painting/drawing Davey while Jack tries to cover and deny

Spot - The aftermath of him and Jack getting into a fight with the DeLancey’s and him watching Davey fluttered worriedly around Jack, scolding him for being a reckless but still dabbing carefully at his injuries.

Racetrack - comes home to find Jack and Davey watching a movie, except that Jack’s fallen asleep halfway through, head in Davey’s lap, and Davey is adamant that Race doesn’t wake him.

Crutchie - watching Javid eating lunch together and noting how totally domestic it is: stealing food from each other’s plates, Jack gives Davey his extra fruit cup then swipes his milk carton and Davey doesn’t even say anything because it’s so routine, and how they’re able to move in and around each other effortlessly while eating and holding two separate conversations.

Albert - watching Jack and Davey flirt/bicker from the backseat on the drive to school.

And then some sort of culminating/getting together scene at the end.

There’s the infamous quarantine fic, which I waxed poetically about for all of two seconds and then never expanded on. (Here and here) The reason I haven’t done anything with it yet is because it will be a multi-chapter and between tie fic, take a shot fic, and now the domestic au holiday fic, I’m really at my limit for multi chapters at the mo’. But I do still want to do something with this once I finish tie fic and DAUHF, as take a shot knows no bounds and cannot be quantified by earthly means.

Then, as for the idea I mentioned in the sub!Davey post.... I think I’m going to be able to repurpose the general scenario/concept I was imagining for the final, E rated chapter of Tie Fic, so I don’t think the original idea will ever make it to a final cut. (I won’t say never because anything’s possible lol) But, I’m happy to put the bit I have here! Things don’t quite get E rated in this excerpt, but they’re definitely a solid M. This would’ve been an addition to the Tease series and I think this has been sitting in my drafts for almost as long as the letterman fic, and it hasn’t been edited in at least two years, so yeah 😅

00000

“I really wanted to work on my thesis proposal, that’s why I was in the library most of the day,” Davey says suddenly, pushing Jack down against the couch and straddling him, his voice light and conversational. “It was nice of you to check on me so often, though I’m sorry I wasn’t very good company. I was trying to stay focused, you know how it is.”

Davey looks at Jack expectantly, making it clear that he’s waiting for a response. Jack stares up at him, his expression equal parts confused, transfixed, and aroused. He swallows heavily, then nods.

“But I did warn you, didn’t I?” Davey continues, bracing himself with a hand on each of Jack’s shoulders, rolling their hips together as he presses closer. “That I had a lot of work to do? That this paper is really important to me and that I wanted to get a head start? That I really needed to focus and didn’t want to be distracted? I distinctly remember warning you about all of that.”

He nuzzles down the curve of Jack’s jaw, then nips at his neck. “But you didn’t listen,” he says against Jack’s pulse point. Davey smooths his hands down Jack’s chest, then back up to his throat, tugging at his collar. He unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt.

“In fact, one could argue that you did the exact opposite of what I asked you to do,” Davey says, working his way slowly through the buttons on Jack’s shirt. “Trailing your fingers across my arm, rubbing a thumb across the nape of my neck, sneaking a hand up my shirt… I would call all of that distracting, wouldn’t you?” He finishes unbuttoning Jack’s shirt and pushes it off his shoulders, admiring his muscular chest.

Davey glances up sharply. “Answer me, Jack.”

Jack blinks himself out of his daze. “I-uh, what did you ask me?”

Davey leans forward. They’re so close that he can feel the warmth of Jack’s breath against his face. “I asked you,” he starts, wrapping his arms loosely around Jack’s neck, “whether you thought constantly caressing someone while they were trying to work would distract them.”

It takes Jack a long moment to respond. “Yeah.”

One of Davey’s hands trails up the back of Jack’s neck. “You agree that doing something like that would be impossibly flustering?” Davey asks in that same, unaffected voice—as if clarifying a statement for a news article—threading his fingers through Jack’s hair. “That it would thoroughly divert that person’s focus? That it would leave them feeling unbalanced, frustrated, and downright agitated?

He leans impossibly closer, so close that the barest tilt of his head would press their lips together. “That it would drive them so crazy that all they could think about was how desperately they needed to be fucked,” Davey growls out, and his voice low and rough.

“Christ, Davey,” Jack groans, his pupils blown wide. He leans up to kiss him, but Davey anticipates this and tugs sharply on his hair, holding him in place. “So, we’re in agreement?” Davey continues in his casual voice, letting go of the dark strands and pulling away slightly, ignoring Jack’s groan of disappointment, “that all of those actions would, in fact, be extremely distracting.”

He trails his hands lovingly across Jack’s shoulders and down his chest, his movements unhurried. He licks a hot stripe up Jack’s neck, then sucks hard at a spot just under his jaw.

“Considering both of these facts, I can only conclude that you were distracting me on purpose.” Davey presses a line of kisses along Jack’s collar bone, delighting in the moan that tears its way out of Jack’s throat. He scratches lightly at the tanned skin of Jack’s chest, then sucks a bruise just above his collarbone.

“Were you doing it on purpose, Jack?” he asks, then before Jack can answer, rolls his hips hard and slow against Jack’s, grinding their erections together. Jack’s hands spasm, then tighten, clenching hard against Davey’s sides. Davey continues his ministrations, circling his hips against Jack’s, teasing him with the friction. Then, just as Jack seems to catch on to Davey’s rhythm and starts to move with him, Davey stills. “Were you teasing me on purpose?”

Jack’s mouth opens and closes, his throat working furiously. “I-yeah.”

David hums in acknowledgment, then continues his slow perusal of his boyfriend’s chest. He nibbles lightly across his sternum, then draws the flat of his tongue across one of one Jack’s nipples. Jack arches into him but Davey pushes him back, using his leverage to hold Jack down against the couch cushions. He sits up, admiring the mess he’s made of Jack’s neck and torso.

Jack stares up at him, chest heaving, waiting for Davey’s next move.

....

Davey runs his hands down Jack’s stomach and between his hips, fingers brushing gently against the front of Jack’s jeans.

Jack lets out a guttural noise. “God, Davey, let me—“ he starts, one hand slipping back to kneed at Davey’s ass, the other inching towards Davey’s fly.

“No,” Davey says firmly, moving Jack’s hands back to his waist. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

00000

That’s all that comes to mind at the moment! Oh, and the Brooklyn Davey AU idea, but I got a different ask about that, so I’ll just link it. (Here)

@saysflora