#go read the rewrite of the show my friend and i are doing on ao3 dfkjghdf | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zorosnavigator · 2 months ago

Text

Timebomb fics rec

A lot of timebomb fics are hiding through a lot of CaitVi/JayVik tagged works on ao3 (while many are also CV orJV centric) so i made this rec post for everyone who dont want to spent 1 hour scrolling or missing some of them bc you're filtering other ships!! (sorry for the short summaries/ i didnt write my thoughts as thoughtfully as i would have liked because.yk.time and all. update chapter count/add of new fics every week)

AU/crossovers fics

Je t'aime (Je t'attends) 3 chapter, WIP.

Hunger games x Timebomb/Arcane, the way the system of the games from the og novels are mixed in the Arcane universe is really masterful, the writer dont lose too much time explaining it but you understand the dynamics of the 2 cities and the characters perfectly anyway.

Where would you be now ? by enaven 5/6 chapters, WIP.

family/modern AU, timebomb feels, Ekko and Jinx are Isha's parents, CaitVi are just silly aunts and i'll never stop recommending this fic

you're the best thing to ever happen to me (but also the worst thing to ever happen to me) by grey_toiletpaper ( @greytoiletpaper ) 3/8 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Timebomb inspired by 10 things i hate about you.

We Moved Into a Real House (a Wild Field Behind it) by smokesatellite 3/10 chapters. WIP. Rated T.

Modern AU, Timebomb roommates/friends to lovers, Isha is a foster kid...you know where this is going .. (Ekko as a nurse is not something i expected but its surprisingly good. Also the in law feud between Jinx and Cait is very funny)

s1 fics

Silco is less of an asshole

The Heart of Zaun by 1ts_Br1tney_B1tch 8/ chapters. WIP.

or: Silco try to rally the Firelights to his cause (in this case, Zaun - he's much more involved in doing better for his city than in the show) but of course they're bound to have some..tension between them, since they hate him - and Shimmer. (it has the good parent Silco tag so i'd say that all in all, this Silco is a little less...Silco than in Arcane, but manage to keep some of the bite he has in canon...) i only read 2 chapters, and what i can say is that it does a good job with the general cast, the interactions between Silco/Ekko-Firelights are believable, i think the one thing that could have weird me out is the way Silco is said to be 'proud' of the Firelights in the summary (for me 'pride' is something he'd reserve for Jinx yk?? anyway i stop the rambling) . The Timebomb relationship has more or less the same push and pull as in the show, with Ekko thinking about the girl Jinx used to be/ Ekko being a link to the past before Jinx and all that entail...so yeah, i'm loving it!

Powder doesnt become Jinx

The Alpha Command by typewriter_in_galaxy 13 chapters. WIP. Rated E.

ABO/Reverse AU where Powder doesnt become Jinx and is raised by Viktor, Ekko is taken in by Silco. btw i dont read a lot of abo fic (im very nickpick) but this one does every characters justice, and actually dwelve in depth in the abo universe.. (everything by typewriter is good to be honest, but my favorite thing is how they write Powder, who even when she doesnt become Jinx, is still shaped by a very violent world/trauma and it shows through her mental health issues and very, very low self worth/need to prove herself. )

everything's better with a friend by typerwriter_in_galaxy 7chapters. Completed. Rated E.

Timebomb centric rewrite of Arcane, Jinx is Powder, she doesnt fall under Silco's hand (or in his arms precisely), Ekko is Ekko, and 1, i need to hug Powder, 2 she deserves the world and 3 the characterization of everyone, everyone is so brillantly written and the timebomb relationship (damn even the CaitVi one too) oh, the timebomb of it all... they feel so, so real and it hurts, Powder's insecurities, her mental illness, her guilt, her need to prove herself but in same time she doesnt feel herself worth of anything (or anyone) good... just.read it. read it, because i just did, after like 2 years of not doing that and. im like mad bc why didnt i??? but in same time so grateful to just discover it now, taking my sweet little time reading it; it rewinded my brain its amazing, (like this work in another fandom, the first time i read this rebelcaptain's fic A Love song by skitzofreak - did i just linked it for you to read even tho its a timebomb rec post??? yes. yes i did. thats how much i love, adore, worship this one guys - so everything's better made me think a lot of this TB fic, and also of RC (the abandonment issues, thinking that you have to leave first before everyone leave you, Jyn and Powder damn).

Shattered Web by Firewolf2132 1 chapter. WIP. Rated M.

you know how everyone make the comparaison between Ekko and Miles?? well, the author found a way for Ekko transform into a spiderman that feels right in the arcane verse (end of act1) and damn its so good. Ekko slowly morphing and gaining his powers while everyone still have some focus on them (mostly Powder), but it still manages to keep the suspense of the fate of other characters. fabulous. author note: [I have seen so many comparisons between Ekko and Miles and a lot of fanart. So it felt that I had to do this. I can't promise future chapters right now (busy), but I am eager to see if this inspires any stories with a similar premise.]

S2 fanfics

fics covering Timebomb moments between ep 8 Ekko saving her /they painted each other and ep9

Go Back For Her by A_Lily_In_The_Moonlight 3/3 chapters. Completed. Rated E.

Ekko's pov -i only read 1 chapter - we see his thought's process on his relationship with Powder AU/ Jinx, and how he came to the conclusion he must go back to her. the moment where he help Jinx with his Z-drive comes a little differently than in ep8 (well, the aftermath) aaand another fic where Jinx's grief over Isha's death shatters me, the pain and the self loathing/blaming from Jinx really devastating.

I dont believe in God, but i believe you're my savior by mquesterminds One shot. Rated T

[summary: every time Ekko has to rewind time to stop Jinx it cuts to a different moment from throughout their love story because I'm allergic to happiness the moments covering their shared past really make their present 10 times sadder.]

I'm sure we're taller in another dimension by hallwayheart One shot. Rated M. i have nothing to say because i'm still processing what i just read.ty.

Fires That Were Set by ilophilia ( @ilophilia on tumblr) 1 chapter. WIP.

the conversation after Ekko helped Jinx in episode 8. Loved the banter, the emotions (the grief is there and its important to feel it but damn i want to hug them so bad). They tell each other what happened when Ekko was gone, and you feel the distance/the closeness, near intimacy building again and its beautiful..

Hope is a winged beast by Grey_ Unicorn 4 chapters. WIP. Rated E.

prepare you tissues because i was myself not ready for chapter 3 and the emotional wreck of Jinx processing her grief. but here we are.

fics from AU Powder pov/exchange between Jinx and AU Powder

what we left behind by re_dragon_rising 3/3 chapters. Completed. Rated T.

Powder traverses to the og arcane universe 1 year after Ekko's visit. (the insight into her life after Ekko leaves is wholesome and also give the reader a glimpse of the Mylo/Claggor/Powder siblings dynamics + the impact of Vi's death on them. really great. a little sad too.)

The other Ekko by GrammarThyEnemy Oneshot. General audience.

Powder knows this Ekko is not her Ekko.

memento vivere by fuwaaa 1/2. WIP. General audience.

covering the AU episode, Powder knows something's up with Ekko.

See Ya On The Other Side by moth_dust 3/5 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Powder also travel to the og universe.

these forgotten faces by whippindippin ( @whippindippin on tumblr too!) 6 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Jinx and Powder body swap and its both the worst and best thing that could ever happen to either of them. great reading and their reaction on point.

Isha is alive

Astrantia by AelinCreativ ( @aelincreativ they're on tumblr too!) 5 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

canon divergence where Ekko saves Isha. a lot of angst. but also a lot of happiness. so we can cry while smiling along with them. great. ty author!!

Ankle-Biter by darkfire1220 8/9 chapters, WIP. Rated M.

Isha is Jinx's biological daughter, Silco is a not so bad (grand) father, and their mother/daughter bond is one a the greatest thing ever. (very slowburn timebomb). Also Vi. i love you Vi.

post s2

we made our peace with weariness (and let it be) by The_FlamingTiger 3/3 chapters. Completed. Rated M.

Ekko and Jinx reconnect in Bilgewater..(and Jinx goes to therapy. that too. its nice)

I don't believe in God (But I believe that you're my savior) by yeonatsu Oneshot, general audience.

Ekko is mourning.

this hunger for love won’t disappear by Amuria Oneshot, rated T.

Months after the battle for Piltover, Ekko begins to dream of Powder. He thinks it’s his grief playing tricks on him. She has different theory.

Francesca (Do You Think I'd Give Up?) by PoetProlific 2 chapters. WIP.

Ekko tries searching for Jinx...(with the help of Caitlyn, yep. and its well done, because I think Cait would help, for Vi. And i love how Ekko-Cait's dynamics might evolve because of this..)

So I met him there and told him I believe by ijustwanttoreadinpeace 3 chapters, WIP. Rated T.

Jinx begins a new life in Bilgewater but is forced to come back... (edit: be warned, this is now an orphan account so idk if there will be more chapters.)

all the 6 timebomb one shot by atabex (the other fics are not timebomb) they're all rated E and oh boy is it worth it. most of these oneshot are gut wrenching and do smut + characters so well... the most recent one is just Ekko and AU Powder ahem doing the boombayah on the rooftop, but yk, with bits of sad and tragedy here and there.

i'm a little ashamed i'm only adding it now but every TB os fics by @shroomystar is 🤌 nothing else to add because each one of them are good. so. (if you want the explicit one-shots it's here and if you prefer without, it's here )

#timebomb #YEAH #finally after 3000 years of saying i will do a fic rec post for one of my otp i fucking did it #ekko x jinx #jinx x ekko #ekkojinx #arcanes2

235 notes · View notes

badkitty3000 · 1 year ago

Text

I write exclusively Number Five Hargreeves fanfiction. If you have any requests for one shots featuring Five x reader-insert or my original characters, please let me know! Use the Ask Me Anything button for requests but please read my rules first. I may not be able to accommodate all requests, however. Thank you for understanding! ❤️

The only "rules" I have are as follows ( no judgement to anyone, I just have my preferences):

Five will be aged up to at least 17 or 18 (body wise) or older

Five is an old man underneath it all, so no teenage romances or crushes

No rape/non-con, but dub-con is ok

No ABO, hardcore BDSM, Yandere

I will not be writing any Five/Lila ships, sorry!

*Updated January 2025*

POSTED ON TUMBLR:

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Five x Female reader-insert, two chapters, co-authored by @kaybreezy3000, 13k words

Summary: A life with Five Hargreeves is always full of fun surprises but bring on the holidays and watch out.

Warnings: Smut

It's A Wonderful Life, Five Hargreeves

Five x Female OC, 22.5k, multi-chapter, cross-posted on AO3

Summary: Five years after he and his siblings were abandoned by their father, and with no powers, Number Five is visited by his guardian angel. An annoyingly chipper woman that is anything but your typical angel. When he is unable to get rid of her, he finally gives in and she shows him what it means to be grateful for what he has and to stop pushing his family away. Inspired by both A Christmas Carol and It's A Wonderful Life.

Warnings: Smut, explicit sex, rough/angry sex, but also sweet sex, little bit of Daddy kink, corny sexual innuendos

Coming Down Your Chimney

Five x Female Reader, 6.5k words, One-shot, reader request

Summary: You and Five are trying to start a family. He dresses in a Santa suit for Diego and Lila's kids. You fuck him in the suit.

Warnings: Smut, mild breeding kink, Santa kink?

Powerless

Five x Female Reader, 9.5k words, One-shot, reader request

Summary: You have had your eye on Five since he first started at the university. Eventually you build up a friendship, but even though you pick up a few hints that maybe he wants something more, you just can't bring yourself to act on it. Luckily, Five has more than enough confidence for the both of you.

Warnings: Smut, dominant Five, explicit sex

La classe d'arte: The Art Class

POV Five x Female OC, 11.4k words, one-shot

Summary: When Five accidentally stumbles into an art class with an attractive nude model, things take a turn from awkward embarrassment to hot and steamy when she asks him out on a date. Five may be inexperienced at times, but he knows how to deliver when it counts, and this is no exception. Unlocking a certain linguistic kink gives Five the ego boost he needs to rock her world like the man in charge he always is

Warnings: Masturbation, Smut

You Can't Go Home Again: Chapters 1 and 2

Chapters 3 and 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Five-centric Season 3 Rewrite, Multi-chapter, Finished, 29k words

Summary: All Five wants to do is rest. But when yet another apocalypse threatens to doom them all, he doesn't have that luxury. This time, the only solution for the Hargreeves to try and save the world is to unite Five with another, alternate version of himself.

Five starts to spiral when he is faced with the alternate life that he could have had, if only he hadn't gone and ruined everything. But maybe, just maybe, there's still time for him to obtain the happy ending he deserves.

Warnings: None

Forced Confinement: Friends To Enemies To Lovers

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 5.7k words, one-shot, reader request

Summary: You and Five used to be friends. That is, until he got you stuck in the endless cycle of time traveling trains and no way home. Now he is the last person you want to be stuck with at the end of the world. But, after months of resentment and bickering, you and Five finally work out your differences

Warnings: Smut, sex, masturbation

One Fateful Day

Five x Single Mom Reader-Insert, 5,000 words, one-shot, reader request

Summary: Five finds friendship and a blossoming romance where he least expected it

Warnings: None

One Fateful Day - Part 2

Five x Single Mom Reader-Insert, 5.8k words, one-shot, sequel

Summary: A year after your fateful meeting at the park, Five is now a huge part of you and your daughter's life

Warnings: Smut

Don't Stand So Close To Me

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 6,700 words, one-shot, reader request

Summary: Five was doing his best to resist you. You were too young for him. Too eager. But when he decided to try and scare you straight, he got a little more than he bargained for. That's when he realized maybe he wasn't as strong as he thought he was.

Warnings: Smut, explicit sex, everyone is an adult

World's Collide

Multiple Fives x Multiple Female OCs/Readers, 6,976 words, one-shot, co-authored with @kaybreezy3000

Summary: A steaming hot and humorous deli Five story, and An Ode To All The Fives We’ve Loved Before.

Warnings: Smut, explicit sex

You Made It Weird. Real Fucking Weird

A platonic!Five x Lila sort of fix it for season four, 2607 words, one-shot, reader request

Summary: Five comforts Lila with a mixture of his usual snark, sweetness, and honesty when she has a major breakdown after being away from her family for so long. NO smut! NO romance! Purely friendship. I do not ship these two!

Warnings: None

Five's Audition Tape

Five x Female OC, 4,179 words, one-shot

Summary: Vivian catches Five singing in the shower and secretly records the evidence. When she's caught, she tries to hide from him, which ends in some major rearranging of their kitchen pantry. What she doesn't know, though, is that their little closet bang is not the private moment they intended.

Warnings: Smut, closet sex

A Company Man

Five, The Handler, 2,415 words, one-shot, reader request

Summary: A short one-shot about Five and The Handler when he first got to the commission and how she is the master of manipulation and messing with his mind.

Warnings: None

Breaking The Rules

Five x Plus Size Reader, 8,159 words, one-shot, reader request

Summary: You and Five work at the Commission and you're shocked to learn that maybe he doesn't always have a thing for thin girls. He likes you just the way you are.

Warnings: Smut, slight Daddy kink

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Five x Unnamed Female Character, Five x Dolores, 6,078 words, one-shot, reader request (but also already on AO3 with a couple small changes)

Summary: Five is trying his hardest to be in a real relationship with someone that cares about him. When he comes across a familiar face in a thrift shop window, all of his dreams of normalcy are dashed. And he can't help the decades-old feelings that resurface.

Warnings: Smut, Doll fetishization, Five is not in a good place mentally

Tamed

Five x Unnamed Female Character, 8,141 words, reader request, one-shot

Summary: Five is living his retirement dream, but he's still in his 20-year old body, and he's bored with his unexciting life. All that changes after a chance meeting with an "older" woman that thinks she's going to teach him a few things in the bedroom. But she soon realizes that he already knows what he's doing. And just like everything else Number Five does, he does it very very well.

Warnings: Smut, Edging, Physical age difference (older woman, younger man), everyone is an adult

Coercion

Five x Female Reader, 5,202 words, reader request, one-shot

Summary: You and Five are working as trained assassins and you're not exactly happy with him

Warnings: Smut, Sub Five, oral sex, light bondage, light dom/sub

Daddy's Home

Five x Female Reader, 3,273 words, one-shot

Summary: Taken from a longer fic of mine and turned into a reader-insert. Five wants you naked and waiting for him when he gets home.

Warnings: Explicit sex, Daddy kink

The Contest

Five x Female OC, 5,751 words, one-shot, reader request

Summary: Five and Vivian find themselves under the influence of an aphrodisiac. So, naturally, they turn it into a sexy competition.

Warnings: Explicit sex, masturbation, mutual masturbation, dirty talk

Your Touch

Five x Female OC, 3318 words, one-shot, reader request

Summary: Cute, fluffy drabbles of Five and his wife and their everyday life of being madly in love. No smut!

Warnings: None

Five Hargreeves NSFW Headcanons

Just a list of random smutty headcanons that I have for Five

Warnings: Smut

In Sickness And In Health

Five x Female OC, 4437 words, one-shot, reader request

Summary: Thank you for the request!! Here's a funny/sweet/smutty one-shot of Five taking care of his sick wife like the sexy softy he is. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: explicit sex, Daddy kink

No Escape

Five x Female OC, 8045 words, one-shot, reader request

Summary: Five is forced into assassin mode when Vivian is put in danger by another Commission agent. He must not be very smart, though, because no one in their right mind would dare lay a hand on Five's girl.

Warnings: blood, violence, smut at the end but can be skipped and won't affect the story

Room For One More

Five x Female Reader-Insert, Klaus x Female Reader-Insert, Five x Klaus x Female Reader-Insert, 7192 words, one-shot

Summary: Five and Klaus head out to the bar to celebrate their birthday. When they catch the eye of the attractive bartender, she decides to give them a very special birthday present. The only catch is they have to share.

Warnings: M/M/F, vaginal sex, anal sex, double penetration

Love In The Time of Cholera and Coffee -Chapters 1-6

Love In The Time of Cholera and Coffee-Chapters 7-9

Five x Female Reader, Klaus x Female Reader, 50,497 words, 9 chapters

Summary: You and Klaus are in a casual relationship. No ties, just sex. When you start spending a lot of time at his apartment, you somehow manage to break through his brother's prickly outer shell. He seems to like you, or at least tolerate you the best that Five can. When you start to realize that maybe there is more than just mutual friendship between the two of you, it opens up a lot of feelings and unanswered questions. And a lot of problems.

Warnings: Explicit sex, Daddy kink

Physical Fitness

Five x Female Reader, 2800 words, one-shot

Summary: Five has been distant lately, but you discover all he needs is a good workout to get his mind back on you again

Warnings: Explicit sex, Daddy kink

Lewd Public Acts

Five x Female OC, 7,412 words, one-shot

Summary: Getting busy in a public space with people around? The idea of someone witnessing everything becomes a turn on for Five's wife, and he is definitely up for the challenge. After all, he can never deny her anything. And, let's face it; there might be something in it for him, too.

Warnings: Explicit sex

Addicted

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 3,199 words, one-shot

Summary: Sometimes our bodies get a taste of something so good that it's nearly impossible to quit. No matter how bad it is for us. And right now that something is Five Hargreeves.

Warnings: Sex, little bit of blood kink

Weak

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 4,891 words, one-shot, continuation of Addicted, from Five's POV.

Summary: Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries to hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Warnings: Explicit sex, rough sex

Strength

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 4,427 words, one-shot, continuation of Addicted and Weak

Summary: Five is finally strong enough to give in to his true feelings and tell you how he feels. You are strong enough to let him.

Warnings: Sex

The Download

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 31, 310 words, 5 chapters

Chapters 1 and 2

Chapters 3, 4, and 5

Summary: It's the end of the world and everyone you know is gone. After you find yourself at the Hotel Obsidian, you realize you have something in common with the rest of the remaining population. When Number Five takes a particular interest in you, and your special ability, the evening turns into much more than you expected. The universe may be hours away from imploding, but you and Five are going out with a bang.

Warnings: Explicit sex, praise kink, rough sex, Five is physically 17, reader is 30

All Of My Works On AO3

Halo (Series)

Five x Female OC multi-part series that follows Five and his eventual wife, Vivian, through many stages of their life together. 5 parts total.

All parts in this series rated E for explicit sex.

Halo

First part in series, 25,460 words, 7 chapters

Summary: What starts as a one-night stand eventually turns into a growing romance. Number Five and Vivian are drawn to one another, despite their initial resistance. However, Five's past makes a relationship difficult and she has some issues of her own. Despite an unhealthy codependency, their lives are intertwined. For better or for worse.

Hole In My Soul

Second part in series, 30,903 words, 11 chapters

Summary: Vivian and Five now have an established relationship and are in love. She melds easily into the Hargreeves family as Five finally discloses their relationship to his siblings. But some disturbing behavior from Five makes Viv re-evaluate her choices. Will their love for one another be enough when life throws them a curve ball and they have some tough decisions to make?

Just Like Heaven

Third part in series, 25,362 words, 8 chapters

Summary: Vivian and Five have been actively trying to start a family, but to no avail. The stress is wearing on them both and it's affecting their once solid relationship. With the last few months left on Five's Commission contract, he is looking forward to putting that part of his life in the past. However, Viv is soon confronted with a harsh truth that puts their relationship in jeopardy.

Promise To Kill

Fourth part in series, 86,881 words, 12 chapters

Summary: Five is married to the love of his life, with a young son, and the retirement life he always dreamed. Everything is perfect. Which should have been Five's first clue that something was going to go wrong. A new discovery involving his child leads to a horrible family tragedy. The Umbrella Academy has to step up to save the day and Five's family.

Our Forever

Fifth and final part in series, 32,175 words, 8 chapters

Summary: Five's never been great with healthy coping skills. Even after all this time. When he is faced with a horrible tragedy and he doesn't know how to cope, he blames himself, as usual. But this time, it seems it can't be fixed. Until a sudden vision from beyond makes him realize that maybe he can after all.

Five/Vivian One-Shot Series

Five x OC collection of one-shots that show little glimpses into Five and Vivian's life over the years, in no particular order or timeline. 11 works in total.

All works in this series rated E or M for explicit sex/smut (except for one - rated G)

Damaged 3,210 words

Extra Credit 6,436 words

Piece de Resistance aka The French Lady Incident 7,999 words

The New Neighbor 7,136 words

Coming And Going 5,491 words

Let's Hear It For The Boy 7,508 words

You Are My Constant 19,757 words

Summary: This is technically a one-shot, but it's longer because it depicts Five and Vivian's honeymoon and contains more plot and character development

Lewd Public Acts 7,412 words (posted on Tumblr)

Take Me To Church 6,465 words

No Escape 8,045 words (posted on Tumblr)

Your Touch 3,361 words (posted on Tumblr) RATED G

Five's Audition Tape 4,179 words (posted on Tumblr)

Trick Or Treat: Sexy And Sweet 6,488 words

Works separate from my series:

The Sexual Awakenings Of Mr. Number Five Hargreeves

Five x Various Female OCs, 40,516 words, 8 chapters

Summary: Relatively speaking, it wasn’t that long ago that Five was a total moron when it came to sex, and women in general. Having spent his most formative years isolated and alone, once he was thrown back into society, his lack of experience was obvious.... And even though he tried not to let it bother him, he quickly realized that it did. It bothered him a lot.

Rated E for explicit sex

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now

Five x Female OC (unnamed), Five x Dolores, 6,029 words, one-shot

Rated M for smut/sex

The Assassin's Date

Five x Female OC, 59,057 words, 9 chapters

Summary: After saving the world, Five Hargreeves is working as an independent hitman for hire. When a tough and beautiful woman is witness to one of his crimes, the last thing Five wants to do is kill her. Instead, he makes her a deal. If she goes on one date with him, he'll let her live. When she agrees, he can't help but notice that the date might be fake, but his feelings are real.

Rated E for explicit sex

All Apologies

Five, The Hargreeves Siblings, Five x Dolores, 21,892 words, 4 chapters

Summary: All Five had wanted to do was to keep his family safe, and away from their father. As the young Umbrella Academy pull further away from one another, Five desperately tries to make them see that their only chance at a happy life is to get out from under Reginald's rule. His methods of convincing, however, lead to misunderstandings, hurt feelings, and typical Hargreeves drama. Years later, when Five is alone with only Dolores to talk to, he finds himself thinking back on all of his mistakes.

Rated T for teen (language, mentions of masturbation)

The Download

Five x Female Reader-Insert, 31,310 words, 5 chapters (also posted on Tumblr)

Rated E for explicit sex

The Text Mess

Five, Klaus, 5,576, one-shot, co-authored by KayBreezy

Summary: With no apocalypse looming, and Reginald gone, left with their powers but not much else, the Hargreeves were finally getting to figure out life on their own terms. Number Five was doing what he always did. He was surviving and doing his best to move on from his traumatic past, though the success of that endeavor was evident in the day-to-day reality of his new self-inflicted dark and lonely existence. And then along came Klaus...

Rated T for teen (sexual references, clothed dick pics)

Full Circle

Five x Female OC, 96,272 words, 14 chapters

Summary: Even without an apocalypse to head off, Five has lived a hard life. Physical and emotional abuse from his father, along with devastating heartbreak; this is all he knows throughout his teenage years. As an adult, he becomes a Mafia Hitman. And not a Hitman with a heart of gold. After years of childhood trauma, Five is willing to kill, no questions asked, for the crime family he works for. When the one person in his life that ever meant anything to him shows up ten years later, he's willing to love and be loved again. But everything comes at a price.

Rated E for explicit sex, threats of rape, violence, child abuse

It's A Wonderful Life, Five Hargreeves

Five x Female OC, 22,594 words, 5 chapters

Rated E for explicit sex

Duality

Five x Reader, multi-chapter, in progress

Summary:

Four years after Reginald's reset of the universe, Five still cannot rest. Working with Diego for the CIA, he is convinced the new world is a simulation designed and controlled by their former father, and he devotes his entire life to gathering the evidence. When an inexplicable force leads Five directly to you, the two of you become bonded in a way you never thought possible. Unfortunately, your bond may be the beginning of the end.

Now Five has a new mission: save your love and save the world

*A Season 3/Season 4 mash-up AU*

Rated E for explicit sex

502 notes · View notes

yiichan · 2 months ago

Text

oblivious ; kwon soonyoung | hoshi

PAIRINGS — yandere!hoshi x actor!male!reader WORD COUNT — 0.9k words. GENRE — yandere, nonidol au, request. WARNINGS — yandere/obsessive elements, reader is oblivious, your writer took too much time reading a/b/o works and playing jjk phantom parade and working that she keeps forgetting to write.

REQUEST — hiiii!! just found your blog, and let me just say that your works are amazing. like, i rarely see any svt x male reader fics, and as a fanboy, that was honestly sad. so your blog is literally a god send. may i request a yandere!hoshi x actor!male reader where they are close friends. hoshi obviously want something more, but reader is entirely oblivious to the hints hoshi is dropping. please, and thank you!! <3.

WRITER'S NOTES — i had to rewrite this like three times lol, hope you like it? also i changed the presentation format for requests hehe.

masterlist | navigation | main page | kofi | ao3

You adjusted your cap, focusing on the bubbling hotpot as Soonyoung carefully dipped a piece of meat into the broth. The steam curled up, warm and comforting, though the way Soonyoung watched you felt oddly intense.

“Here, you should eat more, hyung,” he said, fishing out the cooked meat and placing it on your plate with practiced care.

You smiled at him, pushing a cup of water his way. “Thanks for inviting me, Hoshi-ah.”

Soonyoung’s lips curved into a small smile, a blush dusting his cheeks. “How could I not? You’re the most important person to me, hyung.”

You chuckled, dipping the meat into the sauce he’d already prepared for you. “Of course, you’re my best friend, Hoshi-ah,” you replied casually, completely missing the way his jaw clenched for a split second.

As you turned your attention back to your phone, Soonyoung’s gaze lingered on your face, his eyes tracing every line and curve. His chest tightened as he watched you, your obliviousness both endearing and maddening. Why don’t you see it? he thought, biting the inside of his cheek.

The soft sound of your laughter broke him from his thoughts. “What’s so funny?” he asked, forcing a playful tone.

“Just something a friend sent me,” you said, showing him the screen briefly.

Soonyoung’s smile faltered for a heartbeat before he quickly recovered. “You’re always so popular, hyung,” he teased lightly, though his words carried a faint edge.

You laughed again, and Soonyoung swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the table. “I’ll make sure you’re always laughing like this,” he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible.

“Hmm? Did you say something, Hoshi-ah?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He shook his head, masking his emotions with a bright smile. “Nothing, hyung. Just eat up—you’ll need the energy if we’re going to watch movies later.”

After setting up the guest room, Soonyoung returned to the living room, his grin as wide as ever. “Hey, hyung,” he said, holding up a Blu-ray case. “Look what I found in my collection. I didn’t even realize I had this one—your movie.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Wait, you have that? It’s so old.”

“Old but gold,” he quipped, already loading it into the player. “Besides, I don’t mind rewatching it. You’re amazing in this one.”

You felt your cheeks flush slightly. It wasn’t that you were unaccustomed to praise—being an actor, compliments came with the territory. But the way Soonyoung said it, his tone laced with something deeper, made you feel strangely self-conscious. “You really don’t have to…”

“Oh, but I do,” he interrupted, plopping down next to you. “You need to see how incredible you are. Maybe you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

The film began, and as the opening scene played out, you cringed slightly. “This was one of my first roles. I wasn’t even that good yet.”

“You’re being modest,” Soonyoung countered, his eyes glued to the screen. “Look at that expression. That intensity. You were born for this, hyung.”

You smiled sheepishly, focusing on the movie. Still, it was a little surreal watching yourself on screen while sitting next to your best friend. Soonyoung’s enthusiasm was infectious—he laughed at all the right moments, gasped at the action scenes, and even mimicked one of your lines in an exaggerated tone, earning a playful nudge from you.

But as the film progressed, you noticed Soonyoung stealing glances at you more often than the screen. His gaze was heavy, lingering on your profile, his lips quirking into a faint smile whenever you reacted to a scene. It was flattering, sure, but also… unsettling.

During a particularly emotional part of the movie, Soonyoung let out a low sigh. “You know,” he began, his voice softer now, “I always thought you were amazing. Even before you became famous. You’ve always had this… spark.”

You chuckled nervously. “Come on, Hoshi-ah, you’re making it sound like I’m a superstar or something.”

“You are,” he said simply, turning to face you fully. “To me.”

His words hung in the air, and you felt a strange tension settle between you. You were about to respond when the scene on screen shifted to a romantic moment—your character leaning in for a kiss with the lead actress.

Soonyoung’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “That part,” he muttered, his voice dropping, “always felt... off. She didn’t deserve you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his tone. “It’s just a movie, Soonyoung.”

“Yeah, but still.” He laughed lightly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If I were the director, I would’ve cast someone else for that role.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you settled for an awkward laugh, shifting slightly away from him on the couch. Soonyoung noticed but said nothing, his smile returning, though it felt more calculated now.

As the movie ended, you stretched and stood up, feigning a yawn. “Alright, I really should get to bed. Thanks for watching that with me, though.”

Soonyoung’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes followed your every movement. “Of course, hyung. Sweet dreams.”

You retreated to the guest room, shutting the door behind you and leaning against it. For the first time since you’d arrived, you felt a strange unease creeping over you. There was something in the way Soonyoung looked at you tonight—like he wasn’t just watching you, but memorizing you.

As you lay in bed, your phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

“Do you ever wonder who truly knows you?”

#🌷kyii #seventeen #svt #mansaenetwork #kyii's requests #hoshi #hoshi x reader #hoshi x male reader #yandere hoshi #kwon soonyoung x reader #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung #kwon soonyoung #seventeen hoshi #hoshi scenarios #hoshi imagines #hosh

59 notes · View notes

jackie-mae · 4 months ago

Note

with your outfit drawings for the mystreet character. im so curious about with vylad having outfits for s2-s6, if you want can you expand upon on that?

I WOULD LOVE TOO >:3c

Long and Short of it is I've always hated how Vylad was there in Mystreet S1, PDH S1 and then he just... dropped off the face of the earth after that. It always irked me a bit when it would show Garroth and Zane having brotherly bonding moments (and trauma) and always having the thought of (Man wasn't there a third brother in all this?) there in the back of my mind.

I'm now going to do some little bullet points of my Vylads role in S2-6 but this is a great time to mention I've never seen past S4 so I'm running on Wiki Lore and the gospel of AO3 and @catzgam3rz; who collaborates (Read: Infodump and Ramble) on a hypothetical rewrite with me so it gets vague and murky for the later seasons.

S1:

Basically the same as canon (as in S1 is kinda just slice of life) but instead of Vylad just travelling around the world he is an off the grid hunter that wanders the wilderness all the time (The freak)

This is based on my very fuzzy memories of MCD Vylad always kinda just being in trees as he watched Lady Aphmau in the early seasons so I just put Mystreet Vylad in trees for fun this time

Has a vaguely similar relationship to his brothers as in MCD. in the sense it's better with Garroth and more strained with Zane

S2:

Goes to LLP with the rest of the main cast (which consists of the 11 big designs I made) because season 2 is not when you should be writing out characters Jessica

He wears little rainboots and unlike Laurance (Who FYI wears cowboy boots a majority of the time) the rest of the cast did not get him into flip flops before he went trudging into the ocean (again a freak)

I like to imagine that if any drama is going on in the story you could always see him floating around on an inner tube off in the distance

S3:

Again back to slice of life so he does a lot of shenanigans with the cast here

This is the season where the shadow knights feature but for the life of me, I cannot remember if Vylad was officially a part of them or not (And his Wikia is not even a paragraph~) But if it turns out he was there'll probably be more shenanigans around that.

He ends up leaving mid-season (Fall ish?) to go on a hunting expedition

S4:

Oh hey look Vylad is back because we don't believe in writing characters off with little rhyme or reason Jessica

Vylads hunting expedition ends up being in the same area as the lodge. and we all know nothing bad happens there!

there's now a little ski village downhill from the lodge which is where Vylad is staying at seasons start. He's good friends with a lot of the people there.

He's a werewolf now... Don't worry about it!

Oh, what's this? Is that relationship building between him and Zane on the horizon? Well, that won't hurt at all, will it?

AY:

A not-alone buddy comforts his not-alone buddy (I do not know much about Aphmau's Year but know it's short so that's all I got)

S5:

As he is a part of the Lodge crew he gets to go to Starlight!

Possibly is involved in a certain shenanigan with his brothers I'll be posting a comic about that in a few days

Get's lost constantly. Figures Starlight being an island means he can't really get lost since he'll hit ocean eventually and refuses to acknowledge how big said island is.

Doesn't float around like in S2 but you can still find him wading on the shore in his boots

being a hyperattentive freak, he get's some bad vibes from the island sooner than most

Gonna be honest, me and Catz have not watched all of When angels fall but are planning to soon so I'll just leave you with the fun fact that all of my season 6 designs are supposed echo my MCD's designs for the characters (Since S6 is when it was decided hey maybe Diaries is really important here now)

TLDR: Vylad was shafted in Mystreet so I'm fix it

#asks #answered asks #aphmau #aphblr #mystreet #mystreet rewrite #ask box spring cleaning #vylad ro'meave #CatzJacks myst rewrite

65 notes · View notes

andypantsx3 · 13 days ago

Text

get to know your moots ˖˚˳⊹ thank you for the tag @kedsandtubesocks!!

what's the origin of your blog title? nickname + the old myspace "x3" since i never had an account and was jealous lol. andypantsx3 was my ao3 lurker handle that was never meant to see the light of day. i accidentally got attached after pubbing test fics 😭 i wish it was something cooler reeeeeeeeee

OTP(s) + shipname: todobaku my beloved

favorite color: green

favorite game: i don't play any games rip but i desperately want to get into hsr. also purple hair guy from lads looks hot... very compelling...

song stuck in your head: i have been singing espresso to my dog all day, rewritten to be about her (she's working late, 'cause she's a wiener)

weirdest habit/trait? most of them. rewriting songs to be about my dog.

hobbies: writing, reading, a couple instruments (now rarely played), cooking

if you work, what's your profession? tech industry corporate wage mule

if you could have any job you wish what would it be? an author!!!! if i could write books and live at the level i do now i would be satisfied forever

something you're good at: karaoke

something you're bad at: everything else

something you love: almost everything on earth. my dog. good food, drinks with friends, reading books in the bath, laying on the beach, memes, hanging with my fam, boat rides, dining/drinking al fresco, long drives by myself, local bookstores, live music, traveling, weekends, iced coffee, growing herbs in my kitchen window, summertime, i could go onnnn

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: fanfic/fandom in general

something you hate: conservative politics

something you collect: uhh does books count

something you forget: everything all of the time

what's your love language? words of affirmation!!

favorite movie/show: my herooooooo

favorite food: zucchini bread. anything mediterranean.

favorite animal: wiener dogs

what were you like as a child? bald baby, read a lot and was weird lol

favorite subject at school? english lit

least favorite subject? i cannot emphasize how much i do not give a fuck about math

what's your best character trait? i have fun easily!!

what's your worst character trait? there are 1000 in competition for the title of "worst" at any given time. short temper, impatient, stubborn, often tactless, lazy, patronizing, awkward.

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? i would have dug my car out of the snow earlier instead of procrastinating (i have to go do it now reeeeeee). also would have written more instead of napping.

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet? i would briefly fistfight my paternal grandparents before portalling back here

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): i recently reread @/shibaraki's the glass delusion, i cannot recommend enough!!

a couple quick no pressure tags! @ofmermaidstories @lorelune @rushthestars @restwellsoon @kimkaelyn @izuwumidoriya @yinyuedijun @princess-okkotsu @willowser

44 notes · View notes

charmandabear · 1 year ago

Text

Office Hours - Chapter Three

Summary:

Astarion surprises you by inviting you to his place... for a real date? The evening doesn't go as expected when you uncover the darkness in his past.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.4k Tags/Warnings: mentions of Astarion's past, vampire bites, blood drinking, blow job, p in v sex, fluff with a very small side of angst, Shadowheart being a bit of a manic pixie dream best friend

Since y'all are insistent on encouraging my worst tendencies, here, have the longest single thing I've ever written. I think about Professor Astarion at all waking (and sleeping at this point) hours. I have other things planned, I will eventually write something else, I promise. But also... this one is now becoming a full-fledged multi-chapter fic. I'm half-considering rewriting the first few chapters so it's in third-person? I don't know though, let me know what you think.

H1ghVoltage and Zaria were both invaluable betas for this one, I appreciate you both so much. And Zaria for always providing the most perfect screenshots at the drop of a hat. This literally would not exist without you.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“Excuse me? The one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she tucks her feet underneath her, holding up her wine glass so it doesn’t spill. The two of you met while moving into adjacent apartments a few years prior; it turned out you had both just been hired at the university, her at the Divinity School and you at the College of Arts and Sciences. Since then you’ve become fast friends, and you’re finally filling her in on all of the details of the whirlwind that has been the past few days. You hide your chagrin behind a sip of wine.

“Okay, listen, yes, but hear me out. He looks like this.” You hold out your phone and show her the English department faculty page.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. “Okay, you didn’t tell me that.”

“I think I was in denial,” you whine as you drop your head onto the couch cushion. “I focused on how much of an asshole he is to distract me from how hot he is.”

“And now? Will you see him again?” She tosses your phone at your feet and you lift your gaze.

“I don’t know? He made a joke about having sex in my office but I don’t think he actually meant it.” You cast a sidelong glance at Shadowheart, trying to gauge her expression.

“Scandalous,” she smiles into the rim of her glass before taking a long sip. You pick up your phone, looking at his portrait. It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

You drop your phone again and angrily sip at your wine, letting the dry red flood over your tongue and coat the inside of your mouth. You notice Shadowheart eyeing you suspiciously.

“Do you want to?” she asks, and you put your glass onto the coffee table and curl your knees into your chest further.

“I… I don’t know? Like obviously the sex is good. Really good,” you add under your breath, and Shadowheart looks at you salaciously as your cheeks flush. “But whenever he says more than five words I want to gouge my eyes out.”

“Is that really how you feel, or have you just convinced yourself to feel that way?” she carefully asks. You glare at her, but you can't bring yourself to disagree. You drop your less-than-menacing expression and cover your face in your hands. You let out an exasperated sigh before suddenly gasping and looking up at her with wide eyes.

“Nine hells, did I tell you what else happened? At least one student knows. I saw her coming out of his office and she made some comment about ‘We all see how you look at him.’” You flop onto your side, burying your face in the couch cushion once again.

“Well, I suppose that answers your question, at least,” Shadowheart says reassuringly, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean if you like him enough that your students are noticing, then you have to pursue him. The worst that’ll happen is you’ll break up and you can go back to hating him.” She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described a literal nightmare.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” you gape at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” she grins at you, and her teeth are tinged purple from the wine. You kick your foot out at her.

“Man, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” you tease and she groans.

“Listen, you just told me that you got railed twice in three days, it’s not that good out here for most of us.” Now it’s her turn to cover her face and you laugh. You pick up your wine and stretch your legs out to nudge Shadowheart’s calf.

“Who knows, maybe there’s some hot chick in the English department that he can hook you up with.” She pushes your leg back and rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

You have no idea what to expect when you inevitably run into Astarion the next day. You're tempted to just work from home since you don’t have any classes, but you have another damn season selection committee meeting that you can't miss, and you'd rather be around for students to drop in if they need to.

You're on your way to the bathroom at the end of the day when you finally see him. You almost don't, at first, since you're looking down at your phone and you stop short of barrelling into him. You lock eyes and smile politely, then step to your left just as he steps to his right. You two share an awkward laugh just as it happens again in the opposite direction. After another few seconds of uncomfortable shuffling, he takes you by your shoulders and moves you to the side. You give him a thankful grin and quickly move past, trying to ignore the burning in your cheeks and the way your arms tingle where he touched you.

You get to the bathroom and close the door behind you, leaning against it to brace yourself. Your stomach is roiling, though whether it was from the embarrassment, the insatiable lust, or something else entirely, you can't quite tell. You turn on the faucet and splash your face with cool water. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, trying to will yourself into stoicism. It's a losing battle as the image of him having you bent over the sink pops into your mind. You shake your head, trying to think of something else, but that only makes it worse.

He’s pressed you up against the bathroom door and he's got your wrists pinned together above your head.

No, stop, you scold yourself. But the second you banish that image another one comes flooding in, your leg draped over his shoulder as he’s lightly sucking your clit with his fingers curled inside you.

You're dizzy with the mental image and you try to wrest it from your mind. You focus on the visual stimuli around you, the white tile, the fluorescent lights, the small blue stain beneath the soap dispenser. Eventually you find yourself back in your body and you massage your temples, trying to focus.

Your head is still reeling slightly as you make your way back to your office. You unlock the door, completely unaware of his presence behind you until you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. You yelp and in an instant he’s towering over you with your back up against the wall.

“Almighty gods, Astarion,” you swear breathlessly, your heart pounding more from the scare than the proximity for once. The proximity doesn’t help, however, when he tilts your chin with his knuckle and smiles devilishly.

“Come to my place, let me cook you dinner,” he purrs, and your breath quickens. But when his words finally break through the seductive tone, something in your brain stops.

“Wait, cook? Can you- do you even- how-” You still haven’t fully recovered and your mouth struggles to form words. His smile widens and you know he’s enjoying watching you splutter.

“What, do you think in all of my 350 years I've never bedded a mortal? Besides,” he trails his hand down your neck and strokes it gently with his thumb, sending a shiver down your spine, “I have other ways of getting my fill.”

You instinctively tilt your head for him, almost like you’re inviting him to bite right here and now. You manage to recoup your senses just enough to quip, “I’m sure you have plenty of experience luring cute mortals back to your place.”

You think you see his jaw tighten for a fraction of a second, but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“I’ll take it as a yes, then?” He pulls away and adjusts his glasses, his fingers sliding into his hair. You nod, not trusting the words to come out of your mouth. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and tucks it into the neckline of your shirt, a move that would have been unbearably corny coming from anyone else.

“See you then… lover.” He winks and glides out of the room as silently as he came in. You take a breath to steady yourself, a voice in the back of your head grumbling because of how much he has you wrapped around his finger. But admittedly, he seemed equally flustered when you almost plowed into him a few minutes ago.

Maybe not the best choice of words.

You pull the piece of paper out to see an address, date, and time. Tomorrow at 7.

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

Now you just need to occupy yourself for the next 26 hours and not completely lose your nerve.

***

Occupying yourself isn’t terribly difficult with Shadowheart around. She keeps you busy all day with various errands, shopping, anything to keep you from spiraling.

Nevertheless, when it’s finally time to get dressed, you find yourself overthinking every tiny element. You stand frozen in front of your open underwear drawer trying to decide between the black lace or the pink satin.

“Shadowheeeaaaarrrrrtttt,” you call out to her in the other room. She pops her head in and gives you a pitying smile as she sees your anxiety-ridden face.

“Alright, sit, let me help,” she clinks her glass down on your dresser and nudges you until you’re sitting on your bed, fidgeting with the belt of your robe.

“Black lace, it’s sexier,” she says sagely, tossing the panties at you and you slide them on under your robe. She pulls the plaid skirt out of the shopping bag and flings it onto the bed.

“Put that on because we both agreed it’s adorable. It might be warm enough to go without tights?” she muses, then glances at you mischievously. “And since he has a track record of destroying those, maybe go with these instead.” She throws a pair of thigh highs at you and they hit you in the face. You wrinkle your nose.

“Careful,” you warn, but she ignores you. She floats over to your closet and sifts through the hangers. She pulls out a top, shifts her gaze between you and the garment a few times, then drops it on the floor. After another moment of searching, she pulls out a blousy cardigan, throwing it on the bed next to you.

“Don’t put that on yet, I’ll be right back.” She disappears before you can say anything. You’re left sitting on your bed in just your bra and skirt, and you rub your feet together with a restless energy.

Shadowheart returns just a few minutes later holding a lacy top that reads more as lingerie than an actual shirt. She returns your skeptical frown with a giant grin.

“Shade, I'm not wearing that,” you gripe, and she throws it in your face.

“Put it on before you judge,” she chides in response, and you roll your eyes.

“Fine, but it probably won't fit,” you say as you take off your bra and don the sheer v-neck cami. Other than straining around your chest slightly, the fit is fine. You put on the oversized cardigan over it and look at the full effect in your floor length mirror.

“See, told you,” she says smugly as you admire your reflection. And it's true, the underwear-as-outerwear really does bring the look from glorified schoolgirl cosplay into something a bit more refined. You give her a disgruntled sidelong glance but otherwise say nothing.

“Alright, get going. Go put your shoes on and chase that Ph D.” She pushes you out of your bedroom and towards the front door of your apartment. “Don't worry about me, I'll be here drinking your wine and masturbating all by myself while you get fucked through the end of the tenday.”

You slip on your black suede ankle boots and pleadingly look at Shadowheart one more time. You're still not convinced that this whole thing isn’t just a trip into the lion’s den.

“Go! I look forward to hearing all the gory details,” she says and plants a smooch on your cheek. She then smacks your ass as you head out the door, your yelp earning a satisfied smirk.

Sure enough, when you find yourself outside his apartment door, you can feel your cold feet catching up with you. You're about to take out your phone and text Shadowheart that you're going to leave when his door opens.

“Hello, beautiful,” he croons, and the syrup in his voice makes your mouth go dry. The sleeves of his white button down are rolled up and the first few buttons are undone, leaving his collarbone exposed. The black vest tapers in his waist and flows seamlessly into his well-tailored trousers. But the first thing you notice is his glasses.

“Your glasses are different,” you blurt, internally cursing your bluntness. His eyebrows pop up above the thicker plastic frames.

“Is that a problem?” he asks without a hint of malice in his voice. You blush and quickly shake your head.

“No I- I like them. They look good,” you stutter, looking away from the heat of his gaze. He smiles and takes your hand almost like he's leading you in a courtly dance, pulling you inside.

You look around his apartment, noticing the similarities to the hominess of his office. Big overfull bookshelves, warm-lit lamps dotted around the space, papers and other junk littered across every surface. It still surprises you that he doesn’t keep a tidy space, but at the same time you find it oddly charming.

You spot a hairless cat sitting on some mail on a table in the corner, delicately licking its paw.

“Aww, who’s this?” You approach the cat, holding out your hand for it to sniff. It hisses in response and you take a step back.

“That's His Majesty, and you're best to respect his wishes,” Astarion calls from the kitchen.

“You named your cat His Majesty?” you ask, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat.

“No, he named himself His Majesty,” he replies, returning from the kitchen with a spoonful of risotto. “Taste,” he commands and you obediently open your mouth. The steaming food coats your tongue with a tangy, savory taste. You nod at him, barely trusting yourself to speak. It tastes incredible.

You turn back to His Majesty, and you notice an empty potion of animal speaking tipped on its side near him.

“Well I'll just admire such a handsome creature from a distance, then,” you say and His Majesty preens slightly. You can hear a hum of approval from Astarion as he retreats back into the kitchen.

This man is full of contradictions. Pristine, clean cut outward appearance with a cluttered, disorganized space. Cool and disaffected, but he loves his cat enough to use potions to communicate with him. He doesn't need to eat, but somehow he’s an incredible cook? You frown to yourself; it feels like something doesn't add up.

You start scanning one of the bookshelves, wondering what else you can learn about him. If there was an organizational system, it wasn't clear. 48 Laws of Power, History of Modern Sexuality, On the Genealogy of Morality, Gender Trouble… Ayn Rand sitting next to Octavia Butler?

What the fuck does he like?

“How is my collection of books holding up in your estimation?” Astarion’s sudden presence behind you makes you jump. He presses a wine glass into your hand and ghosts his lips across the crook of your neck, sending a swath of goosebumps down your arms.

“Did I tell you that you look absolutely delicious?” he murmurs into your skin, and you can already feel yourself getting lightheaded.

“You're one to talk,” you say on a dizzied exhale, and the breath from his laugh tickles your shoulder. He puts his hands on your waist, running a finger along the inside of the waistband of your skirt. He gives it a gentle tug and you unconsciously move in the direction he’s pulling.

“Come eat,” he says, guiding you to a table with one place setting. You sit, feeling awkward as he sits across from you, a wine glass in his hand.

“Are you just going to watch me eat?” you laugh nervously. He smiles into the glass, glancing at you above the rectangular frames sliding down his nose.

“Well if you're insistent, I can have my dinner as well.” He's not subtle about leering at your neck, sparking a flicker of heat in your belly. You distract yourself by taking another bite of the risotto, which somehow tastes even better than what he fed you before.

“So what do you experience when you have… food?” you ask, trying to shift his attention off you eating. He looks up as he thinks, and you find your gaze tracing his jawline.

“It’s… sour. Like it’s spoiled. But when something is cooked well, and with high quality ingredients, it’s more bearable.”

You look down at your food, the taste dancing across your palette. It's certainly better than something you could make for yourself. But you know so little about cooking techniques besides the basics that you don’t know what the difference would even be.

“And you're drinking wine. What does that taste like?” You try not to stare at the dark red liquid collecting on his lips, but it’s hard not to when his tongue darts out to lick it up.

“Alcohol has a higher threshold for quality, so it's generally more palatable. It usually means a higher budget for these things, but it's not as though I'm spending much on groceries.” He narrows his eyes at you, but you can't read his expression.

“Well go on,” he continues, and you tilt your head in confusion. “Ask the question that you really want to ask.” Your heart starts beating a little faster and he smirks. Gods, you really hate that he can read you like that. It would be nice to keep at least one emotion private.

“What does blood taste like?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it's clear that he hears you. His smile widens just enough to show off his fangs.

“It depends on the person,” he replies just as casually as if you had asked him about his taste in music. “Some are sweeter, like a nice rich port, while others have a bit of a burn, like whiskey. However, you?” He places his glass on the table and stands, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. He crosses behind your chair and sweeps your hair to the side, lasciviously inhaling your scent behind your ear, eliciting a shiver.

“Yours is smooth with a hint of spice, like a fine aged brandy. But the finish has an addictive quality, like absinthe.” He nips lightly at the base of your neck without breaking skin.

“Such pretty words,” you exhale on a breathy moan, reaching a hand up behind you and running your fingers through his hair, pulling him toward you ever so slightly.

“Is that what you want?” he breathes into your ear, and you arch your back in your seat, panting. You can barely get out the “yes” before he sweeps you out of the chair and wraps your legs around his waist. He carries you into the kitchen, placing you on the counter and pressing your knees apart with his torso. You whine and the cool tile pressing into your ass reminds you of his touch. He slides one hand behind your head and the other around your waist, and sinks his teeth into your neck.

The initial pain surprises you every time, and your yelp is followed by his satisfied groan. You grip the back of his neck as he drinks, and you can feel the muscles working with each swallow. The feeling of your blood coursing through both of your bodies gets you high, knowing it's your blood that flushes his lips, cheeks, and ears. It's your blood flowing to his cock. The reminder of it makes you clench instinctively.

He pulls away just as you're teetering on the edge of passing out. He’s always panting after he feeds, his glasses slightly askew and a ravenous look in his eye that makes your mouth water. You pull him into a heated kiss, the metallic tang on his lips becoming a sensory reminder of the post-feeding bliss.

You pull him closer with your feet, aching just to feel him pressed against you. Your hands scramble against his back, tugging at his collared shirt. He’s wearing far too many layers and he hasn’t even blessed you with the sight of his gorgeous sculpted chest yet.

You slide a hand into the back of his collar, desperate for his skin, when your fingers brush over thick raised scar tissue. He pulls back faster than you do and your hands immediately go to cover your mouth.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t–” you begin but the pained look in his eye makes you stop short.

“No it's… it's fine. I've had those for a very long time. I… ah…” he stutters, adjusting his glasses uncomfortably, and you've never seen him so flummoxed.

“What are they from?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You're about to retract, tell him he doesn't need to answer, when he speaks quietly.

“They're from… the man who turned me. He kept me as a slave for 200 years. It’s something written in infernal, but I never found out what it said. And his death ensured I never would.” He speaks while looking down at the floor, his distant gaze indicating that he's somewhere else entirely.

“Astarion…” you breathe, and you cup his face in your hands. He smirks and snakes his arms around your waist; the mask is back on.

“Don’t worry about me, darling,” he says with a composed smile, “it was a very long time ago. I’m more concerned with tonight.” He moves to kiss your neck again but you put your hand against his chest to stop him.

“No- well, I mean yes to tonight, but… let me take care of you,” you say softly, and his careful expression slips again.

“I- well if that’s what you want.” He crinkles his brow, unsure of what to make of your proposal.

“Is it what you want?” You stroke his cheek, and it suddenly feels like this is an entirely different man standing in front of you. Hesitant, vulnerable, his usual swaggering confidence replaced with an uncertain tenderness that makes your heart pound in a way that feels wholly unfamiliar with him.

“I’m not sure,” he says, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

“We don’t have to,” you offer quickly, “we can just fuck up against a wall or something.” The joke breaks the tension and he lets out a little giggle.

“What do you have in mind?” He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and you ease off the counter and gently nudge him backwards toward his bedroom. He follows your lead, his doubtful look shifting into something of excitement and mischief. You guide him until the back of his knees hit the bed, and you push him to sit.

You straddle his lap and run your fingers through his silvery curls. You kiss along his jawline and down his neck, placing a particularly tender kiss on his bite scar. He exhales heavily, sliding his hands up your thighs and resting them on your lower back.

You begin carefully unbuttoning his vest, followed by his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants. You slide it down his shoulders and onto the bed behind him, letting your warm hands run over the cool planes of his skin. His eyes follow your movements carefully and you take your time, tracing over every divet, every freckle and mole. You delight in his gasp when your fingers dance over his navel and down to his belt buckle.

You slip off his lap and drop between his legs, your hands continuing their journey along his hips. You plant increasingly hungry kisses above his waistband as you remove his belt and unzip his pants. He leans back on his hands as his breathing quickens, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

You’re struck with the irony that the last time you were between Astarion’s legs like this it was to get revenge, to make him feel flustered and speechless the way he always does to you. Now you have him, flustered and speechless, and all you want is to worship him, make him feel warm and safe.

You slide his pants down under his ass, pulling them all the way off so he’s sitting on his bed fully nude. You run your lips along his inner thigh as you palm his growing erection.

“Ah- wait,” he stammers and you immediately look up and pull back.

“Yes?” you ask, frozen by the fear that you’ve gone too far.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, nudging your cardigan off your shoulder. “All of you.”

It’s hard to believe that someone sitting naked in front of you can make you feel so exposed. You shiver as you drop the cardigan off your back, the sudden exposure to cool air making your nipples poke through the lacy top that Shadowheart gave you. You stand and he watches intently as you unzip your skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at your feet. His expression gives little away, but his cock doesn’t. By the time you’ve removed the black panties, thigh highs, and cami, it stands at full attention. His knees squeeze around your legs and his arms pull you in close to him, pressing his nose against your belly. You card your fingers through his hair and down to his chin, tilting his head upwards.

“Better?” you breathe, and he nods, his eyes round and wide. You bend down to kiss him, slow and languid, before dropping to your knees again. When you pull away his mouth stays open, suspended in the shape of your kiss.

You settle between his knees and lightly kiss the head of his dick. You flick your gaze upward, monitoring his expression as you lazily run your fingers along his shaft. His glasses balance on the tip of his nose as he looks down at you, transfixed by your ministrations. You open your lips slightly, not quite taking him into your mouth yet as you softly cup his balls in your hand. You can hear his breath growing ragged, and he rewards you with an almost inaudible moan when your tongue finally wets his cock.

You wrap your lips around his tip, gently working the underside with your tongue. You run your hands up his thighs, squeezing his hips as they buck into you. You take more of him in, the warmth of your mouth contrasting with the cool, sensitive skin. He groans and tangles his fingers in your hair, a gesture that feels closer to petting than pulling.

You pull your mouth off his cock, wrapping your hand around the now slick shaft. You run your thumb along the slit, and his responding shutter makes you smile.

“Ah- enjoying yourself?” he murmurs, unable to keep his voice steady. You look up at him and drag your tongue along his entire length.

“I am, are you?” you hum, taking him back into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip. His leg quivers beside you, his toes curling inward.

“Mmph,” he grunts in assent, his hand twisting into your hair a little more. You slip your hands under his thighs and slide your mouth further down, letting him fill you up. His hips jerk, wanting to thrust into you, and you relax your jaw to let him. His little pants and disjointed moans send a jolt of heat down to your core, and you can feel yourself becoming wet with desire for him.

You reach down and slip your middle finger between your slick folds, your groan vibrating into him. He hisses and pulls you off his cock and into a fierce kiss. The two of you tumble backwards onto the bed, your hair encircling you like a curtain. You press your bodies together, the smoldering heat spreading into a raging wildfire. He lines himself up with your entrance as you continue your desperate assault on his lips. He slides in with ease and your cry into his mouth accompanies him bottoming out.

You push yourself up, bracing yourself on his chest as you grind into him. He plants his hands on your hips, thrusting up into you. Your head falls back in ecstasy, your hair cascading down the length of your back. You increase the pace of your rolling hips, each breath growing more voiced as you approach your peak.

“Oh gods, Astarion,” you babble, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer. He realizes you’re getting close, he sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him tight. He latches onto your nipple, flicking his tongue and sucking to send your pleasure to staggering heights. You arch your back into him as your arms hook over his shoulders, brushing your hands against those awful scars. Your hands splay across his back as if to say no one will ever hurt you like that again.

You pull his face to yours so that you can taste his lips as you crash over the edge. The kiss is broken up by your cries and you can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his grunts in time with his pulsing seed. You stay still and connected as the waves of pleasure ebb and flow and finally settle. The only noise left in the room is both of your heavy panting, and the telltale sound of just your heart pounding.

His hands slide down your back as you carefully pull yourself off him and you shiver as his now-soft cock falls out of you. You kneel next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, and he reaches over to stroke your jaw.

“Thank you,” he hums softly, and you press another sweet kiss to his neck. His scar.

After a moment you let out a contented sigh, then you say, “Well, I should probably gather my things and go, then.” You begin to stand to dress, but his hand closes around your wrist. You turn to him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“Or you could… stay. If you want.” He looks up at you through smudged and sweaty glasses and a smile tugs at your lips.

“What do you want?” you ask, and you watch him shift uncomfortably with a question that he’s not used to answering.

“I want…” he begins, hesitant. “I want to watch last year’s Globe production of Much Ado About Nothing with you. You said you like that one, right?” Your ears grow hot as you realize the extent to which he actually paid attention to you, even before you were sleeping together.

“I do, yeah. One of his best,” you say, your voice cracking slightly as you repeat his words back to him. That interaction feels like it was eons ago, when in fact it was less than a tenday.

He smirks, some of his confident charm seeping back into his demeanor. He scoots back on the bed until he’s resting against the headboard, and then he reaches out to you, inviting you to curl in next to him. You oblige, and he turns on the TV across from the bed, pulling up the pro-shot. You sink in next to him, appreciating how his chest cools your flushed cheek.

A single word gnaws at the back of your mind and you banish it quickly.

No, that’s the oxytocin talking.

It’s just been a long time since you’ve slept with someone more than once.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and the gnawing grows more insistent.

…

Fuck.

270 notes · View notes

starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

Note

ive been hesitating to ask this bc youve been on a roll with the clone^2au (which i am frothing over) but could i poke you for some childhood friend au? bc GOD i wanna see how danny reacts to reuniting w jason or how the rest of the batfam react to learning jason never told danny of his resurrection or wondering if dannys gonna put jokers dead body on a display/offering to jasons grave. i havent been normal about this since i first read it and was wondering. thank you for your writing.

RAAAAHHHH DON'T BE HESITANT I AM JUST AS FERAL OVER MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU AS I AM WITH CLONE^2 I AM DELIGHTED BY THIS. Like.,,,, i literally love them,,, so much. I can't listen to The Crane Wives without thinking of them.

(which is my fault - the ao3 fic of them has literally only crane wives lyrics for each chapter title and summary (posted AND the ones not written) so of course im gonna associate with them.)

(if you wanna listen to some of their songs while thinking of cfau here are my recommendations: "Once & for All", "Here I Am", "Hollow Moon" is a Danny AND Jason song to me, this would be my go-to song for an animatic of CFAU if i had the skills for it. "Tongues and Teeth", "Curses" and "take me to war" is a heavy cfau danny song to me, and of course, "the moon will sing")

Like they're BEST friends dude, they're two sides of the same coin and when they were kids they would do this thing where their 'fingers crossed'/'double-crossed' was them hooking their index fingers in the fingers crossed gesture.

and i'm actually currently rewriting my original post into a more fic-like format, and when I'm done I'll post it on here under the cfau tag - with the original post still in tact. But its,,, gonna be so long dude,,,, the original behemoth was just over 9000 words,,, and I've written 3k words already of the new one and we haven't even reached Jason and Danny reuniting at the gala yet,,, i need to get back to that,,,

and then to answer your questions!! god im almost hesitant to answer because i dont wanna spoil the little fic i had planned for it but also like,, its not like im gonna spoil everything, right? and answering the questions isnt the same as writing the scene down so!!

i love danny and jason's reuniting, like i've thought about it SO much and I've thought about it happening after Danny kills the Joker. I know the reveal could have been before that, and it could have been equally just as dramatic but like??? Thematically, doing it after danny kills the joker is SO good. To me at least.

Because like?? Jason's been in somewhat denial about danny's plan to kill the joker for months. ever since danny told him that he wanted to at the gala. And from Jason's pov its not even technically a plan. He sees his best friend for the first time after five years and his best friend still isn't over his death. He hasn't stepped foot in Gotham since his funeral and now suddenly he's here.

And he's still so full of grief over his death that he tells a masked vigilante that he's going to kill the guy that did it, who lives in said masked vigilante's city. And danny's got that look in his eyes that Jason knows so well that means he's being serious. And yet he still doesn't know if he should believe him or not.

And then he does. Danny kills him. And Jason can't fucking believe it. And when he goes and sees Danny, Danny's hands are still covered in blood. And that reunion? God like a fucking firework show. Danny's so fucking angry, and pissed, and hurt, and so goddamn overjoyed that he's alive and here that he sends them both to the ground, and if he doesn't calm down he's gonna take out the power in a five block radius.

there's just so, so much yelling on Danny's end. And then so much crying, first from Danny and then them both. because god, you're alive. you're here. i've missed you so much. i'm never letting you out of my sights again.

and Joker's death! God I don't want to actually say too much about that, but the way I have it set up thematically makes me actually not want danny to take any part of the joker with him as an offering. and he may actually forego that particular ghost etiquette and offer something else as an offering to Jason in substitute to not bringing him the Joker's heart/head/ritualistic body part.

Because you know what the last thing a man whose been spending the last two decades of his life building himself up to be larger than life would want? A death that's unremarkable. :) and that's all i'll put on the matter for now.

and the batfam!! they technically already know that jason hasn't told danny he was resurrected, and plenty of them have mixed feelings on them. largely bruce and dick i think, considering they saw firsthand how close jason and danny were when they were kids.

Dick was honestly surprised at first when he found out that Jason hadn't told Danny he was alive - and on one hand he understands the reasoning for it, and on the other hand he isn't sure if it was such a good idea. Especially after he sees Danny again after he arrives back in Gotham and sees just how badly Jason's death was still affecting him. But it's not like he's going to try and convince Jason to tell him - he can make his own choices, even if Dick has questions about them.

Bruce has much the same thoughts as Dick, so there's not really much to add here other than he might bring it up once or twice to Jason like, vaguely. And then immediately drops it when Jason shuts him down. He might actually somewhat...?? prefer that Jason hasn't told Danny because that raises a lot of questions and could jeopardize their identities. However, again, Jason can make his own choices and there's not much Bruce can do about it other than disapprove from afar.

Tim who knew of Danny from stalking the Wayne family shares similars sentiments of being surprised that Jason didn't tell Danny, but again, yeah, understands the thought process to some extent. Doesn't bring it up ever.

Everyone else who hadn't seen firsthand how close Danny and Jason are don't really have much opinion on it -- Jason didn't tell his best friend he was alive, great, he also didn't tell them either so it's not like its that much of a surprise. It would've been more of a surprise to them if Jason had told Danny before he told Bruce and co. Damian may make a comment or two about Jason not telling Danny, but its not about how he can't believe he didn't tell him or anything like it.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #cfau #childhood friends au #danny and jason are such best friends i love them so much #BUT YEAH ASK ME MORE QUESTIONS ABOUT CFAU I'LL SCREAM #AND THEN TRY AND ANSWER THEM TO MY BEST ABILITY #like i could go on RANTS almost SPECIFICALLY about rath (dan) and then about jason and danny #and their friendship like i've thought about this au with a combined soulmate au and immediately hated the idea because no!#no! i can't call them soulmates. i can't it doesnt fit. their bond goes DEEPER than that. its *better* than that #this wasn't written in the stars it was forged in the back alley streets of gotham with all the broken glass under their feet #and the smell of nicotine weaving itself into the fabrics of their shirts. their souls aren't intertwined because the universe said so #they're two balls of yarn tangled together because they batted it at each other and decided to play cats cradle. and then never bothered #to untangle the string from one another. you'll never know where one ends and the other begins #i actually have a cfau miscellaneous facts post in my drafts that i need to finish too and i might do that today because of this ask <33 #the fastest way to starry's heart is through her ask box #asking me questions about my aus is the fastest way to make me make more content about them ajshld #see: clone^2 (i've been coasting off the fanart i got from them for the last two days) and now this #i need to stop more before i start waxing more poetic about jason and danny's bond with one another.#also also jason is equally as feral about danny as danny is about him (see: him plotting joker's demise since he was 14) its just not #showing as much since a lot of this is from danny's pov. like dw this isn't one-sided obsession its mutual.#see: jason seeing danny's scars and immediately wanting to find out who caused it and getting murderously angry about it #its not a starry post unless its long #idk maybe im just obsessed with the idea that relationships are chosen and forged with time and that the bonds we have arent because they #were predetermined but because we made them to be. Like how clone^2 said 'i choose to be brothers' and how danny and jason said #'i choose you. i will always choose you. you're my other half. the one who watches my back. i choose you.'

155 notes · View notes

ghostinthegallery · 8 months ago

Text

I can't believe The Silence and the Storm is over a year old! The first anniversary was May 27th (yes I missed my own fic's birthday in my defense I was traveling and forgot how time works).

I'm trying to compose my thoughts because this sure feels like a time a blog post would be fitting. However, my engrams are scrambled because...wow do I have too many feelings.

As some background, I've been a writer for a long time. And I've written 3-5 books (depends on how you count "completing" a book but it's 5 full drafts, 3 of which were heavily edited). I wanted to be a trade published writer (still do) and for a while I was feeling good about my chances! I got lucky and received some wonderful professional mentorship (and met one of my best friends during that program!). I took that guidance to query agents (a necessary step for access to most big/medium US publishers). I knew it would be hard and take time but...4 years later all I have to show are a few requests, hundreds of rejections, and one agent who asked me to rewrite my entire book only to reject me anyway (me, bitter? No not at all nooooo).

I'm a creative person and sharing my work feels like sharing a part of myself. Something that is not easy for me to do. After a while I just assumed I was missing something necessary. My work didn't resonate, but I didn't know how to fix it. I’d never reach anyone in the way I so desperately craved, and it was my fault for not being good enough. I felt broken.

During one of many major depressive episodes my spouse bought me a copy of The Infinite and the Divine. That book has changed my life. I was never much of a fanfic writer before. Either I thought the original work was too good and I didn't think I had anything to add or it was too bad so why would I bother with it when I could just go read/watch something better? 40k inspired me though. The ideas are incredible but underutilized enough that I felt like I had something to add.

So I started writing necron fic because why not? There wasn’t enough for me to read, and I needed more robot stories. Maybe I could rediscover my love of the craft, make some friends, make some robots kiss. Distract my mind from the horrors. So I posted a little OC fic and actually got some nice comments. Hey! Positive reinforcement! Hadn't had that in a while.

Emboldened, I continued in the most normal way possible. Going from a 7 chapter OC story to a giant civil war epic including every named necron character I could find with 6 (then 7...then 9) POVs. It was the type of grand space opera I've always wanted to write but never did because I didn’t think I had the skill and it's harder to sell. Luckily AO3 is free. Ain't no playing to the market there!

Now, a 40k necron civil war space opera is...niche. So I wasn't expecting much. I would have been happy with some kudos, some comments. Fan art felt like a pipe dream, but what are writers if not dreamers? The main goal was to enjoy myself. It was low pressure fun, I love the characters, what could go wrong?

Nothing, but I was wholely unprepared for things to go as right as they did. Y’all have been amazing. So many great comments and ideas exchanged, gorgeous art, fun asks, a lot of screaming (it’s fine probably don’t worry). I’ve never had such a strong outpouring of support for my work. It feels incredible. But also sometimes confusing. I’ve trained myself so well to handle rejection that I kind of forgot how to handle acceptance. Especially for something so personal. This is a weird story about undead space robots, there’s a lot of politics, sometimes the robots have sex. It’s got out there head canons, and 99% of the tyranid parts are pulled out of my ass because nobody knows how the space bugs work okay. My weirdness being embraced on this scale is one of the greatest feelings of my life. But it’s also new, and way out of my comfort zone. I’m being seen and adjusting to that.

Still, writing in this space has been one of the most consistently joyful things in my life for…well, over a year now! It’s changed how I view my art. I actually can create stories that touch people and make them feel things. I can take risks and have them pay off. I know not everyone will love this, but some people really seem to love it. That is mind blowing to me.

It’s making me reassess a lot about how I approach my art. Writing and other. I still plan to pursue publication. I want to get paid for my work, but this is making me consider alternate paths that might fit my style (and psyche) better. I don’t know what the future holds, but if you’d told me a year and a half ago that a big part of it would hinge on an AO3 gay robot skeleton space opera…I would have thought you were nuts, but also hoped you were right because that sounds rad as hell.

So in conclusion, thank you all so much for reading <3

#Personal post #very very personal post #The silence and the storm #happy one year anniversary folks #Thanks again

43 notes · View notes

courtmandas · 3 days ago

Text

fic: tangle (part one of two)

Summary: How could she explain to Amanda that every single fucking thing brought her to Angela’s thoughts. She couldn’t buy butter pecan ice cream anymore. She couldn’t handle the smell of cinnamon. She couldn’t watch Love Is Blind or even see Google alerts about it without wishing she were sitting with Amanda watching it or making out instead of watching it. She couldn’t drink whiskey anymore because of how often they’d gone out drinking and she’d ended the night licking the taste of it right off Amanda’s tongue. She was being haunted. Tormented.

A/N: This was originally posted to AO3. If you read it there, this is almost a complete rewrite. I looked over the original fic and was not happy, so here we are. Usual disclaimer: none of this is meant to imply or be about real people. Pretend is fun. Also: quick shout out to @shesmore-shoebill for indulging me constantly.

Courtney wasn’t an overly emotional person. She was usually confident in herself, and always aware and in charge of her own feelings. It was something Arasha admired about her. Even if it came from the childhood need to fix everything and everyone in a broken home. Today, though, Arasha could safely say that Courtney was nervous. She was standing in Arasha’s kitchen, arms crossed over her chest, fingers folded into a death grip on the sleeves of her oversized flannel. Arasha was beside her, her gaze flitting from Courtney to the small package that sat on Arasha’s countertop. They hadn’t even opened it yet, and already Courtney was visibly trying to curl into a ball.

Arasha just had to laugh at her best friend because what the hell. “What’s going on in your head, Court?”

Courtney glanced at her, her hands loosening the tiniest amount. “I don’t know. It’s a little intimidating.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. When I open it, the idea in my head has to become a reality. That’s scary.”

It was logical, sure, but it was also a happy thing. “Don’t you love Amanda?”

Courtney’s eyes snapped over to her. “Yes. Of course! I just…what if she says no?”

“Why would she say no?”

“I don’t think she would, but like…”

Arasha didn’t let her finish the sentence. She yanked open the drawer to her left and pulled out scissors. “But like nothing. We’re opening the damn thing so you can calm down.”

Courtney stepped over to her as Arasha very carefully sliced the box open. The thing was secured in so much bubble wrap and packing paper it wouldn’t have mattered. She just didn’t want Courtney’s anxiety to keep spiking. She pulled out the smaller, more elegant box. It was a pretty green velvet ornate in a sliver of gold. Courtney smiled at the sight of it. Arasha took that as a good sign and slid it over.

Courtney just held it for a few seconds. Arasha watched her quietly, her own smile growing. Her excitement for her oldest, closest friend was palpable. Courtney clicked open the ring box only to lose her breath a bit at its contents. Arasha saddled up closer to see it. Damn, it was gorgeous in person. Courtney had been right about the white gold. It really did look elegant. Amanda’s olive skin tone would show it off even better. And the emeralds adorning either side of the diamond were a unique touch.

“It’s fucking beautiful, dude.” Arasha stroked a hand between Courtney’s shoulder blades.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is. God, I can’t fuck this up.” Courtney replied, clicking the box closed and putting it back in the shipping box.

“You will not fuck it up.”

“She’s just been through so much, Arash. What if she thinks I’m only asking to overcompensate for what Angela didn’t give her?”

Arasha almost lost her mind right there.

“That’s the craziest shit you’ve ever said, Court. She’s not going to think that. Nothing you guys have built together has anything to do with Angela. Besides, you’ve talked about marriage, haven’t you?”

“A few times, yeah. And Amanda gets so excited every time. It’s cute as fuck.”

Arasha smiled bigger at that. Amanda was such a sweet and good person. It was a bonus that she was so madly in love with Arasha’s best friend.

“Then you have nothing to worry about. The ring is stunning. Amanda’s going to say yes. I’m thrilled for you guys.”

Courtney nodded in agreement, the nervous tension finally beginning to leave her body. “Yeah. Now I just have to figure out when and where.”

“Don’t overthink it.” Arasha warned. “I know you.”

Courtney laughed because she knew it was true. “We’ll see.”

Angela didn’t know what she’d expected. A hole in the wall Greek spot, maybe. A place with gyros and falafel and chiseled dudes for waiters. Maybe a wine bar that was sophisticated and intricate, with romantic literature on the shelves or something like that. She’d been imagining something that tapped into Amanda’s romantic side, and her natural femininity. What she found instead was a true to life Irish pub on the outskirts of LA. And, sure, Amanda was half Irish, but that wasn’t the side Angela had expected to see brought to life this way. Some sick part of her had even hoped that Amanda had opened an Italian restaurant, just because. For posterity. As a tribute of sorts. She knew that was a twisted idea. She’d broken Amanda’s heart in a million different ways. There wasn’t a chance she’d get any kind of memorial for their dead relationship. Still. A girl could hope.

Not that it mattered, because Mandy’s was a legit Irish pub. Angela walked in on a Thursday afternoon like she was crossing the border into a foreign land only to find that this was a slow time. Duh, of course. It was LA on a weekday. There were only a couple of dudes sitting at the actual bar, talking over happy hour beers. Only one booth was occupied. Two women, one blonde, the other dark haired but definitely not Amanda, despite the fact that Angela could only see the back of her. Too slouchy and short to be Amanda, honestly. Angela didn’t even have to double check.

The only option was to waltz up to the bartender and be a fucking weirdo. Angela didn’t like that option. What would happen when word got to Amanda that some freak was asking about her in the middle of the day on a whim. She’d tell Angela to fuck all the way off, surely, no matter what. That wasn’t an outcome she could avoid, unless there was a way to explain herself first. And, fuck, how was she supposed to do that.

Hey, I know it’s been three years, and I totally fucked you over, but I’m having this problem where I think about you every second of the day and it’s driving me fucking insane.

No, that wouldn’t work. How could she explain to Amanda that every single fucking thing brought her to Angela’s thoughts. She couldn’t buy butter pecan ice cream anymore. She couldn’t handle the smell of cinnamon. She couldn’t watch Love Is Blind or even see Google alerts about it without wishing she were sitting with Amanda watching it or making out instead of watching it. She couldn’t drink whiskey anymore because of how often they’d gone out drinking and she’d ended the night licking the taste of it right off Amanda’s tongue. She was being haunted. Tormented. Her world was in shambles; there were too many things in her life that were still carrying Amanda’s fingerprints. She’d even had to buy new bed sheets because the smell of Amanda’s lavender bath bombs was stuck to the others.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew it was her fault. She’d made the decision to take a path in life that didn’t have space for Amanda on it. In her defense, she’d thought she’d be fine. They hadn’t been in a real relationship. They’d been best friends at most and fuck buddies at the least. And Angela had done that on purpose, just in an attempt to avoid this exact scenario. Joke was on her. What else was new.

Standing silently in the middle of a bar fighting a mental battle wasn’t helping her case of trying not to look like an absolute lunatic, so she went for the bartender, her steps far surer than her thoughts.

The bartender was a stocky, shorter dude, another blonde. Almost certainly not Irish. “How’s it going? What can I get for you?”

Angela slid onto a stool, repeating to herself that she could do this. It was easy to get information. She just had to be casual. “Just a Guinness, thanks.”

The man smiled at her. “Coming right up.”

Angela didn’t know how to approach the real questions she wanted to ask, so she started simple.

“This place new?”

The bartender lifted his head to address her, his kind smile a little too much for her frayed nerves. She felt like a spy about to be busted for snooping.

“Been about a year or so.” He said, sliding over her Guinness. When in Irish bar, drink Irish beer. “I’ve never seen you around.”

There was something in his tone. It was a little tilted and a little strange, like maybe he knew her. Angela knew she was being paranoid. Just because this guy worked with Amanda didn’t mean that he knew Angela. He’d probably only heard the vaguest stories. Probably.

“I’m planning on moving back out here, actually. I was in New York for a bit.”

“Oh, sick.” He grinned.

She laughed at his verbiage. California through and through. “Yeah. Super sick. Trying to get on Broadway didn’t go so well for me, so I’m back out here to do the typical LA shit.”

The man chuckled his understanding. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” She took a long sip of her beer as a distraction. It was the wrong choice. She should’ve just asked the question she’d wanted to while the chance was there.

Hindsight and all that.

There was an obnoxious welcome chime on the door, and this one brought with it yet another blonde. She walked in full of purpose, making a straight line for the bar.

“Hey, Shayne.”

The bartender – Shayne – turned away from Angela, his face lighting up at the new presence. “Hey, Courtney. Amanda’s gone for the day.”

Amanda. Angela’s ears perked up like Amanda’s name was her own personal dog whistle. And it was.

“No, I know.” The Courtney chick laughed and now Angela noticed that she was holding onto something with a death grip. “I came to talk to you.”

Shayne’s blue eyes widened. “Okay. What’s up?”

Angela didn’t want to stare, so she occupied herself with the TV just above the shelves. It was still early enough that the news was playing, but she pretended to be riveted. Her peripheral vision provided her with just enough to know that the woman had put whatever she was holding on the countertop.

“Holy shit!” Shayne said. “It’s so nice, dude.”

“Do you think she’ll like it?” The woman’s voice went low. Angela still caught the words. She was refusing to look over at them, though. Eavesdropping was only effective if you acted like an outsider. Which she was, technically, despite how much she was trying to find any trace of Amanda.

“Yeah, dude, I think she’ll love it. When are you going to give it to her?” Shayne sounded excited, his tone lifting high enough for Angela to grow more intrigued.

Her interest was enough to make her hazard a glance at them. The woman was holding a…ring box? Was Angela seeing that right. It wasn’t like she was right on top of them or anything.

“I don’t know yet.” Courtney was saying. “I want to do something small and private; I think. I don’t want her to feel pressured if she isn’t completely ready.”

“Yeah. Marriage is a big step.”

Marriage. Angela felt her blood run colder and her heart skip around in her chest helplessly. There was no way…

“If you’re asking for my opinion, though, I’ve known Amanda for a while now and I’ve never seen her so happy. I don’t think there’s any reason to worry, Courtney.”

Angela’s breath stalled in her lungs. They were talking about Amanda. Her Amanda. Which meant not only was this fucking gorgeous blonde with Amanda, but she was also working up the nerve to propose to Amanda.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It was too much. She couldn’t handle it. Her body was descending into full on fight or flight.

Twenty dollars hit the counter and then Angela was literally running out the door, leaving two flabbergasted people in her wake.

Amanda knew Courtney to be loud. Not in a bad way. Just in a way where you always knew when she was around. Courtney didn’t do anything quietly. She walked into a room and commanded it, a flourish of blonde hair and pretty blue eyes and immaculate style. She didn’t even have to speak to be a presence. There was always a buzzing energy around her. She pulled you in like the tractor beam on the Death Star.

That afternoon, Amanda could’ve sworn Courtney wasn’t even there. Which was entirely false because she was looking at Courtney, sitting at the kitchen table, milling over her phone. She was totally quiet, and it was fucking weirding Amanda out. Had Arasha said or done something. Was Courtney quiet in anger or quiet in sadness. What was happening.

“Hey, Court. You’re back. I didn’t even hear you come in.”

Amanda had come home from work to no girlfriend and had holed herself up in the bedroom with her journal. It was her hobby. A way to de-stress. Today, for whatever reason, she’d kept thinking fleeting things about Angela, so she’d exorcise them all onto the page and shut that shit tight. No harm, no foul. No fucking way Amanda was going to let Angela take another goddamn thing from her.

Courtney put her phone to the side at the sound of Amanda’s voice and gave her a huge, breathtaking smile. “Hi, baby. I’m sorry. I just had to sort out a few things.”

“Everything okay?” Amanda crossed the room in two strides, her worry escalating. “Did something happen with Arasha?”

“No, nothing like that.” Courtney stood up to meet her and reached out to slide her hands along Amanda’s waist. “Everything’s good.”

She lifted onto her tiptoes to kiss Amanda. It was soft and sweet and made Amanda’s heart flutter. God, this woman.

“I missed you.” Amanda just had to say it loud.

Courtney scoffed. “I was only gone a couple of hours.”

“Doesn’t matter. I missed you.” She leant in to kiss Courtney again, more insistently. She hadn’t kissed Courtney all day. It was such bullshit.

She even pouted when Courtney pulled back from her just as the connection was heating up. “What the hell.”

Courtney was visibly apologetic. “Sorry, it’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. We just need to talk for a second.”

Amanda felt a rush of fear. Were they about to be over. Was that why Courtney was so out of it. “Okay?”

“Whoa. Hey. Don’t look at me like that. It’s not bad.”

The flurry of the words made Amanda feel equal parts amused and relieved. “What’s going on, Court?”

Courtney observed her in silence for a second, her blue eyes carrying a tint of gray in this light. Amanda was so obsessed with all the little details. Even the furrow in Courtney’s brow was so adorable as she tried to think of what to say.

“I love you.”

Amanda straight up laughed in her girlfriend’s face. “Is that your big reveal?”

Courtney laughed, too. “No. No. I’ve just been thinking about the future a lot. And the only thing that stays consistent in every scenario I think about is that you’re there. I guess I want to make sure that’s where your head is at, too.”

It was. 100 percent. Amanda knew she hadn’t a thought that didn’t involve Courtney even once in the last year and a half. Even her dreams were full of Courtney.

“It’s exactly where my head’s at, Court. I love you so much.”

Courtney let out a sigh of relief. “Good. That’s good.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” Courtney reached down and squeezed at Amanda’s left hand. “Here. Sit down. I’m gonna make dinner.”

Amanda did as she was asked but didn’t let Courtney walk away from her. Courtney turned back as she was gently tugged by the hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh, you almost walked away without kissing me? You’re sick.”

Courtney rolled her eyes playfully and fulfilled the request with a firm, warm kiss. It took Amanda’s eyes a few extra seconds to flutter back open.

Mission accomplished.

Well. Almost.

During dinner, she’d briefly left the room to stash the ring in the nightstand on her side of the bed. It wasn’t the best hiding place, but she wasn’t planning on keeping it there very long, either. Or at least, she hadn’t been, and then Amanda grabbed her at the waist and started kissing her. It was like she was dying out in the desert and Courtney’s mouth was the oasis. Their tongues tangled, making Courtney groan at the taste of the red wine Amanda was drinking. Courtney loved wine, but it tasted better like this. They didn’t make it down the hall to the bedroom. They ended up making out on the couch, Courtney settled between Amanda’s legs, palm sliding against the outside of her thigh. Amanda let out a pleasured sound, her own arms wrapping Courtney up even tighter. Courtney was grateful Amanda had changed into more comfortable clothes because while that black romper she’d worn to work was sexy, it would not have been fun to work with right now.

Courtney pulled back to kiss her way down Amanda’s neck, smirking when Amanda turned her head to give her more space. Every single breathy sound that Amanda let out only sent Courtney higher. She paused to stare down at dark brown eyes and waves of black hair fanned out behind her and focused on how it felt to be held so close, like Amanda feared she would vanish. It brought the ring back to her mind. Even as she used both hands to help Amanda lift her t-shirt away. Even as her mouth and teeth and tongue reacquainted themselves with the assets on display. She kept thinking about how it was going to feel to make love to her fiancee rather than just her girlfriend. How everywhere Amanda went, everyone who saw her was gonna know she was taken. Courtney wouldn’t have to wonder if a certain someone was going to pop up and steal Amanda away. It was too late. Amanda was hers.

She’d won.

The thought made her groan against the swell of Amanda’s breast, which made Amanda grunt out Courtney’s name and tighten the fingers in her hair.

She was going to do it. She was going to ask tonight. There was no point in delaying it.

Amanda whimpered as Courtney trailed kisses down even further until she was hooking her fingers into the waistband of her girlfriend’s shorts. Her hips arched, and Courtney felt the lust settle down low and burn.

Okay. Fine. She’d ask later.

She didn’t know what to do now. By all rights, she should’ve left LA immediately. Gone to visit the bit of family she had further south. They would take her in for a few days until she could figure out whether she wanted to try to stay in Cali or fly back to New York. Fuck that. She’d take any city that didn’t have Amanda in it. Just the threat that she could accidentally run into Amanda here was jangling her nerves. She knew damn well she wouldn’t be able to handle seeing that Courtney person with Amanda. The images being fed to her by her overactive imagination were enough.

The bottle of wine she’d bought for herself on the way back to her hotel room wasn’t doing a goddamn thing to drown the images out at all, either. She just kept picturing wandering hands and disgustingly intimate kisses and clothes hitting the floor. It was awful and unfairly vivid. Having a creative brain meant having the means to absolutely torment yourself. She needed to make it stop. She downed the rest of the glass in her hand, head falling back against the headboard. The TV was on. Angela couldn’t process what was on. There was a growing haze on her senses, and the room was beginning to spin. Her phone was face up beside her. She wanted to reach for it. She wanted to open her texts with Amanda and type something. Anything. I hate how I treated you. Please forgive me.

Those words were selfish. Even as fucked as she was currently, she knew that. It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be right. It would just be honest, and maybe that was something Angela needed to do more of. Then again, if she were as honest as she wanted to be, the text would something much worse.

Don’t say yes.

What amazed Amanda the most about their relationship was how they could be comfortable in each other’s presence without having to fill the silence with anything. Amanda was a bit of a nervous person, sort of flying off at the mouth just to keep the quiet away. Quiet sucked, but it didn’t suck with Courtney. Courtney chased all of Amanda’s natural anxieties away. Her brain didn’t stack thoughts on top of thoughts when Courtney was around. It was the best feeling. Just genuine comfort and warmth.

Amanda wasn’t thinking too much tonight. The sex had certainly helped with that. The wine, too. They were both two glasses in. The latest episode of Fallout was playing on Amanda’s laptop sitting between them on the bed. Amanda was trying to focus on it, but she kept feeling Courtney’s eyes on her. They would study her for a few seconds and then shy away. It happened once, then twice, then three times. All in a span of like five minutes. She wasn’t saying anything. Courtney was being mysterious today. Not strange, like Amanda initially thought. Just like she was hiding a secret. Amanda couldn’t figure out why Courtney wasn’t just saying what was on her mind. This was their own private place, after all. How much more safety could Courtney need. The staring happened a fourth time, and that was when Amanda shut the laptop all together. She moved it off to the side so there was no obstacle between them. Courtney wasn’t even surprised by the motion.

“Courtney.” There was the smallest hint of concern in Amanda’s voice. She knew Courtney had said it wasn’t anything bad, but fuck. Why be so quiet if it wasn’t. “What is going on with you? You’re on a different planet tonight.”

Courtney studied her again and let out a deep breath. “I fucking knew this was going to be much harder to do when I actually got the damn thing.”

“What?”

“Like, it was much easier to keep to myself when it was just a concept. And now that it’s real, it’s like I want to be romantic, and I want to make it this exciting thing, but like I can’t look at you without wanting to blurt it out.”

She had no fucking idea what Courtney was going on about, but it didn’t sound like a bad thing, so she wasn’t scared. Just increasingly curious. She rearranged herself so she was sitting criss cross applesauce on the bed, facing Courtney. “I don’t know what the fuck you mean but go on.”

Courtney burst out laughing. “It’ll make sense in a second.”

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

Courtney didn’t respond with words. She just reached over toward her nightstand and pulled something out of the drawer. Gently, she put it down on the comforter between them. Amanda’s eyes almost popped out of her head. That couldn’t be what she thought it was.

“Court…” There was no way that box was holding what she thought it was. It was fucking earrings or something. A necklace. There was no way…

“Ugh, fuck, I’m going to be so bad at this, but I love you, Amanda. I love you so much. What we have together is everything to me and I never want to lose it. And look, I know you’ve been through bad shit with other people, and I know we’ve only talked about marriage a couple of times, but it’s what I want for us eventually. It doesn’t have to be right away. I can wait however long you need. I swear.”

Amanda was frozen to the spot. Her eyes were the only part of her that moved. She looked at the ring box and then back up into Courtney’s soft expression. It was a steady, open look. Amanda could see the tiniest hint of fear hiding in blue eyes, just the suggestion of panic. She wondered if Courtney was afraid she’d say no and if that was the reason she’d been so off today. That was insane, if true. Amanda was so in love with Courtney it hurt. What was there to say no to. She looked down at the box again, a sense of mirth filling her as she realized she was about to say yes without even seeing the damn ring. She picked it up, a smile sliding across her lips, and pressed the box into Courtney’s hand.

“God damn it.” Courtney muttered. “I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not.” Amanda said affectionately, smile growing as the box clicked open.

It was gorgeous. A modest square cut diamond set in a white gold band, adorned on either side smaller emeralds. Amanda was obsessed with it instantly.

“So?” Courtney seemed more relaxed now, her posture a little looser, her expression more confident. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

Neither of them were big on crying. The emotions were still huge and impossible to ignore. Amanda could feel her heart galloping in her chest. She’d never been one of those girls who fantasized about marriage, but the thought of planning a wedding to Courtney was sending her to cloud nine.

“Yes?”

“Yes.” Amanda repeated, taking the box back so she could lift the ring out. She slid it onto her finger, and began to study how it glinted against their bedroom’s soft, yellow light. Little specks of green and white played against their gray and black comforter.

“Do you like it?” Courtney’s voice shrunk down just a little. “Arasha helped me pick it out, so if you don’t like it…”

“I fucking love it.” Amanda gushed, reaching over to pull Courtney closer. “I love you. More than I’d ever be able to actually say.”

Courtney darted forward to kiss her, and they were off to the races again.

The hotel room was getting hazier and hazier, like there was a thick fog rolling in. In reality, it was the wine blurring the edges of her vision. The bottle was three quarters of the way gone and yet, her rampant thoughts were not shutting the fuck up. The shit wasn’t even making her drowsy. She couldn’t even get drunk right anymore. What was happening. Annoyed, she threw the TV remote across the room, not even giving a shit to distract herself. It wasn’t possible. She snatched her phone up. The fear was gone. She simply didn’t give a shit. She opened her contacts and tapped on Amanda’s name. Her number one favorite. She’d never bothered to undo that. A picture of the two of them leaning into each other in pretty dresses with prettier smiles lit up the screen.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. At least she wasn’t blocked. That was a good sign. Angela closed her eyes as the voicemail picked up, and Amanda’s voice hit her senses like a gut punch.

“Hey, it’s Amanda. You know what to do.”

Angela took the slowest breath she could in her state, and then let loose.

“Hey, it’s me. I, uh, I wanted to…I don’t even fucking know what I wanted to do, but I miss you so much it’s eating me alive. I guess I just want you to know that. And I want you to know that I’m in California. I went to your bar, you know, and you weren’t there, but I wish you had been. I want to see you. I wish I’d seen you. I miss you so fucking much and I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to be what you needed. I’m just sorry, Amanda. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t and it’s the fucking worst…”

Frustrated at her own pathetic attempt, she slammed her finger on the end call button. What the fuck was she doing. She was never going to win Amanda back.

It was so fucking over.

It’d quite easily been one of the greatest nights of her life. Maybe the greatest. The only one that came close was the night they met. Either way, Amanda was in both and that told Courtney everything she needed to know about their future. Amanda was going to be with her. Amanda was going to be her wife. It was so fucking awesome.

Now, it was 7am and she was very unfortunately alone in bed. Memories of the night before still brought a sleepy smile to her face. Eyes closing again, she listened to the sound of the shower running in the master bathroom. A part of her wanted to get out of bed and jump in with her fiancée(!), but her body was too comfortable, nestled as deep as she could be under the covers. Besides, it was Friday, and she didn’t have to go be in the office on Friday.

Her phone vibrated from the nightstand. A call. Ugh, what the fuck. It was too early. Of course, it was Arasha. She had an early audition, Courtney remembered. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have even been in the world of the living until 10am.

“Hello?”

“Hello?! Did you do it? You didn’t text me at all last night.”

“Yes, because I was busy.” Courtney replied, laughing a little. “I did it. She said yes.”

Arasha squealed. It was a sound Courtney had never heard from her before. Adorable as hell, honestly. “What?! That’s so amazing! Congrats!”

“Thanks, Arash.” Courtney said, her voice still rough from sleep.

Amanda came out of the bathroom then. Her makeup was done, and she was wearing a black bra, and panties set. Courtney ogled her just a little, grinning when Amanda winked, going past the bed to get to her dresser on the opposite side of the room.

“Sorry for waking you up. I just couldn’t wait to find out.” Arasha said.

Courtney was still smiling, this time because her best friend was amazing. “Don’t apologize. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“That is code for you’re going back to sleep. Got it.”

“Goodbye, Arasha. I love you.”

“Love you, too!”

Courtney ended the call and dropped back onto her pillow, a yawn pulling its way out of her. She glanced over at Amanda, who was already wearing her jeans and a black tank but now rummaging through the closet for a shirt. Oh, she loved it when Amanda wore an open button down. The one she picked was a salmon pink and it looked unreal.She hadn’t ever met a woman who could pull off this particular look as well as Amanda did.

“You look hot.” Courtney said, curling back underneath the blankets.

“Thank you, baby.” Amanda walked to the nightstand and checked her phone. Her eyes went a little wide at whatever she saw, but the expression was gone in a second. Courtney barely registered anything at all. All she felt next was Amanda’s weight shifting the bed as she half crawled over to kiss Courtney goodbye. “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Courtney nodded and gave her one more peck. “Have a good day.”

“Thank you, my love. Do you want me to make you coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

“On it. The carafe will be in the fridge when you wake up.”

“You’re the best.”

Amanda stood back to her full height, her smile happier than the twinkle in her eyes. “ I’ll see you later.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She couldn’t stop looking at the ring. It was so fucking gorgeous in the light, the way it threw little green and white rays. It was insane that it belonged to her, and crazier still that it represented her devotion to Courtney and vice versa. It was the most important piece of jewelry she’d ever owned. Her favorite detail of it was the four little emeralds that offset the diamond itself. Amanda was obsessed with forests and nature, so much so that green was her favorite color. It was cooler still that the cut of the emeralds made them look like leaves adorning the larger diamond. It was so wholly Amanda, and that was part of why she was obsessed with it. Courtney had truly searched for a ring that went with Amanda’s personality. She’d absolutely succeeded.

If she kept getting distracted, she was never going to get to work. She forced Courtney out of her thoughts and went about the process of making coffee. The grinds they had were a Latin American dark roast that Courtney insisted tasted the best over ice because it was so strong that ice didn’t dilute it. It was a sound logic, so this was the coffee Amanda now kept stocked in her house. Anything to keep Courtney happy. The machine began to whir away as it brewed and now Amanda had nothing left to keep her from looking at her phone again. Back in the bedroom, she’d seen a notification that she swore she’d imagined. There’d been a lot of wine poured last night. Praying that she was hungover, she took out her phone and tapped the screen to life.

Well. She hadn’t imagined it. It was still there. The only notification she had.

New Voicemail: Angela

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“Oh, God. Oh, God.” She repeated it over and over, her brain descending into panicked madness. What was she supposed to do. Ignore it? Could she ignore it? What if Angela was in trouble? What if she needed Amanda?

“Fuck.” She swallowed hard, trying to breathe through the lump that was forming in her throat. “What the hell, Angela.”

She had to tell Courtney. She had to. They were engaged now, and this seemed like a big enough secret to break them. Whether Amanda listened to the voicemail or not, she still had to let Courtney know that she’d gotten it. Just for transparency’s sake.

“Court!” She took huge, quick strides back down the hall to the bedroom. She felt terrible about waking her fiancée again, but there was no other option. Sitting on this would achieve nothing. “Court.”

Thankfully, Courtney was sitting all the way up in bed, scrolling on her own phone. Her head shot up at the door opening. “What’s wrong?”

She held out her phone so Courtney could see. Blue eyes widened like they’d been drawn by an animator. “What the fuck?!”

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it. I don’t think I want to.”

Amanda still felt like she was going to throw up. She couldn’t let Courtney see that on her, though. She couldn’t let Courtney see how much of an effect Angela still had. Because the truth was that Amanda was dying to open the voicemail, but she couldn’t go behind Courtney’s back that way.

“Delete it.” Courtney said firmly. “Don’t give her that power over you.”

Courtney was right. Of course, Courtney was right. Angela didn’t deserve anything from her. Not when she was past heartbreak. Not when her future was bright. Not when she had someone to lose in Courtney. No. She wasn’t going to let Angela win. The curiosity would have to take no for an answer.

Her resolve strong, she clicked into the notification and promptly deleted the message. Out of sight, out of mind. Problem solved.

“Are you okay?” Courtney’s voice was bouncing up and down, filled with uncertainty.

Amanda pushed the turmoil back down into the recesses of her brain. Angela had nothing over her. She was free. She was in love. She was engaged.

“I’m perfect, baby.” She said, leaning down to kiss Courtney soundly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“If you need to talk at all, I’m here.”

“I know. I know. You’re so sweet, but I’m fine. She doesn’t matter. You’re what matters.” Another kiss. Firmer. “This is what matters.” She lifted her left hand and wiggled her ring finger to emphasize her point.

That made Courtney smile and had the tension visibly leaving her shoulders. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

The hangover was one for the ages. Not just the hangover of alcohol, but the hangover of regret. She’d done a stupid fucking thing last night. There was no chance Amanda was going to respond; she knew Amanda. Amanda was going to let her pride win and Angela was an idiot to think otherwise. It was another layer of pain to add onto the pounding headache.

She groaned into the dark, quiet room, wishing she could’ve fallen through the floorboards and never been seen again. What else could she do. Her “acting career” was dead in the water after two flops off Broadway and Amanda was most likely engaged. Her fall back was a no go. She couldn’t be a home wrecker. She was hopelessly in love with Amanda, yes, but if she had to accept defeat, she would.

Then again, maybe that was an easy thing to say when her head was on the verge of exploding. There was no fight in her right this second. She did want to see Amanda, though. At the very least. Maybe there could be closure. Real closure. Not a knockdown drag out argument in a parking lot outside a theater at midnight. Not Amanda refusing to let Angela even drive her home. Not “fuck off, Angela” being the last words Amanda ever addressed her with. She couldn’t let it end that way. It wasn’t fair. She just needed Amanda to know.

After she took a million aspirin, she was going to go back to Amanda’s pub. She was going to talk to Amanda.

No matter what she had to do to make it happen.

Driving to work in silence was an unusual occurrence for Amanda. She was always either blasting some nostalgic 90s music or listening to a true crime podcast. That was one of those interests she and Angela shared. Amanda vividly remembered many nights driving on dark roads squealing over every twist and turn in the stories. Sometimes, they picked an audiobook to listen to separately and then came together on a late night to discuss it while the world blurred by around them. Those were some of her favorite moments because those were the ones that had made her believe they would be forever.

She slammed an irritated hand on the steering wheel. She was so fucking mad at Angela. How dare she wait three fucking years to reach out. How dare she reach out when Amanda was happily in love. Courtney was giving her everything she’d ever wanted in and from another person. She wasn’t going to jeopardize that. She would have to be insane. She would never do to Courtney what Angela did to her. The false sense of security. The hot and cold bullshit.

As she pulled into her parking space behind the bar, she hoped Courtney knew that there was zero threat to their relationship. She’d have to reiterate that when she got home. For now, all she could do was sit in her car and close her eyes. She cared about Angela. She did. That wasn’t even in question. She didn’t think she could make herself stop caring. It was a part of who she was, a byproduct of just how deeply she’d fallen for the other woman. That being said, she was well aware that she wasn’t in love with Angela anymore. Courtney was taking up so much space in her heart. Amanda rarely thought of anyone or anything else. She wished that she could’ve saved Angela, but the option was gone.

Sighing, Amanda got out of the car. She had to go do grown-up shit. Namely, payroll. Something benign that would take her mind off Angela’s return.

Easier said than done.

All in all, she was just lucky she wouldn’t have to deal with the general public at work today. She had her newest hire, Tommy, for that. The foot traffic wouldn’t pick up until much later in the day, anyway. She was safe to just hole herself away in her office, which is exactly what she did, right after giving only the slightest acknowledging wave to Tommy. He was behind the bar restocking and cleaning, and to his credit, he said nothing to Amanda’s strange silence.

Bless him for being able to read a room because Amanda couldn’t handle genuine human interaction right now. She was afraid she’d just burst into tears. Tommy had barely known her for a few weeks. Besides, she was his boss. Talk about awkward.

No, she was going to hold in all the emotion until she was safe in her office with the door shut behind her. And, here she was, back pressed hard into the door, eyes shut again, breathing just a little choppy. She missed Courtney viscerally. It was an honest to God ache in her chest. A squeeze so intense it was bringing those aforementioned tears springing up in her eyes.

She forced herself to take a series of deep breaths. In. One. Out. In. Two. Out. In. Three. It barely helped, but she walked over to her desk and practically threw herself into her big, comfy leather office chair, anyway. She put a death grip on the arm rests and just sat. In the silence, there came a text notification. The chorus of the Speed Racer theme song, so out of place it was hysterical. Courtney had put that as her own sound on Amanda’s phone to be cheeky. The cartoon was one of Courtney’s random, niche loves. So much so that she had the Mach 5 tattooed on her forearm.

Amanda couldn’t have pulled her phone out any faster, and the text she saw there made the squeeze in her chest loosen.

I’m worried about you.

Courtney was perfect. Actually, genuinely perfect. Amanda hated that she was bringing any kind of pain. Even if it was strictly an empathetic response to Amanda’s discomfort.

I’m okay babe. Just confused.

Confused was an understatement. Amanda wasn’t just confused. She was blindsided. She was in pain. It felt like she’d been kicked several times in the stomach. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to think. Her entire world was shifted off its axis. It was a good thing Amanda had her own center of gravity.

Courtney.

Courtney, who was typing and erasing and then typing again. Amanda felt fear rise sticky and warm in the back of her throat. God, Angela was going to fuck up her life.

Are you confused about us?

The question was so vulnerable, Amanda wanted to scream. She hated Angela for this. Courtney didn’t deserve to feel anything besides happiness and certainty and Angela was casting doubt.

No!!! Of course not. That’s not what I meant.

The ellipsis popped up, but Amanda was pressing the call button. This conversation could not be over text. Courtney answered on half a ring.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” Amanda breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Courtney’s voice. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what are you confused about?”

“I just don’t know what the fuck she wants from me. I have nothing left to give her. It’s been three years without a fucking word, and she wants to show up now. When I’m over her. When I’m happy. It’s making me sick to my stomach, Court.”

“I know, baby. I hate that you’re hurting.” Courtney was whispering. Amanda could still hear how fearful it was.

Amanda was so fucking angry. Angela didn’t have the first fucking clue of what she’d done.

“Court.” Amanda ran a hand over her face, fingers pressing into her closed eyes until she saw spots. “Court, listen to me. I’m so in love with you. There’s nothing Angela could say or do that would change that.”

“I know.”

She used to think that if Angela ever returned, she’d just fall to her knees and beg. That was how all consuming it used to feel. Every thought, every breath, every dream brought Angela along with it. It was some kind of miracle that that feeling ever dissipated, let alone went away all together. All she felt toward Angela in this moment was disappointment and anger that was quickly working its way up to full-on rage. All that without even listening to the voicemail. The more she thought about it, the less she cared about what Angela was up to. She’d had years to decide that Amanda was what she’d wanted, and she’d refused. Now that Amanda had so much that was hers and hers alone, she wanted to come back? Fuck that. Amanda was going to defend what she’d built in Angela’s absence.

“I’m so sorry, Court.”

Courtney made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Why are you apologizing?”

“This just feels like my fault.” Amanda lamented. “And it’s so unfair to you.”

“Amanda, stop. None of it is your fault. Not back then and certainly not now. I’m not upset with you. I’m only upset that you’re in pain. I want to help.”

The words made Amanda’s eyes open again. A sad smile even worked its way across her face. “You are helping, Court.”

“Good.” Courtney let out a shaky breath.

Amanda hated that her fiancee still sounded so unsure. “Court?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I can’t wait to marry you.” Amanda said, hoping Courtney could hear and feel how true it was. “I know you said we can take as long as we need, but I would marry you right this fucking second. I’ve never been so sure about anything.”

There was quiet for a handful of seconds. Then, Courtney spoke again, her voice wobbly with emotion, but still carrying a tinge of playfulness. “I thought I was supposed to be making you feel better.”

“I just have an idea of what’s going through your head.” Amanda replied. “And it isn’t true, Court.”

In the beginning, Courtney had had little nagging doubts and insecurities about Angela. The more serious their relationship got, the easier it was for Amanda to help her push those dumb, anxious things away. Angela apparently wasn’t a phantom anymore, though, so Amanda could understand that nasty voice in Courtney’s head coming back with a vengeance. Even if there was no real threat.

“I know.” Courtney said with a sigh. “I know.”

An email notification popped up on her office computer. Shit. It was Friday. The food delivery came today.

“God, I’m so sorry, but I have to go, baby. Trevor’s gonna be here with the delivery in like ten minutes.”

“Yeah. Of course. No problem.”

Courtney still didn’t sound completely like herself. Amanda was going to fix that. “Do you want to maybe spend lunch break with me? We can talk some more or not talk. Totally up to you.”

Courtney snorted a laugh. Amanda felt accomplished.

“I would love to. Is 1 o’clock good?”

“Perfect.”

The silence was deafening. It was all Angela could focus on. She didn’t know what time it was; she didn’t know how long they’d been sitting in this uneasy quiet, but she felt trapped and frozen. She couldn’t even start the car to drive them out of this. It felt too dangerous.

“So, you’re leaving?” Amanda’s voice shattered the painful silence. It was barely a whisper, but it felt like an anvil being dropped in Angela’s lap.

She tried to swallow down the discomfort. Everything inside her tightened instead. “It’s not exactly an offer I can turn down.”

It was the truth. It was a part. A real, legitimate part with two guaranteed months of touring. Even if the play flopped, she’d make decent money. The book wasn’t great, to be fair, but Angela didn’t mind that so much. She just needed to get her foot in the door.

She glanced over at Amanda huddled in on herself in the passenger seat. It was crazy that a person so big and tall could look so tiny. Angela felt her heart clench. She cared about Amanda – she really did – but this was a chance at a fresh start. They could both benefit.

“What about me?” Amanda’s next question shrunk down even more than the first. It was almost like she was asking herself.

“We can still keep in touch.”

That…was the wrong thing to say. Amanda instantly shot up, her face turning to stone in the dashboard light. “Can we?”

Angela stayed firm. “Yeah. Why not?”

“You don’t understand anything, do you?” Amanda scoffed, turning her head to look out the window. Outside, the theater Angela had performed at was still in the process of closing for the night. There were stage hands bustling in and out with equipment every few minutes.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” Angela said. Amanda could be so fucking cryptic sometimes.

“If you don’t know, then I can’t explain it to you.”

That made anger flare up high. Angela couldn’t stop the words from exploding out of her. “Why the fuck not?! Jesus, I thought you of all people would be happy for me.”

“I am happy for you.” Amanda was looking at her again, and Angela could see the tears welling up. Shit.

“Well, you’re not acting like it.”

“Forgive me for hating the idea of being left behind when I don’t even know what the fuck we are!”

“What are you talking about?!” Angela’s head was beginning to pound. She’d drank two glasses of wine after the show was over, and she’d hoped calling Amanda out here tonight would result in some fun. She’d thought wrong, clearly.

“What the fuck do you think I’m talking about, Angela? We’ve been doing this benefits thing for years now.”

“And?” That was the wrong thing to say. Angela knew it. She knew it and she didn’t care. Amanda was being so fucking selfish and unfair. Angela wanted to blow the whole thing up.

For her part, Amanda slammed an open palm against the window.

Angela jumped and her anger launched into the danger zone. Red was everywhere. “What the fuck, Amanda? Chill the fuck out.”

“So, I mean nothing to you. That’s what you’re saying.”

“You know that’s not what I’m saying.” Angela exhaled deeply. The anger didn’t budge. “You’re being so unfair right now.”

“How am I being unfair? You’re the one stringing me along like I’m a fucking puppet.” Amanda was trying to control her volume, but it was peaking into territory that was going to get other people outside the car to notice. “You’re like allergic to giving a straight answer about anything.”

They were facing each other completely now, almost nose to nose in their need to rip each other to shreds. Angela needed to get the last word. It was just who she was.

“You want a straight answer? Fine. You’re free to do whatever the fuck you want. You want to believe I don’t care, then fine. I don’t fucking care. I am going to New York whether you fucking like it or not. And guess what, Amanda? It doesn’t matter two fucks to me if you don’t like it. This?” She gestured between them with her right hand while her left tightened around the steering wheel in a death grip. “This is nothing, all right? We fuck and it’s great, but that’s it. You get me? If you feel more for me than you bargained for, that’s your fucking fault.”

The regret was instant. It flooded Angela’s system with so much ferocity she nearly passed out. The tears in Amanda’s eyes were falling and Angela wanted to die.

The passenger door opened. Or more like Amanda shoved it open like She-Hulk, her sad eyes flashing with rage. “Fuck off, Angela. I hope you have a nice life.”

It hit Angela harder than a freight train. She fell back into the driver’s seat, closing her eyes as Amanda slammed the door and stomped back through the parking lot. Angela imagined chasing after her, begging for her to get back in the car, but her body wouldn’t move. She was trapped in the echoing fallout of her own self-destruction. Amanda was going to hate her forever and it was okay.

Angela deserved it.

#courtmanda #amangela #my fic #smosh #this is angst city for amangela just a fair warning

8 notes · View notes

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 9 months ago

Text

A Suit and a Gown, Both Armor | Chin Up, Or the Crown Slips

You just posted “A Suit and a Gown, Both Armor”, so it’s probably too soon to request a part two to the fic but I wanted to put this request out there anyway. It could just be about Roman attending the ball in their gown, since I’d be interested in seeing them enjoying the ball dressed the way they feel most comfortable and happy. And since I was the one who requested a nonbinary Roman fic, I just wanted to say thanks for writing my request. The fic was very enjoyable to read :) – monkeythefander

did i frantically rewrite this maybe but here it is!! (for those who didn't know, you were supposed to get this on Wednesday but! my writing software deleted both this chapter and another fic i'd already written but! i have rewritten and so here you go)

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: anxiety about coming out, implied/referenced transphobia

Pairings: none

Word Count: 4432

“Enter.”

The steward pushes open the door, letting it shut with a low thud. Roman looks over their shoulder as his gaze travels up and down the length of their outfit. The tailor pokes her head out from just behind their hip and hums in acknowledgement.

“You have outdone yourself this time,” he says lowly, “your work is, as always, spectacular.”

“Save your flattery,” the tailor says, even with the slightest glow of pride to her cheeks, “not every tailor is so fortunate as to have such an excellent model.”

“You both should save your flattery, I’ve no need to hear it.”

“You have every need.” The steward comes closer, meeting Roman’s gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “Though I do not stop by just to admire: your brother has arrived.”

Ah.

Roman raises their chin just slightly, affecting a confidence they do not feel. An admirable effort, but a fruitless one: the steward catches sight of their mere hesitation and takes another step forward.

“I am happy to tell him to wait until the ball begins proper, he is several hours early, after all.”

“Well, he is wont to show up unexpectedly.” They are unable to keep the note of fondness from their voice, even as their hands twitch at their sides. “Where is he?”

“Presently in the courtyard still, entertaining some of the children with tales of the Kraken.”

“I hope he’s picking the ones that are appropriate for their ears.”

“Their parents were within close range, I am sure they would make some attempt to alert him if his subject matter strayed too far from what they wished their children to be exposed to.”

Roman sighs. They look down at the rich red fabric swirling from them and follow a single speck of dust as it leaves the skirt and lands on the floor. The tailor gives it a quick tug when they remain silent for too long.

“Am I making a mistake?”

“Would you care to be more specific, old friend?”

“This,” Roman says, gesturing about, “the ball, the choice of clothing, the…this.”

“I do hope you’re not about to tell me you want another costume for the evening—“

“No, no, nothing like that, it’s just—“ their hands twist into each other and they bite worry their bottom lip between chapped lips—“is this the proper time to be…”

The steward picks up on his unwillingness to fully voice the statement—and how could he not, when Roman had all but stumbled around it like a newborn foal—and steps closer once more, close enough to brush their hands tighter. Roman takes it gratefully, clinging with a strength that they know takes the steward by surprise. He squeezes back, just as readily, as the tailor produces a needle and begins to finish a seam.

“I can think of no better occasion,” the steward says softly, “than on the day of a ball where the kingdom has come together to celebrate you and all you have done for them—no, no, do not protest that fact. This ball is for the good of the people, for morale, yes, I know, but it is a celebration.”

“Why of me?”

“Who else would it be for?”

“What about for them? For weathering yet another year, for overcoming difficulty, for simply being? Does it have to come back to me?”

“You’re not dissuading his questions about why you’re suddenly so insistent on avoiding the spotlight, you know.”

Roman sighs, letting their head hang. The steward waits patiently until they can summon up their strength again.

“I am…worried,” they settle on finally, “that in my efforts to celebrate this part of myself that I will only be at a greater disadvantage when it comes to what comes after.”

“You speak of the reaction to your reveal.”

“Yes.”

“Those who are truly yours to care for and care for you in return will not question it,” the tailor says with a certainty they wish they could borrow, if only for the evening, “and I will be there to pin the ones that would behave otherwise back into place.”

“I don’t believe there’s a need for that.”

“Which is why I am not asking for your permission.”

“I think you’d best nod and agree,” the steward hums, a chuckle evident in his voice, “we both know it might happen regardless of whatever approval she gains.”

“You say as if you won’t be pointing them out to her if she should miss them.”

“Naturally.” The steward winks at them in the mirror before growing sober once more. “In truth, old friend, I do not envy your position. I don’t mean to force you into a decision you do not wish to make. I believe you could simply reveal yourself in these stunning garments without ascribing them to the other secret you wish to reveal and the kingdom would think nothing of it. Well, aside from the obvious.”

“What is the obvious?”

“That the tailor is a master at her craft and you are as beautiful and handsome as ever.”

“Careful now, I believe I’ve been warned off of flushing too obviously.” Roman shakes their head. “I…this all seemed so simple just a few days ago.”

“Big decisions often do.”

The three of them lapse into silence for a long moment, interrupted only by the soft susurrus of the tailor’s needle through fabric. Distant sounds of laughter and hooves on cobblestones drift in from the still-open window as the afternoon wears on.

“Is it worth it?”

“Hm?”

“IS it worth it,” the steward asks gently, “to know that those who would speak of you are not speaking the full truth, if it would save you the backlash of what you would reveal?”

Strings though wounds around their hands and words, their arms and legs, their waist and heart. Would it be worth severing them if the blade that did so cut him as well?

“You needn’t make the decision right now,” the steward says after Roman makes no further move to speak, “I can go and tell the Duke that he must wait until the ball begins to—“

“No.” Roman swallows. “He can come up now.”

“Certainly, I can fetch him.”

“And would you—“ Roman catches the steward by the hand as he goes to pull away, even as they do not make eye contact in the mirror— “would you tell him?”

The steward pauses, evidently surprised, and Roman dares look at him.

“If he knew,” they say quietly, “if he knew, that might…that might help me decide about…the rest.”

“You did say you suspected he might already know,” the steward agrees with equal caution, “I think it is a wise decision to share the burden with him now.”

“Shame on you,” the tailor scolds, “for referring to such a thing as a burden.”

“I only meant to say—“

“I know what you meant,” Roman says quickly, squeezing his hand again, “I understand. I…yes, thank you.”

“I’ll go and fetch him now.”

He retreats, Roman watching him go until the door closes with a soft thud once more. Their gazer travels from the door to the open window along a thin golden shaft on sunlight, lingering on the armor set out to dry from an earlier spar, the golden embossing on its more decorous finishing gleaming in the late light. Further still to the bed with its rich red canopies, to the desk where the last of the correspondences sat with their paper edges curling up like forgotten petals. The slight coil in their stomach twists as they look at them: invitations answered at the last minute, those from suitors who wished to enter the ball as a matched pair, and of course, the ones from the other guests to the kingdom.

“Forgive me if I am overzealous in coming to your defense,” comes the tailor’s soft voice, interrupting their thoughts, “I do not mean to offend.”

“You never could. I find that while I lack no strength or will to rise to the defense of others, when it comes to myself, I am…less than able.”They offer their other hand to her, letting her take it and squeeze. “It is an honor and a privilege for you to come to my defense so readily.”

Her brow quirks. “Even if I threaten to stab those who are despicable to you with pins?”

They laugh. “Yes, even then.”

“Noted.”

A few more moments pass in companionable silence, the tailor returning to her work as Roman allows their thoughts to wander, until the tailor pronounces the seam finished and steps back to have a look at them.

“What do you think?”

“The steward did not misspeak. You are a vision.”

“And you are a master?”

“Well, that did not need to be spoken.”

A small smile curls up their face as footsteps approach from the hall. They begin to turn to see who it is—they know, they already know, they could feel his approach as easily as they can anything in the kingdom—and the door opens to reveal the steward and—

“Holy fucking shit, Ro.”

Roman turns fully, the tailor taking one of their hands to help. The fullness of the red skirt almost obscures the podium entirely, spilling out from the golden carapace framing either side of their torso. One reaches upwards to wrap around their side ribs and chest, the other down to give the illusion of a swelling hip and thigh. The edges of the gold perfectly meld with the golden detailing of the white shirt, their asymmetry accenting the slimness of their waist and the broad line of their shoulders. A more traditionally masculine collar closed with a ruby nestles at the hollow of their throat, two golden epaulets atop each of their shoulders. Golden chains hang over their upper back and chest, the very longest of each just brushing the top of the higher half of the carapace.

The crown sits waiting on a side table.

“Whilst I cannot ascribe the same crassness to my own sentiments,” the steward says as he shuts the door again, “I concur wholeheartedly with the Duke’s statement.”

Remus hasn’t said another word, still staring at Roman. His own costume, a slightly sleeker and more elegant version of his customary green sash with black tulle, does little to cover the way his chest stutters slightly with his uneven breaths. After another pause, his eyes flick up to catch Roman’s and a grin spreads across his face.

“Holy shit, Ro.”

“I take it that’s a good thing?”

“You take—Ro. You look fucking amazing. Everyone in that ballroom is gonna shit themselves when they see you.”

“I hope not,” the steward remarks casually, “that would be an awful mess to clean.”

Still, Roman cannot stop their own answering grin as Remus comes forward to take their hands. “I’m glad you came.”

“Like I would miss it.” Some of the mania goes out of his grin and he lowers his voice. “I did notice something about the way he introduced you to me, though.”

Roman swallows. “Yeah.”

“Are you…you’re using they/them now?” They just nod silently. “Okay. Are you still—can I still call you my brother?”

“Yes,” they say far too quickly, “yeah, that’s—that’s fine. I’m still going by ‘Prince.’”

They do not miss the way Remus’s shoulders sag in relief. “And then Ro-Bro?”

“Also fine.”

“Great. Good. Fuck, I’m so proud of you, Roro.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You just came out. That’s hard and scary, and not in the good way.”

“Remus.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll be serious.” He glances down at the garments against and gestures. “Is this…are you coming out to everyone tonight too?”

The humor in the room abruptly fades as a weight sinks from Roman’s throat to their stomach. They glance at the tailor and she nods, standing and going to take the steward by the arm. He lingers a few moments more, clearly unwilling to leave Roman in such an unsure state.

“It’s okay,” Remus promises, “I got them.”

“We’ll be just outside.”

“Thank you.”

As soon as the doors close, they let out a shaky breath. Their shoulders sag, their hands in Remus’s beginning to tremble ever so slightly. Remus, ever the attentive brother, crouches slightly so Roman needn’t move to look at him, pressing as close as he dares to their skirts.

“What’s going on, Ro,” he asks softly, “talk to me?”

“I don’t know what to do, Re.”

“About what?”

“This.” They gesture at themselves and the surrounding room with an edge of frustration. “It hurts, it does, but they don’t—I don’t know if I can do it if they—if they—“

“Hey, shh, easy, slow down a bit.” He reaches up and cups the back of their neck. “You’re talking about the others reacting to you coming out, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What could they do? Don’t look at me like that,” he scolds lightly when Roman glares at him, “let’s walk through it, what could happen?”

Roman sighs. The weight of standing still for so long as the tailor worked catches up with them all at once, leaving them weak at the knees and leaning heavily on Remus.

“Shit—here, let me get that stool, you can sit on that. Do you think you can get it under the skirt?”

“Probably?”

Remus makes sure they’re steady enough to stand on their own for a moment as he goes to fetch the plump and plush footstool from the corner of the bed. Roman hefts the skirts up and out of the way as he sets it on top of the podium, helping to spread the fabric out so that no wrinkles or creases form.

“There’s so much skirt it kind of looks like you just got shorter.”

“Does it?” Roman glances over their shoulder at their reflection. “Oh. It does.”

In customary Remus fashion, he ignores whatever decorum or courtesy rules there may be and plonks himself on the floor, still within reach of Roman if they need to hold on to him again.

“It feels hypocritical,” they murmur, “to have a ball and make such a big deal of…of coming out and then not wanting it to be a whole thing.”

“How so?”

“I don’t want—I don’t want to be smothered about it. I don’t want it, like, shouted from the rooftops or anything. I don’t need it to be big and…and now this really sounds hypocritical.”

“There’s a difference between you celebrating it and someone else trying to celebrate it for you.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“Mm. Yeah, I’ve met Patton before.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“That one was. What else?”

“This is also going to sound hypocritical—“

“I don’t care about what it sounds like, Roro, just talk to me. I’m not gonna tell anyone else shit.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I think it’s…I’m…”

“Dealing with the things the others have forced onto you ‘cause they can be really shitty to you when you try and talk about things, I know, please continue.”

Roman winces at how blunt it is, but moreover, how true it is. “I also don’t want it to be just…dismissed? Or overlooked? I don’t want it to be a technicality.”

“You don’t want Logan saying you basically count as a man.”

“Are these really that obvious, Re?”

“They are to me.” He reaches out and knocks his hand against Roman’s. “Because I know you.”

“No, I don’t want that. And I don’t want Virgil calling me attention-seeking or dramatic either.”

“Like he thinks you’re coming out for the trend or some other stupid bullshit that isn’t true?”

“Yeah.”

Remus makes a grumble that sounds suspiciously like knocking someone over the head with a Morningstar, but it’s only a grumble that Roman can’t quite make out. “And Janny?”

The strings tighten and hook into their lungs. The metal suddenly digs into their ribs and the skirt grows heavy and viscous around their legs. Their collar tightens and itches.

“Yeah,” they hear Remus mutter from leagues away, “I thought so.”

“I don’t mean to think the worst of them,” they say through a cotton tongue, “but I can’t help it.”

“You’re scared, Roro, it makes sense that your brain is conjuring up worst-case scenarios.”

They huff. “Worse than the idea of them not believing me in the first place?”

“You could pass it off as something that’s just true for the Prince Roman in the Imagination.”

“And be scolded for making light of nonbinary people? No, thank you.”

Remus falls silent for a moment and they sigh.

“Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Ro. This shit’s hard. I’m just here for you.”

Roman nods, still not looking at him. They stare at their hands, at the calluses and wrinkles and dry spots, and the golden signet ring resting on their left pinky. They look at it, at their crest and the weight of the gold, and the way that it insists on catching the light no matter which way they turn it.

“Whoa, hey,” Remus’s hands cup their cheeks and their head is tilted back to meet his concerned expression, “hey, Roro, it’s okay, I’m right here, okay? I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, it’s gonna be okay.”

I know, they try to say, but their throat won’t cooperate, I know, why can’t I speak?

Their answer comes in the form of a tremendous hitching breath and the feeling of Remus wiping something from their cheek.

Oh. I’m crying.

Realizing this fact does not do anything to stop it; rather, as soon as Roman realizes, the force of the sobs doubles and threatens to dislodge Remus’s hands as they lean on him for support. He blindly gropes for a handkerchief and passes it to them, letting them bury their face in their hands as he curls protectively around them, still murmuring into their ears.

“It’s gonna be okay, Roro, I’m right here. I promise it’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna figure it out. I swear we’ll figure it out.”

They fumble to get their hand around his wrist and hold on for dear life. Remus weathers the storm as though he were a mountain, immovable, immutable, everlasting. Roman loves him.

Eventually the sobs taper off. They scrub the last of the remnants from their face as Remus tilts their chin up, tutting at the roughness left on their cheeks.

“The tailor will have my head if I let you make your pretty face all messy,” he says without any real heat, taking the handkerchief and gently cleaning the rest of their face.

“Did you know she’s threatening to stab anyone who’s mean to me with her pins tonight?”

“I’ll help her, that sounds like a perfectly reasonable idea.”

“Remus.”

“Oh, fine,” he sighs, “I won’t help her.”

“Thank you.”

“I won’t stop her either.”

Roman sighs and he chuckles, leaning forward to rub their noses together. “Hey, you know I love you, right? I’m so proud of you, Ro-Bro.”

“I love you too.” They glance at the door. “You can let them back in now.”

Remus nods and goes to the door as Roman gets themselves together just a tad. The tailor lets out a quiet noise when she comes back to his side, obviously noticing the last of the tears. They shake their head, it’s alright, and she gives their arm a reassuring pat.

“Have you made our prince cry, Duke,” the steward asks lowly, “is everything alright?”

“It’s okay,” Roman says, “I’m alright.”

“Well, you’ve given me time to finish the beading on the skirt,” the tailor says, happily taking a seat on the floor and picking up a different needle, “hold still as much as you can, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Perhaps the Duke would be willing to help with the rest?”

“Oh, fuck yeah, Roro, let me do your makeup.”

“If you want to?”

“Yeah, I want to.” He goes to the side and fetches a large case, setting it up on a nearby table. “You just shush and let me work, okay?”

“Okay.”

The steward brings over another chair from the table and takes a seat near the three of them. The rest of the afternoon passes in lazy conversation, the quiet stitching from the tailor, and the soft touch of brushes across their face. AS the sun sinks lower and lower in the sky, eventually Remus and the tailor step away and Roman beholds themselves in the mirror.

Golden sparkles atop red eye shadow, a brighter highlight in the inner corner. Sharply contorted cheekbones and a bright red lip. They turn their head this way and that, admiring the way the light catches the high points of their face.

“The finishing touch.”

The tailor has their crown in their hands. They bow their head slightly, feeling the weight of it come to rest on top. It settles perfectly into place. They take a deep breath and stand, facing the mirror.

“My prince,” the tailor murmurs.

As if on cue, the clock begins to chime. Not long now until the ball begins.

“Do you want me with you,” Remus asks, “or in the crowd?”

“In the crowd. Let me find you.”

Remus nods, offering the smallest bow—Roman laughs at that—and leaving. The steward steps up to take his place, smiling.

“You look resplendent.”

“Thank you, old friend. Though I fear I’ve kept you both from getting ready yourselves.”

“Nonsense. I just have to swap out a few things and I’ll be finished.”

“It would only be responsible of me to be on hand should you need an emergency repair,” the tailor says, innocently smiling when Roman narrows their eyes at her, “pins and all.”

“You’re both incorrigible.”

“And you would not have us any other way. Ah!” She slaps their hand lightly when they go to help. “None of that for you. You can simply stand and look incredible.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“You are the prince. Letting us fumble about with our own garments is perfectly fair.”

They raise their hands in concession, sitting back down as the two of them ready themselves for the ball. When the time draws near, each of them offers a hand and they stand, moving slowly from the stool through the halls and down the back corridors to the grand staircase. From just beyond the shadow of the overhanging promenade, they can see the lights on the stone and the faint strains of music and conversation from the ball proper.

The steward pauses just before the entrance. “How would you like to be introduced?”

The tailor squeezes their hand reassuringly.

“What we discussed earlier.”

The steward smiles and lifts their hand, clasping it against his own chest in a modified version of the soldier’s salute. “My pleasure, my friend.”

He walks out onto the landing to address the herald. The sudden air of the ball makes them lightheaded and their hand trembles once more. The tailor steps a little closer in the shadows, letting them lean against her side until their breath returns.

“Chin up,” she whispers encouragingly, “or the crown slips.”

“Thank you.”

“We love you, Roman, we’re by your side.”

The trumpets blare. They take a deep breath and push their shoulders back, raising their chin. The booming voice of the herald echoes over the now-hushed ballroom.

“I give you, Their Majesty, Prince Roman!”

They walk out into the light.

The first thing they see are the ornate chandeliers suspended over the marble floor. Glittering crystal fragments catch the light and send it dancing about the columns. Garlands swing in the gentle evening breeze from the hanging gardens, rich and vibrant blooms occasionally dropping petals onto the costumed folk beneath. As rapturous applause breaks out amidst the gasps and murmurs, their gaze travels from one side to the other, taking everything in.

And there, in the middle, there they are.

The first one he sees is Logan, a midnight blue cape over one shoulder, revealing a deep silver set of plate with a long sword at his side. The inside of the cape is inlaid with glittering gems that look like stars. Next to him is Virgil, also in a cape, covering a set of purple robes and black gems. Patton wears a similar outfit, except in light blue and white. On one hip hangs a small bag, also inlaid with sapphires and other precious gems. Janus stands to Logan’s other side, clad in a glittering gold ensemble fit for the finest of court sorcerers. His cane makes an appearance as well, elegantly gilded with a snake’s fangs at its base.

Remus grins and offers them a little wave.

Someone hands them a goblet and they raise it in toast. Across the room, many hands raise to do the same. They smile and drink as the steward motions for the music to begin again. The tailor comes to their side as the ball resumes, responding to their entrance with a new and vibrant energy.

“You were spectacular,” she murmurs, “now come, let’s get you into it properly.”

They make their way down the stairs, the crowd parting around them as the steward and tailor follow close behind. Compliments and praise come from all directions but Roman only has eyes for the five in the center. They come to a stop a few paces away, still a little breathless from the rush of emotion.

They do not have to say a word.

The steward will tell you that the one in light blue managed to reach the prince first, throwing his arms around them with a squeal and a whisper. The tailor will say it was only by a hair; all five of them rushed to embrace their prince in celebration of their moment.

Regardless of whose word you favor, both would agree that a ball had never had such cheer nor enthusiasm, and not a single person needed a sharp pin to the side to get them to see what was right in front of them.

And all was right with the world.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #roman sanders angst #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #patton sanders

22 notes · View notes

nordstarr · 3 months ago

Note

what’s your process for writing such long and well thought-out fics? like you don’t have to go into extreme detail but do you 1) outline the story 2) rewrite a lot of parts 3) have a beta reader? also, i would love to write tomark so do you have an advice on how to get their voices right or a good interview example to base that off of. thank you and love your fics. big fan.

first of all, thank you so much, that really means a lot :(

I know you didn’t want extreme detail, but this is me we’re talking about, so this answer got sorta long and rambling. I APOLOGIZE for that, but I hope you’ll get something out of this?

I’m gonna do my best to at least give you a vague overview of how I approach writing, with the caveat that it’s probably/definitely not the objectively Best Way or only way to write fics. My ADHD and general perfectionism make me a really bad case study.

That being said:

1) On Outlining: for “See You”, I didn’t have an outline at first, or even really a good idea for a plot, and I just word-vomited a lot onto the page, vague scenes and ideas and the general vibes of what I wanted to touch on with that fic, i.e. old men in their healing era, looking back on their past, and then got lost in the weeds and abandoned it for a year because it became unmanageable without an outline. Once @phoebesbridgers and I started talking and throwing ideas back and forth and kinda brainstorming, we worked out an outline that evolved as I was writing it. Bare-bones at first, and then adding more scenes as needed, where the pacing was lacking or where I wanted to go into more detail. I was adding scenes up until the very end, so it’s definitely nice to have an organic outline you can edit and expand upon. In my experience, writing fics over 10k without an outline (no matter how loose or free-form it is) is basically impossible. Sometimes that outline is just text messages between Kristen and me, sometimes it’s me taking actual notes in a google doc.

“Who said I can’t go back?” was even more collaborative (duh), with us basically working out a full outline before we started to write, aka doing some brainstorming sessions, taking down notes for that, and then working out what scenes we needed, but still expanding on things and adding stuff in the middle of writing.

Here’s what the first brainstorming for “Sink into your sunlight” looked like (excerpt. these usually go on for a WHILE), just gathering the vibes and basic concept:

Those notes usually evolve into vague scene ideas, so I’ll have an empty google doc with scenes laid out in order, mostly “[scene 1: x happens here], or giving the scene a stupid name that encapsulates the main thing it’s going to be about.

2) On rewriting: I'm someone who edits A LOT as I'm writing something, which is 100% bad practice and perfectionism and not something I recommend because it slows my progress down so much, but that usually means once a scene is done, I don’t change much anymore. Usually after a few days of not looking at the scene and getting some distance, I’ll either print it out or throw it into an AO3 draft to have a different format to look at, and go over it again, editing spelling errors and doing minor edits, shifting some parts around, and once I hand the fic over to Kristen, I edit and add stuff wherever she had notes.

3) On beta readers: I think it’s pretty clear from all of the above that I’d be so, so lost without @phoebesbridgers being someone I can trade ideas with and also make her do all the heavy lifting of editing and beta-reading. She gives me notes and feedback and helps out on pretty much anything when I need her opinion, be it pacing or outlining. I can’t recommend enough that you have someone you can show your fic to, or just brainstorm with, and have them as your biggest supporter and hype man. It makes the mental barrier of writing so much easier to manage when I’m writing for one person, or a small group of friends, rather than the Big Vast Faceless Void of AO3. It takes the pressure off. As long as she likes what I write, I’m happy.

4) As for how to get their voices right: a lot of that is just the natural osmosis of spending 15 years being a fan of this band and watching interviews and hearing them talk, but what always helps me is either reading dialogue I’ve written out loud, or having some TTS go over it, or even just going over it in my head and seeing if I can hear the words in their voice, or can imagine them saying them. I wish I could give more helpful advice on that, but listening to interviews or their show banter always helps to kinda get their cadence right. If you're writing for a specific era, it helps to watch interviews or clips from that time, just to get a feel for what the dynamic is like.

Feel free to ask more questions, I'm just really bad at giving advice lmao

#i had to look up the names of my own fics they exist only as the dumb working titles in my head #see you you'll always be 25k to me

8 notes · View notes

july-19th-club · 5 months ago

Text

Fic writer interview

@goingsparebutwithprecision tagged me in this one and then i had it in my drafts for six or eight months so now it is out of the drafts and into the queue

How many works do you have on AO3? a grand NINE

What's your total AO3 word count? 82,429, which is almost the length of a short novel.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Grace (SPN), Between Friends (Magnus Archives), Yellow Asters (SPN), In the Valley of the Ever Young (Umbrella Academy), and The Steward (Discworld)

I guess i'd hoped Another Journey (The Untamed) would do better - but I'm not at all surprised that my quick and dirty post-finale (by like a DAY) Game of Thrones thing didn't do well. On the other end of the spectrum, my quick and dirty post-finale-by-eleven-hours SPN thing did great it's my top seller. That's 600ish kudos so we're not talking phenomenal, but still. Goes to show I think the difference between how game of thrones fans handled the ending (buried heads in sand, wept and gnashed teeth, rent hair and clothing, ranted for hours on a slow monday worknight shift to me while i listened, horrified and enraptured) versus how spn fans, who never had expectations to gradually and then all at once disappointing, handled the ending (shrug, make some jokes, cry not because it's ending but because it happened, and then crack open the laptops for some quality writing about the whole thing). We were already prepared for things to be bad, so when they were even more bad than all THAT? We were actually, I think, in a way kind of pleased and satisfied. If it had ended well i think it would've been a bit of anticlimax after all that time. Whereas in Game of Thrones there was still the slim chance that they might turn it all around at the eleventh hour, so when they didn't the viewers just wanted to hide and lick their wounds. Produced much less immediate fic.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? It really totally depends on the comment and my mood honestly. If it's especially long and glowing I try to give it at least a little bit of attention but it might not be right away.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Tie between Another Journey and In the Valley - In the Valley ends RIGHT before a character death in canon, Another Journey ends right after a non-canonical character death. So take your pic. I don't tend to do death for death's sake, but for these two stories it felt cheap to avoid it.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? FINISHED fic? That people can SEE the ending of? Grace, which I now don't like because it's not complex enough and I completely mischaracterized Jack, but that's what Wishes Were Horses is for. Whenever I get around to it. You know.

Do you write crossovers? Not really. I love worldbuilding but trying to marry two disparate worlds is too much for me, I don't like having to do all the logistics. Probably a less pedantic writer would just not care about the logistics but I also don't READ crossovers because the logistics or lack thereof is such an issue for me, so.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? No but back when I was regularly updating Book of Gold (which I'm linking even though I'm probably going to retire that version at some point and start working on a better rewrite) I had a reader who REALLY liked Steve, a character I had no plans to write from the perspective of because I barely remembered him and did not care about him, and still don't really, and that reader would constantly ask me with waning hope if I was gonna do anything Steve related. And I'd avoid saying a definitive no.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Prev apparently has some good Cyrano de Bergerac smut which I now want to read. I personally have never posted any sex in fics, but not for lack of hoping someday to tastefully get it all out there. I just was raised catholic so if I say anything sexual where people can see it i get embarrassed.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? I hope not I haven't checked lol but I only have nine and they're not well known so who give a shit

Have you ever had a fic translated? No.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Nah. When it comes to writing I don't think I could ever split the work I'd want too much control.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? I do not have favorites because the other ones might get sad . this extends to foods, stuffed childhood animals, and books in my reading stack . also fountain pens

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? At this point any of them lkajslkdjfasdf but i really REALLY doubt the immediate future of the Book of Gold, which is a shame because I have all the major beats mapped out in my head. It's just so much more ambitious than even the other long fics I have in my documents files, the scope is years instead of days or months, and it's a lot of planning and prep work that I can't help but feel I should instead spend on either quicker-to-finish stories or original ones.

What are your writing strengths? I think I have a strong voice, a good turn of phrase, that sort of thing. I also think that after years of trying I have gotten good at realistic dialogue that's not TOO realistic as to be unreadable, and I've learned how to be funny. Worldbuilding.

What are your writing weaknesses? Complex plotting, which sucks because I love complex plotting and want to do more of it. Also punctuality, which is not a writing weakness so much as a regular one, and the really big one is character relationships and consistency over time. I struggle to fit all those pieces together/remember whether they fit together when I started. This probably has to do with my social struggles in real life lol it's very hard for me to write characters thinking/believing/philosophizing/reacting differently than I would, at least without falling back into the 'everybody is me' mode that risks them coming off flat. I think my way around this for most of my writing life has been to write from one person's first-person perspective, which helps alleviate that problem, but I'm trying to do different things and expand my skill set/comfort zone.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? It's cool and I like it but I only know one other language than the one I speak and I speak it at a second grade level. So I don't do this much but I enjoy reading it. Love to copy and paste the language I don't know into a dictionary of words and parse it out it's like a fun secret treat.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Discworld TECHNICALLY . but really The Outsiders and really really even before that I have an unnamed undescribed thing that I hope to turn into a short story that is almost not at all like the fic. so i will not discuss it

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to? Star Trek (I've written for it but haven't finished and posted yet). Perhaps True Blood. I have some ideas.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? Again I cant play favorites BUT. It's probably Another Journey. It just came together so easily and the structure fell right into place and I managed to do a lot of stuff that was challenging in a way that felt successful. Book of Gold is next to my heart so close that I'm sure it's not actually GOOD and I don't wanna call it 'favorite' because it's a different thing. It's a sibling.

@whileyoureinschoolidothisallday do you want to do a tag game? and any of the other writing mutuals on here who've plied their hands

#writing tag #ask games #ask memes #q

9 notes · View notes

io-lu-art · 1 year ago

Text

just a looong ramble analysing and rethinking Rey's character and turning whatever conclusions I get to into my headcanon without changing any plot points in TFA because I don't have the energy for that....

First things first. With everything I write here and publish on my blog from now on I refuse to believe that TROS ever existed. Everyone is free to have their personal opinions as long as they don't harass or hate on anyone, and this is mine. Almost every choice in that movie has left me scarred, even up til now, 4 years after its release. I thought I can ignore it, like any other healthy human being, but - oh boy, I cannot. If you are interested in reading another ramble on that, here's the post.

Since I am writing my own take on what could happen after TLJ (you may call it a fanfiction, I'm gonna call it a fanscript since that's gonna be its format), this post serves the purpose of getting my head clear around what's the deal with Rey, analysing, and lying down a solid foundation for my WIP. The story I'm writing has barely reached the end of Act I (out of III) at the moment I am composing this commentary, and I constantly notice that I get stuck with Rey's character every time I have to think about her for different reasons I will address down below.

I will make some rewrites as I see fit and necessary along the way for her character to make sense to me. All rewrites are in Tumblr's

chat style

This post will be linked to my AO3 fancifction as a reference for people to understand how I treat her character as soon as that one will be finished... *clears her throat* ...ANYWAY-

Let's have a look at Rey, shall we?

Rey's introduction.

When we first meet Rey, there is already a lot we get to learn about her. She's a scavenger. On a pretty much deserted desert planet. Water and food are scarce. She gathers parts during the day to sell them in exchange for food rations.

She has no friends, no family. She's lonely. And has been for quite a while. And yet, though hard, it looks like a pretty peaceful and stable life. If it were significantly different, we would have gotten introduction scenes of her battling some gangs or other scavengers for parts or something. But instead we were provided with beautiful, peaceful cinematography and John Williams' incredible score.

She manages. She manages because she has to and has never known to do otherwise. This on its own is already a very solid introduction. And it becomes even more powerful as we are provided with additional context later on, as she tells BB-8 that she's waiting for her family.

We know who she is, what she does and what she wants. No more questions, right?

Well, this is where it gets confusing, at least for me: there's one shot in Rey's introduction which always leaves me puzzled about her actual wants. It's the moment she puts on the rebel pilot helmet.

Maybe I am reading too much into it, but it feels like it kinda wants to draw parallels to Luke Skywalker in ANH? What exactly is the purpose of this shot? Is she putting on the helmet just for fun? Is it to show that she is still a kid inside? She seems to enjoy herself. Is it to show us that she maybe wants to be a pilot...? The gesture on its own is too little information to imply that, let alone that she already is a very skilled one, so probably no. Then, is it, perhaps, to show us that she dreams of more? Like Luke, who wanted to get off the planet that is "farthest away from the bright center of the universe"?

The interpretations, especially when looking at it in context to the rest of the movie could go on and on and on.

Quick detour.

The reason it works so well with Luke's character is because from the very beginning, with everything he does and says, it is perfectly clear that he doesn't want to stay on Tatooine. It's his only want when we first meet him.

Luke has friends who tell him about the galaxy. He seeks adventure.

And he's very impatient about it.

Everything he says basically SCREAMS how much he hates it there.

Now back to Rey.

Am I expecting Rey to show the same interest in getting off Jakku with the same attitude and level of energy as Luke, should that have been what TFA was going for? No, of course not. They are (supposed to be) two different characters after all. But I do believe that, given the setup, that helmet scene leaves too much room for confusing and unnecessary interpretation. (More so because I am trying my best to avoid nostalgia bait wherever I can.)

I am not denying the fact that she wouldn't have heard about the wider galaxy, that she wouldn't wonder about what it would feel like, being out there. People travel. And with people traveling, so do stories. So if you want to hint at that, do it subtly, all the while keeping the focus on her biggest want.

I might really just be reading too much into it, but still, in my humble opinion, a way to solve this confusion is cutting out her interaction with the pilot helmet completely. Let me demonstrate.

Inside her home we already see this self-made rebel pilot puppet. Just like the puppet lying around, instead of having her pick it up and putting it on,

the helmet remains part of the environment, stuck in the sand. There could even be a close-up on it as Rey puts down her empty plate next to it when she has finished eating if you really want to show it. She then rests her arms on her knees and looks up into the sky, following the ship that has just departed from the far outpost into the high atmosphere until it disappears. Waiting.

What is achieved by changing the interaction with the helmet is that it keeps her wants just as clear as Luke's. Luke wants adventure. She wants her family back. Period.

...I rewatched this scene after writing these paragraphs and yes, I admit, in the end it happens so fast that one could probably just let it pass and interpret it as Rey being very bored and using it as entertainment to wait out the days. But even if it were just that, the effects this little tweak would have on the following scenes is quite interesting to look at nonetheless.

The tweak I am going with from now on: Having her not actively wonder about possible adventures at all. She doesn't believe those stories to actually be true, because she's never allowed herself to. She's never allowed herself to actually want to ever leave Jakku.

What would it mean for her characterisation? It would make her slightly more serious and grounded. And the movie (except for the helmet scene) actually already treats her that way. Notice how she, while fixing BB-8's antenna, takes a moment to look at him before asking:

She's never seen such a droid before. At least not in such good condition. So, of course, she's curious. But when BB-8 says it's classified, she only laughs about it. "Classified? Really? Me too. Big secret," as if to say, haha, yeah, right. She rejects that possibility. And she doesn't bother asking any further, because when she is confronted with the choice to go and explore, she is reminded of her promise to herself, which is that she will wait for her family until they return.

Now, here is where I insert some very subtle "rewriting". When Rey first meets Finn, she is suspicious of him...

...and should actually remain suspicious,

instead of admiring him and falling into this, let's call it, "excited, fangirly smile"...

She doesn't know him. She has no reason to trust him. Instead, the tone of this line should be one that reflects her emotions as it slowly gets to her that those stories she's been hearing about might actually have some truth to them, that there might actually be a wider world out there. So make her be gradually interested.

Huh. This man I just forcefully hit to the ground, a Resistance fighter, knows about BB-8 and his classified information. What are the odds of that?

"So you're with the Resistance?" Rey asks suspiciously, looking down at the man.

The man stands up, brushes the sand and dust off his jacket and answers, "Obviously. Yes, I am. I am with the Resistance."

Rey frowns, "I've never met a Resistance fighter before," scanning him with her eyes. Why would there be any on Jakku? Nothing ever happens here.

"Oh, this is what we look like, some of us. Others look different."

Rey cannot help a little smile at his strange attitude. She looks back to where BB-8 rolled off to. Puzzled, she tells him, "BB-8 says he's on a secret mission. He has to get back to your base..." Even hearing herself pronounce that out loud feels so surreal to her. None of this makes any sense. Why-

"Apparently he has a map that leads to Luke Skywalker and everyone's after it."

What? "Luke Skywalker?" she asks, confounded.

CUT TO ACTION.

Whether she wants it or not, the plot forces her into the stories she's been hearing of. You don't want to believe they are real? They're real, all right. She has no choice but to run and get along. And later, she does get more and more interested, specifically when she meets Han Solo, the legend himself. Her whole beliefs turn upside down. It's exciting and she embraces it. Why? She's made a promise to BB-8 that she will get him home, and those things kinda come hand in hand.

Rey's physicality.

Rey is very fast to jump into action. She doesn't think twice about what she's doing. She just acts. Because that's how she's learned to survive all this time on her own. When she but hears BB-8 struggling in the distant sand dunes the first time they meet, she immediately reacts and goes to help (which also shows how compassionate she is towards people - and droids - in need of help).

And she's incredibly stubborn about it. If I may even word it like this: it's something she carries with pride.

So she's a good fighter. And I have but one request: DO. NOT. FORGET. THAT. HER. FIGHTING. STYLE. IS. ROUGH. AND. DIRTY. AND. HAS. NO. TECHNIQUE. WHATSOEVER. WHILE. THE. STORY. PROGRESSES. OK? Ok. What else? Ah, yes. Piloting. I don't know which of the two aspects has brought more uproar in the SW community, with the addition of the Force to these 2 points making people call her a Mary Sue, her being overpowered and so on. Let's have a look at that.

Rey's piloting skills.

She obviously knows her way around the Falcon. And it's plausible. "This ship hasn't flown in years!" It's been there for quite a while. Maybe she has had the opportunity to sneak onto it once. What about her flying skills? Well, that takeoff definitely had me worried. At this point I am even amazed this ship is still all in one piece. Which has me thinking... just a thought...

While trying to get those TIEs off their tail, Rey damages a visibly big part of the Falcon's exterior. "Ups," she comments, hastily checking the controls. Ok... The ship still flies. All good.

"What was that?" Finn calls from the gunner position, seriously worried for their lives.

"Nothing to worry about!" Rey quickly shouts back. All in all, the flight is messy as hell, and the Falcon needs some heavy repairs. But they still manage to get out.

"Nice shooting!"

"That was some flying! How did you do that?"

"Thanks! I don't know! I've flown some ships, but I've never left the planet."

(This is me reacting to their dialogue in the new context:) Yeah, guys, good work! You've almost destroyed the Falcon in the process, but you're alive, so I guess it's fiiiiiine.

What am I going for here? Adding to their level of expectations, which are... pretty low, and hopefully Rey's likability.

And then, later, Han is horrified of the state his ship is in, "Who did that?" Rey doesn't answer his question, but instead immediately offers her help, "I can fix that for you," feeling a bit ashamed of handling the ship of a legend this carelessly. And Han is... well, Han about it.

When would the Falcon get those repairs, you might ask? Eh, *hand gesture* there's plenty of time on D'Quar for that while they discuss how to blow up the third Deathst- *clears her throat* Starkiller Base. And obviously it's not gonna be Rey doing those repairs.

This addition tones down her abilities, puts more focus on her skills as a scavenger and makes her more relatable. I'd also argue that it puts more weight to her decision to eventually decline Han's offer to join the crew because of her wants. You see, once immersed into the real thing, the stories becoming true, meeting the legends, she becomes genuinely curious. She asks questions. Why did Luke leave? What fight? She gets incredibly excited when Han offers her a job. And yet, despite all, she still wants to go back.

Nevertheless, Rey displays pretty amazing piloting skills under those stressful circumstances on Jakku. After all, flying the Falcon is....

Her instincts are implacable. One might even say that she*

She just isn't aware of it yet. It is not until some scenes with Han and the rathtars later that we get the first hint.

The Force.

Now I might be wrong, but I have a theory, which is that the piloting performance under high pressure on Jakku might have been it. The Awakening.

The Force calls to Rey through Luke's lightsaber. And she listens to it, not knowing what will follow. She experiences the Force vision, and is horrified.

"That lightsaber was Luke's, and his father's before him, and now, it calls to you!"

"I have to get back to Jakku." Again.

Even when Maz tells her, "You already know the truth. Whomever your waiting for on Jakku, they are never coming back,"

she still refuses to believe that.

Tears run down her cheeks

and she shakes her head. No.

"But there's someone who still could."

Rey frowns. What is Maz implying there? "Luke?" she asks and realises what it's leading up to, and doesn't like it. Her emotions are a mess. She gulps back and keeps shaking her head as Maz speaks.

"The belonging you seek is not behind you. It is ahead. I am no Jedi, but I know the Force. [...] The light. Feel it. [...] The lightsaber. Take it."

Rey doesn't want to hear of it. Any of it.

"I am never touching that thing again!"

Rey just witnessed complete horror. She is in denial. Keep in mind her clear wants from the beginning of the movie. Ideally her want for her parents to come back should be replaced by the character fulfilling her needs at the end of her arc. But we're not nearly there yet. What Maz tells her about the Force completely contradicts Rey's experiences. She cannot just accept the truth. And how does she handle it? She runs away. She's terrified.

She wants to go back to the way things were before any of this mess started. But the plot doesn't let her run away that easily. It knows she has to face her fears, one being her fear of the Force and one the fear of perhaps never making it back to Jakku ever again.

It forces her further into these situations, making it impossible for her to get out of them. She's trapped. Literally and figuratively. And fighting her way out won't work this time, the one ability she always relied on to save herself. It's her darkest moment. And if that were not enough, Kylo Ren, this stranger, this man inside that mask, the man from her vision, shoves all her insecurities right into her face.

"And Han Solo." Rey jolts up. Either out of fear of possibly betraying Han and slipping, giving away a location, or out of rage that Kylo has gone too far into her personal space. Either way, this rage gives her some strength to oppose him. "You feel like he's the father you never had. He would have disappointed you."

"Get out of my head!" He backs away for his own reasons, not wanting to think any more of his father, but still holds onto her mind. Rey does all she can to withstand him, and the longer she does, the more time it gives her to understand what is going on.

And Kylo senses it. What he's trying to do here is not working. Concern washes over his face, which makes him lose control over the situation. The connection opens, inviting Rey to tap into his mind. She's inside his head. Now she understands. She understands she can use this power on him, too. So she does.

And there it is. She's strong with the Force.

And that's intentional. Why? For reasons we discover in TLJ and numerous other fanfictions. (TROS? w-what's that-)

She has found a way out of the situation. Now, has she ever heard of Jedi mind tricks? Maybe? But remember what she just discovered: She just tapped into Kylo's mind. So she tries that again on the stormtrooper. Because when she knows how to act, she just does. She's always been confident in her physical abilities and skills. Why would she have to treat this new power any different? And luckily it works, after 3 tries.

And that's fine. Let's move on. Kylo kills Han. Explosions.

Notice this. Even though she knows she now has these new powers, the same powers Kylo has, she still draws her blaster at him after calling him a monster. She acts on emotion and choses the quick, familiar way.

I actually like to believe that Rey really doesn't know what the Force is and how it works, at all. How would she? Yes, Maz did tell her about it, but how do Force-powers manifest in people? She's never seen anyone use it before, upon meeting Kylo Ren. So in every scene she does use it, she just copies Kylo. That's the only reference she has. Remember how proud she is of her physical abilities. And she is so naive that she just goes and tries it for herself, without thinking of whether it will work out or not. And it works out for her. Because, again, she is strong in the Force.

It's true that her flaw, her naivety, is not really addressed in TFA. It never really backlashes on her. And, to be completely honest, I have no idea how to make room for that without some heavier rewrites yet. But maybe it's not necessary. TLJ takes care of that. TFA just introduces us to Rey as a character after all.

Now, is the force-summoned lightsaber making her overpowered? If you interpret it as "Kylo couldn't get that thing out the snow but Rey could," then yes, yes it is. BUT, if you see it as "while Rey is observing the fight, she sees Kylo trying to summon it, so she copies him, the way she copied him with the mind-tapping, and reaches for it the moment Kylo conveniently gets it out of the snow for her," I don't think it is, though I do agree that in order for the second version to be true, the scene happens too fast with too little shots to explain it. *OP takes a breath* So, here is what I suggest:

Kylo reaches out for the lightsaber. SHOT of the lightsaber in the snow, fidgeting slightly. BACK TO Kylo, pulling anew. BACK TO the lightsaber. It gets free. CUT. Another shot of it flying through the air towards the camera.

SHOT on Rey witnessing that - she is already on her feet again - and immediately reaching for it as well, outstretching her arm towards it.

SHOT of Kylo as he feels the momentum of his pull shift and dodges out of the way. The lightsaber flies past him, into Rey's hand.

Rey has always been fast to react to action. So it would make sense for her to be able to do that. Ok. Now to the fight itself.

*sighs* I don't even know where to start. ...One thing's for sure. Kylo at this point is pretty much destroyed emotionally from having killed his father, but he's still big and strong and aggressive in his movements. Rey, on the other hand, kinda seamlessly knows how to handle a lightsaber, which... is definitely not believable at all.

Let's step back for a moment. Why do we have this fight? Rey needs to get Finn and herself out of there and Kylo is pretty much in the way, so she wants to eliminate the problem. And what does Kylo want? Sure, he is interested in Rey and her raw powers which eventually adds up to them being equals in the Force, so he doesn't want to kill her...

But he also wants that lightsaber, doesn't he?

(God, I am looking at this fight to find any clues and I'm just sitting here, elbows on the table, resting my head in my hands, massaging my temples, wondering, "why the hell are there so many cuts in that fight scene?") (I am no expert in fight choreography, so bare with me as I try to make this work.)

Rey is the one who draws first at him.

She has never wielded a lightsaber before, but knows how to handle a staff... so she treats the lightsaber like a staff within its limitations.

Because remember, HER. STYLE. OF. FIGHTING. IS. ROUGH. AND. DIRTY. AND. HAS. NO. TECHNIQUE. WHATSOEVER. So, pretend we have some well thought out choreography in this part.

Kylo blocks her with ease. Rey is frustrated. The lightsaber feels heavy and difficult to handle. It doesn't take long for Kylo to

get her cornered at the edge of the newly formed cliff.

"You need a teacher! I could show you the ways of the Force!" he exclaims.

Rey considers, out of breath, "The Force?" Rey takes a moment as her mind connects the dots. So that's what these new powers are? Kylo watches her, waits for her to make a move. No time for pondering about the Force any more. Rey moves. Kylo LETS her duck and free herself from his block. She runs, backs away from the crater. He follows her. He outstretches his arm. Rey is stuck. She's literally petrified. Again. Kylo draws nearer. He twirls his saber, now holding it backwards (you know, Ahsoka style). "No," she hisses through her teeth, struggling. Heavy breaths. She closes her eyes. When he almost touches her hand holding the lightsaber, "No!" she RESISTS his force-cage and GOES FREE.

Because, you see, even though Maz told her to "close her eyes" and "feel the light", Rey has never done that before, and when under stress, I do believe she would rather choose a quick, familiar way to get out of the situation. The only thing she knows how to do with the Force at this point is to copy or resist Kylo. She wouldn't know how to to draw power from the Force, yet. She'll have plenty of time to learn that from Luke later, should she survive this fight, so we better continue.

Kylo stumbles back as she draws at him. Rey goes for a swing to hit from above, which Kylo manages to block last second, bringing his lighsaber up from behind his back. As their lightsabers are crossed again he quickly reaches for her right hand, which is holding Luke's saber, with his left hand and moves it aside to his right towards the ground, using his crossguard for more momentum to force her down. He steps his left foot accordingly to keep himself stable. Rey cries out from the unexpected movement. They are kinda back to back. His left shoulder against her right one. The position is uncomfortable. He squeezes Rey's wrist. Rey cries out in pain. Then, she realises how close they are.

Time for some close combat, ladies and gentlemen.

She gives in and lets go of the lightsaber, lets it fall to the ground. Kylo releases her to reach for the fallen lightsaber. But before he can pick it up, Rey KICKS his left hand away with her right heel and PUNCHES his JAW with her right elbow from below. Kylo's head rocks back. He stumbles backwards from the harsh impact, causing him to turn his back to her in order to catch himself. Rey summons Luke's lightsaber back into her left hand, and ignites it. When Kylo turns back to his opponent, left and unprotected side first, Rey is ready to stab him in his left shoulder.

Kylo stumbles back some more, she brings her hands together for another strike leftwards, he barely blocks it, he stumbles back some more, it leaves his posture open, Rey strikes again, rightwards, lower this time, wounding his leg, he falls to his knee, leaving Rey the final blow to provide him with his scar.

The reason I started writing this entire ramble in the first place is a conversation I had with my friend which brought up the fact that Rey should be able to beat Kylo by using her rough, unpredictable moves. Shout out to my friend who, bless her, is willing to listen to and survives every one of my sw rants and who pointed this out in the first place!

Is this a good fightscene now? I have no idea. I hope so? I do have it very clear in my head now though, so I might go and have some fun storyboarding it in the nearest future.

You know the rest. The ground splits, she runs to Finn, Chewie picks them up. . . .

There are some more moments which I believe need some tweaks, like the meeting with Leia, which is just so unfair to Chewie, really, but if I go on and on about this, I would end up changing the entire movie, which I do not have the strength for atm. This ramble was supposed to be about Rey and her alone, so I am done here.

I guess in the end Rey does realise her needs and is able to let her wants aside for a bit longer and focus her hope on actually helping the Resistance and get Luke. Hope that, with finding Luke, she will get to understand these new powers. I do feel like the movie could have provided us with a more emotionally rich reactive scene to the fight and her abilities, and generally just more of those, but then, what am I expecting from a JJ Abrams film? We have Rian for that.

My conclusion? I'm bad with conclusions and summaries, so here you have it, my take on Rey by only adding to the existing dialogue, changing some attitudes here and there, adding a scene, and changing the fight sequence at the end and how she treats the Force.

I do have a clearer understanding of her character now, which was the entire purpose of this ramble, so I guess, mission accomplished. Congratulations on having made it till the end. It was a long ride. I did consider splitting this beast into 2 parts, but while writing this, at one point I just decided to fully commit to it.

You are totally free to, of course, agree with me and stay tuned for my WIP fanscript or disagree, never read through this thing ever again, ignore it and leave it to die on Tumblr's graveyard.

Before you ask, because I also considered doing that just for the sake of having fun with GIFs on Tumblr (all text gifs are taken from YARN btw), I will not do a post like this on TLJ, since I have no problems with Rey's character there at all. Props to Rian Johnson at this point, for managing to make sense of her with what TFA gave us.

#rey #rey nobody #the force awakens #the force is strong with this one #character analysis #character rewrite #headcanon #this is my headcanon now #ramble #long ramble #long reads #have i mentioned it's long?#star wars #star wars fanfiction

30 notes · View notes