#had this as a wip since pride month last year and finally finished it up. I haven’t drawn them in so long…

[certifiedlesbianvampire]

HAPPY TRANS DAY OF VISIBILITY😼🏳️‍⚧️‼️

[huge-enthusiast]

Miraculous fic recomendations!!

This is just an excuse to show all my bookmarks? Yes. Yes, it is. I'm pretty sure most of this fics are really popular, but try see if you find something you didn't knew about!

All of the fics will be rated Teen and up audiences or lower. Also if I don't put the author's tumblr is because they didn't put it in the fic or/and I couldn't find it.

Pairing: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

knowing you by emsylcatac (they are not really the author of the fic but that's the account that says in the fic, the actual author doesn't have an account).

After dropping their transformations months ago, Marinette and Adrien see each other for the first time after being apart. They've both left too much unsaid and have to work to pick up the pieces of their confused hearts.

Chapters: 1/1

Post-reveal but mostly ladynoir, light angst with happy ending.

the last day on earth by Reiaji

The first time Marinette sees Chat Blanc, she's fourteen years old. The second time, fifteen—the third time, seventeen.

The closer she grows to Adrien, the harder it is to save him.

Chapters: 1/1

Post-reveal lovesquare, kinda heavy angst, hopeful ending.

tell me something i don't know by carpisuns (@carpisuns here on tumblr)

Do you think it still means something? To love someone, even if the universe said you had to?

The odds of having a soulmate are about negative one billion (or something like that). But somehow, like they always have, Marinette and Chat Noir find themselves together. They’re ready to finally tell each other everything, but it turns out that even soulmates have to keep secrets, and while their bond draws them together, duty forces them apart.

Chapters: currently 17/28 (WIPs can be exhausting but this one is 100% worth the wait!)

Mostly marichat but almost all of the lovesquare sides make an appearance, soulmates au, mostly fluff but it can get angsty if it wants to.

One Thing After Another by SKayLanphear

Marinette notices that, sometimes, Adrien acts a little out of the ordinary--like the time he stood in a cardboard box for no reason, or when he actually hissed at Nino. It's only when she starts to notice the similarities between Adrien and a certain feline that she begins to get suspicious.

Basically, Adrien acts like a cat when he probably shouldn't.

Chapters: 15/15

Mostly adrienette with one sided reveal by Marinette's side, miraculous side effects (by both sides wich is really cool!), it's fluff with a lil tiny angst for drama.

This would take some getting used to by Codango (@codango here on tumblr!)

Adrien peeked out from behind the chimney even as the magic of his own Chat Noir mask fell away.

She was still visible, her dark hair bobbing under the street lamps a couple blocks away.

“Marinette.”

Adrien blew out a confused breath. His fiery Ladybug… was the quiet little mouse who sat behind him in class?

“What. The.”

This… would take some getting used to.

Chapters: 8/8

Adrienette with one sided reveal by Adrien's part, awkward flirting, just fluff, nothing to worry about.

comfort food also by Reiaji!

In Marinette's house, cooking is a language of love, and Marinette loves Adrien more than most.

Chapters: 1/1

Adrienette with a little of ladynoir, super super fluff, a lot of insight into Marinette's chinese heritage.

The right side of his face by walkingonthestars (@hamsternamedmarinette here on tumblr!)

Marinette and Adrien are able to remain in their new seats in the back of the room at the end of Chameleon.

Chapters: 1/1

Adrienette, fluff with light angst.

it's a long way forward so trust in me by aloneintherain (@captainkirkk here on tumblr!)

“You’re not the only strong one around here, Chat,” Marinette said. She looked a little winded, but she wasn’t struggling to hold him up.

This close up, he could see the freckles on the bridge of her nose. He could see how that smug smile lit up her eyes. He could feel the strain of her arms—and wow, okay, he really wasn’t the only person around here with muscles.

Six times Marinette carried Adrien (plus one time he carried her).

Chapters: 1/1

All the sides of the lovesquare! Fluff with LOTS of mutual pining.

a fight that you were born to lose also by aloneintherain

When the prosecution starts throwing around the word victim in reference to Adrien, he has to stuff his hands under his thighs to keep himself from bolting out of the courtroom.

Adrien had felt unsafe during those last few weeks, but, until he had woken up and seen Father silhouetted in his bedroom doorway, that had only been paranoia. Father was controlling and cold, but he wasn’t hateful. Adrien was isolated. He was often hungry. And some weeks ago, when he had snuck out to visit Nino, sitting thigh-to-thigh on his bed while Adrien cried in that silent, crumbling way of his, he hadn’t argued when Nino put a hand on his shoulder and said, tentatively, That’s abuse.

But Adrien remembers being small and Father touching his hair after he’d aced another test; Father holding his scribbled drawings like they were something precious, and framing them around his office; Father, dressed as Hawkmoth, his eyes wild behind the mask, lashing his sword against Adrien’s baton; Father, collapsed against Mum, crying into her ashy hair.

Adrien finds out Gabriel is Hawkmoth, and Gabriel gets to bring his long-waited plan into action.

Chapters: 1/1

This one doesn't really focus in the ship that much as is an Adrien character study and an exploration of his relationship with his father, but they're still there so I put them here. Really heavy angst (this is one of this fics that haunt me in the middle of the night) with a happy ending. ❗TW: parental abuse, eating disorders❗

Supercut by LNC

Marinette loves her friends and Adrien can't deal.

Chapters: 1/1

Post-reveal lovesquare, again light angst, an exploration of Adrien's insecurities, Marinette Dupain-Cheng deserves the world, happy ending.

Madame Snare by jettiebettie

“Sounds like a lot of work for nothing. She should take this as a sign to have a relaxing weekend with no responsibilities.”

“It's a lot of work she put her whole heart into. It wouldn't be right for it to go to waste,” Adrien whispers to him. The look on Marinette's face is enough to cause Adrien's own heart to ache. If anyone deserves the satisfaction and pride from a job well done, it's her.

“Too bad there isn't anyone else who can walk in those death traps,” Plagg says. Adrien hums in thought, tapping his chin.

“I could.”

Chapters: 1/1

Marichat, episode-based, Chat Noir in a dress!!!, light angst but it's mostly just idiots being idiots and a lot of fun.

in the same sun by peachcitt (@peachcitt here on tumblr!)

"It’s hard to believe that I saw you last at the peak of summer, when the sun was close and warm - and so were you. It should go without saying that I miss you. I miss you something terrible."

//

"It’s been seven months to the day since I’ve seen you. I wish you were here more than anything else."

Two letters, signed with initials instead of names, found in Paris, France.

Chapters: 1/1

Ladynoir, just angst, that's it, written like letters. No ending, just pain.

an uncurtain discovery by Missnoodles (@ladyofthenoodle here on tumblr!)

When he returns from school on Wednesday afternoon, Adrien discovers the darkness in his own home. He struggles to come to terms with it. To his utter mortification and delight, Ladybug is nearby to rescue him.

(He does not discover that his father is supervillain. That will happen on a different Wednesday.)

Chapters: 1/1

Ladrien, it says it's crack, and don't get me wrong, is super funny, but I also found it sad as fuck?

An Open Secret by Kasienda

Adrien whirled around toward Marinette. She smiled at him.

He couldn’t smile back. He stared at her like the dumb blond model that he was often accused of being.

Something shifted in her expression. And her warm open Marinette smile transformed into Ladybug’s grin. He was looking at Ladybug right now.

He knew Ladybug’s name!

Her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

And he couldn’t say anything! Not to Marinette! Not even to Plagg, who had confided two weeks prior that Master Fu was growing increasingly paranoid since the location of his home and hideout had been compromised. Their master had apparently decided that Chat Noir and Ladybug would have to give up their miraculouses if they ever discovered each other’s identities.

It wasn’t fair!

...

A fic where they both know, but can't openly talk about it.

Chapters: 4/4

Post-reveal... but is it? Mostly adrienette and ladynoir, fluff with light angst and them being absolute idiots at hiding their secret identity.

golden (like daylight) by okayanna (@anna-scribbles here on tumblr!)

Friendship, Adrien decided, shaking off the mental image of Marinette’s hurricane eyes and hesitant mouth, parted in a small, careful “o.” He had a very strong friendship with Marinette. That was all.

or

Adrien thinks a lot about words, love, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Chapters: 1 + epilogue

Adrienette but has lots of ladynoir, another Adrien character study because I hate myself, it tries to not be angst but the writing will punch you in the guts and make you cry, it's so good.

Strangers in the Bright Lights by poodles (@ladybeug here on tumblr!)

Adrien is about two drinks in when he sees a girl at the end of the bar wearing black cat ears. It's kind of weird, so he watches her, and although it's crowded he can see her face when she turns around. She’s wearing a Chat Noir mask. He takes a quick look around- nobody else is wearing a mask. Just her.

Adrien finishes his gin martini and heads over to her. He could use some company tonight anyways, he hasn’t told anyone he’s back in Paris and Nathalie won’t arrive in town for another month. And it’s been a rough day, okay? A rough move! He’s not sure he wants to be back yet, and he spent most of the day in the Agreste mansion sorting through some photographs of his father he found in the study. Maybe he wants a drink and some stranger to tell him he’s pretty! That’s not a crime, is it?

Chapters: 1/1

Adrienette but it's also ladrien??? I think??? It's super super angsty but they're both drunk the entirety of the fic so it's also really funny.

Pick-Up and Chase by also SKayLanphear

After she accidentally trips into Adrien and apologizes about "falling for him," Marinette learns that he's no match for cheesy pick-up lines--whether they were unintended or not. And while she finds it flattering that he turns into a flustered mess with only a few words, Marinette comes to regret making him uncomfortable. That is, until she learns he's Chat Noir. At which point the phrase "just deserts" becomes a permanent fixture in her everyday plans.

A story in which Adrien is flustered, Marinette is smooth as glass at dropping lines, and Chat Noir gets the romance he was always asking for--even if he doesn't quite know how to handle it.

Chapters: 10/10

Adrienette with one sided reveal by Marinette's side, it doesn't say it in the tags but I'm pretty sure the characters are much older than they actually are in the show, so much fluff and so much flirting.

Pairing: Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe

Nino Has Done Nothing To Deserve This by GuardianKarenTerrier (@guardiankarenterrier here in tumblr)

It's nothing, really- just an innocent comment, a joke. But when they hear it, Nino and Alya come to a realisation.

There were, in retrospect, dozens upon dozens of hints. Now that they're suddenly aware of all their friend's flimsy excuses and rushed explanations, they're not only sure how they've missed it, they're not sure how anyone else has either. They realise that it had to be magic protecting their friends- and that same magic has ceased to work on the two of them.

Well, this means they'll just have to start watching over their friends themselves.

Chapters: 7/7

This is more a found family fic than anything else, Alya and Nino are the mom friend, has light angst but it's mostly identity shenanigans in the most bizarre way. ❗TW: eating disorders❗

christmas lights by demistories

Nino checks up and down the street, checking to make sure there’s no raging akuma headed his way before he crosses quickly and ducks inside the small café. He closes the door quickly before the icy air can blow inside and tugs his beanie down over his ears. He spots Alya sitting alone in the corner.

Chapters: 1/1

Just fluff!! Really short but really sweet.

hold on, i still want you also by Missnoodles!

Written for the @thedjwifizine ! Wich I also recommend if you wanna binge a lot of djwifi fics while also looking at amazing art!!!

Five times Alya ran into her ex, and the one time he stopped being her ex.

Chapters: 1/1

Light angst with a happy ending! I don't really like the ex-lovers to lovers trope but this one is the only exception.

I will continue to expand the list in the future! But by now I hope I was helpful in the search of new fics!

[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

[xlovelyyoongix]

playing the part | myg

summary: On set, Yoongi was your enemy but off set, he was your secret lover. 18+

prompt: y/n is the star of an action movie and Yoongi is her enemy. While they hate each other in the movie, they genuinely like spending time with each other in real life.

genre: action, angst, smut, fluff

warnings: violence, guns, fist fighting, near-death experience, swearing, unprotected sex (please be safe yall) female receiving, stimulation while being penetrated, creampie, aftercare, and feelings that can’t be said out loud.

w/c: 4k

Rating: 18+

a/n: I was initially going to post this at the very beginning of the year, but I ended up getting sick and testing positive for covid-19. (please don’t worry about me. I’m feeling much better now 😊) But a few of my followers have been asking about me since I haven’t posted in a while, so I figured I’d give everyone a quick update. I’m glad to be back and happy to be working on all of my WIPs I have planned for the month. Please everyone, social distance, wear your masks, and stay safe. Happy reading  💕

"I'm done playing games with you." Your furious words bouncing off the walls of the abandoned warehouse as the weight of your pistol points directly at the male standing in front of you. "Hand over the money, or I'll put a hole in your head," Your finger seconds away from the trigger.

Yoongi chuckles, a cocky smirk stretching across his lips. "You won't shoot me-"

BANG

Before Yoongi ever had the chance of completing his sentence, the melody of your warning shot echoes, causing a vibration of whitenoise to jolt the walls of your inner eardrums. Missing on purpose, the bullet still managed to graze Yoongi’s skin, a thin line of blood trickling down his cheek.

Yoongi snickers at your attempt to frighten him while wiping away the blood that stained his flesh. "Why waste a bullet when you could have easily taken my life?" His words oozing arrogance as his body strutted forward, emptying the gap between the two of you. "Is it because you don't have the strength to kill the man you love?" He taunts wickely, onyx eyes peering into yours.  

With Yoongi being this close in proximity, the muscles in your body begin to tense, jaw clenching tightly as your sweaty hands gripped the handle of your gun. "Shut up!" You shout, not allowing him to use your emotions against you.

Yoongi observes your hesitant behavior, licking his bottom lip enticingly. "How about I make it easier, so you don't miss next time, hm." He sarcastically hums, gripping the barrel of your gun to position the weapon against the flat of his forehead. "I've done the hard part; now, all you have to do is shoot, baby girl." He mocks with the pet name he once called you.  

It was at this intense moment, you begin to regret it all. Accepting a job that required your feminine charm to seduce a drug lord that just so happened to owe your client an uber amount of money. You've done it before, sleeping with the enemy only to assassinate them by morning, so why was Yoongi so different? Why was this so hard?

Was it the luxurious dates? His charming smile? Unworldly sex? You don't really remember, only knowing that somewhere along that line, loving him was no longer pretend. "I said, Shut up!" You shake your head in hopes of ridding your brain of all the useless memories that only made your job harder.

"FUCKIN' DO IT!" Yoongi shouts through clenched teeth as his grip around the barrow of your gun tightens.

Flinching with your eyes shut, your finger pulls the trigger, producing another loud bang that causes your wrist to jerk from the power of the gun. Your heart drops at the sound, and you're afraid to open your eyes, knowing the second you do, your vision will be met with your lover in a pool of his own blood.

"Fuck, you were actually gonna kill me that time, huh?"

The sound of Yoongi’s voice causes your lashes to jolt open, shocked that the man was still alive and well, standing before you. It was then you notice your weapon carrying, hand being pinned above your head. The swift bastard must have trapped you in the second before you pulled the trigger. "I have a job to do, and I won't let feelings get in the way of my mission." You announce proudly, but more so to convince yourself than anything else.

Yoongi clicks his tongue at your response. "Is that so?" Taking advantage of your pinned  position, he stares your body down with an almost hungry eye. Your smooth skin glistening with sweat, large eyes that seemed to out shine the moon, delectable lips slightly parted to breathe, and a leather body suit that hugged every heavenly curve; curves he was once oh so familiar with. But, it was also in that moment Yoongi realized, despite the lustful infatuation that pulled him towards you, he'd be damned if he let anyone take his life. "I'll just have to kill you first then."

Before you could react to Yoongi's threat, his stealthy foot sweeps from under you, knocking you off your balance. Your body collides into the ground, gun sliding across the cold concrete. "Shit!" You eye down the weapon, collecting your balance once again to dart towards the object but Yoongi's headstart nearly beats you to it.

He takes the chance to reach down to grab the pistol -possibly to use it to end your life- but your survival instincts emerge,  causing your body to fling forward, tackling Yoongi like a linebacker on a football field. "Son of a..." He sneers at the weight of your body straddling his waist, fist flying forward to attack his face. Blocking your attacks, Yoongi grows frustrated with how long the altercation has lasted. "Okay, baby girl, this ends now." Grunting, Yoongi  uses his upper body strength to flip you, landing on your back as his heavy body pins you in.

For a short moment, Yoongi takes the time to admire your beauty. Messy hair splattered around your glistening face, chest heaving in attempt to collect your breath and cheeks an exhausted pink. "You're so fuckin beautiful..." But as soon as the soft words left his lips, a hand reached behind his back, removing a silver gun from it’s holster. “Which is why it pains me to do this.” Cocking the weapon, Yoongi presses the hold metal to your temple. "But before you go, say one last thing for me."

You struggled with all your might to wiggle yourself from under Yoongi, but his masculine weight bore you to struggle. You also attempted to reach for your gun, only half an inch away, but it was to no avail. "What?" You question back with a sneer, but not because you actually care -or maybe you do- but more so to buy you some time before your death.

Yoongi snickers, leaning in to ghost his devilish smirk over your swollen lips. "Tell me, it wasn't all fake." His jet eyes begin to soften as the pad of his thumb caresses your cheek. "Tell me, you love me."  

Your heart skips a beat but not because of the adrenaline spiking through your veins, but because even after everything, the fights, the betrayal, his heavy gun pressed to your temple, you still loved him. In an ordinary world, you'd be considered a psychopath for falling for a drug lord, but you didn't live in the real world. You were a hitman, and with your busy schedule and the blood of your enemies permanently staining your psyche, there was no room for traditional romance. You convince yourself that was the reason for your undeniable infatuation towards the blonde-haired male, just a girl yearning to finally feel the warmth of love. "Go fuck yourself." It pains you to say it, but in the end, you'd rather die with pride than with the taste of affection on your tongue.

Yoongi winces at your aggressive words towards him. Despite his rugged exterior, he was capable of feelings, and he did love you. He loved you more than any woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Being in this predicament indeed penetrated his heart so deep, he doubted he'd ever recover. "That's a shame." Regaining his stern demeanor, Yoongi clenches his jaw and positions his index above the trigger. "Goodbye, baby girl." A second away from ending your life, the two of you are interrupted by a loud shout.

"CUT!" The director whistles the alarm, and the once dark warehouse illuminates with bright fluorescent lights, bringing the scene to a complete stop. "That's a wrap for tonight, folks," he calls from behind a row of cameramen. "I want everyone back on set first thing in the morning. We'll be finishing up the final scene of the movie tomorrow" The stage and camera crew breaking out in applause at the work that was completed.

With the scene finally over, Yoongi pulls himself from on top of you, kindly extending his arm to assist you up with an eyeing smirk.

"You're fuckin heavy, you know that?" You harshly joke, taking his hand to accept the offer to help you up.

"That's funny," Yoongi's voice dripped with seduction, using his strength to whisk your body into his chest. His soft lips ghosting over the shell of your ear to whisper, "You weren't complaining about my weight last night-."

"Shhh!" Your hand cups over Yoongi's mouth, shushing him before anyone could witness his handsy flirtation. "You know better than to act like this on set." You arch your brow, matter-a-factly.

Yoongi parts his lips to respond but was interrupted by his makeup team stepping on set. "Mr. Min, let's get you cleaned up and ready to go." Politely placing her hand on Yoongi's back, she guides him along before he could get a chance to say good-bye.

A slight giggle escapes past your lips as you watch Yoongi being dragged offset by his team. Your eyes begin to feel heavy for the need of rest, and your throat produces a yawn. Exhausted, you head towards the direction of your makeup team, ready to escape to the confines of your trailer for the night.

   1:30 in the morning is when you're finally able to leave set and head back to your trailer for the night. Stepping out of the shower and into your silk robe, you examine your body in the fogged mirror, muscles sore from stunts -you swore to your director you didn't need a double for- and bags under your eyes being the evidence of long working hours. You couldn't complain though you loved your job, the excitement, the thrill, everything that came with being an actress, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

A small knock at your trailer door interrupts your thoughts, wondering who it could be at an hour like this. Possibly the director wanting to go over tomorrow's scene? Curious, you peek through the blinds, but not surprised by who you see. A smile slips across your cheeks as you open the door, revealing a handsome blond-haired male standing before you. "I think you're lost." You playfully tease, pointing to the row of luxury trailers in the distance. "Your lodging is that way."  

Yoongi smirks at your sarcastic facade, playing along to entertain your ploy. "No,." He quickly replies, walking up the steps to your trailer until standing directly under you. "I think I'm in the right place." His large hands slip across the silk of your robe, finding their favorite spot on your hips while seductive eyes peak at the curves of your cleavage.

"Is that so?" You question, arching a tempting brow, "So, what is an A-list Actor doing at my trailer so late into the night?" Your fingers trickle to the nape of Yoongi's neck, dancing circles across his ivory skin.

"Well." Yoongi's nose slowly dips across the curve of your neck, getting a tasteful whiff of your natural scent before his pink lips ghost over the shell of your ear. "I came to fuck my co-star."

Yoongi's daring confession causes a vibrating tingle to spike throughout your body, increasing the lustful heat growing between your thighs. Surrendering to the fervor your body craved, your plush lips crash into his, with tongues beginning to dance together in harmony. Lost in the passion, your hand locates Yoongi's collar, pulling him into your trailer, and with a swift kick, he closes the door behind him.

The actor wastes no time shoving you against the counter of your tiny kitchen, large hands fiddling with the lace of your robe. Your silk falls around you, pooling to the floor, unveiling the flawless secrets of your womanly beauty. "Fuck." Yoongi nearly growls at the sight of smooth skin, supple breasts, and voluptuous curves. "I've been waiting for this all day." He could barely finish his sentence before his hungry lips were attacking your neck, teeth nibbling and sucking the flesh while wandering hands located your nipple to tease.  

"Y-Yoongi." You whimper from his touch, body arching off the counter to welcome his ardors actions. "R-remember not to bruise me, okay." If it were up to you, you wouldn't complain about the trademark evidence Yoongi liked to leave throughout your body, but things spread fast in the media. You couldn't risk a 'dating scandal'; in the middle of shooting a major motion picture movie, the press would eat you alive.

"Shit, forgot, sorry." He mutters an apology, loosening his hold on your breast and trailing succulent kisses down your abdomen. "Guess I'll just have to leave hickies where people can't see them." A flash of greedy lust shimmers in Yoongi's eyes the moment he hoists your thigh over his shoulder. His mouth nearly watering at the glorious sight before him. "So fuckin' wet for me already." Teeth sink into his bottom lip enticingly, witnessing your glistening arousal coating over your heated sex. "Makes me wanna taste it." Yoongi's crafty tongue darts out, sliding between wet folds until lapping across a sensitive bundle of nerves that causes your body to weaken.  

"Fuck, Yoon...," You could barely finish your sentence as Yoongi's ambush on your needy clit caused you to fall mute. Your hand gripping onto the actor's shoulder, rolling your hips into his mouth to ride out your delectable pleasure. "M-more,"  

Knowing precisely what you desired, Yoongi slowly inserts two digits deep into your soaking walls. The second he hears your breathy moan,  his fingers curl at just the right angle, locating the spongy surface responsible for your g-spot. "Mhmm," You're a wiggling mess, so Yoongi uses his free hand to hold your hips in place while his mouth sucks up your clitoris once again.    

"Shit~." The delicious stretch of his fingers and stimulation on your nub causes the muscles within your abdomen to tighten. With your body preparing for an orgasm, your fingers move on their own to lock in Yoongi's thick hair, guiding him to where you need most. "B-baby, c-close." Words frantically falling from your trembling lips.  

Taking note of your approaching release, Yoongi stiffens his tongue, lapping figure 8s around your pink nub to send your body into overdrive. His thick fingers thrusting into your walls, producing creamy arousal that dripped onto his knuckles. Yoongi absolutely loved watching you like this, legs wobbling like jello, skin glistening with sweat, pretty lips moaning his name. He took pride in witnessing you being a fucked-out mess. His own personal, fucked-out mess. "Cum, baby."

As if on demand by Yoongi's words, the tightness within your abdomen bursts, body tensing as the magic of euphoria courses through your veins.  "Y-Yoon-, fuck~" Lashes slamming shut as an assortment of circling colors rupture behind your eyelids. Your body rides out it's sinful high only for your body to fall limp moments after.

The evidence of your orgasm drips between your thighs as Yoongi carefully removes his digits from inside you. Standing to his feet, his tongue licks the last of your arousal that lingered on his fingers, always making sure your lovely juice never went to waste. "Fuckin delicious." He smirks devilishly, hungry eyes peering down at your exhausted state.

You can barely catch your breath as your hazed vision attempts to focus on the handsome man before you. His thick brow wickedly arched, jet eyes glowing with ungodly lust as the corner of his lips curls smugly. An expression that only meant Yoongi wanted more. "Ready for my dick now, babygirl?" He's quick to make haste of his shirt, tossing it someplace behind him and stepping out of the thick material of his jeans.    

You gulp anxiously at Yoongi's erotic words, curious eyes trailing down the curves of his abdomen in awe as if you haven't seen his immaculate body 100 times before. "Mhm." You reply with a hum, teeth sinking into your lip while impatiently waiting for the reveal of his sturdy dick.

Yoongi chuckles at your minimalistic response, dropping his boxers to unveil the erect curve of his fat length. Stroking up the base of his impressive dick, leaning into your ear to whisper, "You know I need to hear you say it." His warm breath causes an array of goosebumps to accumulate across your skin, a delightful shiver slithering up your spine. "Tell me what you want."

Having moved between your legs, Yoongi's mushroom tip begins to tease against your folds. "I-I," Your lashes flutter as the heat of desire begins to spiral within you, as if you hadn't already experienced a powerful orgasm a few moments prior. "I want you to..." You mew, Yoongi positioned his tip at the soaking hole of your entrance, knocking you from your train of thought.

He grins smugly at your expression, always taking delight to taunting your body. "Tell me what you want me to do, or I'll stop-"

Knowing better than to keep Yoongi waiting, you nearly shout. "I want you to fuck me, Yoongi!" You sound needy, but that's beyond your worries. Your body wanted him, your aching pussy craving him, and if you had to play the part to get what you wanted, so be it.  

Not giving you a second to breathe, Yoongi's fat tip thrusts into your wet core. "Fuck~" You both curse in unison, you because of the delectable stretch that made your pussy full and Yoongi due to your drenched walls tightening around his girth.

"Mhm, Yoons~." You whimper at the sting of his stretched entrance, but you absolutely love the feeling.  How his dick fits perfectly snug within your walls, the throbbing of protruding veins and his oozing tip teasing at your moist cervix. You often fantasized about staying in this position forever. Having Yoongi live, deep inside you as time passed the both of you by; then again, you're also dying for him to bang your brains out. "Baby, please." You plead for him to start moving inside you.

With your tight pussy finally adjusted to his size, Yoongi's large hand's grip at your hips, beginning an easy pace in and out of your core. "Shit~" His teeth clench, hissing at the heavenly sensation of your narrow walls sucking at his length. "You're so wet and warm. Always taking my dick so well."  

Your lashes begin to flutter at the sensation of Yoongi's fat tip massaging at the area of your g-spot. "All for you~." You purr, scooting as close to the edge of the counter as possible, craving for his inches to reach further inside you. "Please," With brows furrowed together beggingly, eyes screaming for him to go faster.

Observing your desperate expression, Yoongi knew it was time for him to pick up the pace. He grips at your thighs, placing your legs around his waist while positioning his hips at the angle that could explore deeper into your slit. "Ah, shhhhhit." He hissed at the pleasure, hips beginning to snap in and out of your sopping core at an autopilot speed.

Your nails pierce into the flesh of Yoongi's shoulders, holding on as he pounded into you. With your neck lulled back, your head knocks into the shelf with every swift jap he punctures in, but you don't care. Your skin is on fire, and your pretty pussy, utterly addicted to the pleasurable attack. "Feels good," You hum, eyes locking down on the pornographic scene of your creamy slick lubing Yoongi's shaft as his dick pleasantly stretches in and out of your entrance. "Wanna cum all over your pretty dick, Yoon." You plee, lips in the form of a pout.  

Your whimpering need causes a carnal temptation to spike within the actor, producing the adrenaline he needed to please your every desire. "So cum, baby." His veiny hand slipping between your thighs, swiping across your clit while pounding into you.

"Oh, god," You moan—the attack on your sensitive nub precisely what you need to feel the pressure building within your core. "Fuck, baby," Your legs gripping tighter around his waist, encouraging him to keep up the speed that slammed into your cervix.

"So fuckin' wet." A throaty moan escapes Yoongi's lips, your walls sucking tightly around his girth as he fucked into you deeper. He could feel the familiar ball of tension tightening within his core, dick becoming increasingly sensitive upon the approach of his release." y/n," breath staggering in his throat as he grunts your name. "Fuck~, gonna cum soon." Glistening sweat pearling across his creamy skin, with jet eyes glossed with desire.

Your hips rock forward, matching the devilish speeds of Yoongi's thrusts as your eyes lock on him. The ends of his blonde hair paste to his steamy skin, lips, pink and swollen, and dumpling cheeks a rosy fluster. The expression in his glass orbs screamed that he was close. "Me too," you moan with arching feet and toes beginning to curl. "Cum inside,"

"Shiiiiiit," Despret to oblige your request, Yoongi continues his powerful ruts, the erotic sounds of your wet pussy guiding him. He could feel the muscles throughout his body starting to flex along with the anticipating tingle of his ballsack, begging to release its load.  "B-baby I,..." His thrust becomes sloppy, and the tight grip he has on your hips causes his knuckles to whitein.  He would explode any second.  

Even with his body tense, Yoongi doesn't let up the massage on your clit. Only speeding his swift swipes on your throbbing nub, sending spikes of electricity zapping throughout your body. "Y-y-y-Yoon...., g-gonna~," and just like that, an euphoric explosion happens within your core, blasting you into ecstasy. "FUCK!" Your back arches, your head lulls back, and the muscles within your wet walls clench around Yoongi's dick, sucking him in for dear life.

"___, g-gonna..." With one final thrust, Yoongi's pulsing dick shoots warm coats of cum into your core. His throat releases a horse grunt, eyes rolling back, and breath getting caught in his throat ."Hmm," He hums at the peaceful feeling, the pent up stress of a long workday finally vacating his body. "Fuck, you're pussy's so good." He chuckles, eyes fluttering open to witness your sweaty body stretched out across the counter, swollen pussy leaking his creamy cum.

Your exhausted body doesn't stop a smirk from slipping across your flustered cheeks. "You're dick's so good." responding to Yoongi's complement, chest heaving for air.

A gummy grin pulls across Yoongi's lips in observance of you. Your messy hair pooled around your face, skin lushly glossed, and large dewy eyes that expressed your body's satisfaction. You meant the absolute world to Yoongi, and being with you on and off set was the best year of his life. Getting to watch you grow as an actress and putting your best foot forward every day. You were Yoongi's muse, his love. "I'll clean you up." He runs a paper napkin under the warm fouset, placing the dampness across all the places between your thighs he left a mess.

You watch Yoongi in awe with your heart fluttering in your chest. It was clear the growing spark between the two of you was more than just sexual tension. You saw the way he'd sneak cute glances at you on set, how he'd be the first one to make sure you were alright after an intense stunt. You want to confess that you love him, that he meant more to you than just a person to fuck. But, the time wasn't right. The two of you still had a job that needed to be done. "Hey." Your small voice, grabbing Yoongi's attention. Instead of saying, I love you, you say, "Good luck on set tomorrow."

However, Yoongi finds the truth in your soft eyes, making it clear you held the exact same feelings that he harbored to himself for the past year. "Yeah," There wasn't a need for him to say much; he knows that you know the truth of his heart. "Good luck to you too."

date posted: 1/8/2021

[springsteenicious]

Okay, since you said I can send you a prompt...

Maybe Jackie telling Hyde she's pregnant with their first kid? I always thought she would find a creative way to tell him if the baby was planned. I would love to see Hyde and Jackie giving the news to Red and Kitty too, it would surely be a very mood lifting fic.

I spent the last 10 minutes trying to come up with a prompt, and it was a relief. Because I spent the whole day scared, and trying to come up with a prompt for you was literally so relaxing that I even feel like I can breathe better now lol

That's it, thank you so much for this ❤

No problem, I love writing cute little one-shots and stuff! I'm glad to help out in any way I can. Covid sucks, so I'm more than happy to help you relax and get your mind off of it.

((Also, hypothetically, if you were to send me an ask with the title of one of my WIP fics, I would give you a little snippet if you wanted...))

Anyway, enjoy this cute little ficlet :D

Point Place, Wisconsin The Hyde Residence 1985

Jackie tied the end of the large banner above her and Steven's bed. It was the final part of her plan to reveal her news to Steven. She left their bedroom once she finished and went downstairs to their living room.

As she sat down on the couch, a feeling of complete happiness settled inside her. She was sitting in the house that she shared with Steven, in the living room she had designed, pictures of them on their wedding day hanging on the wall. It had taken a while, but she and Steven were happily married and had been for a little over four years.

After Steven married that stripper from Las Vegas, Jackie had thought all hope was lost for them. But he had spent months making it up to her and asking for forgiveness once Sam was gone. Jackie had stood her ground at first and she hadn't accepted any kind of apology from him. But he hadn't given up. He continued to prove to her how much he loved her, and eventually she couldn't deny her love for him.

Now, five years later, all was well. And it seemed like it would get even better.

Jackie hopped up from the couch as the door opened. Steven was home from work, finally. She met him at the door. "Hi, Puddin!"

"Hey, doll. How was your day?"

"It was great! And I bet I can make your day even better…" She took his hand and started to tug him upstairs.

He raised an eyebrow, but a smile was working its way onto his face. "Yeah? How?"

"It's in the bedroom."

"Uh-huh…"

Jackie stood with her back against their closed bedroom door. "It has something to do with that thing we've been talking about the past month… And trying to do…"

"Yeah…"

She grinned and opened the door, extending her arm to show off the room. It was filled with colored balloons that she'd blown up with a pump, and streamers hung from the ceiling, not obscuring the banner, which Steven read out loud.

"We're having a baby?" He grinned at her. "Really?"

"Yeah! I'm pregnant!"

He laughed happily and hugged her, lifting her off the ground a little. She wrapped her arms around him snugly. "I love you," he said into her hair.

"I love you too."

He put her down and pulled back just enough to look at her. He looked so incredibly happy that she giggled, unable to contain her own joy. "We're having a baby," he said, like it was too good to be true. "You know, before you, I never thought I would ever have kids. I never really thought about it. But I'm actually really looking forward to doing this whole parenting thing with you."

"I'm really excited too. I think we're gonna be great parents."

He kissed her quickly. "Yeah, I think we are."

~

"Steven, Jackie, you're here!" Mrs. Forman excitedly greeted them at the sliding door. Red was sitting at the kitchen table with Donna and Forman.

"Hey, Mrs. Forman," Hyde said. She hugged him, keeping it brief, which Hyde was grateful for. "We brought cookies. Jackie made them."

"You brought burnt cookies?" Forman asked.

"No," Jackie said. "Steven taught me how to make them and he made sure they came out of the oven in time."

"Really? I feel like Hyde would be more distracting for you," Forman said.

"Kitty, why did we have to have this dinner? I don't want to listen to Eric being rude to Jackie," Red complained.

Jackie grinned at Forman, who frowned. Mrs. Forman gave Red a look and said, "We are having a nice family dinner. It's still a family dinner even if Laurie couldn't make it. So be quiet and enjoy this quality time with our sons and daughters-in-law."

Red frowned. "Fine."

Mrs. Forman smiled. "Now, why don't we all go to the dining room and I'll get everyone's plates ready?"

Hyde sat next to Jackie on one side of the table, Forman and Donna across from them. Red and Mrs. Forman took the ends of the table. Mrs. Forman smiled as everyone started eating. "So, what's new with my favorite bunch of kids?"

"I got my first article published in a magazine," Donna said.

"That's great, Donna," Red said. "What was it on?"

"I interviewed a local band. It was really interesting to talk to them about their inspirations and everything." Donna was practically glowing with pride. Forman was looking at her like she was the only woman in the world.

"And Eric? What have you been doing?" Red asked, clearly expecting a much less accomplished answer.

"I applied for a student teacher position at the elementary school," Forman said.

"That's great!" Mrs. Forman exclaimed. "Oh, you are going to be such a good teacher, sweetie." She turned to Hyde and Jackie. "How about you two?"

"Well…" Hyde looked at Jackie.

She grinned and said, "I'm pregnant!"

Mrs. Forman laughed loudly. "That's wonderful! I'm going to be a grandma! Oh, oh, I should take up knitting again. I could make little baby blankets!"

"Congratulations, you two," Red said, with a small smile of approval.

Forman gasped. "You know what this means? This child is going to be the Antichrist."

"Shut up, dillhole," Hyde said.

"Eric, stop it," Mrs. Forman said. "Steven is a good boy and Jackie is a sweet young lady. They are going to have a wonderful child."

Hyde looked at Jackie, who was smiling softly. He believed Mrs. Forman's words completely; they would have a wonderful child.

[unioncolours]

A 2nd Majsasaurus Year!

Today, 22nd of September 2021, it’s been two years since I officially joined the magical world of fandom. 22.9.2019 I uploaded the first chapter to my fic Shadows and Sand, and the rest is history.

I did a deep dive into my first year as a fic writer and active member of fandom last year, when it was my first anniversary. You can read it here!

In that meta discussion about my membership of fandom, I presented it as if walking on clouds. I was so, so happy and talked during all the discussion about my happiness in fandom.

Since that post was written, my life and also my perception of the fandom I am part of has changed. Change isn’t always bad, as I really had a honeymoon phase with fandom over a year ago, and the low after hit hard.

But let’s see what I’ve been up to and what I’ve been writing! The following year provided much change and fun things! Please keep reading 💜⬇

The first fic I wrote since 22.9.2020 was a Sakura x Ino fic. I had for a longer while been interested in writing a woman-loves-woman ship, which I had never done before, and as a wlw-person myself the urge to explore that part led to Promise me this is just a kiss. The pairing itself was chosen on rather random, it had to be two women and I like Ino, so I chose the most popular Ino-wlw ship for this for convenience.

I really liked writing the fic and it was well-received! It was the first time I had written a fic that was entirely centred around exploring feelings and having sex.

After this I jumped directly onto the next idea that had been boiling inside me for a longer while. Up to this point, all I had written, except the wlw-fic, had been set in the Naruto canonverse and I was itching to try to work with a multi-chaptered modern au! The pairing was of course my beloved Shikadai x Inojin.

It was during the creation of this fic I began to struggle. This was a new genre, as this was romance only and all my other works had been action and fantasy based, except the sex fic of course. I was maybe over critical and stressed, which resulted in me having a hard time writing it. But I made it. Was the sky always this beautiful? ended up being 35k long, and in hindsight, I freaking love, love, love how it turned out in the end and what it represented. I am very proud of this fic.

I “upgraded” as a fan by the end of October when I bought myself a digital drawing tablet. I began drawing fanart of Shikadai and Inojin and preferably them two together, haha! I still draw a few days a month and find it extremely fun as a side hobby beside the writing.

We are now in November 2020. By this time, I had completely finished my zine fic, Under the Scorching Sun, which I had written during September and October, for the Shikatema zine I was kindly accepted to. I was proud of what I had created and was eager for the rest of the contributors to wrap up theirs, so we’d have a wonderful zine for sale in 2021. It was lovely to write ShikaTema again. As the zine fic was about to be released in months from when I had at first finished it, I wanted of course to write something fans and friends could immediately take part of on the internet. I had hyped myself up to a state where I wanted to write a third and final story in my series To love and never let go, my epic series about Shikadai and Inojin.

Now, I should maybe have waited another month, but I was worried the readers would give up on me if I didn’t write it right away. In December, I began writing To find hope in the Universe, with my usual speed and love for the art.

What I by then didn’t realise or even recognise was that I was very slowly turning burned out. I ignored all the signs.

In December I wrote simultaneously as Hope in the Universe a fic that was part of the Shikatema server’s Secret Santa event. The fic’s name was The Ghost Stories of our Hearts, and it was ShikaTema, as the event’s name suggests. It was fun to write and despite the final big fic, Hope in the Universe, pressing down on me, I finished The Ghost Stories of our Hearts and was very happy with the result. Sadly, at this point the burnout began taking control over me, and I never managed to reply to the comments.

The 15th of January, I began uploading To find hope in the Universe. It was a lovely experience, even if it was tainted by negative feelings coming from my decreasing happiness and the fact that it didn’t do as well as To dance above the Stars, the second fic in the series. To deal with two very contradiction emotions, loving my work, the characters, how I have painted an entire world around the characters and how I knew some people honestly loved my hard work, and then the negative feelings coming from not feeling good enough and depressed, was a difficult thing to navigate and still is when I think back to that time. It didn’t help that during the process of uploading the fic I went through grief, and I chose distraction as my coping method. I kept writing and working, the only thing I ever knew.

Our pre-order of the Shikatema zine was in full motion by this time and it was a nerve-wracking time! Mostly because of excitement but also worry. I’m super happy for my friends who were part of the zine, with whom I could share all the excitement and nervousness with. The zine ended up making good sales, which made me happy among the uploading of the long fic.

To find hope in the Universe was completed 31st of March 2021. When I uploaded the final chapter, I felt nothing. It was so weird, so spooky, to have finished a long fic and a series on top of that and not feel anything. But deep down, beneath the layer of depression, I felt great pride.

That was the emotion that broke free once the burnout left me. Pride.

I had created this empire of Shikajin, a whole alternative timeline, an alternative canon from my own head and to this day, that is my internet legacy. I love Trial of the Heart, which I wrote in 2020, but if I have to choose between ToH and this series, I will choose To love and never let go in a heartbeat.

So, even if it felt depressing and hopeless in the moment, I look now back with pride and happiness. Never forget that. Never forget that I made that.

April was a curious time. I swore to not write anything, because I had by now recognised that I was burned out and needed to rest, yet managed to scrape together three smaller fics.

The first one was another wlw-smut fic, TemaSaku this time called Another Light. I wanted to explore that part once again. I wrote it in canonverse and honestly think the fic ended up extremely nice. Perfect amount of feels and sex. It didn’t feel hard to write at all, because the setting, characters and emotions were so different from the fics I had written the last five months.

Now more interesting things lay on the horizon! A new zine, the Ino-Shika-Cho zine called Beyond a Bond had an interest check during the spring, and later the contributor application. I urged in the interest check to please give us the next gen kids, Shikadai, Inojin and Chocho – my kids and babies, and when it turned out they were going to feature, I had to apply as a writer. For this application I wrote a one shot, called It’s just hair, and I loved this spunky little story featuring the best babies that I created.

I also edited one of my tumblr fics, And then I kissed him, into a longer, better version that I later in May uploaded onto AO3. It was once again a Shikajin, a sequel of Trial of the Heart, and it was a fun little project.

Now May came and I sent in the application for the zine early, which I now am relieved I did. I am happy that I did the work for the application in April instead of May, because in May I had a few breakdowns and another grieving period, which lead to complete creative paralysis. I didn’t write a single word during May, only uploaded the two one shots I had prepared in April.

What I did do in May was to read through the Shikatema zine I had contributed to! It arrived in the mail! I was so nervous; my whole body was shaking when I opened the package right outside the post office. The zine now resides on the parade place in my little zine shrine in the bookshelf. Thank you to the mods who made this a reality!

To my great happiness my zine adventures continued as I was accepted to the Ino-Shika-Cho zine as a writer and was assigned to write my favourite characters. I felt so relieved and overjoyed, mind blown by the sheer talent among the contributors.

On the other fandom front, June didn’t continue any brighter, with stress and mental pain still having a strong grip around me, despite the very happy news that I am still so grateful for. I wrote a Yamanaka family fic which to this day hasn’t seen the light of AO3, because of negative emotions surrounding it. I turned into a complete wreck compared to me in June 2020. In June 2020 I was flourishing, I loved what I did, I loved fandom and I loved the friends I had made through Discord servers. Now I could find myself crying my eyes out over a wip not going the way I wished it would. What had happened to Bex 2021?

I was so incredibly frustrated with myself, groaning in defeat when my hands just couldn’t write. I managed to push through 6k of what I called my “emo au” – more of that later – and finish the Yamanaka fic which is still buried, and on top of that I had the zine and another fandom event, The Naruto Photo Album, to create content for. Why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I find happiness in something that once was my reason for happiness?

In the end, I managed to write 15k in June. My former monthly word count used to be 30k. One could think this would turn into the end of my fic writing career, or the beginning of a longer hiatus, but I am stubborn and want to meet the expectations of the people who love my content, so I didn’t want to give up. I wanted to try. I wanted to be whoever I was before.

Funnily enough, the healing came in the shape of the most self-indulgent fic I have ever, ever written, a fic I like possessed began writing July the 1st 2021. It was nothing less than a freaking fairy tale AU, namely a Shikadai x Inojin Peter Pan AU. I can hear you laugh at the silliness of it, but this whimsical AU gave me back my love for writing. I hyper-fixated on this story quite a bit and stopped writing on everything else, something I almost never do.

Only happy boys fly ended up being 21 000 words long! I knew it was a niched story, and true to my guesses, the story has to this day very low stats. Today, two months after it was published, it has just above 100 hits and 10 kudos, so for all I know, only ten people read and liked it. I try to not care too much, since I love the story and in some way, that story saved me from going batshit insane over my emotions about writing.

At this point I had begun writing my fic from the Ino-Shika-Cho zine, finding joy in silly scenes with my favourite characters and trying to heal. The writing process was frustratingly slow, but one word at a time I got forward and as of today, the draft is done. The pre-orders are in December. At the side of the zine fic I wrote a short fluffy Shikajin story, CLEAR, a story with almost no plot, because I knew how much self-indulgence could help me.

And then, I finally began writing for real on my emo au, A gang of fallen stars, which has the first few chapters up right now! I have for the first time in six months a longer fic (if we don’t count the Peter Pan story) and it feels… good. This fic is once again a modern au, but in darker tones than my other modern au from November 2020. I honestly like what I have so far, even if I during June and July almost planned to never finish it. I am so relieved I managed to begin the upload. In September the Photo Album was released and I could show my two fics I wrote for it.

It sounds like this year has been nothing but misery, and at times it felt like it. However, there are a few fandom friends who brought light to my life when I couldn’t see it. The first ones to mention are of course my partners in crime, @notquitejiraiya and @thespookymoth. Together we created a server dedicated to Ino-Shika-Cho during the spring and it has been tons of fun with the members there! Thank you two for listening to me and for being my friends during 2021.

I also have to mention Soverel, who carefully begun taking contact through comments and likes on my twitter, and later through direct messages, and it has been a fun ride ever since. We’ve had lovely discussions which are very dear to me and your support means a lot to me. Thank you for being you and for drawing so many wonderful artworks you’ve shared with me. Haha, and for making me play Genshin Impact, even though I do it like twice a month!

Another person who has made my days so much brighter is @sugarriene. Thank you for sending me that one dm that made us chat regularly, thank you for popping up and sharing panels and your wonderful drawings with me, and for vibing head canons with me. You are a lovely person, and you make me happy.

Finally, I want to give a shout out to @yoboseyokyu for listening to me when I had to yell into the void and for making me happy with your cute posts on both twitter and tumblr.

Since September 2020, I’ve written around 195 000 words and drawn close to 35 illustrations, most of them of Shikadai and Inojin. Almost 200 000 words of Majsasaurus. I’ve created a Discord server and I’ve been part of two zines as a writer, plus a free PDF-project.

It has been a wild year. A year filled with passion for my favourite characters and ship, with the excitement that came with being part of projects and hyping them. It was a year where I learned to draw digitally, and heck what fun it was.

This also a year where I learned people can be mean to me because of what I ship and that fandom friends won’t necessarily always stay to be your friend anymore and how much it can hurt. I also learned what my limits are, and what punishment I get if I don’t listen to my own mind and rest when I have to.

It was a year, guys.

Now, onto the third Majsasaurus Year. Cheers!

And those of you, who supported me when I needed it – thank you and I love you.

[theravenclawrevolutionary]

In one last celebration of Maxime's birthday here's a collection of three birthday scenes from my novel wip about him! This post is fairly long and certainly unpolished so read at your own risk.

Excerpt from Chapter One, featuring newborn Maxime

"Isn't he wonderful mon amour," Jacqueline asked her husband, tearing her eyes away from her son for the first time since he'd been placed in her arms. "Absolutely wonderful! And to think," she said pausing to look into François' eyes. "He was born out of love. Not everyone can say that for themselves."

"You're right," François muttered, thinking back to the day Jacqueline had told him that she was pregnant. She'd told him a month or so after they had done the very thing that caused it. He had been courting her on and off for a little more than a year and one night the two had let their emotions and desires get the better of them in the worst way possible.

The night Jacqueline told him, François had done two things. First he had gone out and drank for quite a considerable length of time. While he was out he had decided that he was going to marry Jacqueline. At the beginning of their still-new marriage, there were times when he wasn't sure whether he did it for his honor or the sake of Jacqueline and the child. Now, he realized, as he sat with his own little family, it didn't matter who he originally did it for. Either way, he'd made the right choice.

Yet even after they had promised to marry, the two were the talk of Arras. Everyone knew everyone there and all it seemed anyone could talk about was the brewer's daughter, her scandalous relationship with the well-known attorney, and the swiftly growing child that was the result. There had been numerous occasions several months before they were set to be married, and he'd been so terrified of what others would say and whether or not he was ready for such a commitment that he'd almost called off the entire thing. His own parents hadn't even attended the ceremony when it finally came around and Jacqueline's parents only went because witnesses were required. Yet here he was, four months married with a beautiful newborn son and a wife that he loved.

The child shifted his small arm slightly, inadvertently drawing his parents’ attention back to him. His tiny eyes opened slightly for a fraction of a second, revealing pale green irises that matched his mother's. Gently, trying her best not to disturb the child, his mother bent down to kiss him on the head. A few moments went by in comfortable silence. The three sat together, warm, and filled with love.

"He's going to be named after you, you know." François looked away from Maximilien's peaceful face, startled at his wife's words. She laughed slightly and laid her head on his shoulder.

"What?" Francois was completely taken aback.

“He's going to be named after you. Maximilien François; that's going to be his name." Jacqueline smiled up at her husband and shifted even closer against him, enjoying the slightly surprised expression on his face. Her husband was not usually an easily surprised man so she took great pride in the times she did manage to surprise him. "We've talked about this before, you know. It was the night I told you about him. I told you that after you came back to me." She refrained from adding, 'Not that you were sober enough to remember it.' As well as things had turned out, her husband’s fondness for alcohol did occasionally tend to cause problems when his emotions ran high enough. She could smell it faintly on his breath.

There had been no expectation of all-encompassing joy that night. It had been terrifying to say, like a criminal confessing his crime to a condemning judge. Her lips had trembled and her eyes had filled with tears as her lover approached their meeting place.

Francois had greeted her with a kiss to her hairline, his dark eyes taking in her pale face. He’d said some words as well, but Jacqueline didn’t hear them. Her own words spilled from her lips, burning as they left. Francois froze for a few moments like an animal caught in a trap. He made to move toward her and for a moment she thought that perhaps everything would be alright in the end. He fled. And then he’d returned.

Jacqueline could remember looking up at him from the place she had sat crying for hours. She could remember smelling the alcohol strong on his breath and clothes as he fumbled over his words. But she could also remember him kissing her cheek softly with one hand resting gently on her stomach and telling her that everything was going to be alright. And everything was. He’d gone out and bought a ring, and tried, really tried, to make things right. Jacqueline was so lost in her memories that she almost didn't hear the soft sound of her son fussing in her arms.

"Shhhh," she crooned sleepily, holding the child close to her chest. One hand reached out of his blankets for a moment and François tucked it back in as gently as he could manage. "Hush little Maxime. You will be alright. Nothing will happen as long as your father and I are here, and we always will be." Quietly comforting their son, Jacqueline and Francois sat together in peaceful darkness until the priest came to baptize him.

Excerpt from Chapter two, featuring six-year-old Maxime

“Come on little man. Let’s show you your gift shall we?” François headed for the door, making sure that Maximilien ducked his head before stepping outside. The street was mostly empty and the sky was still cloudy and grey, but the fresh smell of the recently finished rain filled their nostrils and the sound of their own laughter filled their ears. Jaqueline, walking slowly because of her pregnancy, and the other children with their little legs followed the pair out of the house. Maximilien gasped.

“Birds! You got me birds, Papa? Oh, thank you! Thank you, Papa!” A small wooden cage containing two gray doves chirping softly sat beside the door. Maximilien knelt down beside it and stuck his fingers through the slats, hoping that one of the birds would come land on his finger. He felt the water on the road soak into the knees of his breeches but ignored it. He was too entranced by the birds to care.

“You like them then,” Jacqueline asked smiling. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from her son.

“Oh yes! I love, love, love them! Do they have a name already? Or can I name them?”

“Go right ahead darling,” Jacqueline said, lifting Augustin into her arms. “They’re yours now. But you have to promise to take care of them, alright?” He nodded earnestly.

“I promise! Cross my heart and hope to cry! Wait… is it die? Hmmm… I dunno.” He paused to think for a few moments. “I’m going to name them um… Sunny and… and Tart!”

“They’re so cute,” Henriette squealed, pushing her way past her parents. “Can I pet one Maxime?” He made a face but nodded anyway.

“I guess so. But be nice. You gotta be gentle.” Maximilien took her little hand in his and slowly guided it towards the birds. They squawked a little and ruffled their feathers slightly but allowed the two to pet them.

“Wow,” she breathed. “Lottie look! See them?” Charlotte giggled and joined her siblings by the cage. François and Jacqueline smiled at each other in the setting sun.

It had taken a significant amount of time to get him to bed that night. He kept finding his way back to the cage which had been moved to his bedroom.

“Maximilien lay down!” He sighed and stormed over to his bed, stomping his feet and glaring at his mother as he went. “If you don’t behave, you’re going to have to be punished.” He flopped onto the bed.

“But Maman,” he protested. “I want to play with my birds!”

“If you don’t go to sleep you won’t be allowed to visit Grand-mère and Grand-père tomorrow. And I know you were so looking forward to it." Those words seemed to have the desired effect because Maximilien nearly fell out of bed as he scrambled under the bedsheets and pulled them up around his chin. “I thought you might see it that way darling,” Jacqueline said, smoothing her son’s hair and planting a kiss on his forehead.

Maximilien fell asleep easily that night with a smile on his face and the sound of his birds chirping quietly in the corner.

Excerpt from Chapter 25, featuring thirty-one-year-old Maxime

May 6th proved to be an interesting birthday. Most of the day was spent in the palace assembly hall that housed all the meetings of the Estates-General, listening to the bickering of hundreds of men. It was also discovered that, though the representation of delegates from the Third Estate had been doubled, the entirety of the men gathered still shared one vote. Outraged at the holdover from the outdated 1614 meeting, several men voiced their opinions on the largest class receiving the same number of votes as the minuscule portion of society represented in the First and Second Estates, none too quietly either. For Maximilien, a large portion of the assembly was spent gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the pounding headache forming behind his eyes.

Camille, who Maximilien hadn’t known to be around Versailles, found where he was staying and gifted him a surprise visit that night.

Maximilien had been sitting at the rickety desk in the half-light of the setting sun, scribbling down a few lines of poetry into his journal, when the knock came.

“Um… hel- hello,” a muffled, but familiar, voice asked from the other side. “Is this where Maxime, I mean Monsieur de Robespierre is staying? I’d heard that it is.”Maximilien sprang to his feet, removing his glasses and setting them beside the journal before running his fingers through his hair, attempting to comb it into some semblance of order.

“Camille? Is that you? What are you doing in Versailles?!”

“Yes. It’s me. Let me in and I’ll tell you.” Maximilien opened the door and Camille, with his curls dancing wildly about his head, bounded into the room. He embraced Maximilien with a grin and kicked the door closed behind him. “Oh! Right. Happy birthday by the way. That is the whole reason I stopped by after all.” Maximilien gestured to the delicate desk chair he had just been sitting at.

“Ah. Thank you. Would you… would you like to sit down? I feel as if you’ll be staying for quite some time.” Camille complied and sat gingerly on the edge of the chair, holding his breath a little as he did so, clearly hoping it wouldn’t break under his slight frame. “I’d offer you refreshments, but I feel that it’s painfully obvious that I have none.”

“That’s alright. I realized about halfway here that I should have brought you a gift of some sort.”

“I’m sure the tales of what you’ve done since we last spoke will be a gift on its own.” Camille laughed, the warm sound filling the dark cramped room and bringing back fondly bittersweet memories from their years at Louis le Grand. “So please, enlighten me as to what’s delivered you to the same place as I. And any other stories you find worthy of mentioning.”

“I haven’t been elected to the Estates-General as you well know,,” he began. “I wanted to so incredibly badly, but the men back in Guise aren’t nearly as fond of me as you are. I failed, almost certainly because of their distaste, but living in Paris for so long before with nothing but occasional visits home certainly didn’t help.”

“I’m sorry.” Camille dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand.

“No matter. I’ve been enjoying myself to some degree. My law practice sputters out now and again, but it always comes back around. I write for newspapers on occasion too.”

“How’s Martin,” Maximilien asked, fearing the answer. He had little hope that their relationship had lasted the extent of nine years. “Are you two still together.” Camille let out a barking laugh still tinged with sadness, even after many years.

“No. I apparently was a ‘flight of schoolboy fancy” who was being used for cheap entertainment and all that. He was crying when he told me though. I think it was a lie. His father found out about us. But Martin doesn’t matter. I’m courting a girl now. Lucille Duplessis. She’s very, very pretty, extremely sweet, intelligent for her age, and, unlike Martin, she’s deemed proper by society. I’ve fallen head over heels for her and she seems to feel the same way unless she’s a fucking fantastic actress! Contrary to what her father has to say, I think we’re a good match.”

“Oh… That’s nice. I’ll have to meet her someday. I am sorry about how everything ended with Martin though.”

“‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ Is that all you can say Maxime? You need to relax a little. Tell me, what have you been up to recently?”

“Life in Arras has been good to me since graduation. Not only has my law practice been mildly successful but I’ve also been elected to the Royal Academy of Arras and I spend a lot of time writing poetry. Living with Charlotte was not disagreeable either. We live in a small house we’ve been renting on the Rue du Saumon. It’s only a short walk to my office and an even shorter one to the parish church where my grandparents and mother are buried. In this time I have also realized a… a specific vein of fondness not only for ladies but a few gentlemen as well.”

“Maxime!” Camille’s tone was incredulous and a bit proud. “You’ve turned yourself into a right little rake, haven’t you!” Maximilien sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand as his eyebrows knit.

“Not fondness in the physical way for either of them, like you, Camille,” he said hurriedly, trying to make himself clear. “I know these feelings to be of a solely romantic fashion. Additionally, no feelings have resulted in anything, hindered by my inability to flirt and to detect when someone else is flirting with me in return.”

“Poor Maxime,” Camille said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm and his hazel eyes shining. He ran a hand through his hair, fluffing out the curls. “Whatever shall you do?”

“Devote my time to helping others. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. You know that.”

“And I expect that’s why you wanted to be here, isn’t it. You wanted to be around when the revolution starts.” Maximilien raised an eyebrow. Camille cocked his head. “We’ve been discussing the inevitability of one for years. The Americans did it. They were fed up and they did something about it. We all know it’s only a matter of time before it happens. Danton, a friend of mine back in Paris, you really ought to meet him someday, believes it will happen soon as well.” Maximilien sighed and nodded. Camille was right, a fact he usually hated to admit. Even Arras and its surrounding small towns were rife with talk of forcing change on the country. Even at school, many years ago, the general consensus had been that reforms, real, meaningful reforms were due any year.

“You’re right, of course,” agreed Maximilien. “What better way to help people than to play an active part in achieving their will. I do hope that our ‘revolution’, as you are so fond of calling it, is more civil than the American’s though. What good can come to the people if we must wage war against ourselves?”

“Someday when the two of us are famous and well known from all the good we’ve done for France people will print little books, like those books with bible verses in them or short prayers, but instead they’ll be filled with quotes by you. You’ll have to start saying things like that all the time and hope that I don’t start selling a separate one with all your naughty quotes from Louis le Grand in it.”

“Unlike you Camille, I see no fame or fortune in my future in relation to politics.”

“If you say so Maxime. But I’m not sure how you’re going to help all of France if that’s the case."

[inthishousewestanpercyjackson]

The End, Sort Of

So I don’t often write fics, I just have other original WIPs to work on, but as much as I loved the Tower of Nero, I though it needed a little of this.

       Percy Jackson arrived at camp that afternoon with Annabeth Chase and Estelle Blofis. I saluted his choice of companions, even if one of them scared me. I’ll let you decide which.

       Campers swarmed the trio - old-timers to greet them, newbies to fawn over the baby. Meg was vanished from my side shadow-travel-style and reappeared at the head of the newbie group. Estelle seemed to like the attention. She squealed with joy at the chorus of baby-talk.

       As soon as the crowd dispersed, Annabeth raced off toward the Big House without explanation. Meg, persistent as ever, lingered by the baby. Soon, she and Percy started up the hill to the pavilion.

       “You’re looking very Lester,” Percy observed as he sat down at the Poseidon table, presumably out of habit. When Meg sat down next to him (ahem, Estelle), I moved to join them.

       “I assure you, I am very Apollo,” I replied. “Where did Annabeth go?”

       “She needed to talk to Chiron.” Percy sat back against the table with a satisfied sigh. “It’s good to be back.”

       “Bad road trip?”

       His eyes brightened. “No, it was great. But...Camp Half-Blood, you know?”

       I nodded my agreement.

       “So.” Percy squished Estelle’s belly a few times to make her giggle, much to our collective delight. “What’s the story? How did the quest go?”

       How did the quest go. Meg and I exchanged a look that included everything from stumbling into camp six months ago to watching the last of the Triumvirate shrivel to ashes in the tower of Nero.

       We told him the story. Sometime around the battle of the Waystation, Annabeth Chase entered the pavilion. She joined Percy soundlessly, sliding onto the bench next to him. Meg, who had never met Annabeth, tipped her head so far to the side I thought it might topple off. Annabeth struck the perfect balance between a smile and a threat, which seemed to satisfy Meg. She went back to playing with Estelle, rocking back and forth cross-legged on the bench.

       Meg let me tell most of the tale. I suspected she was waiting to chime in with the embarrassing parts I “forgot” but I disappointed her. I “forgot” nothing; I was humble that way.

       The difficult part was Jason Grace. From their time at Camp Jupiter, I suspected the two demigods already knew, but Percy’s face turned stony as I described that worst of nights. Annabeth turned away until I finished. Perhaps she didn’t want us to see her tears.

       “I should’ve been there,” Percy said quietly. “I said no. I should’ve come with you.”

       “Percy.” Annabeth put her hand on his shoulder, her eyes red.

       “It wouldn’t have made a difference,” I assured him. “Jason was as strong as they come. Caligula was as evil as they come. They were evenly matched. You would only have gotten yourself killed as well.”

       Percy didn’t respond. Estelle seemed to notice her brother’s grief. She reached for his face, cooing. Percy smiled faintly and lifted her to eye-level. “I did get to meet you.”

       “And Jason would’ve wanted that,” Annabeth said. She leaned against his shoulder and Percy leaned back, an ever-so-slight agreement to put the matter of guilt to rest. But I wondered if it would truly be that easy.

       Tentatively, I continued onto our time at Camp Jupiter and the emperors’ defeat at the hands of Frank Zhang. At last, I spoke of the tower of Nero and Python’s fall into Chaos.

       When I finished, Percy whistled. “That’s a hard fall.”

       “Very,” I agreed.

       He looked at Meg. “Meg? You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

       Meg blushed and responded typically. “Had to do it.”

       “Doesn’t make it any less brave.”

       Annabeth considered both of us, her expression unreadable. Finally, she asked, “What now, Apollo? Now that you’re a god again…”

       She stopped, but her tone implied, Will things be better?

       Better because a trio of evil Roman emperors no longer ruled the world? Yes. Better because prophetic power had been restored? Yes. But I got the feeling that wasn’t what she meant. She wanted to know how I intended to keep my promise to Jason.

       “Being human is hard,” I declared.

       Meg snorted and kicked her red high-tops off the bench, narrowly missing Estelle’s head. Estelle groped after the red shoes with her little fists. Meg apologized for that near-decapitation by sticking her tongue out side-to-side, which made Estelle burst into a new fit of giggles. “Being a demigod is harder.”

       “Let’s say both,” I concurred.

       Percy laughed. He adjusted Estelle on his lap, letting her take hold of his index finger and promptly stick it in her mouth. Percy looked at Meg and I with some measure of solemnity, despite his finger’s current status as a chew-toy.

       “Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood,” he said. “But…”

       His eyes trailed over the distant Long Island Sound, the cabin green, the Athena Parthenos holding vigil beside Thalia’s pine tree on Half-Blood Hill. From the pavilion, we could see the camp in motion: swords flashing in the sunlight, the moaning of monsters in the forest, demigods training and horsing around like any regular summer campers.

       Percy’s gaze finally landed on Annabeth. He kissed her cheek and smiled. “But it’s worth it.”

       I appraised my young friend in a new light. In a brief flash, I remembered how, at the end of the Titan War, my father had offered immortality to the son of Poseidon. I myself had not paid much attention to all the good-feeling, gift-giving that took place, but I did remember clearly the determination on Percy Jackson’s face when he said no. Instead, he wanted to live out his short mortal life, and he wanted us gods to pay more attention to our demigod children. He made us promise to change.

       Now I wondered how well we had kept that oath in the two years since we made it. Perhaps Styx held us all under her thumb.

       And Jackson’s choice - at the time I couldn’t have begun to understand it. Now, though, after witnessing the goodness and heroism mortality had to offer...I could comprehend that the suffering was worth it.

       “Yes,” I said softly. I sighed. “To answer your question, Annabeth, I’m not sure how much will change. I will do my best - which, I have to say, isn’t very much, but it’s certainly better than it once was. I will remember. And I will attempt to help my fellow Olympians.”

       Meg punched my shoulder. “And me? Piano lessons, remember?”

       “Of course,” I replied, rubbing my side. Unfortunately, I could not spare the world from the horrors of Meg McCaffery at the keyboard, but I said I would do my best. That’s all I could do. My time as a mortal had taught me nothing if not that.

       Percy’s grin vanished at the sound of Estelle’s sudden fussing and squirming. Percy deftly checked her diaper and threw his head back. “Woah. That’s a problem.”

       He and Annabeth looked at each other. “Not it,” they said at the same time.

       Percy sighed heavily in surrender. Oh, the woes of being a big brother. Of course, gratefully, I never had to change my sister’s diaper.

       Percy cast another sweeping gaze at the whole of Camp Half-Blood. Then he stood, laying Estelle over his shoulder. “It seems like this place is in good hands.”

       He gave me a fist bump. Dare I say, I thought I saw something akin to pride in his eyes, similar to the look Rachel had worn when she saw how I cared about others. Oh, these hero types. There was much we could learn from them. I was humbled.

       Annabeth nodded respectfully to me. Meg hugged her, which seemed like a jump from the brief stand-off earlier, but what did I know? Meg was nothing if not unpredictable.

       Percy ruffled Meg’s dark hair, which left it only slightly messier than it had been before. Meg didn’t seem to mind. She waved bye-bye at baby Estelle.

       Then the three of them started down the hill. They didn’t look back.

Tower of Nero fic @inthishousewestanpercyjackson

[princess-of-the-worlds]

creator appreciation tag

tagged by the incredible @someawkwardprose. cucumber jenkins, you really deserve to be appreciated. also tagged by @violetmessages, my desi half to this fandom. i’ve never had a desi other half in fandom. i love it and them. (and you too, cj.)

RULES: It’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works.

this year! i wrote and published! the most fic i ever had. i published roughly 304K on ao3 this year, and all but maybe 10K of it was Torchwood or a Torchwood crossover dksaksdkssks. Soooooo, uhhhhhhh. picking 5 fics, you say? dajjakkasskj

fool me once, fool me twice (torchwood | janto | complete | 52K | E)

my most popular and longest fic ever, my pride and joy, my masterpiece, the only fic that maybe gives me writing rights besides my novel. This fic started from a somewhat cracky prompt by @heathridgemanor (aka the lovely ains) but blossomed into a somewhat beautiful journey about jack and ianto’s reunion 3000 years in the future. not only that, but it spawned several, several sequels and spinoffs (and many more to go) and this whole big beautiful universe and cemented the lives of captain jack as my favorite big finish audios. plus, so many of my friends love it, and that makes me feel validated.

sing me like a choir (torchwood | janto | wip | 20K+ | E)

ah, smlc, my one actual wip rn. older torchwood director ianto jones meets younger time agent javic thane, eventually to tie into month 25. this truly is one of my favorite fics rn. i just think some of my writing here peaked. plus, it might end up being my longest fic, and the idea itself is older than fool me once, even if only by a month. i’ve written roughly half of the fic right now, with 12 more chapters to go. i’m so excited. plus, i just think that the ending is brilliant if sad and will blow your mind. @violetmessages and @flamingbluepanda and kai agree!

the world is at my feet (i am standing on the ceiling) (torchwood | janto | complete | 21K | T)

i can’t say much about this fic without it being a total spoiler, but let’s just say that it follows a mid-s2 ianto discovering just how much he and his memory suffered at tw1 at the hands of yvonne hartman and going on a little angsty journey of self-discovery. this one is not truly a happy ending and is kinda twisty and philosophical, and i lowkey wished more people would read it. i think this one is brilliant and shocked me when i came up with it. plus, it just amuses me how so many people miscontrued the open ending to be happier than it actually was meant to be. 

never seen a mouth i would kill to kiss (torchwood | janto | complete | 12K | E)

would you believe that this fic was actually a birthday fic for myself? it was a balance between the older weirdly angsty livejournal janto fics from a decade ago that i got really into reading at a point and a more reasonable character analysis of jack and ianto. plus, i wanted no gwen bashing whatsoever. janto relationship angst? yeah, but no, gwen will not be a cause, because she never was. still this is like super angsty, but i like it. it’s a testament to me writing different kinds of fic and not just the same genre over and over again. plus, it’s me writing canonical fic. or fic that could fit into canon.

Mutually Assured Uncooperation (torchwood and agents of shield | complete | 31K | T)

the comfort show you’ve watched since you were thirteen is ending in 2020 and plus aligns closely with this show you’ve gotten really into for the last few months? write a crossover. this was an idea i’d had brewing for a while since october 2019 (when i watched torchwood) because of the parallels between both shows, but i finally started writing it in feburary 2020. i wrote some scenes in class. little did i know, roughly a few weeks later, i would be leaving my campus and not returning since. ouch. but anyways, this was sort of my tribute to agents of shield, which means so much to me. and although i have written so much torchwood fic since then and my writing and characterization has improved, this fic is still special to me.

honorable mention:

like hope, love abides (torchwood | janto | 3.3K | Gen)

the shortest fic on this list and also my first actual torchwood fic. this was all written in the spur of a moment on a day in march. never stopped writing fic since. i like this fic, even if i don’t get why everyone loves it. not a bad fic but still important to be acknowledged, i guess?

tagging: @jaune-chat, @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe, @thirteeninafez, @flamingbluepanda, @shejustcalledmeafish, and anyone else who wants to do this!

[inktrailing]

I stole this from @the-kaedageist because it looked fun.

(Also me: “I’ll do this meme quickly...” ... *loses track of time*)

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

78 to my greatest surprise. I guess the only favor 2020 did for me was in writing.

2) What’s you total AO3 word count?

355,868. Holy...

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

10. Critical Role, CWDC, Men in Black (movies), Supernatural, Doctor Who, PotC. Spattering of some other stuff.

4) What are your top five fics by Kudos?

Unconventional, Men in Black, Jay/Kay, 1211 kudos... somehow

Fish Tales, Men in Black, Jay/Kay, 336 kudos

meet us where the night ends, Critical Role, Essek/Caleb, 298 kudos

I see death cresting over the hill, Critical Role, Essek/Caleb, 276 kudos

message, Critical Role, Essek/Caleb, 273 kudos

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

I AM REALLY BAD ABOUT THIS. It’s literally on my AO3 profile that I’m bad about it. I try every now and then but I so often just get flustered and then don’t end up responding. Oftentimes I’m at work and just flailing during the rest of my shift and yeah /)_(\ Words Are Hard, says the writer.

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

OH THERE’S A COUPLE. I would say Caught in the Wires (MIB, Jay/Kay); and you know my soul (CRc2, Essek/Caleb) probably are the two worst for bad end future fics. follow me into the golden wild (DW, Rose & the Moment) is my favorite of my bad end fics though lol. I fucking love that fic hahaha, and it’s one of my least read stories XD

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

I don’t really. Not fic wise. A lot of my thought processing goes through basically using an RP format with myself (because I like icons, okay) so sometimes I’ll take wild concepts and play out scenarios with a bunch of characters and sometimes I’ll get shit out of it that I can actually use but other times I’ll have fun things that will not translate well to fic.

My fav of those was a Pokemon AU that y’know basically dragged a bunch of characters in and eventually they had to deal with a Problem like ya do while still ending up stranded. I enjoyed throwing Dean/Lucifer at that because Dean just ended up “ghost hunting” aka freeing/helping/catching ghosts and ending up with 70+ and Lucifer really only traveling around with a Zoroark and still hating humanity but helping mistreated and scapegoated pokemon.

I just really like Dean and his ghost army lmfao.

An actual crossover fic I have (and maybe one day could finish) was Arrow/The Dresden Files only because Paul Blackthorne except it uses book canon instead of TV canon because of Winter Court Bullshit so like whatever, I do what I want some days I guess \o_O/

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don’t... think so? I sometimes get minor disagreements on characterization but I typically write for myself and am pretty set in my ways so it’s like okay I accept your opinion but it’s not going to change anything.

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

I cannot write smut to save my life.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have I definitely haven’t noticed.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

stood too close to the flames (LoT, Mick/Len) was translated.

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

No.

13) What’s you all-time favorite ship?

I ship so many things at the drop of a hat and so frequently go back to old ships to find new things to read even if it’s been a looooong time. I would say Jay/Kay since I’ve shipped and written them for the greatest length of time without it fading.

I do genuinely enjoy writing Dean/Lucifer though so go rarepairs I guess.

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

I fucking love I’ll Stop the Whole World (DW, Doctor/Master, 47k words) as I’ve pulled it up again after idk months to skim through but I suppose I learned a lot from writing lost in the lapse again and going backwards to any of my longer WIPs just hurts a bit? I want to figure it out because there’s so much I adore in it but there’s a lot of work to be done and having two monitors helps now but... I don’t have the energy to tear it apart and sew it back together.

15) What are your writing strength?

god idk

I’d like to say I’ve gotten better at I guess... balance? Juggling dialogue and action and scenery. I forced myself to work on scenery descriptions awhile back and I think it paid off?

I learned to take good notes, especially if it’s something with multiple plot threads that I need to keep track of. That’s what has made some of my older WIPs such a bitch because I didn’t do that and I’m like ????? Hey? Past Me? WHAT?!?! And retroactively trying to build a timeline is REALLY DIFFICULT ACTUALLY.

I do also think I keep my narrative parallels pretty tight. I’m sure a lot get missed because people aren’t staring at the same story that I am for months combing things over, but it delights me okay ;)

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing shit?! Well, I’ve gotten better at that over the course of the last year. Critical Role reaction fics helped A TON with that. Just spitting things out immediately after an episode.

I am a fucking perfectionist though. Like I’ll canon divergence all I want but mentally I need the basis of canon to weave into my writing even if it’s just for a single line. I like willfully breaking canon not ignorantly.

This means I either never get things done because I need to rewatch or I too meticulously obsess over something.

While I think I’m good with writing scenery I’m SUPER BAD at character descriptions?? I’m trying to?? Work on it?? But that’s one thing I’ve finally just been like okay I know I’m bad at this I just need to accept it and go on because if I get hung up on it then again, nothing’s gonna get posted.

I’ve learned that I vehemently hate the words “still” and “probably” because I white noise them even when doing intensive editing and I use them so damn much and now that I realize going back to read old things hurts my soul.

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

Look I grew up primarily on writing Yu-Gi-Oh! fic. I had my Time with poor use of Japanese in fic. While I don’t have any fandoms now that I write for that it would be relevant... I can’t do it anymore. However, reading it doesn’t bother me, and it generally doesn’t jar me out of anything. Like it feels normal reading it in MDZS fics for one thing.

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I want to say some super wonky ~new cards~ Cardcaptor Sakura fic. But I think the first fandom I published for on FFN was likely YGO. Anything early than that I would have blacked out of my memory ahahaha.

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

lost in the lapse again took up my life for MONTHS and was really my pride and joy. It was the longest thing I’ve ever written and edited to my liking. I’m so so happy with how it came out and I’m shocked honestly that it has 118 kudos now because I really expected it to get maybe half that, tops. But it was definitely one of those I’m writing this for me, this encompasses what I want, and if others enjoy it that would be really nice!

Otherwise I think I’d say I see death cresting over the hill because it has so many elements I just enjoy rereading. I think it’s my favorite of my Critical Role fics too.

[satonthelotuspier]

I’ve been a bit MIA this week, but I’ve been struggling in WIP heck to get my Yunmeng Bros reconciliation arc finished, and it took about 500% longer than I expected to write, mostly because having them talk through things and not argue themselves into somewhere I couldn’t recover the conversation from was a nightmare!

You can read part 1 and part 2 of this reconciliation arc at those links, and there’s also a Sangcheng developing relationship duo that run alongside those two which you can find here and here. 

Please have 7.5k of Yunmeng Bro feels.

When All’s Said And Done

Although it had been many month’s since he had received the last communication from Jiang Cheng, Wei Wuxian was still a little wary of letters. Having everything you thought you knew destroyed via that one missive made you wary.

He still woke up drenched in sweat some nights after dreaming about it.

Wasn’t it so much easier being the self-sacrificing one, hadn’t some small, proud part of him patted himself on the back and said Well done, Wei Wuxian, aren’t you wonderfully selfless, giving that hotheaded brother of yours your golden core, after he went tearing back to Lotus Pier like a fool. After all, it was his own fault he lost his own, thinking returning there would have had any other outcome.

How heartbreaking then, to find out his gesture wasn’t as grand as he had first thought. Yes, Jiang Cheng’s golden core was destroyed through his own actions. It was sacrificed to save Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng had given himself up, had been prepared to die, to protect Wei Wuxian instead. And the Wens hadn’t allowed him the honour of a quick, clean death, they’d wanted blood, torture, suffering, they’d wanted to break him before they killed him. They’d succeeded in everything but his death; as much as Jiang Cheng had wished it otherwise.

In the end Wei Wuxian had given nothing but a core for a core, one given to replace one destroyed, as if he had been the one taken back to Lotus Pier, like should have happened if Jiang Cheng hadn’t sacrificed himself for Wei Wuxian.

It somewhat lessened the need for self-congratulation, to know the truth of the matter, and he detested that misguidedly prideful part of himself that had thought his action worthy of praise.

So when Lan Wangji brought this communication to him and placed it in his hands he was almost scared to open it.

The script wasn’t Jiang Cheng’s, however, but another familial hand.

“From Jin Ling?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji agreed, “brought by private courier, with the message that it’s extremely urgent.”

Wei Wuxian wasted no further time and broke the sparks-amidst-snow seal.

Senior Uncle, I messed up badly this time, jiujiu is in a really bad way, please come, I don’t know what to do, Jin Ling.

Wei Wuxian’s heart sank, for Jin Ling to admit he needed any kind of help was entirely out of character, which meant he was really shaken.

“I need to go to Lotus Pier. Immediately.” Wei Wuxian handed Lan Wangji the letter, who scanned it quickly, and nodded.

“Mn, we’ll go in a few moments, let me send a message to xiongzhang and to Lan Sizhui.”

Lan Wangji took no more than a few minutes to ink the messages, and they collared a young disciple on his way past to deliver them.

They were on Bichen in barely any time at all, but to Wei Wuxian it had seemed like hours.

They reached Lotus Pier just before dawn.

They must have been expected, because a pale, exhausted Jin Ling rushed to meet them. There was less of the arrogance Wei Wuxian was used to seeing on his nephew’s face, in fact he just looked small and scared and shell-shocked.

His bow was automatic, and completely for Lan Wangji’s benefit.

“What happened, Jin Ling?” he prompted. That seemed to shake him out of his torpor a little.

“We were on a night hunt. And I didn’t listen, and jiujiu got hurt.” Jin Ling shuddered. “We have to save him. You have to help, please. Tell me what will save him. I can’t lose him.” Wei Wuxian stepped forward to place hands on Jin Ling’s shoulders and squeezed soothingly.

“Lets go see,” he suggested after a few seconds, after he felt Jin Ling sag into his touch and let out some of the tension he was holding.

Jin Ling nodded, and they made their way through the Lotus Pier compound, and to the private family area, where Wei Wuxian hadn’t stepped foot for so many years.

There was a rush of emotion that made him feel a little light-headed at the thought, but Lan Wangji’s calming hand at the small of his back was a grounding touch.

There was a part of him that felt a little guilty at invading this private space without Jiang Cheng’s foreknowledge and approval, but, as he had always thought in his life, propriety didn’t matter when necessity drove the narrative.

They arrived at the rooms Wei Wuxian had known to be Jiang Cheng’s, from his first night huddled outside the door, then invited inside to sleep, when they had been so so young.

“Wei Ying, I’ll wait out here,” Lan Wangji said firmly, and as much as he wouldn’t have thought to ask, Wei Wuxian realised it was probably for the best. Jiang Cheng took such umbrage to his husband, it was just a sensible thing to do. To invade his personal space with the man he would probably like to speak to only marginally less than Wei Wuxian himself would only rile him, and if he was truly as ill as Jin Ling said that was the last thing they should do.

Jin Ling opened the doors, and stepped back so Wei Wuxian could precede him in.

It didn’t appear that Jin Ling had exaggerated. He moved quickly towards the bed, barely pausing to take note of the fact Nie Huaisang was in attendance, as well as a third person who he recognised as Lei Shirong, the Jiang Sect physician.

The Jiang Sect leader laid, unconscious, on the bed. His skin was chalk-white and his lips were bloodless, and there was a drawn, even more angular look about his already sharp  features. The only time he’d ever seen his brother in such a state before was when he and Wen Ning had carried him away from Lotus Pier after being captured by the Wens.

There were several bandages around his chest, covering quite a large area of damaged flesh, if the blood that stained them was to be believed.

“Tell me exactly what happened, Jin Ling, in detail.” he ordered his nephew, who let out a great, shaking breath.

“We went on a night hunt. A yaoguai terrorising a local community of farms which the farmers had petitioned me to deal with. Except it wasn’t as simple as that. When we realised, Jiujiu yelled at me, told me to get the disciples out of there and let him deal with it. But...I knew...I thought Jiujiu would need my help. So I sent the disciples away. And I stayed.”

Wei Wuxian fought the urge to react, honestly the self-preservation instincts of this boy were non-existent. He was so like his uncle in his relentless drive to prove himself, it was scary.

“I didn’t mean to cause him trouble, I thought I’d be helping. Jiujiu put himself between me and the yaoguai, and it cut him open with it’s claws.”

“Is it dealt with?” a yaoguai who could catch Jiang Cheng on the back foot, even while he was distracted protecting Jin Ling, must have been particularly strong, and he feared for the farmers.

But Jin Ling nodded, “Yes, it’s dead.”

“Why hasn’t he healed yet? What’s wrong?” he moved his attention on to Lei Shirong, who had been testing Jiang Cheng’s qi flow with a touch at his wrist.

He was done with the back patting but that didn’t change the fact that the golden core inside Jiang Cheng had been one of the strongest of his generation, before he had even given it up, and Jiang Cheng had only improved it in the years since then. Healing most types of injury should only have been a matter of time for Jiang Cheng.

“There must have been a poison on the yaoguai’s claws, one that’s stopping his cultivation from healing the damage. I’ve tried packing the wounds but even the natural human healing process is being slowed. Unless the wounds start to seal, I can’t stop the bleeding.” he didn’t need to continue for his meaning to be clear.

“Are you able to cleanse the poison through qi circulation?”

Lei Shirong shook his head, a quick look of frustration crossing his face. A physician who hated to be bested by a condition he couldn’t cure.

“It’s too pervasive,” he said, “I’m currently trying various herbal poultices but nothing I can think of seems to have an effect,” he rose, after placing Jiang Cheng’s limp hand back against the bed. “I’ve exhausted my own private library, and that of Lotus Pier.”

Wei Wuxian glanced back at the door. That didn’t mean there wouldn’t be more information available in another library. The one at Cloud Recesses for example.

Briefly he wondered, lamented, what had become of Wen Qing’s personal library during the Sunshot campaign. But it was fleeting, gone, he couldn’t dwell on such things, not now when he had his next crusade to fight.

“Please will you write down everything you can think of regarding the properties of the poison? You too Jin Ling, I want to know everything you remember about the yaoguai,” he twirled Chenqing through his fingers briefly, considering, then moved over to open the door and step out. He was followed by Nie Huaisang.

“Wei-xiong, Hanguang-jun,” Nie Huaisang tucked his folded fan into his belt, “tell me how to help, I can’t sit here and do nothing.”

Wei Wuxian nodded his understanding. He had heard from little birds his childhood friend had finally made his suit to Jiang Cheng and things were proceeding steadily, so he hadn’t been entirely surprised to find the Nie Sect leader by Jiang Cheng’s side.

“Lan Zhan, I’m having some details of an unusual poison copied down, I need the information passing on to to the Lan physicians so they can check the Cloud Recesses Library for details. I also want to visit the yaoguai’s nest and see if I can find anything that might help; if we have the poison it might be easier to identify a cure,” Lan Zhan nodded his understanding. “Lets go.”

“Wei-xiong, I think you must stay here. I believe there are some things A-Cheng wishes to…administer to…that might help set his mind at rest, please allow Hanguang-jun and I to deal with the issue of the poison,”

Wei Wuxian was about to argue, but Lan Wangji placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I will go to the yaoguai’s lair, Wei Ying. Nie-zongzhu, please take the information to Xiongzhang.” Nie Huaisang nodded, “You should remain by Jiang Wanyin’s side.” Despite everyone thinking that was the best course of action, Wei Wuxian hated the idea of sitting by gamely and waiting.

***

Once everything had been decided, action was quick. They gathered the information together and prepared to set out.

“Hanguang-jun, I’ll go with you, to show you where we fought the demon,” Jin Ling clutched Suihua, but Wei Wuxian caught his wrist.

“Absolutely not, Jin Ling, you’re going nowhere. You will stay here, you are not to worry your jiujiu any further than necessary.”

“But…”

“No buts, nothing,” Wei Wuxian folded his arms, Chenqing’s tassel swaying as if to emphasise his words.

Jin Ling didn’t even have it in him to argue at the moment, just stomped back in the direction of his jiujiu’s room.

Wei Wuxian felt his shoulders sink. He straightened them as Nie Huaisang tucked the scroll containing the information for the Lan physicians into his sleeve, “We’ll tear the Lan library apart, if there’s a solution to be had I’ll find it, Wei-xiong,” he threw Lan Wangji a nervous look, flicking his fan out and waving it in front of his face, “speaking figuratively, of course, Hanguang-jun.” there was a nervous titter from behind his fan and Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes.

“Huaisang-xiong, you aren’t fooling anyone here with the Head-shaker,”

The eyes above the fan turned fox-like, “What can you mean, Wei-xiong? I really don’t know,” with that the fan was snapped shut and Nie Huaisang left with a sweep of his exquisitely embroidered sleeves.

Wei Wuxian felt Lan Wangji’s hands take hold of his shoulders then, and rub soothingly, “Wei Ying, I will be back quickly. I promise,” he leant in to place a gentle kiss against Wei Wuxian’s forehead. He threw himself at Lan Wangji then, wrapping his arms around his neck and holding onto him tightly.

“We have to save him, Lan Zhan, he and Jin Ling, they’re all the other has left.”

Lan Wangji caught his chin and tipped it up so he their eyes met, “They have you, too, Wei Ying.”

He twisted his lips a little, but nodded, “Yes, they do, whether they want me or not. I can’t lose him either, Lan Zhan, so go, be careful, and come back to me swiftly.”

“Mn,” he paused for only long enough to press a soft kiss against Wei Wuxian’s mouth before following Nie Huaisang.

***

He had sent Jin Ling away to bathe and sleep, promising not to leave his jiujiu’s side, towards midnight. His nephew, although young and resilient, was emotionally exhausted, and really needed to switch his mind off for a while.

Wei Wuxian wandered around Jiang Cheng’s rooms, between bouts of sitting by his bedside, looking for keepsakes or mementos he’d recognise. Of course, there couldn’t really have been any; the Lotus Pier of their childhood had been razed to the ground by the Wens, and everything in it, destroyed. Jiang Cheng, and he himself, were the last living relics of that Lotus Pier of memory. If his particular circumstances counted, of course.

Coming here was like this for him, a dull, pain-filled ache in his heart at the remembrance of what had been lost in the Wen’s lightning war on Yunmeng. He would be the first to admit he had been cocooned in his own misery when they had first come back after the Sunshot Campaign, with the intent to rebuild. He had been little more than a functioning alcoholic, and had therefore been, to some extent, numbed to the horror of the knowledge what had happened beneath their feet, to the memories and the pain. Perhaps that was why it hurt so much now. Perhaps that was why he was haunted by the feeling that sometimes, there were images just out of his sight. That sometimes, just out of the corner of his eye, he would catch sight of Jiang Yanli herding two boisterous young boys down a walkway. Or a gap-toothed Jiang Cheng running over to show Yu-furen the hole in the kite he had managed to hit with his arrows. Or Jiang Fengmian ready to pull Wei Wuxian into his lap and tell him stories of what wonderful people his mother and father had been.

Perhaps Jiang Cheng had made his peace with the ghosts of his ancestors treading these halls and walkways, perhaps he found their presence soothing. Perhaps they haunted him as much as they did Wei Wuxian.

He moved to sit on the floor by Jiang Cheng’s bed.

He wondered if, after Lotus Pier had been decimated, after the Sunshot Campaign had ended, if they’d just chosen to be wandering cultivators instead of returning to rebuild here, would their lives have been different? Would they have ended up as tragically as Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen? Could they have escaped the events that had lead them to where they were today?

Had Jiang Cheng ever even wanted to be the Lord of Lotus Pier? It had been drilled into him from before he was even old enough to count further than the fingers on his hands, the Jiang Sect was his providence, his responsibility, and would be his legacy. His life had never belonged to just Jiang Cheng, it had belonged to the whole of Yunmeng Jiang, he was the bridge between it’s history and it’s future.

Maybe he would have just preferred to be just Jiang Cheng, though.

The night wore on, the candles all burned lower, and in their hazy light figures began to form before his blurry eyes.

They slowly took shape, and he began to make out indistinct features, surely that was Jiang Fengmian, and Yu Ziyuan, and Jiang Yanli.

They made beckoning gestures at the bed, and he saw pale lips form A-Cheng repeatedly.

“Please, leave him alone. You don’t need him yet. We need him, Jin Ling and I.” he was about to climb to his feet when his head hit the wooden frame of the bed. The images faded immediately, and he looked around in confusion and fear. It was just before dawn; he’d fallen asleep by Jiang Cheng’s bedside, and dreamed the figures, awaking when his head and slipped off it’s supporting hand.

His heart still pounded fitfully in his chest in reaction to his dream, and he tentatively reached out a hand to touch the cooler one of Jiang Cheng where it rested by his side.

He held it more firmly, and laid his head on top of his folded arm, drifting back off to sleep.

***

It was still reasonably early in the morning when he awoke again. Lei Shirong had just entered the room and he dragged himself out of the way so the physician could attend to his patient.

Once he had run his tests and cleaned and redressed Jiang Cheng’s wounds, he left to return back to his workspace, where he still scoured books and scrolls.

As soon as the door closed behind him Jiang Cheng opened his eyes, and fixed them on Wei Wuxian.

“You could have told him you were awake, he’d have given you something for the pain,” Wei Wuxian said.

“He did, it’s not like he doesn’t know me by now,” Jiang Cheng’s voice was weaker than normal, a little thready, “but that doesn’t mean I want to talk to him, and be poked and prodded and questioned.”

Wei Wuxian’s lips twisted in a half smile, “Always the same, Jiang Cheng.”

“I could say the same about you…” Jiang Cheng paused, and looked up at the ceiling for a few moments, as if in contemplation. He returned his gaze to meet Wei Wuxian’s, “…I should probably warn you, I’ve made changes to the household registry, I’ve named you my heir.”

The comment, so matter of fact, hit Wei Wuxian like a blow, “What?” This must have been what Nie Huaisang meant when he said Jiang Cheng had some things he wanted to talk to Wei Wuxian about.

Jiang Cheng turned his face away. “I can’t name Jin Ling, he has the Jin clan to bring under control; there’s no one else left,” he said it so matter of factly, “and in honesty I have no intention of dying on you just yet. But still. Jin Ling will have Zidian. Just…make sure he hears about his family once in a while, and how much A-Niang would have loved him…” his voice turned thicker and he stopped.

Wei Wuxian didn’t call him on his bullshit though, if he had no intention of dying he wouldn’t be making provisions, as sensible as they were.

“If the cultivation world hears about what you’ve done…”

“I stopped caring about what they even thought about the weather, after it cost me everything. I don’t care anymore. Anyway, if I’m dead, it’ll be your problem, not mine.” he turned back to pin Wei Wuxian with a burning look then, “You owe this sect, Wei Wuxian. This isn’t about you, or me, or them, this is about Yunmeng Jiang, and you owe it.”

Wei Wuxian felt his hackles rise in response, but what would be the point in arguing any further? Rile Jiang Cheng up? That wouldn’t help. He blew out a breath, but it was too late anyway, as Jiang Cheng seemed to have drifted back into unconsciousness. He moved closer, but it was real this time, and not the feigned one he had used with Lei Shirong.

***

It was shortly after dawn the following day when Lan Wangji returned from his trip to find the Yaoguai’s nest. He looked solemn and weary, and gave a single shake of his head as Wei Wuxian walked out to meet him, then gathered him up for a hug.

He pressed his eyes closed and allowed himself to take the warmth and comfort Lan Wangji offered. “We’re reliant on Huaisang-xiong and your brother then,” he said eventually. They pulled apart as they heard the approach of another person. It was Jin Ling, coming to investigate whether Lan Wangji had found anything of use. He sagged noticeably at the negative response, and Wei Wuxian could do nothing but pat him on the shoulder soothingly. Somehow, he thought his nephew might protest vehemently if he tried to hug him.

“I need to speak to Lei-dafu, you should rest, Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian folded his arms behind his back and set off to the Lotus Pier infirmary, Jin Ling following after him. “You can go sit with your jiujiu if you wish, Jin Ling.”

“No, I need to know what’s going on. This is my fault, and I need to help put it right.”

He didn’t argue further, merely shrugged and allowed Jin Ling to follow him.

They were soon sat around the table taking tea with Lei Shirong at his invitation, while Wei Wuxian reported Lan Wangji’s lack of success.

There was little disguising that the lack of progress was a disappointment for the physician. But so had it been for Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling too.

“How long do you think we realistically have?” Wei Wuxian asked. Time was of the essence, but how much of it?

“I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t want to rely on his constitution for longer than a few more days.” Lei Shirong said seriously, and Jin Ling sucked a breath in.

“We need to give Huaisang-xiong more time, Lei-dafu. There will be something in the Gusu Lan library, I know it. So how do we create that?”

Lei Shirong looked at him assessingly, “Jiang-zongzhu is slowly bleeding to death, Wei-gongzi.”

“If you can’t stop the bleeding, then give him more blood to bleed with. He has my golden core, he can have my blood too.” It was perfect logic, surely.

“Do you think Jiang-zongzhu will agree to such a thing?” his tone made it obvious he thought Jiang Cheng wouldn’t. And he probably wasn’t too far wrong.

“Let me deal with Jiang Cheng, should the time come.” Wei Wuxian dismissed, and ignored Lei Shirong’s raised eyebrows.

“There is one more point, Wei-gongzi, it has always been noted that blood from familial veins tends to cause less complications than others.” he said it almost challengingly, as if testing Wei Wuxian.

Jin Ling, so eager to help in any way, leapt upon that, “Then jiujiu can have some of mine.”

This boy though! “Jin Ling…” Wei Wuxian started, but was cut off.

“No, it’s my fault, I want to help. You heard what Lei-dafu said, I’m jiujiu’s best match.”

“Do you think for even a second Jiang Cheng is going to agree to that, Jin Ling?”

Jin Ling’s chin tipped up, some of his fire back, “I thought we were going to leave that to you? He’s my family, Wei Wuxian, I can do this for him.”

“He’s my family too, you xiaozi.”

“Then maybe you should have treated him like it! Just do what you said you were going to do, leave the rest to me,” and Jin Ling got up and stomped out of the infirmary.

***

It had cut, of course. Wasn’t that Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng to a tee though? Always going to say the thing calculated to hurt most in their temper. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree, as they said.

“Sit down, how is anyone supposed to be on the verge of death in peace, with you stomping about their room?” the sudden sound of Jiang Cheng’s voice made Wei Wuxian start. He hadn’t realised the other had woken up. And he hadn’t thought he’d been making that much noise.

But still.

He moved over to the bed, and dropped to the floor, resting his back against the frame.

“What has Jin Ling said now?” Jiang Cheng’s voice was even weaker than yesterday, except he tried to project power into it. It didn’t work.

He found it much easier to speak on the subject when he didn’t have to look at Jiang Cheng.

“Nothing, he was just trying to annoy me,” he fixed his gaze on the doorway.

“I’d say it worked, with how you were muttering,” Jiang Cheng commented.

Wei Wuxian threw a look over his shoulder. Jiang Cheng stared up at the ceiling, looking so pale and fragile Wei Wuxian could barely contain the panic beginning to claw at him.

“He knows how to strike, just like his jiujiu. We had an argument about family, he thinks I haven’t acted very much like your family.” Wei Wuxian looked at the doorway again.

They were silent for quite a while.

“You aren’t required to, we aren’t. Once you relinquished your relationship with the sect, we were no longer marital brothers,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Jiang Cheng…”

“Don’t. I know why you gave me your core, Wei Wuxian, you did it because you promised A-Niang and A-Die you’d look after us. I accept that now. And even if I’d rather have died at the hands of the Wens, rather doesn’t help now. I could go drown myself in the lake and it wouldn’t make an ounce of difference to what happened. It was selfish of them to ask you, a child, to be responsible, but it was selfish of you to give me your core without asking me what I wanted.” he sucked in a breath, “It’s all done now.”

He turned abruptly, and grabbed Jiang Cheng by the chin, “We are not done, Jiang Cheng. Not while you have my core to prove it, I don’t give a fuck if you hate it. You were going to die for me, and I gave up my cultivation to save you. We are family.” He hadn’t realised what a strong hold he hand on Jiang Cheng’s face until the other met his gaze with burning anger and tried to jerk his chin free weakly. His grasp wouldn’t bruise though; Jiang Cheng didn’t have the blood spare for that.

“I don’t fucking hate your core. I hate what it did to you, and I hate that you thought I was so weak I wouldn’t survive if you didn’t cripple yourself so I wasn’t. And I fucking hate that we were never enough for you.”

“What the…?”

“Never. There was always someone else, or something else that was more important. It was never us, you didn’t even hesitate to leave us behind, for the Wens, for Hanguang-jun, what else is there to think?”

“None of that was ever about you, or Yunmeng Jiang, not being enough. You weren’t the centre of the world, Jiang Cheng.” he realised as that left his lips what a completely stupid thing to say it had been.

Jiang Cheng knew it too, if the mocking look in his eyes indicated anything. “I am the last person in the world you have to explain that to, Wei Wuxian. I have never expected to be, either. That was ground out of me as a child.” he raised a shaking hand then to wrap around Wei Wuxian’s wrist. There was barely any grip in his fingers though, “I’m tired, Wei Wuxian, and I’m slipping.” Jiang Cheng let out a heavy sigh, “If you don’t want to be stuck with Yunmeng Jiang, better attempt the impossible one more time, and save my life.” Wei Wuxian let got of his face, and grasped his hand instead.

“I don’t want to save your life so I don’t have to sit at the head of your clan, Jiang Cheng. I want you alive because you’re my damn brother, and I love you. Because Jin Ling has lost enough in his short lifetime, and he really needs you to be here with him. So fight your fucking hardest, you temperamental little shit.”

“I am, asshole, but it’s fucking exhausting, and it hurts.” There was a catch in his breath, then and he tried to stifle a laugh, “Ow, it hurts.” he gasped, trying to kill it, as his mirth set Wei Wuxian laughing in response.

“Then stop it, it’s not even funny, Jiang Cheng, why are you even laughing?”

It took him a few moments to catch the breath to speak, “The irony. I lay here on my death bed and all we can do is trade childish insults like we’re teens again.”

In the end Wei Wuxian had to move away from Jiang Cheng’s side to stop them passing the laughter between them, like a ball in a game. If there were tears there too, then it was just from laugher. Or not.

They didn’t get to continue their conversation as Lei Shirong chose that moment to enter the rooms, coming to redress Jiang Cheng’s wounds, and when he saw what a state they’d gotten Jiang Cheng into he chased Wei Wuxian out, with orders to stay away until the other was safely resting again.

He was just about to find Lan Wangji to pour his troubles into his husband’s ear when the other turned the corner. He was walking swiftly.

“Wei Ying, Xiongzhang has sent a messenger talisman. They have found some text identifying the type of demon Jiang-zongzhu was attacked by.”

“Do they know how we can cure the poison?”

“Mn. Xiongzhang has already sent Jingyi and Sizhui to collect the ingredients the physicians don’t have in storage. They will prepare the antidote and Xiongzhang and Nie-zongzhu will bring it as soon as it’s ready. They’re hoping to set off tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Whilst the news was welcome, that it would be cutting it so fine to Lei Shirong’s estimation of their deadline didn’t sit well with him.

“Is there no way they could have sent us the ingredient list and we could prepare it here?” he asked, but Lan Wangji shook his head.

“There is a specific algae that grows in the cold caves,”

“Ah,” he knew that meant that the Lan clan wouldn’t harvest the algae unless in great need, as the caves were sacred to them. “I’ll thank Xichen-ge for allowing us to use some when he arrives.”

As there was nothing he could do personally to quicken the arrival of the antidote he had to be content to sit and wait. And that had never been something he was comfortable with; he wasn’t a passive person.

On the subject of their increasingly tight deadline, he would push Lei Shirong and Jiang Cheng on the possibility of the blood transfer, he would even allow Jin Ling to be the donor if it increased Jiang Cheng’s chance of survival, due to Lei Shirong’s insistence that familial matches tended to have a better success chance. Jin Ling was young and strong and had a very high cultivation level for his age.

His message delivered, Lan Wangji asked after Jiang Cheng.

“He’s sleeping now. I got thrown out of his room for making him laugh, and hurting his wounds.” there was a touch of petulance in his tone; if he couldn’t act spoiled with his own husband then who could he search for sympathy from? But…

“Wei Ying,” even though he was an expert on Lan Wangji’s less expressive language and emotions, now Wei Wuxian wasn’t entirely sure if that was query, or disappointment in Lan Wangji’s voice.

“Lan Zhan, I don’t mean I stood by his bedside telling him jokes…it just…we were talking and it just happened.” He threw himself into Lan Wangji’s arms. “Why is everything so difficult?”

“Lack of communication.”

If anyone was qualified to make that comment, it was Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian thought burying his face into the front of the other’s robes.

And yes, he and Jiang Cheng were another relationship that had been left to fester and rot without either being honest with the other.

“It’s becoming so dangerously close to the end, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji made a soothing noise.

“I don’t know what will happen if we fail. Jin Ling…”

“Wei Ying, you can say it for yourself too. You have the right to worry for yourself too.”

He clutched handfuls of Lan Wangji’s robes, crumpling them. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Lan Wangji’s arms tightened around him.

“I know we haven’t been…close…since I came back. But it’s different to know someone is there…”

“I understand.” Lan Wangji’s kiss feathered against temple soothingly.

***

Wei Wuxian returned to Jiang Cheng during the evening, like a self-appointed night-watchman. This time he was joined by Jin Ling. Lan Wangji’s news had been reported to the others, and the relief had been widespread and obvious. But there was still an element of fear among them, with the deadline hanging over their heads like an executioners blade.

Wei Wuxian had told Lei Shirong he would discuss the option giving of blood as soon as Jiang Cheng woke up. The other said he daren’t leave it longer than the morning to perform the transfusion, or Jiang Cheng might not have the strength to heal even if the antidote was administered.

“You should get some sleep, Jin Ling,” Wei Wuxian said from behind Jiang Cheng’s desk, where he inked hundreds of small bunnies on the parchment in front of him.

Jin Ling shook his head, and they continued in silence.

Jin Ling drifted off to sleep in the early hours, resting his head on his folded arms on the bed beside Jiang Cheng.

Wei Wuxian left the bunnies, and watched them both from his vantage point.

He was falling asleep himself when he saw Jiang Cheng’s hand move shakily to rest on Jin Ling’s head. He stroked once, but didn’t have the energy left for more and let his hand fall back to the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng’s voice was so low it was unlikely to wake Jin Ling.

“For what?” Wei Wuxian asked, ready to explode if he did something pathetic like apologise for dying, or giving up.

“For not standing by your side after the Sunshot Campaign. Jin Guangyao was right about that. I made it too easy for them to rip us apart.”

“You were little more than a child, Jiang Cheng, and you were being manipulated by grown adults who knew what they were doing, and had a history of it. And for you, it wasn’t like it was for me. You had your sect to think about, a sect that had been exterminated almost to the last man.”

“You were almost still a child too. And I shouldn’t have turned my back on you.”

“Jiang Cheng, lets not rake this over again. We both know we made mistakes, and we both have so many regrets about that time. But it doesn’t change anything. Like you said, you could drown yourself in the lake now, and so could I, and nothing from back then would be different. I’d rather look to the future.” He genuinely felt that was the only way they’d ever have closure between them.

There was the threadiest little laugh sound from between Jiang Cheng’s lips.

“Ironic, when I realise I may be ready for that too, at the point where I very possibly don’t have one.”

Wei Wuxian got up from behind the desk, hoping his moving closer wouldn’t make Jiang Cheng close up.

“I just…wanted you to know. Whatever happens, I am sorry,” Jiang Cheng said again. He turned his gaze to meet Wei Wuxian’s as he approached, then knelt next to Jin Ling.

“I am too, for how I was back then. I was hurting, and empty. I didn’t come to terms with the lack of a golden core very well, and I left everything on your shoulders, even though I’d promised it would be us against the world.” He placed his hand over Jiang Cheng’s, laid on the bed.

They were silent for a while. It may have been that Jiang Cheng passed out briefly; Wei Wuxian wasn’t sure. But when his eyes opened again, he knew he had to discuss the blood transfer soon, or Jiang Cheng might not be able to decide. He knew if he didn’t discuss it and treated it the same way as the core, he’d destroy all the common ground they’d managed to build over the past few days.

“Lei-dafu has a way to give you a little more time if we need. He can use a little of Jin Ling’s blood to try and replenish your own supply, and give Huaisang-xiong more time to get back with the antidote.”

He could see the automatic denial in his eyes. But instead of speaking immediately Jiang Cheng looked at Jin Ling, then Wei Wuxian.

“I’m a strong cultivator, jiujiu, I can stand it. Let me help.” Wei Wuxian hadn’t realised Jin Ling had woken until his voice sounded from beside him.

“Is it safe, for Jin Ling?”

“Yes, Lei-dafu said he’d just need to rest for a few days afterwards. It’s only like getting wounded, in that he’d regenerate more blood to replace that lost.”

Jiang Cheng eyed Jin Ling for a few more moments. Before he nodded. “Fine.” A breathy sigh followed.

“Jiujiu!” Jin Ling exclaimed in delight, and Wei Wuxian patted his shoulder in their shared relief.

Jiang Cheng slipped back into either unconsciousness, or a sleep very like it, shortly afterwards, and they had to be satisfied with settling down to wait again.

Dawn streaked the sky, and he wondered if Nie Huaisang had managed to begin the return journey yet.

No sooner had the thought formed in his head than they heard fast approaching footsteps from outside.

Wei Wuxian jumped to his feet, closely followed by Jin Ling, as they moved towards the door. Before they reached it, however, it was thrown open, and Nie Huaisang burst in, closely followed by Lan Wangji.

“How is he?” Huaisang pushed past Wei Wuxian and strode quickly to the bed.

The look on his face was solemn as he saw Jiang Cheng more wan and drawn than when he had left.

“He’s holding on, Huaisang. Is Xichen-ge…?”

“Gone to take the antidote to Lei-dafu.” Lan Wangji said, and moved out of the doorway as the two men they’d spoken of walked into the rooms. Lei Shirong was still trying to fasten his outer robe, indicating he’d been pulled straight from bed. Lan Xichen carried two earthenware jars.

They were followed with disciples bringing fresh supplies, a brazier and a standing oven.

“Once the poultice begins to work, Wangji and I will help support him in healing and repairing the damage. What would you say we should focus on most?”

“Flushing the poison, blood regeneration and healing the wounds.”

“I will help, Zewu-jun.” Huaisang said firmly. Lan Xichen merely nodded in acceptance.

He lamented that he was still unable to help Jiang Cheng in the way Lan Xichen intended, with the sharing of qi energy, and indeed in the next few hours he was completely useless, as Lei Shirong prepared and applied the poultice to draw the poison that was causing Jiang Cheng’s cultivation to be unable to heal him. Once it began to work the three cultivators got to work channelling their qi into Jiang Cheng to assist his own life-force in healing the damage.

Lei Shirong watched over all of it with a careful eye, occasionally moving Lan Wangji’s touch from Jiang Cheng’s wrist so he could measure for himself how things progressed.

Eventually, towards evening, Lei Shirong announced that he was happy the poison was fully expelled, and all the wounds had nit together, meaning Jiang Cheng would lose no more of the blood they had helped his body replenish.

“He will still need to heal for a month or so, but he’s now in a very good position to rely on his own healing abilities.” Lei Shirong’s final decree caused a breath of relief around the room.

Dismissed, others went to eat, and rest, and it was finally Wei Wuxian’s turn to do his bit. He sat with Jiang Cheng again, accompanied by Jin Ling.

They whispered conversations throughout the night, but Jiang Cheng didn’t stir, even when Lei Shirong came to check up on him.

The first pale flush of dawn through the windows showed his chalk pale skin had regained a little more colour.

They were shooed out to eat and bathe when Lei Shirong came just after dawn to change Jiang Cheng’s dressings again, and run his check-ups.

He rushed through a bath, change of clothes and a quick breakfast. They must have both had the same idea, because by the time Wei Wuxian made his way back to Jiang Cheng’s side, he ran into Jin Ling at the door. Nie Huaisang wasn’t far behind them.

They entered, to find Jiang Cheng propped up against the bed head, and Jin Ling made a choked noise and dashed forward. He sat on the bedside, ignoring Lei Shirong’s “Be careful, Jin-zongzhu.” as the physician finished collecting his things and said he’d be back in a while to run another check up.

“Jiujiu!”

Surprisingly, Jiang Cheng reached out to cup Jin Ling’s face in his hands, “Jin Ling, if you ever don’t listen to me again, when I tell you to leave somewhere for your own safety, I will break your legs, and then every other bone in your body.” Despite his strong words he pulled the boy against his side for a hug. Wei Wuxian suspected it would have been a very tight one, if Jiang Cheng didn’t have to protect his still-healing chest.

Jin Ling didn’t argue for once, and just allowed himself to be held, although there was a small complaint when Jiang Cheng pressed a kiss against the crown of his head.

He moved away, a fake scowl on his face when Jiang Cheng released him.

Nie Huaisang stepped forward, and it was his turn to hold Jiang Cheng’s face in his hands this time.

“Huai…” his words were cut off as Nie Huaisang leaned down to press a firm kiss against his lips.

“A-Cheng, tell me, what is the point in me giving you the time and space to fall in love with me, if you’re going to go and get yourself killed before we get to the good things?” there was a strong tone of scolding in his voice.

He didn’t give the shocked-to-his-soul Jiang Cheng any chance to respond, if, indeed, he  still had the ability, as Nie Huaisang kissed him again.

“If you do that again, I’ll be the one breaking your legs.” Nie Huaisang promised when he finally pulled away. “Now, come along Jin Ling, lets discuss getting you another spiritual puppy.” Nie Huaisang dropped an arm across Jin Ling’s shoulders and pulled him towards the door.

“What?” Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian exclaimed together.

“Oh, stop it A-Cheng, we both know you’d love nothing more than if he had another three. And you…” he pointed his folded fan at Wei Wuxian, “…will just have to like it.”

They left. And Wei Wuxian turned to the bed.

“You’re going to have a very interesting life with Huaisang-xiong.” he said, amused at the thought that Jiang Cheng was in over his head with that man.

“So it appears,” if it was possible for Jiang Cheng to flush at the moment he probably would have. He still didn’t have enough blood to spare yet, however.

Wei Wuxian moved over to the bedside, and he sat down. “Don’t I get a kiss?”

“No!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, then when he realised Wei Wuxian teased he snapped, “Wei Wuxian, stop messing around.”

Wei Wuxian became serious.

“Were you serious, about being ready to start trying to work through this with me? Because I was.”

Jiang Cheng’s gaze tried to skitter away, but he held it.

Eventually, Jiang Cheng nodded, “Yes. I am. Just…just be patient with me.”

“I’m going to need the same from you, we’re going to have to be patient with each other, Jiang Cheng. I just want us to try. I miss you.”

He leaned in, making it obvious he was going to hug Jiang Cheng, so the other could hold him off with a gesture if he wanted.

He didn’t, but he stayed tense at first, as Wei Wuxian held him, careful of his wounds. A few heartbeats later his arms raised and he returned it, tentatively, awkwardly.

“There you go, give your Xian-gege a hug, A-Cheng.”

“You!” It had the desired effect, and Jiang Cheng snapped at him, “Who’s gege? You’re insane, I would rather walk naked through Lotus Pier than call you gege! Shut up, Wei Wuxian.”

“You hurt your Xian-gege, Jiang Cheng.”

“Good!”

[ettawritesnstudies]

Etta’s big creative to do list for when I’m not drowning in final exams

(the rest are below the cut because this got LONG! I am putting this here so you have some idea of the stuff I’ll be posting about come Monday 5/11 and also so I can find it again instead of putting it in my notebook where it will inevitably get lost among my fluids practice and history essay jottings. if you’re curious about the fact that I am not yet done with my semester, yes, I am absolutely procrastinating an essay right now by writing this. don’t worry about it.)

FINISH STORGE!! I’m only like 3 chapters away from writing The End and I desperately want to do that this year so I can edit and start sharing snippets with alpha readers by this time next year at the latest :D

Outline the Laoche Chronicles

this includes the trilogy outline in broad strokes to make sure everything sets up the next points

a detailed outline for the first book which will need a name eventually

(my outlining process can be found here!)

Character profiles for all the new OCs

(this process can be found in this post!

worldbuilding write-up questionnaire for the new civilizations that’ll feature in the main trilogy and differ from Storge

Learn how to make edits for tumblr because graphic design and anything resembling Proper Authors Platform Branding continue to elude me

This won’t happen this month, but I need to do a cleanout of the social media’s I do have so I can put writing stuff there too and start a proper Author’s Internet Presence. If I do finish Storge this year, I’ll be looking for beta readers eventually and I need to have something to show for myself. This includes...

doing a mass edit of this blog and organizing my tags

teaching myself HTML/CSS and making a custom blog theme that works for my needs or commissioning someone to do this for me

making a Laoche Chronicles wip page

buying a domain and designing an actual authors website

making an #aesthetictrash book Instagram? I’m vaguely aware this is something people do but I only use insta for it’s chat feature with my college friends so I know not the first thing about how that works

I have a disasterous Pinterest that’s 100% private boards for my various bits of nonsense that needs to be turned into a place to showcase WIP aesthetics

I refuse to touch twitter nor facebook nor snapchat nor ticktock with a fifteen foot pole

if you couldn’t tell by now, I was that kid who had a brick trac-phone until 10th grade, and used my smartphone primarily as a music device until very recently

Write a considerable backlog for my Newsies fanfic so I don’t fall behind whenever I go to my internship in a month

Finish the intro for my Vampire Plague Doctor Buddy Cop story and the Chaotic SFF Academia idea that I started last month, and write a few one shots for those Maybe start posting them somewhere if I’m happy with how they turn out?

Make a proper quilt from the 10389238320923 old event t-shirts I have sitting in a pile in the basement so I can take it to college with me in the fall. (also maybe mockup a walking skirt out of an old sheet, so I at least have an idea of what to do whenever proper fabric stores open again)

It’s going to be below freezing tomorrow for SOME REASON despite being MID- MAY, but I need to plant my garden and make a compost pile at some point

Make a list of art skills to start practicing so I can tackle the concept of “learning to draw” in a logical manner like you would in a class, and start doing these drills

Also participate in the rest of MerMay

Read a few books! My current next list of TBR looks like this

Illthdar! I have been dying to get my hands on @illthdar‘s book but I didn’t want to start it during the school year and then have to inevitably put it down like two chapters in because I had boring real life obligations to attend to, so this is my first read for as soon as I’m done with the semester on Sunday.

Pride and Prejudice, which I've heard is excellent and regrettably not actually read yet (nor any of Austen, yes I’m a heretic I know, but I’m also an engineering student and 90% of my time is spent doing maths)

Storm of Fire and Blood - I have had this book for a year and put it down because of school which is a crying shame because I really love this series! For any religious/historical fiction fans I highly recommend the Sword and Serpent trilogy! It’s a retelling of the story of St. George and the Dragon long before he’s ever a saint. I think anyone could enjoy it, but if you’re Catholic or enjoy early Christian history, you’ll get a lot of the references and saint cameos and it’s just! A lot of fun!!

also my patron St. Katherine of Alexandria is a major character in the 2nd and 3rd books and she’s absolutely wonderful so I might be just a little bit biased

Make a few watercolor maps of the world of Laoche! Including detailed maps of the city of Maaren where Storge takes place, and Arga (one of the countries in the later trilogy)

update my bullet journal which has been languishing unused on my dresser since march when I moved home from college 

Carve new dulcimer hammers and teach myself a few songs. (also maybe try to make a longbow or new bridges for the dulcimer but that’s all probably a BIT of a stretch)

Brush up on my piano and guitar practice because I am very very rusty. I need to find some new songs to learn because I don’t really want to relearn Debussy or Chopin again, but I need to find some good ones first...

If you’re still reading this. Wow. Congratulations. That was a lot. and thank you! But yeah! This is what’s been knocking around in my head recently while I was supposed to be studying, but now that it is out of my head and into a post hopefully I will be able to focus again :P This is extremely ambitious and I 100000% will not be able to finish everything on this list, but! it is a plan! Wish me luck!

[shipping-receiving]

JB Fav Fics

Ages ago, I reblogged @chickren​‘s post (from 2013!) and I promised to give it a shot but got all tied up with my dissertation and my own fic. Now that my dissertation is done, I HAVE COMPLETED THIS. Bear in mind these answers might be a bit ‘dated’ as well (by a few months) because I’ve not been reading much fic on my end. Turns out when I’m writing my own, I can only hold one version of J/B in my head. 

Anyway this list is LONG AND TOOK ME FOREVER and I also wrote comments because I can’t help myself. So everything is under the cut. I took out the Shuffled Challenge one (very 2013 lol) and I replaced it with a category called... favourite S8 fix-it. Can you believe it? After I made all this noise about not being able to read fix-its?

[J/B Fic Recs: Master Post if anyone needs it before we start things off]

Favourite fic set immediately after ADWD Second to fucking none: Honor Thy Regard by SigilBroken Nights Without Armor by bratanimus

Favourite fic set a long time after ADWD Oh. Salt Wife by Lady_in_Red. Breathtaking simplicity.

Favourite TV canon fic Pretty and Traveling Far by astolat A Man for All Seasons by dreadwulf

Favourite S8 fix-it Yes, I know. I can’t deal with fix-its. And yet. Ice by Gwen77 Ring Them Bells by kirazi Battle is the Great Redeemer by Lady_In_Red

Favourite modern AU Clean hands by you-know-who (... it’s Gwen77) + all the classics:  Fever by Lady_In_Red On the Night’s Watch by Miss_M It’s Like Weather by ssstrychnine Beast and the Beast by SigilBroken And of course our recent fandom favourite: two halves of a soul by angel_deux

Favourite kiss (Don’t specify chapter) Okay this is kind of a random one but I remember re-reading Roommate Wanted by JustAGirl24 a couple months back, and when they finally kissed I wanted to freaking throw my phone across the room. It’s not even described in detail, it was just such a perfectly timed OMFG!!! THEY KISSED! moment.

Favourite smut Anything by Miss_M, good lord. My all-time favourite is Golden and True (modern AU, sequel to Ball and Chain), but for canon!verse it has to be Heart’s Desire and Spring Awakening. And obviously I have to say Flawed by francoeurs – smut exploring J/B’s Issues with a capital I? I’m THERE.

And for multi-chapter fic, Everyone Has Secrets by ellaria is fire. Oh and also, everyone’s favourite professor AU, Stacked by QuizzicalQuinnia.

Favourite UST On the Night’s Watch and Someone to Watch Over Me by Miss_M. I love that these two fics take place over such a short time (a few days) but they manage to feel like slow burns. That’s fucking skill right there.

Best written fic I hate this question. You want me to pick the best-written fic out of the FIVE THOUSAND J/B FICS ON AO3? Lmao I’m skipping.

Favourite fic with an unusual premise Multiverse central: All the Roads are Winding by ShirleyAnn66 In which Brienne can turn into a sea lion: This Is Your Wilderness by hardlyfatal GENDER SWAP: all knights are gallant and all maids are beautiful by janie_tangerine Jaime is a sculptor: Madonna of the Balcony by QuizzicalQuinnia Jaime does needlework: Hold This Threadbare Heart at Needlepoint by nire

Favourite action scene Words by astolat. The entire battle sequence.

Favourite dialogue Clean hands by Gwen77, Chapter 9. So cathartic, and SO MUCH HAPPENING. Not just J/B but Tyrion and Cersei on the phone too. I mean I just tried to re-read it to pick an excerpt (I can’t) and I already started crying lmao

Favourite characterization of Jaime A Man for All Seasons by dreadwulf. THE NUANCE. THE DETAIL.

Favourite characterization of Brienne Any fucking thing by Gwen77. Especially Clean hands, Diplomacy and Ice.

Favourite relationship development Where I follow, you’ll go by Lady_In_Red Beast and the Beast by SigilBroken, OBVIOUSLY It’s Like Weather by ssstrychnine Patience on a Monument by betts, even though they’re already friends, because betts makes me sit through Jaime/Sansa and Brienne/Tormund and yet I still re-read this.

Favourite use of non-typical character. Exclude these: Jaime, Brienne, Podrick, Hyle, Cersei, Sansa, Margaery, Tyrion, Daenerys, Selwyn, Tywin. Hmm this is a tough one. Maybe Loras the photographer in Living Fiction by Archetype_Electraheart

Favourite plot In This Light by SigilBroken for canon!verse endgame On the Night’s Watch by Miss_M and Everyone Has Secrets by ellaria for modern AU. I love J/B investigating stuff together.

Favourite title Nobody Knows / You Know and I Know by Miss_M “There’s a story,” Brienne says, “about a corrupt official who went to a sage and offered him to take part in a scheme, promising no one would ever know. ‘How can you say that?’ the sage replied. ‘I know, and you know, and the earth knows, and the sky knows.’”

Favourite WiP (finished or unfinished) With All Your Faults by seaspirit (close to the end!!!) The Descent by openmouthwideeye And this is finished but Tale As Old As Time by BrienneofThrace. She came back after like four years to finish it?! That alone is fandom magic.

Favourite long one-shot Pretty by astolat (wtf this is 30k?)

Favourite short one-shot OH MY GOD THE GLASSES FIC. Age Gap by ikkiM

Favourite drabble Mmmmm I don’t really read drabbles so I’ll skip this too.

Favourite beginning What is True, But Not Ideal by Vera: Jaime doesn’t appear for like four chapters and yet I was still on board.

Favourite ending IT’S FUCKING Clean hands by Gwen77 OKAY DON’T @ ME. Traveling Far by astolat – because she just Went There and gave J/B five kids The Sorrows That Women Cause by Mussimm (seventh and final part of Works and Days, in which they just... bang)

Favourite story twist more like the man you were meant to be by janie_tangerine. I mean, this isn’t really an internal twist, more like a twist on canon The Importance of Knocking by Miss_M, since it’s a story twist for Cersei lol.

Funniest story St George's Day by sansasparky The Best Legs You've Ever Seen by ikkiM

Favourite angst In the first version of this list I said I wouldn’t pick Gwen77 again for this one, and then I re-read Ice and cried my eyes out for like, the whole thing. Special mention for catherineflowers’ series We Need to Talk About…, because of how much she just commits entirely to some really dark stuff. It’s something I wouldn’t necessarily re-read, but just the audacity it took for her to write this is really impressive.

Favourite fluff The Higher Education of Brienne of Tarth and Drunken Shenanigans with Jaime and Brienne by BrienneofThrace. Anything by BrienneofThrace to be honest. She does the purest J/B. Also, Nothing That Is So, Is So by RoseHeart, and i get to be the other half of you + The 'Kiss Me' Series by sameboots.

Favourite Jaime line Yooooooo that part in Laying Siege by astolat when Jaime just launches into his wedding proposal: “I swear to you before these witnesses that I will protect Sansa Stark with my life, beside you. I will never take the field against her. I will take your name and your crest and your house as my own—”... I can feel myself being Brienne going WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

Favourite Brienne line Yeah yeah here I go picking Gwen77 again. The very last lines of all her fics always slay me, but this is the only line I can quote verbatim, from Diplomacy: “Trapped, he had said, worry in his voice. Ruined. She had never felt so free.”

Favourite general line or excerpt I love the way Gwen77 commits to the motif of walls in Ice. I freaked out about it here. And then after all that talk about Brienne building up her walls she just HITS US WITH THIS FINAL LINE:

“Jaime was hers, encircling, warm, solid as a wall. He would catch her if she fell.”

Favourite non-romantic fic The tale of Squire!Brienne series by LadyRhiyana

Favourite maiming adaptation in a modern AU Fever by Lady_In_Red, because I love how the whole story is built on Jaime learning how to ride again with a mangled hand

Favourite kidfic Not really a full-on kidfic, but You Know and I Know (sequel to Nobody Knows) for that Jaime & Tommen relationship, plus that conversation J/B have about having kids in future. Oh, and so brief, but Traveling Far by astolat.

Craziest scene that was in character and made sense (Don’t specify chapter) Let’s just go for the entirety of Stannis Baratheon, Fantasy Football League Commissioner by ikkiM AND THAT FUCKING J/B/C FIC THAT I READ BECAUSE I DIDN’T LOOK AT THE TAGS OKAY: Pride by astolat

Most underrated fic My Fall by TeamGwenee. Witches in 1600s colonial America AND in first person POV? IT WORKS THO. Such an interesting and original premise, and written in a very refreshing succinct style, and yet this multi-chapter fic has less than 200 kudos. Another one with less than 200 kudos: and you’ve whispered what I’m worth by angel_deux, a really lovely Mad Max: Fury Road AU.

Most desperate to see updated NO PRESSURE!!! for our world is cold and full of monsters by chancellor_valdez room service by ssstrychnine A Star Within the Mere by isavedlatin (sigh)

Favourite J/B as a secondary couple Some Kind of Family by crossingwinter

Most haunting Fool by astolat. I don’t know why. It’s a very beautiful story and it’s not even a bad ending for J/B necessarily, but the fact that it ends the way it does just really fucks me up. It’s the only fic in my bookmarks that I don’t think I can ever bear to re-read.

Favourite (friendship or hate) relationship between Jaime and another character One Of The Few Things by anniebibananie (Sansa) – I’m picking this just for the sheer I-can’t-believe-you-made-this-work-and-I-applaud-you factor

Favourite (friendship or hate) relationship between Brienne and another character What Is True, But Not Ideal by Vera (Tyrion)

[bigskydreaming]

kai06leaf replied to your post:

Ended up all night, with sleep derailed by a RUDE...

Um I had asked for a link for your batman related works?:)

Oh score, this is actually weirdly timely then! FlashinthePan is my Batfam pseudonym (https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlashInThePan/works), its just it hasn’t been useful for much other than to use my bookmarks page there as a fics rec list. Since the only other things still up on it are the YJ WIP I haven’t updated in a couple years and an elephant’s graveyard collection for the random ficlets I often write on here while forgetting they’re usually long enough to be actual one-shots...and that I then forget to actually add to that one, that I created for the specific purpose of putting all those in one place. My mind. Its just....*staggers at the Legend of it all*

I’ve been on a pretty committed “No more posting unfinished WIPs kick” for the past couple years but am finally at a point where I have stuff to post without cheating, so that streak officially ends today, when I finish my read-through of the first fic* in question and hit publish. “The Requiem Rites of Robins,” the ten chapter first story in an AU Battle For the Cowl fix-it series, “A Legacy of Robins,” with TRRoR being roughly 40K, focuses on Dick and Jason and their issues with each other and Bruce’s believed death, picking up and going AU at an indeterminate time not long after the end of BFTC. 

Specific goals of focus with this particular fic were addressing Bruce’s bullshit last will and testament to Jason (ugh), the eternally unremarked upon moment that was Dick watching his brother refuse to take his hand and instead fall to what at the time must have seemed very likely to be Jason’s second death, in a pretty fucked up parallel to his parents’ death (ugh), various other unaddressed issues between the brothers that kept them making like they were Cain and Abel instead of two people who loved each other and very much could use each other while grieving for their father or even just pretending they weren’t....and also steadfastly jumping their combined train of events well off the tracks before Morrison’s whole...”Jason” thing ever happened at all (ugh).

Just a headsup for readers for whom certain characterizations of Bruce are a dealbreaker - full disclosure, this fic and its sequels do consider various less pleasant moments between Bruce and his two eldest to be in character and canon, with NTT #55 and the ending to UTRH the most touched upon and relevant. For what its worth, my intention there (and hopefully my execution of things) was not to vilify or bash Bruce, or to make it at all a question of whether or not both really loved Bruce and he them. 

To be clear...I do categorize Bruce’s actions towards Dick and Jason at those times/specific others as abusive, but a huge part of my reason for even writing this particular fic was to explore and examine the reality of loving a parent even despite a history of actually abusive behavior on their parts. Of how to mourn for someone you loved at some times and hated at others, who was both the person who made you feel whole again and the one who made you at other times feel the most broken. 

Especially when you’re two people who pride themselves on being heroes, who are ‘supposed to know’ that there’s no defense, no excuse for some of the things their father did, but that doesn’t always change or erase how much they want to. And who are both looking for an answer in the other, as to how they’re supposed to live with the fact that deep down, there’s a part of them that will always still be those ten and twelve year old orphan boys who came to believe their father was a man who could literally do the impossible...even mend what was broken, make things right with them and the world as they knew it just like he’d managed once before, when he’d first come into their lives and they’d been just as certain then that there were no more happy moments in their futures at all. 

And with the both of them still, even after everything, having held onto that secret hope that someday he was going to find the secret loophole, the magic words that let them forgive him, that let them let the past all just be in the past and the future all that really mattered, that their best days as a family weren’t all behind them yet and there was still time for things to be different, for him to be different....because their dad wasn’t like other ordinary dads, their dad was the Batman, he was a superhero.....

....who was also still just a man, and sometimes men die with their most important deeds still left incomplete.

This first story is centered firmly on just Dick and Jason, because I have a tendency to let things get too widespread and expansive plot-wise the more characters I focus on, and because this first story, about mourning Bruce and finding a way to move on, needed to be just Dick and Jason, although Cass and Tim and Damian, as well as Steph and Babs and Alfred all have things in the wake of his believed death that IMO they needed explored, and that were never explored in canon. But Dick and Jason had to be the first two and a solo act except for each other, especially as this series is still geared towards Bruce’s eventual return, and just to a much different status quo....because the thing about Dick and Jason at this specific point in time, is that they were quite possibly the only two people in the world who would ever have the relationship with Bruce that they did, to see him the way they both at times did, and nobody else ever fully grasped. 

They knew him at his highest and his lowest points, the best parts of him and the worst, the center of their whole universes and the destroyer of them....and for them, at this place and time, its about being forced to realize that for as much as come between them over the years, they each are the only ones who will ever fully be able to speak to the entirety of their father as not just Bruce Wayne, the Batman, the myth and the legend, but Bruce the man, the flawed father who was supposed to be better than his worst mistakes with them, because he was supposed to be a hero. 

Even as close as others were to Bruce, there were specific slants to the light they saw him in....for Alfred, even when making his worst mistakes, he was still his son, for Cass he was still the father who fought her personal demon not because of what he wanted her to be but so that she could be who she wanted to be, for Tim, he was imperfect but still larger than life, the hero he’d still first only come to know through the lens of a camera from a great distance, a perspective he’d yet to entirely shake, and for Damian he was still largely a figure of make believe, a bed time story he’d been told all his life. 

There’s an inherent goodness, a nobleness around the idea of Bruce for most others in his life, that defies coming face to face with the realities his failings could be.....which only Dick and Jason could ultimately attest to, as losing the ability to keep sight of that innate shine was why they’d found themselves so disillusioned by their father at the lowest points between them. And so in a lot of ways, the ultimate goal of writing this fic was trying to get Dick and Jason to a point where they could share their full, messy, complicated as hell feelings about their father with each other, but simultaneously feel a need to preserve the way each of their siblings still saw him, because the truth is that if there’d been someone who could have preserved that shine for their own eyes, to keep their memories of him clear and unobstructed by complication....they would have been glad to have been left just missing Bruce their father, and not the mess of feelings forever tied up in a Gordian knot upon by his death.

So yeah. LOL. That’s the link to my Batfam works, though there hasn’t been much on their for ages, but stay tuned for Chapter One of The Requiem Rites of Robins, later today.

“In the wild, a group of robins is called a round. But Gotham’s birds have always been of a different sort, something entirely unique. And the only proper plural for them, I’ve found, is a legacy.”

An investigation leads the newly minted Batman to London, alone and without Robin’s back-up for the trip. In the past couple months, Dick Grayson has barely found time to breathe, let alone to grieve for his father and come to terms with his new role as the Dark Knight’s successor. But his distracted state leaves him vulnerable, and when a new villain’s one-man war threatens to make a casualty of him too, he’s left with no alternative but to work side by side with his rescuer - at other times better known as his brother, his successor, and a couple times his would-be killer.

(Their family always has been one of over-achievers. And if you’re going to pick a pair of brothers to play compare and contrast against with that in mind, its hard to go wrong with something biblical.)

But Dick seeming no more happy about it than he is, doesn’t do much to pick up Jason’s mood. He’s come to London for his own reasons, and no, he’s still not inclined to share. Curiosity killed the cat, but he’s sure Selina wouldn’t mind if innate nosiness knocked off a few birds here and there as well. Well-earned paranoia aside, however, secrets and cynicism can only carry them so far when the two are forced to rely on each other to fight their way free of a city turned death-trap. Both are keenly aware that the last time they’d fought side by side like this, they’d been all the way back on the other side of Jason’s first untimely death. And as far as potential omens go, that one’s about as shitty as they come.

But a mixed curse and blessing are nothing new for them, and so that’s not just a painful reminder, but also proof that things were different once. That the brothers they’ve become were not always the brothers they were supposed to be. It was time and pain and bloody loss that weighed them both down so much further than the altitudes that came most naturally....not fate, or destiny, or even them. And as their new enemy forces them deeper and deeper below ground, it becomes all the more clear there’s only one skill in either of the brothers’ arsenals that will see them through to the other side of all this: 

And only if they can not just remember, but rediscover, how to shed all of that and finally fly free again.

[xxlovendreamsxx]

halfway across the world. rated k.

A/N: I was going through my WIPs and this was one I had been doing for a zine that I dropped out of. It was almost finished so I thought why not finish it. It fits the prompt for day 1 of our beloved otp month. Also there was supposed to be more but this is just wholesome in its mood and idk what followed would have been way too dramatic so I just put that plot bunny in the garbage. Who knows, I may revisit in another prompt. But for now, here, have this soldier!au drabble. It’s kinda meh but w/e. I just wanted to get the WIP out lol. 

.

It had been five hours since a messenger soldier had arrived at their location to report the sight of Akatsuki heading towards the village they were stationed at, and Sakura was beginning to doubt the validity of the information. She and Sasuke had been immediately sent on lookout duty at the borders of the town, the latter carrying a sniper in case of trouble, while she settled for bringing two handguns and a radio.

To Shikamaru’s calculations, the Akatsuki troop should have been there three hours ago. Sakura wished she had thought of bringing provisions; her mouth had long grown dry by now, and her stomach had hollowed out as well, gurgling with painful growls and beseeching for any type of sustenance.

Running the back over her hand over her sweat-slicked forehead, Sakura exhaled a heavy sigh and tipped her head back against the much cooler wall, tired gaze set on the build of her dark haired teammate. Occupied with the meticulous cleaning of his gun, Sasuke took a few moments to notice her staring, black eyes sliding to her in question. A lopsided smile tugged at her mouth just for that.

“I’m hungry, Sasuke-kun,” she said simply, the slightest hint of complaint in her tone. “Do you have anything edible by any chance? Like an apple? Some salted peanuts? I’d take anything at this point, seriously. My stomach feels like it’s eating itself.”

Sasuke cocked his head a little, eyes full of mirth as he watched her for a moment. But then he nodded, reaching for a pouch inside his military vest. Sakura practically jumped forward in excitement.

“It’s probably not in good shape,” he said, as he pulled out a protein bar and bent towards her to hand her the snack. Too eager, Sakura snatched it out of his grasp, eyes so wild with hunger that she just barely missed the way his lips twitched in return. “…But then again, it looks like you don’t care about that.”

Fiddling with the wrapping with so-hungry-she-was-clumsy fingers, Sakura giggled and stuck her tongue out at him, giddy from his light teasing.

“Honestly, it could be ten years old right now and I still wouldn’t care,” she said, taking a ravenous bite from the nut-filled bar and finding herself utterly unable to hold back her satisfied moan.

Quickly, she devoured the rest, paying no mind to how Sasuke cleared his throat, focused solely instead on relishing every little bite she could get. She turned to look at him with the most brilliant smile when she was done, eyes gleaming even brighter when she found him there, still cleaning his gun with one hand while the other was outstretched towards her with a half-filled bottle of water.

“You’re my absolute favorite person in the world, did you know that?” Sakura said, grinning as she took the offered drink, taking a few deep swigs. She wasn’t sated in the least, but at least both her hunger and thirst had been quenched a bit now, and that was all she could ask for.

Sasuke’s lips twitched again. He merely nodded in return. “Don’t mention it.”

Letting her head fall back against the wall once more, Sakura let out a long, deep sigh, content. She closed her eyes.

“…I can’t wait to go back home,” she murmured after a moment, grin fading into a small, pleased smile. From the way she was sitting, she could feel some of the sun’s almost-too-hot beams blaring on her skin from one of the two windows in the room. For a moment, she imagined she was back home, and not in a poor village of a mindlessly hot desert halfway across the world, hanging out on her parent’s back porch on a hot summer day. 

Mm, what she wouldn’t do to get a taste of her father’s divine watermelon lemonade right now.

Sasuke would probably like it too since it wasn’t too sweet, she mused, smiling wider as she cracked one eye open to glimpse at him. She sighed contently again and slipped it back shut.

“I haven’t seen mom and dad in so long,” she went on. “It’s been two years—can you believe that? Mom even says she’s got all my presents stacked in the closet so that I can open them when I get home.”

“You still get presents?” Sasuke asked, sounding completely astonished. Or well, as much as Sasuke could sound astonished, anyway.

Blinking her eyes open once more, Sakura met his gaze, straightened up and grinned. “Yup. Probably always will for as long as I live,” she said, brushing away a sweaty lock of her unbelievably bright hair.

Sasuke’s eyes softened, so much it warmed her heart and left it feeling like goo. She felt her stomach flutter as the look he gave her, so full of awe and pride… and dare she say, even a little envy.

She understood exactly why that was when he murmured, “You have good parents.”

Her smile lessened, giving way to something sadder, more bittersweet. It always hurt to think about how Sasuke no longer had an immediate family; when he was only eight, both his parents died in a car crash, and just a few years ago, his brother had gone MIA in the war. The latter is what had made him decide to enlist, full of hopes that he might one day find his brother.

But every year, those hopes were steadily declining, from what Sakura could sadly discern.

Swallowing the tightness in her throat, she flashed him a sweet smile. “Yeah, they are, aren’t they?” she said. “I’m so glad they decided to support me in the end when I wanted to enlist with you and Naruto. I know it’s hard on them, especially in times like these—and dad wanted so much for me to get a medical degree and work in a hospital, so I know it was especially hard on him. It would have been nice, but I don’t know… my place is with you guys. And I’m glad they came to understand that.” She paused, for a beat. A grin split her lips. “But they are counting on you two to look out for me. Because if anything happens to me, mom says she’ll do you two twice as bad.”

A faint smile pulled at Sasuke’s lips, finally, and he shook his head, undeniably amused. Sakura giggled, heart flipping and pounding away, all too delighted with herself. Making Sasuke smile was always an achievement in her book, especially since his smiles were so far and few these days.

She tucked her hair back again, clasping her hands in her lap a little shyly as they stared at each other. Sakura cleared her throat subtly, but still kept smiling. “They asked about you, you know?” she said.

Brows rising slightly, Sasuke blinked once, twice. “…Really,” he replied, sounding a little dubious.

But that didn’t surprise her; in all these years they’d known each other, Sasuke’s interactions with her parents had always been quite limited—especially since none of their hangouts had ever taken place at Sakura’s home. The most her parents had seen of Sasuke had been when he would pick her up beforehand or drop her home afterwards. The last time they had seen each other was two years ago at the airport, right before they were going back to the military base to be deployed, and they had hardly exchanged words.

It was only natural that Sasuke would assume they simply didn’t know each other enough for them to genuinely care about him.

Her smile shifted to something gentler. Silly man.

“Yeah. They did,” she said. “They said they worry about you, sometimes. Said you looked… lonely.”

(“he’s got practically no meat on his bones since he left—honestly, sakura, are you sure he’s even eating? poor boy looks like a lost, famished puppy. do i need to send him one of my care packages?”)

Lip curling at the corner at the memory, she set her attention on Sasuke again, heart buzzing with warmth at the sight of him, jaw slackened and eyes just barely widened. He was clearly stunned.

Eyes crinkling too happily, Sakura grinned at him and shifted to firmly nudge his thigh with her boot. “I told them you’re not, obviously,” she declared, winking teasingly. “Not with us around.”

Sasuke’s lips quirked, gaze melting again; looking so fond, so tender—so impossibly at peace. Gods, how she loved him so.

“Hm. How could I be?” he replied, eyes gleaming, teasing. “Naruto’s a loud idiot, Kakashi won’t stop lecturing me about the road of life, and you never leave my side.”

Her green eyes widened. That little—

Bursting into laughter, Sakura shook her head, throwing the not quite finished water bottle at his head. Sasuke caught it, but she kept laughing, wrapping her arms around herself as she shook and grinned and giggled.

Sasuke was smiling again when she stopped a short minute later, and Sakura heart flopped for the umpteenth time that day. She smiled back, feeling so full. Complete.

She made a silly face. “Oh, you’d be dead without me and you know it, Sasuke-kun,” she teased. And that was true.

Gaze flashing with some playfulness, Sasuke huffed, “So would you.” That was true, too.

Maybe when they would both go back home, she could finally tell him how she felt.

.

.

.

“Hey, Sasuke-kun?”

“What would you do if we were back home right now?”

“….Tomatoes.”

Laugh. “What, really? You’re so weird!”

“Tch. Yeah, whatever.”

[teriiiwrites]

2019 Writing Wrap-Up

I typically do this on my main rather than here because I always forget this exists, but not this year! 

Another year where I didn’t end up sharing a single thing I wrote in its entirety so I’m sticking with my trend there lmao. Good to know that some things never change. But I have taken the first steps towards that - namely, starting this blog to give myself a place to talk more about writing. 

Now, onto the stats!

Total for 2019: 104,374 words!

I actually wasn’t expecting to even near the 100K mark this year, so the fact that I passed it was a pleasant surprise. It’s significantly less than I hit in 2018 (over 170K), but I’m still very proud of what I accomplished throughout the year. 

My focus over 2019 was based a little less in silly concept story ideas (which I still love dearly and want to do more of this next year) but I tried to focus a little more in diversity. In the types of stories, the characters in them, and how they were written. I did my best to push my boundaries with it, which often led to taking longer with my writing and probably is one of the reasons the word count of the year wasn’t as high as last year. But I felt it was important for me, and I’m glad that I worked on what I did. 

The longest piece I wrote was my WIP NaNo novel, Castle on the Hill, which hit 57,037 words. I’m hoping to work a little more on it in 2020 and maybe finish up a first draft over the summer, when I have a little more time. 

With that, here are some of the highlights:

~~

“They say the British are starting to listen to our people there! That they might consider changing some of the voting laws!” He preaches with the pride of a man who has always believed in the good of the British, but it is confusing to hear him speak like this.

Wasn’t it only months ago when his father spoke of the evils of the British invaders? Of the unforgivable things they’d done? How is it that, now, he draws his own family closer to the center of their spiderweb?

(A Wanderer on a Scorched Path)

~~

That night in the motel had turned into a week, which turned into a month, and so on until all Laine’s memories of her early childhood involved Do Not Disturb signs and vending machine dinners. 

(A Walk Down Memory Laine)

~~

In hearing of her success, the townsfolk quietly cheered for her, disregarding their previous contempt for the malicious girl who’d tormented them. She was all at once one of theirs. Hadn’t they laughed with her, waved at her, made faces at the small girl who had seemed so unlike her family? And perhaps all of their attempts at kindness were being paid off. Finally, here was a Grey who would break the curse of her cruel family and be a decent sort. 

(The Grey Manor)

~~

A familiar coach split the crowd, curtains drawn over the windows. It was almost easy to believe that the Greys were inside, eager – if Greys could be eager – about reuniting with their youngest. But there was only one Lady Grey left. 

(The Grey Manor)

~~

It was during one of these heavy snowstorms that the Visitor arrived in town. None could claim to know where she came from, and fewer still knew her name. Even the details of her appearance never quite matched up – some said she was an old woman, with hair like straw and wearing rags better fit for carrying potatoes than being worn. Other claimed she was no older than thirty, that the apparent age was only due to her gravelly voice and wild, fair hair. They said that though her clothes were faded and tattered and too large on her tiny frame, one could still see the frayed ruffles and faint design of what once must have been a fine gown. 

(The Grey Manor)

~~

Years had passed since the doctor’s apprentice had last been to the Grey Manor. He’d been one of many who had taken a thrill at the abandoned house while Lady Grey had been away. He now considered himself above such superstitions. Yet the effect of the snow-covered cemetery and the sprawling, leafless ivy across the outer walls could not be blamed wholly on the overcast sky. 

(The Grey Manor)

~~

The doctor’s apprentice made his way deeper into the house, but the Grey Manor felt more fit for ghosts than the living. 

(The Grey Manor)

~~

“Good afternoon, Clara!” I greeted as I waved for her to take a seat before my desk.

“Doctor,” she responded in kind. She pulled back the chair and fell into it in one fluid motion. “Things are on the up-and-up!”

As much as I appreciated her enthusiasm, having supervillain clients typically meant having to gently discourage their flavor of ‘on the up-and-up’. 

(The Desk of Dr. Isselhardt)

~~

“I think I’ll start off with a vacation. I was initially thinking of revisiting the city I grew up in, but finding a kennel for my hellhounds would be a nightmare, and I just know none of my friends would take them in.”

I had met Jekyll and Hyde once, when I’d bumped into Clara on my morning jog in the park, and I couldn’t blame them.  

(The Desk of Dr. Isselhardt)

~~

The angelic child screamed like a demon, yet Camila adored her more than she’d known she was able. 

(Quinta and Her Cat)

~~

Amara leaned back against the door, staring at the ceiling. “Your Guardians don’t seem as sympathetic as you make them out to be.”

Deirdre kicked out her foot, but only caught the edge of some piping. “They have to choose their battles. They’re strong, but not so strong as to fight all of them.”

“Legal skirmishes between the elite is apparently a higher priority than the oppression of thousands,” was Amara’s reply.

Deirdre didn’t respond; she had nothing more to say. 

(The Great Guardians)

~~

One of the aliens is moving quickly towards me, and I realize my impression that they are humanoid was a little premature. Though its head, neck, and torso are vaguely like mine, the bottom half of their bodies are more like a spider. A gray, spider centaur. With no face.

A small part of my brain asks why I'm not terrified. I have no answer for it. 

(Alien Abduction)

~~

Sir Michel had been in Eastcairn Keep only once before, but the imposing walls of stone were as familiar as if he had grown up here. The halls were cold and impersonal, as though acknowledging that they'd been around long before Sir Michel had arrived and they would stand the same long after he was gone. 

(Foul Play)

~~

"I have a sister." Andromeda's voice was soft, but it carried as though all of the forest had quieted to listen. "The kingdom is in no great danger of losing an heir."

Sir Michel chuckled at her naivety. "Princess, if you believe that your father will allow for this - "

"Then let him come to tell me himself."

Never before had Sir Michel been interrupted by a woman. His laughter caught in his throat, and, for a moment, he was too stunned by Andromeda's audacity to respond. 

(Foul Play)

~~

"The King is busy running a country, as one day your future husband shall."

"And I suppose you think that by carrying me back to the Keep, you'll be given the position?" Andromeda asked bitterly. She brushed a loose braid behind her shoulder. "You, a man with nothing but a meager title, sitting on the throne? No one with sense could expect such a fate for you, yet here you are."

"Yet here I am," was the knight's weak response. He couldn't understand how it was that he spoke far louder than the princess, and yet his words didn't seem to carry half as well or ring half as true. 

(Foul Play)

~~

"One of your men killed Tihomil, but not you. The trial is not fair."

"We don't fight fair when it comes to your life." 

(Foul Play)

~~

Andromeda pushed herself away, pulling her dagger with her. When she lifted a part of her skirt, Sir Michel saw that it was strapped to her leg, a place no honorable man would've thought to check. When she bent down again, her face was no more than a foot from the knight's.

"I don't fight fair when it comes to my life," Andromeda hissed. She wiped the blood staining her hands onto Sir Michel's breastplate, trailing red across its center. 

(Foul Play)

~~

As his vision began to tunnel, Sir Michel the Righteous' last sight was that of the princess stealing off into the night, her movements as feral and graceful as something too wild to be contained in the Keep. 

(Foul Play)

~~

Josef Weber was a quiet and privileged man, and the two together gave him the appearance of being far prouder than he actually was. This view was encouraged by the fact that he surrounded himself with few friends, and that those he kept were similar in stature and wealth to himself. 

(Castle on the Hill)

~~

The night sky was illuminated by fireworks, casting a scarlet glow over the small, German city of Heidelberg. Its castle stood imposingly atop a hill, awash in the red, mimicking fires that had taken the structure from what it had once been to the ruins that now overlooked Old Downtown. Crowds of thousands had flooded the streets, watching the annual celebration in awe as the fireworks reflected in the Neckar River below. 

(Castle on the Hill)

~~

“Shouldn’t you be running back to Hulmarra? I thought you were loyal to your lady.”

Theren’s laugh was abrupt and loud, but when he stopped, his voice was coldly stern. “We’re loyal to two things. Gold and discretion. It just so happens Lady Iltazyara is well equipped with both.”

Verna smirked. “Only those two things? If I paid you to kill your sister, would you do it?”

“That price would cost far more than you have,” Theren said with a condescending smile.

“You’d be surprised how much I have at my disposal,” Verna taunted.

“Then we can talk later.” Theren winked in her direction and grinned broadly at the impatient look on Rowan’s face. 

(The Virtuous Seven)