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cece693 · 1 month ago

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Stupid Crush Pt. 2 (Nico di Angelo x Son of Poseidon)

Because many of you keep requesting a part two of my original post, I couldn't help myself :) However, you might hate me for this but I want to practice writing sad endings, so if you aren't comfortable with that, I suggest living blind.

link to part one

tags: breakup, no making up, reader tries to move on, major character death, ambiguous ending, heartbreak

Nico di Angelo had never been one to give up easily, and when it came to you, he refused to let you slip away without a fight. Even after your breakup��after the heart-wrenching conversation that left him feeling gutted and empty—Nico couldn’t accept that it was truly over. He loved you. He knew he had made mistakes, but there was no way he could let that be the end.

For weeks after your relationship had ended, Nico threw himself into trying to prove his love. He started small, hoping that maybe you’d notice: he’d offer to help with your tasks, leaving small reminders that he still cared. He lingered around the Argo II, hoping for a chance to talk, to catch your eye. But every time, you kept your distance.

But then came the war.

The final fight against Gaea loomed over them all, leaving little room for anything other than survival. The battle was brutal, stretching the demigods to their limits, and for a while, Nico had to push his desire to win you back aside. They were fighting for their lives now. There was no time for hearts and feelings when the world was on the verge of collapse.

Even as he fought with everything he had, one thought kept Nico going: you. He clung to the hope that when this was all over, when Gaea was defeated, and the war was behind them, he would have another chance. Every swing of his sword, every shadow he manipulated, every ounce of his energy was fueled by the need to return to your side. He had to survive. He had to make it back to you. The war didn't come without a cost; many campers had died in battle, and with restoration efforts taking everyone's time, Nico didn't breach you or the topic until a week later.

He took it a step further. If you didn't want to see Nico, he will leave reminders of his love. This gesture alone should tell you how much you meant to him; he was always someone who kept his emotions buried beneath layers of coldess and sarcasm. But for you, he would try. He left small letters under your door—handwritten notes that declared his love in ways that were unfamiliar to him. They were never long, just a few lines scrawled in his messy handwriting, but they held every ounce of sincerity Nico could muster:

I’m sorry. I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.

You were never the second choice. I wish I could make you see that.

I’m still here. Waiting.

He even placed his skull ring inside one of those notes, hoping that action alone would make you answer his pleads, but to no avail. Finally, after countless sleepless nights and too many failed attempts to reach you, Nico couldn’t take it anymore. He needed closure. He needed to hear your voice, even if it ended with you punching him (rightfully so.)

It was late in the evening when Nico made his way to your cabin. The sky was painted in hues of deep purple and orange, the last remnants of the sunset casting long shadows across the camp. Nico’s heart pounded in his chest, dread and hope warring within him as he stood outside your door. He knocked, and after a long moment, the door creaked open.

You stood there, framed by the soft glow of the cabin’s lanterns, your expression unreadable. You didn’t say anything at first, just stared at Nico, waiting. Nico swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly. “Can we talk?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, but eventually stepped aside, letting him in. The cabin was quiet, Percy nowhere to be seen. For that, Nico was thankful. He wouldn't be surprised if you had told Percy what occurred that day. He stood there for a moment, unsure where to begin. He’d rehearsed this conversation in his head a thousand times, but now that he was here, in front of you, the words felt heavy, stuck in his throat.

“I—I’ve been trying to show you that I’m sorry,” Nico started, his voice shaky. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you. But I never wanted to. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

"Nico." You whispered softly, eyes softening. "I-I'm trying things out with Will."

Nico's world shattered. "What?" was all he could muster. He blinked rapidly, unable to process what you had just said. His mouth opened, then closed, and for a moment he looked like he was going to crumble right in front of you.

“I…I’m trying things out with Will,” you repeated, a bit more firmly this time. Your voice was gentle, but there was a finality to it that made Nico’s heart twist painfully. His gaze dropped to the floor, staring at his shoes as if they held some kind of answer he couldn’t find in your eyes.

The silence stretched on between you, heavy and suffocating. Nico’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, the weight of all his efforts—the letters, the gifts, the endless nights of regret—collapsing under the simple truth of your words. He wanted to scream, to beg you to reconsider, but his voice failed him. When he finally managed to speak, his voice was barely a whisper.

“When did this happen?” His throat felt tight, like the air was being squeezed out of him, but he forced himself to look up, to meet your gaze even though it hurt.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “A few weeks after the battle with Gaea. Will and I…we just started talking, and things…they just happened.”

Nico’s heart twisted again, sharper this time, like a knife being driven deeper. The battle with Gaea—the war that had forced him to pause his desperate attempts to win you back, the war he had survived just so he could return to your side—had been the turning point for you, but not in the way he had hoped. He’d come back, bruised and exhausted, believing that his chance would come after the fighting was done. But the war had ended, and you had already found someone else.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You exhaled slowly, the sadness in your eyes deepening. “Because I didn’t want to hurt you. I was waiting for the right moment, but there never seemed to be one. You’ve been trying so hard, and I didn’t know how to tell you that I had moved on.”

He flinched, feeling the sting of those words cut deep. His hands trembled, and he shoved them into his pockets, trying to stop them from shaking. “Moved on?” The disbelief in his voice was raw, painful. “I never stopped loving you. Every day, I thought of ways to make it right, to show you how much you mean to me.”

“I know, Nico.” Your voice was almost pleading now, as if you wanted him to understand. “I saw everything you did. The letters, the ring—you don’t know how much it meant to me. But it’s not about how much you love me, Nico. It’s about trust. It’s about how I felt and how I still feel.”

“Then why did you keep the ring?” he asked desperately, his voice breaking as he gestured towards your desk, where his skull ring still sat, untouched since the day he left it there.

You looked away, your expression pained. “Because a part of me will always care for you. You were my first love, and I’ll never forget that. But Will, he’s been there for me in a way I needed. He’s open, and he doesn’t hide from me. I needed someone who could be honest with me, and you never were.”

The words felt like a slap to Nico’s face. He stepped back, his breath hitching as he tried to hold back the tears burning in his eyes. “I wanted to be,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I tried. I tried so hard.”

“I know you did,” you said softly, a single tear slipping down your cheek. “But sometimes trying isn’t enough.”

Nico’s chest tightened, and he felt the darkness inside him stirring—the familiar, suffocating void that had always been there, lurking just beneath the surface. He’d fought so hard to keep it at bay, to be stronger for you. But now, standing in your cabin with the truth hanging between you like a wall he could never break through, he felt it closing in on him again.

“I—I have to go,” he choked out, turning away before you could see the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at you any longer, not when the weight of your rejection was crushing him from the inside out.

“Nico, wait—” you called after him, but he was already halfway to the door, his footsteps heavy and unsteady. He paused, just for a moment, his hand on the doorknob, and for a second he thought about turning back, about begging you one last time not to leave him behind. But he knew it wouldn’t matter. Your mind was made up, and no amount of pleading would change that.

Without another word, Nico stepped out into the night, the cool breeze washing over him as he made his way toward the darkness beyond. The camp was quiet, the stars twinkling overhead, but all he could see was the shattered remains of his hopes and dreams, lying in pieces around him. He had tried—he had tried so hard—but in the end, it hadn’t been enough.

As he walked away, the darkness swallowed him whole, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t try to fight it.

Three days later, the camp was still buzzing with post-war activity. You threw yourself into helping with the rebuilding, avoiding thoughts of Nico and the painful conversation that had ended it all. Will was always by your side, his presence a comfort to your wounded heart. It wasn't that you didn't love Nico anymore; you would perhaps love him for the rest of your life, but it was time to put yourself first.

One afternoon, you were helping organize the infirmary with Will when a sudden, cold chill ran down your spine. You froze, a sense of dread settling over you. Before you could say anything, a shout rang out from outside, a voice filled with panic and fear. “There’s been an attack!”

You and Will bolted out of the cabin, following the frantic crowd toward the forest’s edge. Your heart pounded in your chest as you pushed through the campers, the anxiety mounting with every step. When you finally reached the clearing, you saw them—several demigods huddled around a small, motionless figure lying in the grass.

“No,” you whispered, your blood turning to ice as you caught sight of the dark clothes, the familiar face pale and still. “Nico…”

Will was already kneeling beside him, his hands glowing with golden light as he tried to heal the deep, ragged wound that marred Nico’s side. But you could see it in his eyes—the terror, the hopelessness. The injury was too severe, the damage too great.

“No, no, no,” you said, falling to your knees beside him, your hands hovering helplessly over Nico’s broken body. His eyes fluttered open, just barely, the shadows that had once seemed so invincible now dimmed to a fragile flicker.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice a faint rasp that barely reached your ears. His gaze was distant, glassy, but somehow he managed to find yours, a small, sad smile ghosting across his lips. “I never meant to hurt you."

A sob caught in your throat as you cupped his cheek, your hands trembling. “Nico, please…Just hold on,” you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of panic and grief.

Nico’s smile wavered, his chest shuddering with the effort to breathe. “I’m…I’m so tired,” he murmured, his eyes beginning to drift shut, the pain etched into every line of his face. “I wanted to make things right…to make you…happy.” Each word came slower, his strength ebbing away with every breath he took.

“You did,” you said, your voice fierce despite the tears streaming down your cheeks. You squeezed his hand harder, as if the strength of your grip alone could keep him tethered to this world. “Nico, you did make me happy. You still do. Just stay with me. Please, Nico, don’t go.”

A tear slid down Nico's pale cheek, mingling with the blood that stained his skin. “I love you,” he whispered, the words barely a breath, his eyes locking onto yours with a desperate intensity. “Always…love you.”

“I love you too,” you choked out, pressing your forehead against his, your tears mingling with his. You felt his body go slack, his hand falling limp in your grasp. “Nico! No, please! Nico!” You held his body close, your heart breaking all over again as the truth settled over you. The boy who had fought through hell for you, who had bared his soul and faced his deepest fears, was gone.

His last breath had been a promise—a truth you’d never doubted, even when he had hurt you. But now, that truth lay heavy in your arms, lifeless and still. His body felt too small, too fragile, for someone who had carried so much pain, who had survived so much darkness. The only comfort you took was that you would see Nico again. That was a promise.

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sweetsdereese · 3 months ago

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When the darkness comes

summary: Maybe Leo isn't fine after all

pair: Leo Valdez x Jason Grace

warnings: ptsd, hurt, eventual comfort (in part 2), memories of character death, some angst, panic attack

genre: hurt/comfort

word count: 981

requested tag: @aspenii

part one | part two

4th of July, in Leo’s opinion, is one of the best holidays. Not only could he show off his amazing pyrotechnics, but he could also stuff his face full of food. This year’s celebration is going to be bigger than ever as it will be a collaborative event between both camps. Leo was a bit hesitant when the joined event was first suggested since Camp Jupiter kids are so strict and rigid but hey, some of his best friends are from there so they can’t all be sticks in the mud.

His day started off with a lecture meeting led by Reyna and Annabeth. Schedules and maps of each activities zoned areas had been handed out during it. It was times like these that Leo wished he kept a better track of things given to him, he thought as he and his team of fellow Hephaestus kids rush to set up the fireworks after a much-needed reminder of the time from Frank. Double-checking that the others were able to handle everything, he slipped away and ran towards where Festus was lounging.

“Theres my favorite mechanical marvel, it’s almost showtime buddy” excitement clear in the tone of his views as he practically bounces in place.

A puff of hot air comes from the mechanical dragon as it huffs in response.

“Common don’t be like that. I’ll give you a good polishing and oiling if you do it” Leo negotiates as he pets Festus’s snout.

All he receives is a small mechanical growl of irritation, but Festus relents and sits up, looking down at the giddy curly haired boy.

“Thank you, thank you! Por eso eres mi favorito!” Leo exclaims as he hurriedly attaches the accessory to Festus’s abdomen.

“When the eagle shaped firework goes off, you’ll fly over the crowd. This will open, dropping tons of patriotic confetti and a healthy amount of glitter down onto the crowd” Leo explains, ignoring the eye roll he gets from the dragon.

Once the compartment is secured, Festus takes flight as to be closer to the event site. Meeting back up with the others, they set the timer before joining the celebration. Weaving through the dense crowd, Leo manages to find his group of friends.

“No need to worry, the life of the party is here!” Leo exclaims as he comes to stand beside Piper.

“The ‘life of the party’ almost missed out on his own firework display” Piper retorts back, playfully rolling her eyes.

“Me? Late to something? Never. I’m going to snag some food, save me a spot on the blanket?” he asks while batting his eyes at her.

“I’ll try but the good blanket real estate is getting snatched up fast by the love birds” she says gesturing towards the others.

Frank and Hazel sat beside each other, talking about what happened at their respective booths. Off at one of the corners of the picnic blanket, Will is helping Nico put on protective ear covers. While in the center of the blanket Percy is trying to get Annabeth to stay and relax, assuring her that everything is going according to plan.

“I’ll be quick, plus Jason isn’t here yet so as long as I’m back before him I should have a spot” he hurriedly says, already heading towards the food stalls.

“And leave him out in the cold because you stole his spot?” Piper jokes.

“Yet he’ll still love me” he quips back, sticking his tongue out at her.

“Bring me back a drink while you’re at it!” Piper yells after him, getting a thumbs up from the shorter boy.

Managing his way to the booths, Leo gets in line for some of that mouthwatering assortment of smoked barbecue pork. It felt like ages were passing by as he waits, barely having budged an inch since he first got in line. Tapping his foot as he fidgets with some gears he keeps on hand in his pocket. Leo jolts, fumbling as to not drop the gears he had just been mindlessly toying with as a loud explosion goes off. Panicked amber eyes searched around for distressed people and the source of the explosion, only to be met with awestruck faces looking up towards the sky. Bringing himself to look up, he catches sight of the dissipating colors of the fireworks. Relief had started to wash over him till another firework went off renewing that panic brewing in him.

Leo flinches as more explosions fill the air, a tight feeling growing in his chest. Abandoning his place in line, Leo stumbles away from the loud, increasingly suffocating crowd. As the suffocating feeling grows, Leo soon breaks into a run towards his dorm building. Fighting for each breath as he forces himself up the seemingly infinite stairs. Fumbling to unlock his dorm as his hands shake like leaves, having dropped his keys on one of the attempts.

Barreling into his dorm once the door opens, slamming it shut behind him as he staggers toward his bed. Mindlessly grabbing his blanket from his bed, he seeks refuge under his table. Leo cocoons himself in the blanket, trying to fight off the memories of countless pieces of shrapnel pierced into his skin. Rubbing the palms of his eyes to try and stop the flowing tears.

Each loud bang brings him back to that day, his body broken and unable to move as he fell watching Festus try to reach him – try to save him. His hands moving to cover his ears as he screws his eyes shut, trying to ignore the sounds from outside. That voice that’s haunted him as long as he can remember whispers to him. You’re a child of Hephaestus, a pyromancer, why are you crying like a baby? Are you seriously scared of fireworks? You’re ruining this for everyone. People have gone through worse, and you don’t see them acting like babies.

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tj-dragonblade · 3 months ago

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ooooh I would love to see a snippet from Academic Conference AU!

🤘five-and-dimes

Academic Conference AU my lingering and languishing beloved. What began as a short fill for the prompt 'bed-sharing' has spawned a four-chapter plan of repeated hookups at an academic conference and some relationship development once they go back home. Chapter one is drafted, chapter two halfway-ish, three and four in vague bits and pieces. All it needs from me is devoted time and effort and we could probably get somewhere, but other things just keep coming up and, well, one day. Hopefully. There are many bits and pieces of this in the wip: academic au tag and here is another!

They're in different panels after lunch but meet up again by dinner, comparing notes on whose afternoon had been more of a bore, debating the merits of attending the evening mixer at the hotel bar. They do, ultimately, but spend more time laughing together in the corner than mingling with anyone else. "You aren't drinking?" Dream asks him at one point; a tad hypocritical maybe, when he's barely touched his own cocktail, but Hob doesn't mind the question. "Nah. Not a fan of making a fool of myself among colleagues," he offers, nodding his head toward where Percy from the maths department is being talked out of climbing atop the bar by a handful of his fellows, and Dream makes an amused sound of agreement. Hob smiles into the soda he's been nursing all evening, stealing a lingering glance at Dream while his attention is elsewhere. Truthfully, Hob could probably handle just one drink and be okay, but better safe than sorry. He can't trust that he won't do something stupid about Dream if he gets alcohol in him, not with this whatever-it-is blossoming between them. "Shall we turn in?" Dream says, eventually. "My presentation is first thing in the morning, and you promised to be in attendance." His tone is just barely over the line into flirtatious and he's casting a glance up through his eyelashes, the corners of his mouth tucked into a barely-there smile that would be smug if it curled up any further. "Absolutlely. Man of my word, that's me." Hob downs the last of his coke with a grin, breaking the little zing of electricity that had sparked between them with that look. "Come on, then. I need a shower before bed; you?" "Please."

WIP Title Ask Game

( @five-and-dimes I forgot to tag you back in, apologies)

#tagmemes #TJs Writing #Sandman #Dreamling #wip: academic AU

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djs-sideblog-for-pog-trains · 11 months ago

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James and his ballroom dancing teacher

a rewrite of this post/ficlet from 2021 :] and a partner to this art piece i posted yesterday.

wordcount: 8.9k words

relationships: romantic 4x5, implied background 2x3.

characters: ALL HUMANISED James, Gordon, Thomas, Edward, Henry, Percy, Flying Scotsman, Topham Hatt (who have talking rolls, everyone else is implied to be there or potentially name-dropped)

tags/warnings: brief mention of alcohol, kissing, anxiety/spiralling thoughts. Can't think of anything else.

Kind of hurt/comfort but mostly just emotional fluff. A slowburn oneshot, if you will.

Full fic under the cut ^-^

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The anniversary of Sir Topham Hatt taking over from his father, (also Sir Topham Hatt) is a scant few months away. James won’t lie he’s been eyeing up the calendar – he’s been sensing a good opportunity – so he’s spent the past week or two voicing his …wonderings as to whether the Fat Controller will throw some sort of event, surely he should, he’s earnt one by now.

Thomas finally looks up, and eyes James over their mediocre breakroom cups of tea.

“You just want an excuse to dress up, don’t you?” he drawls, even as he idly stirs his tea, the spoon clinking against the cup.

James sticks his nose in the air even as he flushes just a little.

“And what if I do?” he huffs. “I have a lovely dress-coat that I ordered all the way from Manchester, and I haven’t even had a chance to wear it yet! A ball would be perfect! When was the last time we ever had a ball?”

Thomas stares into his tea.

“I don’t think we’ve ever had a ball,” he says, then he frowns. “Well, maybe when the queen came. But, y’know. That was the queen.”

“I’m just saying, we should have one,” James says, waving his hands. “I mean, even besides all that, surely Sir Topham Hatt deserves one. It’s been a long haul.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he does nod.

“You have a point,” he says. “You could ask him. Or are you hoping the gossip will reach him first?”

James laughs. “You know me too well,” he says. “Oop, it’s 1:40, my next train’s in five minutes. See you later, puffball!”

“Bye, bootlace,” Thomas calls back as James rises from his seat and hurries away.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

It seems James’ plan has worked. Within the week, murmurs are already spreading about a ball. Hatt even sends out a letter of interest, to which actually most everyone replies with enthusiasm.

“Sir, would you let us go to the mainland to get appropriate formalwear?” James asks, eventually, when their paths cross at Knapford. “It would be a shame if we couldn’t dress to impress – the opportunity for such things comes so rarely. It’d be a real treat.”

Topham eyes him knowingly, but laughs and tugs at the lapels of his coat as he thinks.

“I have to admit, you raise a good point, James,” he nods. “I can’t let you all go at once, but… Hm. Perhaps I will organise some sort of schedule within the coming month.”

James beams. “Oh, thank you sir!”

“Before you get too excited,” Hatt smiles wryly, “Go take your next train.”

The clock overhead in the station chimes 10am. James flinches, before he nods at Hatt and hurries away.

It’s fine. He counts this as a win.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

After work today, James ends up walking home with Edward. Not that they do this often, but, well, they only live a couple flats down from each other anyway. And besides! James has a favour he needs to ask as unnaturally as possible.

“Ugh,” he starts. “The ball coming up, I’m so nervous.”

“Nervous?” Edward repeats. “That’s hardly like you, James.”

“But I don’t know how to dance,” James complains, shooting Edward a kind of look.

Edward shakes his head, frowning in fond confusion.

“Now that’s a lie,” he says. “I’ve seen you tap, James.”

“But that’s not ballroom dancing,” James stresses. “I don’t know how to- say, to waltz. I can’t show up to a real, fancy ball not knowing how to waltz.”

And Edward lets out a little snort now that he’s catching on, his smile slowly growing and his eyebrow slowly raising.

“Not like you,” James finally lays down his honey trap. “I remember seeing you dance, once, Edward, you were wonderful.”

“And you want me to teach you.”

James clasps his hands, grinning. “Yes!” he exclaims.

“No,” says Edward.

“Ah! Why not?!”

Edward laughs, and keeps walking even as James stops, putting his hands on his hips dramatically as he pouts at the back of Edward’s head.

“I need you!” James calls. “Edward, it’s my time of need!”

“Uh huh,” Edward says, not looking back and not stopping.

Eventually, James is forced to rush to catch up, and he quickly manages to fall back in step with Edward.

“But I need a teacher,” he pleads again. “Edward, I don’t want to make a fool of myself!"

"You could have fooled me,” Edward laughs, before he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Look, if you really want a good teacher, why don’t you ask Gordon? He taught me everything I know.”

James stops dead again – but this time, he has a much more different, far more flustered expression on his face. Edward stops this time, too, a few paces ahead of James, and looks back at him with a knowing smile.

“Do ask nicely though, hm?” he tacks on. “You wouldn’t want Gordon to turn you down, would you?”

James’ flush only deepens.

“Sod off,” he finally says.

“Mm, this is my house,” Edward replies, smiling, and James realises he has in fact walked Edward all the way home – past his own place, too. “I think it’s you who may have to sod off.”

James flushes redder.

Edward laughs at him, in that fond knowing way of his that’s almost more infuriating than anything else, and waves goodbye as he heads up the path to his flat.

James balls his fists, before he lets out a hissing breath between his teeth, and walks himself home while he definitely, totally, does not stew over ask Gordon.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

On Tuesdays, he has a small overlap with Gordon at Knapford at 10am.

So James is already loitering on the station platform as Gordon hops down from his engine, and Gordon spots him leaning on one of the pillars, attempting to look as casual as possible.

“Oh!” he says. “Hello there, little James.”

James hopefully manages to control his expression. He hasn’t decided if he is annoyed by the ‘little’ or if it’s grown on him, because Gordon has managed to make it sound …endearing, nowadays. Though James is, uh, may be imagining that bit. Probably.

“Hi,” he replies.

“…Were you waiting for me?” Gordon asks, and he draws in closer, pausing a good metre away and putting one hand in his pocket, resting his weight over one hip, and it’s not fair, because he looks so good and he cuts such an imposing figure in his work uniform that James has to focus to get through his sentence.

“Yes, actually,” James says, straightening up from where he was leaning against the station pillar. “A little bluebird told me you can dance.”

To James’ surprise, Gordon actually… stiffens a little. James watches his expression close up just a fraction, almost imperceptibly so if James didn’t happen to know the minutia of Gordon’s facial expressions well by this point.

“…What of it?” Gordon asks, folding his arms. He sounds somewhat… miffed.

James clasps his hands behind his back and smiles as brightly as he can.

“Teach me.”

“No.”

James pouts. “Please?”

“No.” Gordon repeats, more out of instinct, before he sighs, and looks down dolefully at James. “…Are you going to drop this, at all?”

“No,” James says sweetly. “Teach me?”

Really, James hopes Gordon will say yes without too much hounding. H-he does like the idea of learning off of Gordon. Whether Gordon denies it to not, he does carry himself in his day-to-day life with the grace of poise of a dancer. Now Edward’s mentioned it, James isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed sooner.

A-and, well, really, he trusts Gordon. Gordon will make fun of him to his face, but he probably wouldn’t tattle on James’ potential two left feet to everyone else. And James doesn’t really want to… broadcast that he’s having to learn these things. Or something. He doesn’t know, it’s probably all a bit silly anyway.

Gordon tips his head back for a moment, and sighs heavily.

“Okay,” he says.

“Now, I know that you don’t-!” James cuts himself off. “Oh. Um. Thank you.”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Gordon says. “Catch up with me after work, if you’re serious.”

“I’m dead serious!” James clasps his hands. “I am.”

“Well then,” Gordon says, as he nods at James before walking past him, to go get some morning tea or something, probably. “That’s that, then.”

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Gordon catches him after work, his expression somewhat intense as he grabs James’ arm and his attention. James pauses, looking up at him.

“Oh,” he says, “yes?”

“Tonight,” Gordon says, voice low, not far off murmuring into James’ ear. “Are you willing to start tonight?”

James lights up. “Yes!” he says, though he does his best to mirror Gordon’s hushed tone. “Where? When?”

Gordon snorts, amused, and pats his left trouser pocket knowingly.

“Hatt gave me a key to the ballroom they’ll be using,” he says conspiratorially. “We will practice there.”

James smiles, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

“…And, I was thinking after dark,” Gordon says softly. “…Just to, shall we say, preserve our dignity.”

James flushes a little, despite himself.

“What,” he says, “you think I’m going to be that bad?”

Gordon laughs, and lets James’ arm go. He also doesn’t answer the question.

“How’s 11?” he asks instead.

“…pm?”

“Yes.”

“…Gordon.”

“…10?”

James closes his eyes for a moment. Well, if Gordon is really that embarrassed to be found with him, then fine.

“We can do 11,” he says tiredly. “You’re the one with the earlier trains, anyway.”

Gordon snorts, and nods. He gives James the address.

“Do you have dancing shoes?” he asks, as James begins to walk away.

“I got some recently,” James says, waving his hand. “I only had tap shoes before, and I didn’t think that’d quite work out.”

Gordon laughs again, before he nods at James, seemingly satisfied.

“See you later,” he says, finally raising his voice back to his normal speaking register, before he turns on his heel and strides away.

James takes a moment to massage his temple. That was weird. That was weird, right? He’s not going nuts?

“…That was weird,” comments Thomas from across the room. “What on earth were you talking about?”

“Ah!” James practically jumps out of his skin, and jolts around, glaring at his coworker. “How long have you been there?!”

“Not that long,” Thomas says, as he pulls on his coat. “But long enough to see that was kind of weird. What did he want?”

“He’s doing a favour for me,” James says, before he shakes his head and starts to walk. Thomas falls into pace beside him, head tilting in curiosity, waiting for an explanation. “…Privately.”

“Ooh,” Thomas teases. “You finally told him?”

“What?!” James goes red despite himself, and gives Thomas a shove. “You’re delusional. There’s nothing to tell. Shut up.”

“Uh huh.”

“Shut up!”

James speeds up, hoping it’ll make Thomas leave him alone. It notably does not. In fact, Thomas tails him the entire way back to his flat, asking leading questions the whole while, and James has to slam the bloody door closed in the prat’s face until Thomas finally leaves him alone. And James can hear Thomas’ laughter through the door as he walks away.

James takes the moment to let his back thump against the door and to cover his face, screaming into his hands a little bit, just for fun. This is… James needs a lie down, or something.

He also needs to find his dancing shoes before tonight.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

James trudges up to the hall, his bag with his shoes in it thrown over his shoulder, his coat thrown over top plain, casual clothes he doesn’t usually let people see him wear – he likes to be well presented at all times, but tonight he also needs to be comfortable enough to dance.

He’s so nervous. What if he can’t get it? What if Gordon gives up on him? What if this ruins their friendship? The building is dark, did James get the right time? The right place? He feels ill. Why couldn’t Edward have just said yes? If it turns out Gordon has stood him up, James is blaming Edward.

James tries the door handle. It’s …unlocked. He lets out a sigh of relief and slips inside.

…Wow. This room is huge. And that may be a stupid thing to say, considering it’s a ballroom, but James pauses, wide-eyed, by the door as he takes in the space. He didn’t even know the NWR had one of these.

And down the other end, Gordon is already there and waiting, though he’s lit a few candles, filling his end of the hall with a thin, watery yellow light, and he’s setting up… a tape deck?

“You still use cassettes?” James calls, and Gordon looks up at him. James hitches his bag up over his shoulder again as he crosses the room. “Way to join the modern world, Gordon.”

“What, would you have rather I brought a record player?” Gordon replies, as he inserts a cassette. “Besides, these are the tapes I learnt off. Figured it was a good place to start.”

James has to sit on the floor to swap his shoes over. Looking up at Gordon, who is still poking at the tape deck, James… drinks him in, a little. Gordon’s down to just his white button-up shirt, and he’s undone his tie and top two buttons, not to mention he’s rolled up his sleeves. James does his best not to stare at Gordon’s forearms. Gordon lets the tape start playing, and a waltz James doesn’t know the name of fills the air.

“Are you ready?”

James jumps, and shakes his head to clear it, and finishes lacing up his shoes. He rises to his feet, shedding his coat, and he puts his things to the side as Gordon watches him.

“…I don’t think I’ve never seen you in a just a t-shirt before,” Gordon comments, as James hurries back to stand in front of him.

And James looks down at himself, flushes, and wonders briefly if he should put his coat back on. It’s a long-sleeve t-shirt (red, of course), because he’s not about to let Gordon inspect his scars. It does have a lower neckline, showing the hints of some, though, and it leaves the scars on the back of his hands visible.

Gordon… doesn’t comment on any of that, though his eyes graze over them briefly.

“Feel honoured,” James jokes instead, shivering despite himself. “I don’t usually dress down.”

To his relief, Gordon laughs, and holds out his right hand to James.

“Then I do feel honoured indeed,” he says. “Now, lets begin before it gets any later, hm?”

James puts his left hand in Gordon’s, before he tries to play it cool as Gordon puts his other hand on James’ back. …Um, huh. His hands are big. And warm. James focusses on looking Gordon in the eye instead of reacting to the feeling of Gordon’s hands on him.

“Put your hand on my shoulder,” says Gordon. “And don’t lean your arm on mine. You should be poised.”

James blinks, but nods, words escaping him, and he strikes the pose he thinks he’s supposed to – he can copy what he’s seen on Strictly Come Dancing at least this much.

“Good,” Gordon says. “Now, we’ll start with the waltz.”

James… James actually gets his head around it far quicker than he expected, which he is thoroughly relieved by. He does have his eyes glued to their feet, and he sometimes steps backwards when he shouldn’t, but, successfully, he hasn’t stood on Gordon’s toes yet.

Gordon spends the night teaching James a basic going-in-a-little-circle thing.

“I do expect you to memorise all the steps,” Gordon does say eventually. “But it will be less important for you, seeing as you’ll be following a lead anyway. As long as you can be reactive, read what is coming next, and follow it, then you should be fine.”

James’ arms feel heavy, his feet feel sore. It’s been a good long while since he’s had a dancing lesson of any sort. The muscles in his legs are reminding him of that fact so courteously.

…Gordon smiles at him anyway, though.

“Well done,” he says, and James blinks in surprise at the compliment. “It’s not often anyone picks it up that fast.”

“Was I quicker than Edward?” James asks, half-teasing as he steps back, taking his hands off Gordon and stretching a little.

Gordon laughs, his head tipping back, and it rings around the empty room. James finds himself smiling in response to the sound, he’s always liked Gordon’s laugh.

“Yes, James,” Gordon says. “You were indeed. Now, it’s… late. We should finish.”

James swaps his shoes back over and pulls on his coat, and Gordon blows out the candles and turns off the tape deck, though he leaves it where it is. And he swaps his shoes out, too, and turns to an already waiting James.

“I’ll walk you home?” James offers.

“…If you insist,” Gordon says, and he gives James a little smile that almost looks a little fond, if James dares to believe as such.

They walk quietly, not wanting to wake anyone, and James pauses as Gordon stops by James’ front gate.

“You don’t need to double back,” Gordon says. “I can manage the rest on my own, I think.”

“Oh,” James says. “…Of course. Thank you, by the way. I didn’t expect you to go quite this late.”

“You were doing well,” Gordon shrugs. “I didn’t want to…” he gestures vaguely with one hand, “…interrupt the flow of progress.”

James shifts on his feet. “When will we do this again?” he asks.

“Tomorrow?” Gordon offers, before he blinks at himself even as James looks up at him. “I-if you like.”

“Okay,” James agrees before he considers whether he should. “That’d be splendid.”

“Done.” Gordon says, before his lips quirk into a wry, lopsided smile, and he tacks on, “Sleep well, James.”

James nods, and hurries down the path to his front door without another word. It’s once he’s unlocking the door that he realises Gordon’s waiting for him to go inside before he leaves. So James waves goodbye, closes the door behind him, and watches through the peephole for a moment to see Gordon walk away.

His heart is racing. James hangs up his coat by the door, presses the flats of his palms to his cheeks to check whether they’re as hot as they feel before he stumbles his way to bed.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Time passes. At first, it was rough, returning to the habit of dancing every day, but a month has passed, and there’s only one month more until the ball, and James and Gordon have been meeting to practice by candlelight every night. James is even used to the adjustment of sleeping schedule now.

Is it silly that James really likes the candlelight aspect? It’s… romantic, if he may be so bold. Though on the other hand, it feels almost mean to take up so much of Gordon’s time like this. Yes, James asked, and asked again when Gordon said no, but Gordon is giving him far much more time than James had ever considered he’d be willing to give.

Which is very nice of him. But… James just didn’t expect it, he supposes.

Over those four weeks, Gordon has gone from bossing him through the steps and correcting his form, to… quietly complimenting him when James pulls off a nice piece of footwork. And there’s been more and more compliments than before, even though Gordon has gotten quieter. That’s the only way James can put it. Gordon’s been talking less and watching more – he must actually be quite quiet if you just leave Gordon be. And… Gordon has just been looking. At James. Sometimes, he seems distracted doing so.

And James can’t help but admit he’s guilty in return. James didn’t realise how dark Gordon’s eyes are, how warm and rich a brown they are – not until they��re looking down at him, glinting in the candle light.

It’s as James waves Gordon goodbye one night more, Gordon standing with his hands in his pockets under the streetlight, and Gordon smiles and nods and waits for James to close the door, that it all hits him.

James closes the door so Gordon can’t see his face as he flushes dark, and he puts his hands flat on the door and leans there, bracing himself as he flushes hot and flushes cold, and-

Cinders. Cinders and ashes. James has a crush on Gordon.

Like, okay, fine. Fine! James has ‘had a crush on Gordon’ for a while. He thinks the guy is big and proud and strong and pretty and handsome and all those good things, but James had actually always considered that fairly superficial. Maybe even bordering on jealousy, if he really wanted to try analysing himself. And that was the biggest reason why he never wanted to tell anyone, and why the idea of telling Gordon felt so mortifying. Because… what if it wasn’t real?

But now? This time? This is… this is a real, actual crush. James turns so he can put his back to the door, flopping there as he feels a little lightheaded, standing in the dark of the entrance hall of his home. He hardly knows what to do with himself like this.

A-at the very least, they’re good dance partners. It feels pretty natural, actually. James is surprised how natural it feels. They dance best when they aren’t bickering – and… Gordon and him haven’t bickered for a while.

James shivers, and marches himself into the kitchen to go drink a glass of water and then throw a glass of water in his face. He’s being melodramatic. Despite that, he almost feels like he’s coming down with something, now the realisation’s hit him.

It’s moments like this where James is glad he lives alone. No one to see him like this, no one to make fun of him. No one to ask weaselly little questions that make him feel more confused.

He shakes his head, grips the sink as he takes a big breath in and a big breath out, before he whisks himself off to bed. Maybe he’ll sleep it off.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Nope. Three weeks until the ball and James has to acknowledge that he is, in fact, in love with Gordon. He has to grapple with this night after night as Gordon’s hands are on him and he gets to rest his hands on Gordon, and he can spend the whole time studying Gordon’s face instead of having to look at his feet, because Gordon has gotten him good enough that James doesn’t need to watch his feet anymore. And Gordon’s even taught him multiple dances at this point, though James is still learning the tango. The foxtrot and the quickstep were easy enough. And sillily enough, he didn’t consider Gordon to be a man who knew how to tango.

The candlelight catches Gordon’s eye again, as they turn a corner, and it makes James’ breath hitch a little, before he swallows the rising guilt in his throat, and opens his mouth.

“If, uh,” he starts slowly, following Gordon’s lead as they do the fancier turn Gordon taught him, “if you ever want to learn how to tap, for any reason, I can teach you too, if you want.”

Gordon tilts his head. “Well,” he says, lips quirking into a little smile as he leads James through a promenade and spinning him at the end for good measure, “I don’t know when I’d need that, but I’ll keep you in mind.”

“Or even something like-!”

James can’t help the rising agitation in his voice, and to his- his- his horror? Gordon comes to a complete halt, making James stop with him, and he raises an eyebrow at James even as his hands feel so heavy where they rest in James’ own and on James’ hip. It kills the words trying to form in James’ throat.

“What’s all this about, James?”

Cinders, Gordon asks it so plainly.

“I feel guilty,” James blurts – before he can think about whether he even should. “For taking up so much of your time.”

Gordon pauses, pursing his lips, and he looks quietly amused for a moment, before he shrugs. “You’re not taking anything I’m not willing to give,” he says, and he gives James an enigmatic smile, and James wishes the man would stop talking in circles. “I don’t mind spending my time like this.”

I don’t mind you, is what Gordon’s eyes seem to say. James hopes his cheeks don’t look as hot as they feel. He’s almost shaking.

“But!” Gordon finally lifts his hands away. “If you really feel that way, then I’ll take a batch of your scones after this is all over.”

And James laughs at that, slightly too loudly, a burst of the frantic energy that was building inside him, and he smiles and nods and steps backwards so the gloom will hide his expression which most certainly must be moonstruck. “Done,” he agrees.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The time has been flying by. It’s now the week of the ball, and James should be excited. They’re still practicing by candlelight in the ballroom in the evenings, but the ballroom is slowly getting populated with things like tables and lights and decorations as the days pass, signalling the ball’s arrival.

James feels anxious! He’s not even sure why. It’s clearly not over his ability to dance. They can now run several dances start to end, and at multiple speeds, with ease. He’s even figured out that tango.

It dawns on him gently as he and Gordon are doing their latest lap, breezing down the entire length of the ballroom, that James doesn’t want this to end. He wants his candlelit nights with Gordon, stolen away from the chaos that daytime and the railway and their workmates present.

He likes this. He likes Gordon.

So when Gordon is asked to give his key back three days before the event, James can’t help but look distressed at the news. And Gordon laughs, he claps James on the back and tells him not to worry because he’s going to be fine.

Gordon doesn’t… get it, then. James takes a breath in, a breath out, and offers Gordon a smile and a little thank you. That’s fine. Gordon doesn’t… have to get it.

It has left him sitting in the breakroom, staring into his tea as he muses over it all, though. And while he doesn’t hear the approaching footsteps, he does hear the clink of a mug set down, and the thump of someone taking the seat across from him, and Thomas asking, “What’s got you so glum?”

James jumps, not realising he must have been wearing his heart on his sleeve, and offers Thomas a smile even as he goes to drink his tea to try hide his misery.

It makes Thomas eye him warily.

“Gordon’s not broken your heart, has he?” he asks.

James chokes on his drink, and splutters, “I beg your pardon?!”

Thomas laughs at him, leaning back in his seat, and James glances around the room to doublecheck that they are thankfully alone right now.

“Edward mentioned to me that you’d been having lessons,” Thomas winks, gesturing a cheers with his tea.

“That wanker.”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Thomas quickly follows up, eyeing James over his mug, before he smiles that cheeky smile of his. “Mostly because I know you’ll have my head.”

“Damn right,” James says, and he takes a pointed drink of his tea, not even wanting to know how red he’s gone right now.

“Easy,” Thomas raises a hand in defeat. “I guess I’m just checking in. You’re looking pretty put out.”

James sighs. His shoulders sag. He cups his hands around his tea and stares into it.

“I’m just in a little over my head, I think,” he mumbles.

“More like head over heels.”

“I’ll throw this at you. Don’t think I wont.”

That makes Thomas laugh, even as James tries to glare at him, before Thomas’ expression softens.

“James,” he says, in a quiet voice that makes James’ stomach drop. “In all seriousness. I’ve known Gordon for longer than you have, and… if he didn’t want to have you around, he simply wouldn’t.”

James gives up on trying not to flush.

Thomas opens his mouth again, before he clearly decides against saying more, and he gets to his feet, shaking his head before he drains the last of his tea from his mug.

“Think about telling him, maybe,” he suggests, before he pats James on the shoulder and leaves the room, leaving James to stew in his thoughts, and try to gather himself before his afternoon train.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

The night of the ball itself is absolutely brimming with excitement. Everyone is dressed to the nines, in their fancy clothes from the mainland that Sir Topham Hatt let them all go get, and the energy is infectious. The crowd is full of people he knows and people he doesn’t, it seems all of Sodor’s invited, and about half of England too.

James himself is wearing his lovely red dress-coat, all wine-red and gold braid, his crispest white gloves, a cravat and a lovely pair of red boots he had to go buy from the mainland too, which are just perfect for dancing in after he’s spent the week breaking them in. And he’s grinning like a lunatic as he drinks in the room around him – the ballroom he’s only ever seen in half-light has absolutely exploded with life and colour and noise.

From behind him, someone clears their throat. James spins on his heel to see Gordon standing there, and oh! He’s looking absolutely resplendent in midnight blue tails of his own, adorned with silver braids, and a single red flower (a rose or a carnation, James can’t tell) in his lapel.

James grins as he sees it, feeling a little less self-conscious about the rich blue pocket square he added to his own outfit too.

He opens his mouth to speak, but Gordon beats him to it.

“You look just splendid,” Gordon says, awed.

James preens at that, he can’t help it. He then smooths down his coat and pointedly looks Gordon up and down in return, letting his admiration shine on his face. “I could say the same for you,” he says.

“Have you heard about all the invitations?” Gordon says, stepping in a little closer as someone slips behind him. “Hatt sent some out to celebrities who’ve been involved with the railway.”

“Oh, yes, I heard,” James nods. “I’ve even seen City of Truro here tonight! Fancy him coming along, Duck will be pleased.”

“Yes, yes,” Gordon says, glancing around. “But…”

James’s face falls in realisation. “Ah.”

“Yes. Not only did Hatt invite my brother, but he damn well accepted,” Gordon half-laughs, tugging at his lapels, straightening them, “and Hatt only told me this morning! And I know how Scott likes to present himself, so… I couldn’t be shown up.”

“Of course,” James agrees politely, but he purses his lips, reading the anxiety weighing down Gordon’s board shoulders with ease. “…Do you want to avoid him?”

“No,” Gordon says, almost too quickly, and he steps back to accept a couple flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and hands one to James, and James sips it politely before his eyes go wide, Hatt really didn’t spare any expense on getting the good stuff, huh? “I just… hope it will be less frigid tonight than the last time we spoke.”

James looks up at Gordon sympathetically, who muses on his statement for a moment longer, before he shakes his head like he’s shaking off water, and Gordon turns to him, smiling.

“But enough of that!” he exclaims, and offers James his arm. “I do believe we’re under distinct instructions to enjoy ourselves.”

James laughs, and takes it, stepping in closer as a couple tries to slip by them to get to the dance floor.

“Shall we go attack the hors d’oeuvres before Henry does?” he offers.

Gordon laughs, and pats James’ wrist with surprising tenderness, it almost makes James gasp.

“That’s a splendid idea,” he grins back, the ice finally melting from his face.

James’ heart totally doesn’t not skip a beat over the way Gordon says splendid.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

It’s all fine. The evening goes fine! It’s now about 9pm, and the room is now lit with electric lights, candles, and strings of fairy lights. It really does make the mood more magical. James splits off now, to go natter with his friends. He gets heckled by Thomas and Percy, but they’re all laughing, and James has to compliment their formal gear too.

“It’s nice to finally get a flattering tailor, I’ll tell you that much,” Percy says, smoothing down his coat. “I don’t think I’ve ever owned a waistcoat before.”

“And I can’t remember the last time I actually wore a tie,” Thomas jokes, making a show of tugging his collar. “But really, James, I see why you wanted to dress up so badly. You look great.”

James plays up preening, and does a little spin for them. “Thank you,” he says. “Call me vain, but honestly, I do find it splendid to see everyone dressed up like this.”

“It’s true,” Thomas nods. “I’ve seen more pretty gowns tonight than I think I have in my whole life. Have you seen what Emily’s wearing? Showstopper.”

“So many sequins,” Percy nods.

James moves closer to their side so he can take in the whole room, and as his eyes graze over the dance floor, he realises Edward and Henry are out there.

And then he barks with laughter.

“What’s up?” Thomas asks.

“I see why Edward refused to teach me!” James laughs, and points them out. “Look.”

Henry is leading, god bless him, and he’s very, very carefully watching their feet. He’s not unconfident, certainly, but he’s not necessarily confident either, and glancing up at Edward’s face, who’s smiling encouraging at him, and not even wincing when Henry steps on his toes.

“That’s cute,” Percy says. “Good for them.”

And… watching them go? Maybe it’s the live music. Maybe it’s the candlelight. Maybe it’s the champagne. But James is suddenly possessed with the need to go find Gordon and drag him out onto the dance floor right now.

“Excuse me,” he says, and Thomas smiles at him knowingly, and James flips him off for fun even as he begins to weave his way through the crowd.

James finds himself outside, stepping through the grand French doors that have been thrown open to welcome the warm summer night. The spill-out area is filled with classy outdoor furniture, there’s fairy lights everywhere, the gardens have been completely redone and all the hedges are beautifully trimmed, and there, standing off to the side, is Gordon and his brother.

Gordon’s laughing along to whatever Scot is saying, but the way he has his arms folded across his chest, the set of his shoulders, the way his body is angled away from the conversation, it’s clear to anyone who knows him well that he’s a little too uncomfortable right now.

So James makes a beeline for him, and pops up by Gordon’s elbow.

“Hullo, Gordon!” he chirps warmly, and smiles as the tension just rolls of Gordon now someone else is here. “And, hello,” he says, polite yet slightly stiff to Scot, who nods at him and offers him the big smile of someone who is very used to meeting new people.

“Hello!” he says, and offers James a hand to shake, which James does take (and tries not to wince at the strength of his grip). “Who might you be?”

“James,” James offers. “I’m a good friend of Gordon’s.”

“Aha!” Scot’s face lights up far more genuinely this time. “Gordie was just telling me about you.”

James tastefully manages not to laugh at Gordie, more so because he’s jumping straight into oh broken buffers, what did Gordon say about him?

“My prized student,” Gordon jokes, lightly elbowing him, and James grins back.

“Speaking of,” he says. “I reckon we go show Henry and Edward up. They’re not too bad, but Henry can’t keep his eyes off their feet.”

Gordon and Scot both laugh at that, and Scot graciously lets them go.

“Thank you,” Gordon leans down to whisper in James’ ear as they walk away. “It always feels like an interrogation with him.”

“It’s alright,” James shrugs. “I… had a gut feeling. Anyway. You want to dance?”

Gordon seems to be keeping himself from glancing over his shoulder.

James frowns softly at him. “We don’t have to,” he adds.

“Oh, nonsense,” Gordon says, and the hand Gordon has on James’ shoulder squeezes gently. “I’d love to. Let’s let this song finish first.”

They have to muscle their way through the crowd, ending up slipping past Hatt himself, who pats Gordon on the back and offers James a smile and nod as they go past. Before long, they end up out on the dance floor as the next song ends.

“Any ideas?”

“My guess is waltz,” Gordon says, adjusting his cufflinks before he offers his hands to James. “They’ve played a couple fast numbers back-to-back.”

“You’ve found our warmup, then. How thoughtful,” James laughs, stepping into Gordon’s arms. It’s so easy to lay his hand on Gordon’s shoulder now, to feel Gordon’s fingers curl around his hand. James isn’t sure how he ever could have dreaded it.

He laughs again as Gordon turns out to be right.

The music starts, and it’s just so natural to follow Gordon’s lead. And they’re off! Off around the dance floor, and Gordon successfully steers them through the crowd, pulling James out of the way of a close call of a collision with a quick pivot and a spin.

As they draw back together, Gordon eyes him, and James blinks back.

“You alright?” he asks. “You look flustered.”

“Flustered!” James exclaims, trying to play it off. “Me? Never.”

And Gordon actually… laughs at that, laughs at him, and James is struck with the realisation that perhaps… Gordon knows.

Well, it takes two to tango, doesn’t it?

“Well,” James changes tune, and he smirks up and Gordon. “In truth, I was just so taken by how handsome you look tonight.”

Now it’s Gordon’s turn to stammer, to falter, and for the colour to leap to his face. James hasn’t ever been brave enough to flirt before, but clearly, it works, and if Gordon’s going play that game then James can match him.

“Obviously,” Gordon manages to catch himself. “You must’ve liked the blue.”

He nods towards James’ pocket square, and James shakes his head with a bashful little smile.

“And I can see you went to match!” he nods back at Gordon’s flower.

Gordon goes to speak, before his eyes widen, and he quickly pulls James in close as another, far less-coordinated couple barrels past them, before letting James migrate back to the normal dancing distance.

“You do mean it? You think I’m handsome?”

“Of course I do,” James’ grin drops into something far softer despite his best efforts, and he says his next statement with far more heart than he means to. “I think you’re splendid.”

Gordon meets his eyes with a look that James literally cannot describe with any other word except tender.

“We need to talk, don’t we?” he asks, so softly, it’s amazing James can hear it over the music and the chatter.

“I’m listening now,” he replies.

Gordon swallows hard, before they’re brought to a halt as the song ends, and they – along with the rest of the dancers – politely clap for the musicians, before the next song starts. A quickstep. James’ face lights up instantly, and Gordon grins.

“Time to do some laps?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

They are the fastest and most fluid pair on the dancefloor. James’ dress-coat flairs out behind them in a most stunning way as they go all but flying past, a whirl of red and blue, and James can tell people are watching, and he’s relishing in it, grinning so brightly as Gordon smiles back.

They’re left panting and laughing and stumbling off the floor as the song ends – as not only the crowd but the band applaud them too. Gordon waves it off with a laugh. James takes a playful little bow, before they both stagger off to go find somewhere to sit and catch their breath.

Edward appears out of the crowd, Henry in tow, as James and Gordon find some seats, and James passes Gordon a drink.

“That,” Edward says, “was the most impressive thing I’ve seen in a long time.”

James chortles and slumps back, slumps back against Gordon without thinking, feeling Gordon tense under him for just a moment before he… yields, and melts a little back.

“You were doing well, too,” Gordon nods at Henry. “James wasn’t learning to dance from square one.”

“Just let a man be jealous in peace,” Henry grumbles jokingly, plopping himself down next to James with an oomph. “I don’t know how you manage being on your feet for that long, sometimes. I even got new comfortable shoes and my back is still killing me.”

As James pats his arm in consolation, Edward turns to Gordon with a glint in his eye.

“Dance?” he asks, holding out a hand. “For old time’s sake?”

Gordon fights down his smile, but gets up with no hesitation. Though he pauses a moment later, and glances back at James. “I’ll be right back,” he says.

“Sure thing,” James waves them off with a smile. “Show them all up.”

That makes Edward laugh, and the two of them disappear back into the throng to go dance.

James leans his head back against the wall, letting out a big, contented sigh.

“You alright?” Henry asks, as he shifts on his seat.

“Yeah, I am,” James says happily. “Or, I think so.”

Then he eyes Henry, and frowns, before he reaches over to the seats beside them and starts stealing all their cushions.

“Here, you look miserable,” he says, and helps pad Henry’s seat a little more.

“Thanks,” Henry says breathlessly. “I thought I was going to be alright, I really did.”

“No, no,” James nods along, “I understand. Especially when you’re not used to dancing.”

“How long have you and Gordon been practicing?” Henry asks.

“…Two?” James tries to count back on his fingers. “Yeah, two months.”

“Oh, thank god you said months!” Henry slaps his thigh with a laugh. “If you had said weeks, I really would have to start feeling bad!”

James laughs at him, and he opens his mouth to say something, before he realises someone is standing over them, and the two of them look up, and James tries really hard not to let his jaw drop as he realises it’s none other than superstar Scot Gresley, the Flying Scotsman himself.

“Hello Henry, James,” Scot says warmly, and Henry greets him back. James almost asks how they know each other, but glancing between them, it’s the cut of their noses that reminds James of all the drama a few years back. Henry’s got a little Gresley in him, too, that’s right, he always forgets that they’ve met before.

“James, that was some wonderful work out on the floor,” Scot turns to him, and James tries not to flush and gape, and he plays it off as politely as he can. “Would you dance with me?”

James… stares. Blinks once or twice. Henry’s gone a little stiff with surprise beside him, too. Scot extends his hand, still offering a warm smile, and after a second or two, James hesitantly takes it, rising from his seat. Scot’s fingers curl around his hand, but it doesn’t feel as gentle or soothing as Gordon. And as Scot starts to lead James out onto the dance floor, James shoots a look back over his shoulder at Henry, who mouths ‘good luck’ to him as they go.

Before he knows it, James is out on the floor, being lead through steps he knows so well by the Gresley brother he doesn’t know at all. And somehow, Scott is even faster and even lighter on his feet, and James can’t even make small talk for how much he has to concentrate on keeping up – which, notably, does not help his nerves. And Scot keeps this up for the whole quickstep, before they pause as the song changes, James fighting to hide that he needs to catch his breath.

As a slow waltz starts, Scot… relaxes, slows down, and shoots James a wink.

“Just wanted to test how good a teacher my brother is,” he banters. “You’ve both done very well.”

James blinks and swallows hard, before he offers a polite smile of his own.

“Thank you,” he says. “Gordon is a good teacher.”

“…You seem to make him happy.”

James stumbles, now, sheer shock, and his head snaps up to look Scot in the eye. Scot looks back evenly at him, lets James stare. …Scot has Gordon’s brown eyes, but the strength of his sideburns, his eyebrows, the slightly harder set of his face, even his sharper jawline. It’s just… not quite his Gresley.

“I hope you treat him kindly,” Scot continues, his voice dropping, but James flushes and is so glad he’s wearing gloves because he’s gone all clammy. “Gordon deserves something good to happen to him, and you do seem to be a delight.”

“I…” James is – as uncommon as the phenomenon is – lost for words. His old anxiety sweeps through him, makes his knees weak, and he hopes he isn’t shaking.

“I’m not asking you this as a celebrity,” Scot suddenly adds, his expression crumpling with concern as he must read all that straight off James’ face. “I’m asking you this as his brother.”

“I-I… of course,” James says, biting his tongue about telling Scot about how much Gordon didn’t want to talk to him tonight, because if Scot is so concerned about Gordon, then they’d have a better relationship, wouldn’t they? Cinders. And ashes. He wants out. James looks away, and ends up seeing Gordon and Edward, who are surprisingly close by, and they’re both shooting him concerned looks.

James bites his lip now, hoping he doesn’t look as upset as he feels, though he’s never really been good at hiding it. Don’t hurt Gordon? James hasn’t dreamt of it, not now, not anymore. He’s realised Gordon doesn’t really ever talk about his past before Sodor, and that’s telling in itself, isn’t it?

It must be the fact James is being asked this by someone who has probably hurt Gordon in the past is the thing that makes it sting like this. …What? Can Scot see that James is no better? Is that what Scot means by warning him?

Scot says nothing more either. James closes his eyes for a moment, willing the song to end, but suddenly, someone taps his shoulder, and he knows that hand, which is such a strange thing to say, isn’t it? His eyes fly open, because thank god, it’s Gordon and Edward. They must have danced their way through the crowd.

“You remember my friend, Edward, don’t you?” Gordon calls over the hubbub. “He’d love to catch up with you.”

“Of course,” Scot smiles broadly, …the practiced smile, James notes. He turns back to James, then, and squeezes his hand gently.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he says, and it does actually sound earnest, which is nice. It doesn’t soothe James’ nerves, though. “I hope you’ll keep our talk in mind.”

“I will,” is all James says, and he lets Edward take his place with a grateful, if not a little faint, smile.

Gordon practically dances their way off the dancefloor now, and James is more than eager to follow where Gordon leads. They end up pushing and weaving past several of their friends and workmates as they go, and James must still look a little stricken because he gets a few concerned glances as they go.

Gordon ends up leading him outside, and James immediately takes a few big breaths in and out as soon as the cooling evening breeze hits his face. It’s too stuffy, too loud, too much in there.

And as soon as it’s quiet, as they’re in private, as James can breathe, Gordon takes him by the shoulders and turns James so Gordon can look at him.

“What did he say to you?” he asks, and his voice is… surprisingly dark.

“He warned me,” James says, and he does his best not to sound bitter, but he thinks he fails. “He said I better not hurt you because you deserve nice things. A-and he’s right, but it rubbed me the wrong way.”

Gordon scoffs. “Bloody rich, coming from him,” he agrees, before his hands slip down from James’ shoulders, skating down his arms to take James’ shaking hands in his own. “Are you okay?”

“Just needlessly upset,” James manages to smile, though his eyes are a little too bright to sell it. “I come here expecting a good time and I get both a personal dance and a personal threat from the Flying Scotsman. Not your average evening, I’ll admit.”

Gordon squeezes his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, Gordon,” James says, gently squeezing back. “I suppose I was insulted that… that he’d insinuate I’d hurt you on purpose. I care about you far too much for that.”

And-

They both flush at that. That’s the first time either of them has said it plainly.

“That’s… heartening to hear,” Gordon smiles softly at him. “And it only took me turning you into the best ballroom dancer on this island.”

And James laughs. The tension finally draining away, his stomach finally settling. He’s glad Gordon’s holding onto him now, because he feels light, and he wouldn’t want to float away.

“I have to admit it too, then,” Gordon’s practically whispering again, his voice rumbling low, and it makes James shiver. “I’ve… grown quite fond of you, too.”

James steps in a little closer, it just feels right.

“That’s good,” he says.

Then, looking Gordon in the eye then and there, the nerves come crashing back in, and James ducks his head, drops his chin, and starts fiddling with Gordon’s cufflinks instead.

Suddenly, there’s a hand cupping his cheek, and James can’t breathe. Gordon tips his head back up, and smiles at him – all soft and tender, all for James.

“Is this okay?”

“Bah!” James tries to laugh past his dark flush, turning his head away, withdrawing one hand to touch his cheek, he can feel the heat there even through his gloves. “You say that like I haven’t been in love with you for months!”

“Months…?”

James laughs again, bright and embarrassed, before he dares to look back at Gordon. His flush darkens at the painfully fond expression Gordon’s wearing, and James finds himself grinning.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he says instead.

Gordon – several things cross his face in that moment. A flush of his own. Wonder, awe, tenderness, a little shock, and most importantly – Gordon rolls his eyes fondly and leans down to oblige him.

As their lips slot together, James makes a little noise of contentment, and drapes his arms around Gordon’s neck dreamily. Oh, this is good. This is what James has been dreaming about. Officially, this has been the best investment of dancing lessons James has ever made.

When they break apart for air, and James gets his breath back, he finally invites Gordon around tomorrow for those scones he promised however long ago it was, and Gordon has barely any time to accept before James kisses him again.

And… oh, for god’s sake. They pull apart again at the sound of applause from the doorway, and James turns to see… Edward and Henry, Thomas, Percy, god, even Toby and Henrietta, Emily, Rosie, Molly, Daisy, …is that all four of the Little Westerners? And more. It’s far too big a crowd, and James is suddenly wondering if him and Gordon was some kind of soap opera to the wider North-Western Railway, which makes him flush.

Thomas cups his mouth and hoots, “snog him again!”

James goes to yell back before Gordon pulls him in, and James immediately softens, looking into Gordon’s eyes, and he accepts the kiss Gordon gives him, Gordon wrapping his arms around James and dipping him with ease, and James lets Gordon hold his bodyweight as he frees one hand to lovingly flip off the crowd of onlookers.

They once again receive a round of cheers and applause. James doesn’t care, though, not when he can cling to Gordon and Gordon’s lips can brush his own, and Gordon’s breath can dance over his skin, and Gordon’s hands are on him, and this is real, and they’re…

James tears up.

“I love you,” he whispers, too quiet for anyone but Gordon to hear. “I love you. Thank you for putting up with me.”

“It was no bother, little James,” Gordon says, so very fondly, and James shivers again at the way his voice rumbles when he speaks low and quiet. “I love you too.”

It’s a shame the night has to end. James doesn’t want it to end at all. And here, kissing Gordon under the stars, it almost feels like it never has to.

thank you for reading! reblogs are always appreciated and feel free to let me know what you think of this ^-^

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#ttte #thomas the tank engine #ttte humanized #ttte james #ttte gordon #ttte thomas #ttte edward #ttte flying scotsman #4x5 #romantic 4x5 #ttte shipping #ttte fanfic #ttte fic #ttte fanfiction #this is the first ttte fic ive been able to write in ages <3 feels pretty good man tbh #dj's writing

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hermitknut · 4 months ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers Tag Game

@birdylion tagged me :D

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

56.

2. what’s your total AO3 word count?

440,219

3. what fandoms do you write for?

There've been quite a few over the years. Currently Goblin Emperor (slightly on the back burner while I unkink my writer's block) and Hands of the Emperor (just started dabbling, nothing posted yet). Before that Merlin, Green Rider, Realm of the Elderlings, Doctor Who, and Harry Potter predominantly, with little dips into Discworld, Sherlock, Sweep, Supernatural, Percy Jackson, Lady Trent, Life on Mars, Old Kingdom, Life on Mars, and MASH. I have some Narnia stuff kicking about in my drafts somewhere, and while I've never posted it I've been writing Animorphs fanfic for years.

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Stairs Beneath the Heart: Goblin Emperor, a series of vignettes that runs parallel to the canon that I posted through the start of the pandemic and really enjoyed. It was the first time in ages I'd had a regular posting schedule, and the first time ever I'd had that much fandom attention on something I was writing - everyone was so lovely <3.

Take These Tower Stones: Goblin Emperor, the sequel to the above, a much more coherent and consistent story which everyone was again really supportive of <3

What Friends Are For: Discworld; Angua gives Vetinari the shovel talk. There's a big disparity in the stats between the previous two fics and the rest, so these last three were a surprise to me! I'm glad people liked them though :)

Fire in the Night: Merlin, somewhat angsty nightmare/comfort oneshot. Again, surprised to see this one so near the top, but pleasantly so.

The Michen Emperor: Goblin Emperor again, currently the bane of my existence because I can't seem to finish it (I will eventually, just need to unstick my brain). Really appreciate all the love people have shown it. Basically, what if canon but with smol!Maia.

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

Probably either Take These Towers Stones, or Red Sky (which is a tiny little snippet of fluff).

8. do you get hate on fics?

I've had a few shitty comments, and mostly I've just deleted them. I've never had any extended hate campaigns or anything, just people who mistakenly thought their dislike was worth expressing.

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Occasionally; usually though not always queer, normally pretty tame. I read smut usually without worrying about the warnings, but I'm a bit too shy to comment on it, and I think that extends to my writing, haha. Maybe I'll get the hang of it some day :)

10. do you write crossovers?

Nah, for some reason they don't work for me at all - almost a squick, I don't read them either. The closest I got was considering a fic where the characters from Green Rider had diplomatic contact with the characters from the Chronicles of Ixia series, but I never ended up getting there.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so - I should probably put in my Ao3 that people are welcome to if they like, I keep forgetting. I'd be honoured if anyone wanted to.

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

Nope; I'm very picky and not good at compromise, though it's something I'd like to work on one day. It'd have to be very low stakes and with someone very patient!

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

Lines of Silver and Gold (Realm of the Elderlings) is probably my oldest fic that is both posted and unfinished, and I have no current plans to work on it. I'm hoping that one day I'll be able to come back to it, but that book series was my thesis topic and unfortunately I rather burnt myself out on it, so it might be a long while.

The Queen Rider series was originally going to have two more fics, but those have been scrapped; fortunately it resolves quite nicely as is. Maybe I will put up a little misc fic with what I do have of the rest some day.

And on a more positive note, my Animorphs fic - it was originaly going to be a full written-through story spanning a considerable post-canon period, but unfortunately I lost the original in a harddrive failure and while I rewrote some of it I rather lost my enthusiasm for it. However, I have been reconsidering lately and might post what exists as a series of loosely connected vignettes; we'll see.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue is what I find easy and what I've received the most compliments on; I think this is because a lot of my fic is drafted "out loud" before I get anywhere near setting it to page, so the first iteration is often predominantly speech. I'm also often told I'm good at mimicking the tone of the canon, if I'm writing for a book fandom.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Research (I'll do it if it's something that will otherwise potentially hurt people, but other than that I have neither the effort nor the inclination), and making things messy - that is, I tend to tidy things up a lot and I'm not good at letting my characters get things wrong/communicate badly/etc. Good for fix-its, less good for creating challenges in the story.

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

I am depressingly monolingual so I don't do it in my fics; as to what everyone else does I think they should have fun and do whatever they like, I suppose. Not enough knowledge to have more of an opinion than that.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter was my gateway fandom.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Ohhhh tough one. I'm immensely proud of the Keystone series (The Stairs Beneath the Heart and Take These Tower Stones), so they're solid candidates, but I also really like The Shadow of the Mountains (Lady Trent) and Miracles (Realm of the Elderlings), the latter of which contains possibly my favourite line of prose I've written.

I'm tagging @the-tao-of-fandom, @pipuhattar, @alittlefellowinawideworld, @nonasuch, and anyone else who'd like to answer!

#in which hermitknut is herself #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #ask game

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cutebisexualmess · 11 months ago

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blog intro(finally)

hey! I'm Vee or just V, welcome to my blog! I mostly use they/them pronouns, but xe/xem is fine as well!

pronouns page

@vees-anime-escapades - my anime sideblog (also the only blog I organise by fandom)

@purple-blocks - mcyt sideblog, for all my life series and eventually hermitcraft stuff

ao3 (i don't post but i bookmark a whole heap of things, also just in case i do post something)

ill send you my goodreads if asked!(this is encouragement please ask i need to share my favourite books)

I also run a couple of tourney and rp blogs but you can only know those if you find them first >:)

fandoms Im in:

sanders sides, Percy Jackson, the owl house, keeper of the lost cities, heartstopper, the dragon prince, high class homos, the Hatchetfield trilogy, and good omens

others I (might) occasionally post about:

she-ra and the princesses of power, camp cretaceous + chaos theory(not the og park and world movies though but i’m working on it), the umbrella academy, the amazing digital circus, ava/m, helluva boss and hazbin hotel, the two princes, nimona, starkid musicals, a little wings of fire, hells belles(webseries on tiktok), young royals(maybe), red white and royal blue(maybe), our flag means death, spy x family, bungou stray dogs, sk8 the infinity, yuri on ice, a lot of musicals, and other assorted webcomics and webseries my brain digs its claws into

things Im reading/watching atm: the martian and haikyuu!!

also just fyi i wont be tagging pjotv spoilers on rbs sorry

✨neurodivergent minor✨

my sorting tags:

#vee speaks - for my original posts

#vee arts - the occasional art i post

#save - favourite posts I'm saving for later

#from the draft dungeon -posts scavenged from my drafts

#tag games - tag games

#picrew chain - picrew chains

#ask game - ask games, specific ones will be tagged: [thing] ask game

also feel free to send me recs! I will consume any type of media and any content(including fanfic), and recs give me direction in my endless pile of to be read/watched :3

I don't mind if you dm/tag me in anything :D I love it when people interact with me.

feel free to ask for my discord as well!!

🐚 team no abs

Mutual tags(so far)(lmk if you want me to untag you :))

@tastetherainbow290 - #mutual 🌈!

@glacierruler - #mutual ❄️!

@periwinkle-the-11th - #mutual 🪻!

@fuzzysoulyt - #mutual 🐇!

@violetthunderstorm - #mutual 🌩️!

@nico-the-overlord - #mutual 💰!

@brookie-writes - #mutual 🧊!

@void-kill - #mutual 🌌!

@dragonairice - #mutual 💎!

@multi-fandom-lunatic - #mutual 🍪!

otherwise atm mutual tags are #hi (name) until i change them :))

#vee speaks #intro post #coloured text #colored text #dividers by benkeibear #:)#ill add more if i realised ive forgotten something i want to put in #im also australian just btw #(also brooke idk what blog to tag so I just tagged your writing blog)

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damthosefandoms · 18 days ago

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also!! I wanna hear about them!!! Yap about Soda please! Much love Godspeed dudes

Sodapop Patrick Curtis ilysm and it is so insanely fitting that I’m doing this instead of moving my laundry around (I will NOT fold the laundry, not all of it). I could and would go on about him for years and eventually I will bc I think every outsiders post I’ve made so far has been about him bc he’s the easiest to make up headcanons for bc like maybe it’s pony’s unreliable narration making him out to be perfect (until the very end at least when pony & darry finally realize soda is, surprise surprise, as mentally unhealthy and fucked up as the rest of them). I wanna save a lot of that for posts I could make one day bc I’m a selfish bitch but you can always scroll through the soda tag or read one of the two whole fics I wrote about him growing up and going through school with what I love to call the percy jackson special (adhd/dyslexia) bc it’s so obviously canon, right? he’s the poster child for it. and then there’s the whole thing about how tragic he is. I’m not even talking about the dead parents or the debilitating middle child syndrome, not how his brothers play tug of war with him—I mean how he’s the definition of horse girl (his big hyperfixation!!!) and his dad (and later Darry) wouldn’t let him go to the rodeo anymore at all after he “tore a ligament” getting thrown off a horse. That was his Thing, like how Darry has football and Pony has track and writing and drawing, and he can’t even do that anymore because he tore his ACL or something (a VERY serious injury mind you, that their family really didn’t have money to get surgery for him to fix, so there’s a real chance his knee’s just permanently fucked up but I won’t get into it rn) so all he can do now is make sure Pony doesn’t have nightmares and help Steve fix cars and get hit on by girls. I think Soda’s softer than we think he is, I think he talks himself up to sound cooler because he’s insecure as hell, I think his guilty pleasure is listening to the Beatles and to The Beach Boys (his ass wants to go to california and go surfing one day SOOOOO bad, somebody get him a rich girlfriend to take him there Cherry I’m looking at you) he has a lot of anxiety, and I think he needs a hug and I would die for him

#I really need to go do my laundry now #asks #anonymous #sodapop curtis

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poppitron360 · 6 months ago

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PART TWO!!!!

Okay, so I’ve already posted Pt 1 of this fanfic I’m gonna keep posting it bc fuck it I’m enjoying myself.

I’m posting this all under the tag #PJO- THE NEXT GENERATION: OLYMPIA JACKSON-CHASE CHRONICLES so if you need to find the rest, that’s where to look. Not sure how many chapters there will be, as I’m still figuring out the story, but it will probably be for as long as I’m having fun writing it.

Tagging my mutuals who might be interested/ppl who seemed to like pt 1 (I’m trying to get better at tagging ppl):

@green-tea217 @123letsgobestie @fadas-are-important @imasimpdealwithit @coraldeermoon

Summary: Kind of an OC/FanChild fic about my hcs for Percabeth’s kids. VERY Leo/Nico heavy bc they’re my two favourite characters, particularly Leo. If you missed Pt 1, pls read it, but we’ve just ended on the line “I think I have news about your brother,” so ooooh chills cliffhanger scary.

TWs: Swearing, lack of smut (she is a teenager)

Disclaimers: I was between SoN and MoA when I wrote this chapter, and I am currently on HoH, so if I’ve missed anything that gets revealed later, that’s why. Also I listened to the audiobooks, so if I spell a name wrong, that’s also why, either that or I’ve spelt something the British way.

Chapter 2:

Olympia never talked about her brother. That was one thing the kids at camp didn’t know about her family. She had been five years old when he had been taken, on that stormy autumn night. She didn’t remember much, just yelling from the other room and a sound like an eagle screeching. She remembered her mom running in and scooping her up in her arms. More sounds. Her dad screaming. A sword being drawn. A baby crying. A window smashing. Her parents calling his name. She was sobbing. Her mom was holding her dad as he wept on the floor, glass shattered at his feet. Her baby brother, Tyler, was not in his cot.

They started going out every night, searching for a sign he was alive. Leo, Nico, Tyson, Grover, Rachel, Frank, Hazel- all of them helped. Olympia had begged them to take her with them too, but she was still too young. Six months passed. Nothing. A year. Two years. She didn’t know when exactly, but eventually they gave up looking. They assumed he was gone forever.

Her parents had seemed different after that. Her mother buried herself in her job, working day and night at the architecture firm so she wouldn’t have to come home to the gaping hole in their family. Her dad had tried carrying on as normal, but he’d become a broken man. The legendary Percy Jackson failed to save his own son from a monster, now his son was dead.

That’s what they had told Olympia. That was the story. But she refused to believe it. She always thought that with enough training and fighting, she could find him and bring him home. And then, they’d tell the story of the brave demigod who rescued her brother, maybe, just maybe, she’d no longer have to live as just “the daughter of Percy Jackson”, but could become her own legend.

Of course, that was only part of it. First and foremost, she wanted her brother back.

“Do you really think he’s dead?” She’d asked Leo one night, when she was about eight, while her Mom was at work and her Dad was off doing something at camp (he was often brought in as a Special Guest Speaker because he lived close to camp and was cheap, not for any other reason).

“No. Tyler’s not dead,” He replied.

She looked up, “Really?”

He nodded. “Remember that story I told you about Festus the Dragon?”

Leo was the only person she liked to hear stories from. He told them in such a funny way, she didn’t care if it was made up or exaggerated.

“Everyone thought he was super dangerous, but you fixed him and made him better, and he sacrificed himself to save you,” she recited.

“Yup. I didn’t give up on him, even though they told me it was hopeless. I’d waited ‘til I’d looked him in the eyes myself to realise it was hopeless, and then I still tried anyway,” he looked at Olympia, “I believe your brother isn’t dead until we’ve tried every possible way of proving me wrong, and then some. Your parents believe it too, but they can’t risk giving up everything they have, i.e, you, on what is most likely a hopeless case. Besides, Nico said his vision of his soul had been clouded by something- if he was just dead, why hide it?”

“I’m gonna find him someday,” Olympia said, determined.

“And I’m gonna help,” He replied.

She looked at him now, sitting on her bunk in Cabin 3.

“Wha- What news? What do you mean?”

“It’s not… it’s nothing concrete… just a rumour about an 11-year-old boy with dark hair fighting monsters with power over water,” he looked up at her, his eyes solemn, “Camp has a network of automatons looking out for potential demigods, we get alerts like this all the time, but this was different, Oly- I think… I think it might be him.”

She was speechless. All this time, she’d been telling herself she’d find him, but she’d never actually had a lead before.

“Well then, what’re you waiting for, little man?” She said, sliding on her shoes and shoving clothes into her backpack, “Let’s go find him!”

“Oly, not so fast,” he warned, jumping down from the bunk, “this kid- the message said he was pretty hardcore, the way he attacked. If he’s been running from monsters since he was a baby… I can’t think what that’s done to him.”

He put a hand on her shoulder.

“What if… what if he doesn’t want to come home?”

Olympia looked at Leo. Despite his jovial presence and cheery manner, he was dark and twisted just like the rest of them. He knew a thing or two about running away, he’d spent most of his childhood running from schools and foster homes. She knew with a sinking feeling that he might be right. She shook her head.

“We can’t let “What if’s” stop us now, you taught me that,” she said, and shouldered her backpack.

“I guess you’re right,” Leo flashed her his trademark playful grin, “Let’s go.”

The kid was apparently in Nashville, and had caused quite a scene when he’d fought off two wild dogs in the middle of a busy high street by pouring a bucket of water over them. At least, that’s what the mortals were saying online. When Olympia saw the video they’d posted, she noticed how the boy had no bucket, the wild dogs were actually wolves, and when he attacked them they hadn’t just ran away like the internet said, but had completely disintegrated.

She stared at her phone. Demigods weren’t supposed to have cellular devices, especially at camp- they acted as a beacon for monsters to find them- but Leo had found a way to scramble the signal. It wasn’t flawless, and it became more and more risky the longer you used it, but it gave Olympia an hour or so of doom-scrolling on Tumblr every day.

She replayed the video again.

“He doesn’t look anything like I’d expected him to,” she concluded.

“I dunno… he has dark hair, like you. And water powers, like you. And grey eyes, like your mom, and I guess like you as well,” Leo studied her mismatched eyes, “And the way he fights… That’s Jackson blood in his veins if I ever saw it.”

“But he’s… he’s older.”

“Yes. That’s what happens when time passes. Did you expect him to still look 10 months old?”

Leo grinned, the way he always did when he was being sarcastic. Olympia poked him, playfully, and then turned back to the paused image on the screen.

“And he’s so… thin.”

Leo nodded in agreement, “Though, somehow I doubt he’ll be showing up on the front page of Cosmo any time soon.”

She looked at Leo. He tried to hide it with baggy clothes, but she knew that his scrawny look and vertically-challenged appearance weren’t all traits he’d been born with, that the long months spent on the run with little-to-no food had definitely played a factor. He was probably a lot healthier now, but those hard years had scarred him in ways she couldn’t imagine- and had left him looking permanently emaciated. She couldn’t bear the thought of that happening to her brother when she had grown up healthy and strong.

“Come on,” she said, putting away the phone, “Let’s get Nico, and leave.”

“A quest must be undertaken by three,” he recited.

“Yes, but also he can shadow-travel so we won’t have to pay for transport.”

“And that.”

Leo’d managed to intercept the demigod alert from his automaton, and direct all other alerts straight to him so that they could track where the kid was, and so Chiron- or, gods forbid, Olympia’s dad- didn’t see them. He was smart like that, but it only delayed the inevitable. Leo reckoned it was only a matter of time before the Camp Satyrs caught up to the boy. They had to act quickly.

Nico Di Angelo was never the easiest person to find. Luckily for them, he had a soft spot for Olympia, and always made sure she was able to call on him when she needed to. Whenever she wanted help with homework, or a ride to a dangerous incognito solo monster-fighting death quest, all she had to do was knock.

She pressed her body against the floor of Cabin 3, and rapped hard on the wooden floorboards.

“Uncle Nico!!” She called, “I know you’re down there!! We need your help.”

“Boo!” Came a voice from behind them.

Leo yelped, “Holy Hephaestus, Death Boy, don’t do that!”

Nico gave him a skeletal grin. Leo took a deep breath and patted his own hair, which was smoking.

Olympia stood up, and pulled him into a tight hug. She was taller than him now, but he looked good for an 102-year-old.

“My gods, you’ve grown,” he remarked, breathing in her warm smell. His skin was icy cold and pale.

“You’ve been spending too much time in the underworld,” she said, “get some sun in you, man.”

“Oh I think he is getting some Sun in him, if you know what I mean,” Leo winked and turned to Nico, “Hey, Nico, how’s Will?”

Nico ignored the question, “Whatever it is you want me to do, I hope I don’t have to put up with hotshot over here the whole time.” He jabbed a thumb in Leo’s direction.

“Hey!” Leo cried, offended.

Olympia rolled her eyes.

“I need you to take us to Nashville,” she said, “Leo thinks my brother might be there.”

An anguished expression played across Nico’s face.

“T-Tyler?” He asked, “You really think-“

“Yes. We do,” Leo said, confidently. They proceeded to fill him in on everything, even showing him the video on Olympia’s phone.

Nico’s face hardened.

“Right then. I will absolutely do anything I can to help. Nashville, you say? Peace of cake.”

He cracked his knuckles and rolled his head, like he was warming up for something. He then held out both hands, expecting them to take them. Olympia obliged.

“Do I have to?” Leo moaned.

“Don’t worry, Fire Guy, this won’t get gay,” Nico assured him.

“It’s not that,” Leo replied, “Your hands are just weird and cold. And small.”

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted, “I’d much rather just take Olympia, so if you want to be left behind, I’m sure-“

“Fine,” Leo groaned, and took Nico’s hand.

And then the world caved in.

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firstprince-ao3feed · 8 months ago

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The lips I used to call home

by tothemoon_andsaturn “He is… How can I say this without sounding like a terrible sister… A man whore, kind of slut,” June burst out laughing at Henry’s wide eyes “And you felt I should be warned because……” “Well, because you are hot…” Henry immediately blushed. “And also too good for him. I mean that man is emotionally disabled, lacks empathy, and is clueless about emotional responsibility... He has never experienced a serious relationship, is afraid of commitment, and nearly every person he pursues ends up with a broken heart. Seriously…” “Maybe he just didn’t find the one…” said Henry, scrunching his nose, stirring the food carton with the chopsticks. “Henry, honey, you are such a romantic son of a bitch… And that’s why I had to warn you… Please, I wouldn’t forgive myself if you end up hurt…” “June, I promise I won’t…” ____________________________________ Henry meets June´s brother, Alex, who has quite a reputation. Could he be able to change him or will he end up with a broken heart? Words: 5998, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English Series: Part 3 of Alex and Henry (From the vault) Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz, Nora Holleran, Percy "Pez" Okonjo, Liam (Red White & Royal Blue), Ellen Claremont, Original Male Character (mentioned) Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Alex Claremont-Diaz & June Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz & Nora Holleran, June Claremont-Diaz & Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Additional Tags: Heartbreak, Angst, So much angst, The Author Regrets Nothing, Falling In Love, And out of love, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Song: Maroon (Taylor Swift), Writer Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Mutual Pining, Eventual Happy Ending, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Needs a Hug, POV Alex Claremont-Diaz, POV Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Not Beta Read via https://ift.tt/EsJHjpc

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #red white and royal blue #rwrb #firstprince #tothemoon_andsaturn

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miyamorana · 1 year ago

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August Fic Recs

Here are the fics that I’ve really liked this past month. All of these are complete. Enjoy!

Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia (4), Boku no Hero Academia/Encanto Crossover (1), Hades/Harry Potter Crossover (1), Harry Potter (1), Percy Jackson & Related Fandoms (1), Sense8 (1), Stranger Things (1)

Find July’s Recs here or browse my fanfic recs tag.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Title: Matchmaker Matchmaker (Gonna Match Him A Man) Author: RayShippouUchiha Pairing: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Midoriya Izuku Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 5,083 Summary: “You did what?” Naomasa eventually rasps once he can breathe again.

“I don’t want my boy to make the same mistakes I did,” Toshinori explains. “But he’s a great deal shyer than I was at his age. So I’ve taken it upon myself to reach out on his behalf.”

“No,” Naomasa practically gasps, some strange mix of horror and glee in his expression. “Toshinori, tell me you’re joking. You’re trying to matchmake Izuku?”

Naomasa doesn’t wait for Toshinori to actually answer him.

Instead, he just breaks out into loud braying laughter, uncaring of the way everyone around them has stopped to stare.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Title: How To Decipher A Midoriya's Mumbles Author: whatagoodegg Pairing: None Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 5,459 Summary: step one: have a hearing quirk step two: try to resist the urge to tell everyone about the wild shit he says step three: profit?

aka: midoriya is in the habit of talking shit under his breath. its cathartic. he didnt think it was necessary to break the habit. too bad he forgot about the girl in their class with a hearing quirk.

aaka: five times jiro kept quiet about what she heard, and one time she didn't.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Title: Multilante Author: Starlight (Fandom_Eclipse) Pairing: None Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 13,660 Summary: Izuku was debating the merits of seeking out the new vigilante group that was on the news when he heard the list of known members. He knew those names. Specifically, he knew those because they were assigned to six of his hoodies.

He knew he should come clean. Maybe just stick to one costume, or stop being a vigilante altogether. Groups were treated much more seriously than lone entities, and he could get in serious trouble if they sent heroes after him expecting backup that didn’t exist.

A week later, he had characters designed for every hoodie he owned.

In which Izuku becomes a one-man organization, and everyone has to deal with the consequences.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Title: Foresight Author: akcugrai Pairing: None Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 66,396 Summary: Izuku's quirk is simple, it tells him exactly what he needs to do. It tells him to grab an umbrella and that afternoon it rains unexpectedly. It tells him to bring cash and it turns out the card reader is out of order. His quirk tells him to rob a bank. Well, might as well. - - - Does the name All for One mean anything to Izuku? Nope. Will he tear down the empire of a powerful villain who has been terrorizing Japan for over a century anyway? Sure.

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/Encanto Crossover Title: Of Quirks and Miracles Author: Starlight (Fandom_Eclipse) Pairing: None Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 7,280 Summary: Mira-bella

So dinner was a total disaster and I ruined Isabela’s engagement, but on the plus side I found Tío Bruno!

He apparently spent the last decade living in the walls of Casita with the rats. So that's a thing.

Midori129

I’m sorry, he *what*

When Abuela's quirk starts to fail, Mirabel asks for help on an online quirk forum. She receives it in the form of a certain Midoriya Izuku. Neither are entirely prepared for what's about to happen, but at least they'll have a friend with them.

Fandom: Hades/Harry Potter Crossover Title: Littlest Master Author: The_Dark_Elf Pairing: Thanatos/Zagreus (background) Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 10,416 Summary: Prophecy was an odd thing, and the Fates not as all knowing as they had once seemed. Still, Thanatos was finding it difficult to believe this child would one day be his Master.

Thanatos isn’t entirely sure how he got a mortal son.

Fandom: Harry Potter Title: Left of the Line Author: JoWithTheFlow Pairing: None Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 18,646 Summary: It started, as many things did, with Cedric. They had been stronger when they worked together, a Hufflepuff and a Gryffindor, embodying the best traits of their house each and using them to fight and win against the spider in the maze. It had been the seed of an idea that bloomed in Harry’s fifth year—the Houses were stronger together. To survive, he needed not just bravery, but hard work, wisdom, and resourcefulness too.

It wasn’t just about him, either. They all needed each other.

Fandom: Percy Jackson & Related Fandoms Title: if you need, come build your home in me Author: yrbeecharmer Pairing: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 326,495 Series: Part 1 of so collect your scars and wear them well (Words: 344,991 - Works: 4) Summary: Even though the world keeps falling down around him, Will Solace can't seem to help but keep growing up.

(A series rewrite starting with the events of Titan's Curse)

Fandom: Sense8 Title: I'll settle for the ghosts of you Author: FunkyinFishnet Pairing: Wolfgang Bogdanow/Kala Dandekar/Rajan Rasal Rating: Mature Word Count: 8,894 Summary: When Rajan witnesses Wolfgang and Kala embrace, Wolfgang lifting her up off her feet while smiling more broadly than Rajan has seen so fat in the few hours that he has known the man and with Kala’s happiness seeming to make her face sparkle, he thinks, “Oh, I *see*.”

Rajan thinks Kala really doesn't love him in the same way that he loves her, and there’s no way that Wolfgang can love him at all.

Fandom: Stranger Things Title: Never Look Back (A Breath Away from Heaven) Author: breakaway71 Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Mature Word Count: 5,000 Summary: Eddie summons a traumatized demon to his bedroom. It was an accident, but it might also turn out to be the best thing he's ever done.

#fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bnha #aideku #hades #thanzag #harry potter #crossover #percy jackson #pjo #half-blood camp #solangelo #sense8 #encanto #stranger things #steddie #fanfic recs

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chickwiththepurpleguitar · 6 months ago

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Writer Asks!

Tagged by @stellarspecter! thanks for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

153! 142 of those are JatP, and I'm working on one that would be a really cool number 150... so maybe I gotta write 7 short ones first...

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

651,798. Since 2021. Yes I have a problem.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Julie and the Phantoms and The Bright Sessions almost exclusively at this point, but I also have Percy Jackson and Supernatural fics on Ao3. Back in the day, I wrote a ton of PJO on fanfiction.net and then a handful of fics in like 8 other fandoms.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

far from hurt is where healing occurs -- JatP, Rayvor Reconciliation, 276 kudos

a crack in the ceiling (trace it back to my heart) -- JatP, juke sickfic, 237 kudos

i was fine until it was time to feel -- JatP, alex sickfic, 230 kudos

as long as i am here (no one can hurt you) -- JatP, reggie sickfic (anyone seeing a trend here?), cowrite with someone iii no longer speak toooo, 203 kudos

say what you want (but it's hard when you're young)-- JatP, other alex sickfic, 187 kudos

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Often several months after I received them, but I always catch up eventually!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

My latest! In which I give Mark Bryant a Better Life and Different Trauma!

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

My JatP Big Bang fic from last year! A lot of shit happens before we get to the happy part but it actually does end really nicely for everyone :)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I feel like I did... once... I do not remember what it was for or about and i'm pretty sure I deleted the comment. which is probably good in the long run that it happens rarely enough that i forget the details.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I occasionally write smut. I do not consider myself good at it. So I often don't post any. Closest I've got is the above linked mark bryant's different trauma fic and its like. five paragraphs in one scene.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I do! Haven't posted a ton, I don't think I have any on ao3, and a lot of what I call a crossover in my head and google docs is just a fandom crossed with ocs @joyandthephantoms and I made up and like to put places.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, and thank god, I think that would destroy me.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but that would be really cool if anyone ever wants to!

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

Yes! Quite a few. Gonna shout out time travel with @a-tomb-with-a-view and toxic besties with @weneedglitter

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

this is an impossible question to answer. Whichever one i'm currently thinking about at any given moment :)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

this is a trick question. there are WIPs i want to finish and i probably will because i'm stubborn, and there are WIPs i doubt i will finish but mostly because i don't want to.

16. What are your writing strengths?

dialogue, character, Concepts and Images

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

description, exposition, action, setting. basically all the things you don't need in good fanfic which is why i like writing fanfic :)

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

fine if the translation is really obvious from context, fine if in small doses where it wouldn't be suuuper annoying to google the translation. whole conversations i will inevitably skip, although i did read a really cool Captain America fic once where there was some German dialogue and on ao3 the paragraphs were hyperlinked so that you hovered over them and saw the translation.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Percy Jackson! my fanfiction.net accounts are still up, but don't look at them, they're not good /lh.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

not sure there's an easy answer to this! sometimes i write things just to write them and post them just to get them out of my google docs, and sometimes i write things cause the idea won't let me go, and i post them cause i'm really proud and want some validation from strangers (and friends!) on the internet. my favorite one is whichever one I'm most proud of in the moment, which is usually the one I just finished, but even the ones I feel don't hold up as well or that i could've written better, i'm still really proud of, cause i made a hat! This was fun! i haven't been active on this account for a while, but i liked getting back into the swing of things, so if anyone still looks at this blog and actually read this, feel free to send me an ask with more questions/comments about my fics! i always like talking about them :)

no-pressure tagging: @joyandthephantoms

#jatp #julie and then phantoms #tbs #the bright sessions

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daniwritessometimes · 2 years ago

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Love Never Fails Series

Folks, I have been working on this series off and on for a while. The foundations were actually put in place while I was still in college in the late aughts (I graduated in 2009). It started with the parents of the Osborne kids and I decided the kids were more interesting. Especially when I started thinking of Anthony and his best friend Susan. Those I have shared a lot.

But there are eight Osborne siblings and they all have their own lives and loves and I am desperate to write them all down. Some have been explored at length, some briefly, and a couple not at all. I have decided to just work on them all whenever I feel like it instead of just trying to do one at a time. Maybe in doing this, I’ll actually finish.

I will be sharing bits and pieces as I go and I hope you enjoy them. Some of these relationships are LGBTQ+ and some are cis/het. I have posted on the outline below which are which. Some may seem like they aren’t LGBTQ+ by the description, but I will be sharing more and letting you know how as we go along.

There are also characters with both visible and invisible disabilities.

Feel free to ask any questions. If you would like to be tagged in any updates on this, please let me know and I will add you to the list.

1882

Book 1: Athena (22) and Charlie (22) Love Is Patient

Athena’s first husband has died and she is in the last months of her pregnancy. Alec decides he needs to stay with his sister and drags Charlie along. Charlie and Athena start to rekindle their childhood romance. (cis/het)

1884

Book 2: Alec (24) and Jess (18) Love is Kind

Alec and Jess have always been close. So when Jess discovers she is pregnant after a fling with a boy who is in no position to marry her, she and Alec marry quickly in secret. They slowly start to connect as the pregnancy progresses. (LGBTQ+)

1888

Book 3: Anthony (26), Susan (30), Zoe (18) It Does Not Envy

Susan’s uncle and his wife pass. As there is no other family, Susan has been given the care of her young cousins and the home they live in until the oldest is of age to fully inherit, but she has to be married. She and Anthony marry. Zoe and Susan grow close and eventually sparks fly. (LGBTQ+)

1889

Book 4: Percy (24) and Niamh (21) It Does Not Boast

Niamh has fled from an abusive situation with children that aren’t hers. She is also heavily pregnant. Percy gives them refuge in the vicarage. At some point, Percy and Niamh are caught in a completely innocent, but compromising, moment and are quickly married. (LGBTQ+)

1889

Book 5: Sebastian (23) and Elizabeth (22) It Is Not Proud

After getting into trouble, Sebastian joined the Royal Navy. After falling from the ship and being presumed dead, he is mourned by his family. But he actually was rescued by a family and suffered amnesia. He is nursed back to health and slowly realizes who he is and starts to make his way home with his lady. (cis/het)

1911

Book 6: Jason (22) and Phillip (22) It Does Not Dishonor Others

Jason is still trying to exist in life without his wife who left soon after their son was born. What Jason didn’t know is that his wife left after the birth of their son because he was transgender and was seeking to live his authentic life. But he is back now and Phillip wants to reconnect with Jason and their son. (LGBTQ+)

1911

Book 7: Victoria (25) and Richard (18) It Keeps No Record of Wrongs

Victoria is still looking for Mr. Right after all her friends have married and started their families. No one has caught her eye. Until Richard, a newly titled duke and the younger brother of one of her closest friends, starts to pursue her. She’s not sure she wants a younger man nor is she sure she can look past him being Little Dickie. (cis/het)

#writing #mine #original #osborne saga #love never fails series

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sugareey-makes-stuff · 1 year ago

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Hiya, friend! Thanks for sending this to me! This will probs be a mix of HP and TW (since I'm writing for both fandoms now), so here goes: Harry Potter: 🖊️ Where do we go from here? (Perciver, WIP series, G-T, 4/13 ficlets)

All the missing moments we didn’t get to see between Percy and Oliver. This is a one-shot fic series that explores their complicated journey of how they went from being friends, to friends with benefits, to eventual long-term lovers.

Okay, fine. This has 4 ficlets so far in this series, but I am soo proud of them all since this whole story arc was how I got back into writing again 2 years ago. Had it not been for this series, I definitely wouldn't be writing fic right now, and I owe it to Perciver for recharging and revamping my writing style to what it is today.

🖊️ Again and Again (Ginsy, E, 400 words)

Pansy never thought Ginny Weasley would get on her knees and go down on her in the Harpies’ locker room. But here they were, where anyone could see them.

This is a (spicy) drabble, and it was nice to write more sapphics fic this year. I love the energy between Ginny and Pansy, and it was a fun challenge to write something that captured the heat of a moment (with a hell lotta kinks) in so few words. Definitely a mission accomplished!

🖊️ Love you (for the rest of my life) (Deamus, 12-part microfic series, G-E, 600 words)

You're all my strength and my weakness, and that's when I knew you were the one... A collection of microfics that captures and highlights missing moments over the years between Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.

It has been a hot minute since I wrote anything for Dean and Seamus, so I'm glad I got to write something fun for them during Microfic May! I feel like there are so many perspectives we haven't seen, so it just made sense to capture a glimpse of moments as friends who become eventual lovers. Each microfic can also be read individually under the tag #love you for the rest of my life.

Teen Wolf:

🖊️ Made From Scratch (Sterek, T, 2k)

Derek missed Stiles. He hadn’t realized how much…until now. Something had to change. But where did he even start? [Or: That one time Derek makes dinner for Stiles, thanks to inspiration from a family recipe and some nudging from Cora.]

I'm really proud of this one since a. I wrote this in 2 weeks for an exchange, b. the requirement was 2k max or less, and c. it was my first time writing in Derek's PoV. I loved doing all the cooking research and adding some Hale roots. Derek is so soft, even though he tries to deny it. Also, sibling dynamics ftw!

🖊️ Feel You Breathing (Sterek, E, 8.4k)

Derek: So, you need a distraction. Stiles: Maybe Stiles: It’d be better if you were here to help me with that. Stiles: ;D [Or: Sexy things start late one night when Derek gets a text from Stiles and escalate from there. A few secrets are revealed along the way.]

I just posted this fic up last week, but I'm reccing it (again) since it's my first text fic ever, it's stylized with a skin (but can also be read in plain text), and it's the longest thing I've written since I started writing again. This was my biggest writing challenge to date because it took 3 attempts to write a text fic. I had lots of fun making Stiles and Derek banter and choosing all the emojis though. It was such a different way of writing dialogue only (and much harder to code than I thought, heh). So worth it though!

#tag game #perciver #sterek #deamus #ginsy #hp fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #fic recs #rec lists #self rec #sugareey #ask meme #asked and answered #about me #writng #sugareey recs things

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hchollym · 2 years ago

Note

Hi. Fanfiction anon here

(Sorry this might be a long one)

So, as we’ve already established, Percy’s personality and actions are because of or influenced by his family. So the basic premise is, what if he was raised by someone else?

One day, when Percy’s still pretty young so he wouldn’t remember much (say like say like 3-4 or something) Percy’s in a safe house and he’s getting pretty antsy being cooped up for so long. He’s not as fixed on rules yet so he decides it wouldn’t be a big deal if one night, when everyone is asleep, sneak outside to just stretch his legs, ya know. He would go far just stand out in the garden for a bit. So he does.

He’s outside just chilling when one of two things happen (I haven’t decided which would be more likely yet) he see’s something in the woods and decides to follow it, or gets scared of something and, in a blind panic, accidentally runs into the woods. No matter how it happens, he ends up in the woods.

After some mindless wandering, he eventually trips over a large tree branch (cliche I know but I couldn’t think of literally anything else) and rolls down a small hill or something and hits his head pretty hard. He passes out for a while and wakes up in the morning with no memory of anything. (He probably writes his name (just the first) on his clothes tags so he remembers that at least)

He wanders around for a bit before finding a path which leads him to a muggle town. He asks some people for help, which they try to but since he can’t remember literally anything it’s pretty difficult.

I can’t decide whether to have someone take him to the police which lands him in and orphanage/foster care before finally getting adopted or to have him be picked up by someone who decides to take him in because, hey… a small kid with no memory and very clearly in need of help? Who would just leave him?

Either way he gets adopted into some random muggle family. Probably at least with one child minimum and three maximum, and maybe some lgbtq parents. (No reason just think it’d be nice)

The Weasley’s haven’t reported him missing because:

It’s the middle of the war and people have already assumed the worst

They don’t have the knowledge of missing people posters or anything so they just let people know and hope he turns up

They don’t think to check any muggle villages or ask any muggles if they’ve seen anything

Again, it’s the middle of the war so they don’t have the time or the resources to go look for him so they just leave it. If he shows up he shows up, if not, well…

The night he left was the night his safe house was raided and everyone was killed. They assumed he just got caught in it

Either way, his disappearance is not reported and nothing of him ever comes up.

He grows up with the family that took him in and it’s completely different from how he would have been raided with the Weasley’s.

This family is pretty wealthy. Not Malfoy rich or anything, but wealthy enough to keep the fridge and cupboards fully stocked with lots of stuff, able to go on out of country holidays each year and get absolutely spoiled on birthdays and Christmas’

They’re muggles with absolutely no idea of wizards or witches, so Percy grows up with no knowledge of magic, Hogwarts or even the Ministry

Again, they’re muggles. So he’d interact with a lot of muggle stuff that he never would have had he been raised with the Weasley’s. For example, he’d go to places like aquariums/zoos and museums (I don’t think the wizarding community has those), he’d have access to TV, video games and (depending if we want to keep this set in the 1900’s like in cannon or modernise it to like 2010’s or something) video games and the internet. He’d have access to a lot of cartoons, movies and probably comics/fiction books

He’s also more likely to get a pet (nothing special I just think it’s be cool)

Less children. Instead of growing up with 6, he would only have 1-3 siblings. He’d be the baby if the family and the others would all be at least a year or so older than him. (I was thinking an older sister who’s a year older than him and an older brother who’s 4 or 5 years older). He’d have to compete less for his parents love and affection, he’s more likely to be included in their lives, and a lot less bullying and teasing (of course there would still be the normal sibling fights, but it’s just be a normal amount and nobody would take it too far) He’s also probably get along with them better (depending on how you characterise them)

His adopted parent(s) would be extremely loving and supportive, so he wouldn’t have those high expectations or the constant neglect of his feelings and interests

Ties in with the money thing, but his parents have pretty good paying jobs so he wouldn’t have anything to resent them for

He’s autistic (big head cannon of mine) so he’d probably have a lot more help with that (again not super relevant or anything but I think it’s cool)

He’d be socialised with others more, since again, it’s a muggle family. He’d probably go to parks and play with the kids there. The parents have friends who have kids. His siblings have friends who they’d probably bring round. Also there’s a very high chance that he’d go to a primary school before he goes to Hogwarts, so he’d have a different knowledge set and (I assume) Hogwarts doesn’t have any classes like art, music, drama stuff like that, so he’d be more able to access his ‘creativeness’ or something (idk). He’s also take PE so he’d probably be a lot more fitter and active then he would have been (do you think he’d take any clubs like the swim team or drama club or something?)

He’d also have more chances and opportunities at making friends because of school and actually being around people

No offence to the wizarding world, but I feel like the muggles would have more culture (I think that’s the right word for this) more foods, different architecture, sports, music, clothes, even hairstyles. Cause to be honest the Wizarding world just looks like Victorian London and the clothes are typically just robes on different colours and patterns

(That’s all I got for now :P)

Anyways he grows up with this family. A completely different upbringing and a completely different life. Probably a completely different personality and behaviour as well (or at least very noticeably changed). He’s less formal and strict, a lot more outgoing and probably more physical as well (like play fighting when he’s young and giving hugs and kisses to his loved ones. Also a lot less focused on the rules. Like here’ll follow them and respect them, but he wouldn’t get on others for it. If they get in trouble for breaking the rules it’s not his fault.

His 11th birthday comes up and he’s accepted into Hogwarts. His family are extremely happy and supportive. Since his personality and views have changed, I feel like his house would have as well, maybe a Slytherin but I feel like Hufflepuff could work as well. To be honest, in this scenario, I feel like Ravenclaw would be the least likely option.

Anyways he’s at Hogwarts, he get sorted into his house, he befriends either Oliver, Marcus or Penny (depending what house he’s in) and everything seems pretty normal.

Bill and Charlie don’t really pay much attention to the first year sortings but there’s something very familiar about a certain red head.

The year goes on and Percy’s thriving. New things to discover and whole new world and culture to learn about. I feel like his logic would have carried through so even though he himself is a wizard, he’d believe that all magic and unicorns, stuff like that was just form books and cartoons. He still feels like he’s dreaming.

Percy gains more friends, probably some minor interactions between Bill and Charlie. If he’s friends with either Oliver or Marcus, or even someone else, I feel like he could get pretty into quidditch, which might lead to him sort of idolising Bill and Charlie a little bit.

Christmas break happens and when Bill and Charlie go home they tell their parents about a red head kid who seems very familiar. They’re both understandably upset, but it’s been about 8? years now. They have to move on. However, Molly can’t help but cling to some shred of hope that it could be her missing son.

Back to school and Percy is sitting on the stands in the quidditch pitch, maybe with some friends, watching quidditch practice.

Sometime through Bill and Charlie notice and can’t help but be drawn to the boy, so they go down to see him. They talk and eventually learn his name is Percy. They get along pretty well and (depending on his house) talk to him every so often.

The year ends and Bill and Charlie go home and tell their parents about Percy.

It’s too good to be true. They don’t want to get their hopes up but there’s too much. They spend the summer thinking about what to do.

And that’s all I got so far

Thoughts?

Whoa! That's a lot of great details, and I definitely think you should write the fic! 😄

It's a super interesting premise. Percy would be very different if he was raised in a different environment (especially with less siblings/in the Muggle world).

I think it's more likely that little Percy heard a noise and decided to investigate (telling himself that he's supposed to be brave like his dad and uncles). After he loses his memory, he goes to an orphanage where he gets adopted (because it's a huge red flag if someone just decides to keep a kid they found in the woods without calling the police). The Weasleys look for him, but they can't report it until after the war, and even then, we all know there's a serious disconnect between the Wizarding World and the Muggle world, so he's never located.

So he's raised in the Muggle world. I've always sort of thought that Percy would have been happier growing up amongst Muggles, because he would have had more diverse opportunities for hobbies, sports, friend groups, etc. The Wizarding World is relatively small and isolated (even from each other), and there seems to only be a few types of people/hobbies, so Percy's choices were rather limited.

In the Muggle world, he gets to join teams like swimming and cross country, join political activism clubs, and find his favorite music/TV shows, as well as meet other people his age with those same interests. Overall, he's more balanced, socialized, and physically healthy, which all contributes to a better overall mental health.

It's also nice for him to not have to worry about the war, money, or fighting for his parents' attention (because there's less kids). He ends up being more relaxed and likely having a better bond with his siblings. All in all, he's doing well (though he still has some strange traits, such as obsessing over his hobbies, but they're less extreme).

One note that I will say is that if you base this story during canon time (the early 90's), Percy's still not getting a lot of help for his Autism. Even in the Muggle world, conditions like Autism and ADHD were still very stigmatized then. I grew up during that time, and nobody wanted to talk about those (they were just unspoken realities that people tried to ignore, especially if you were high-functioning). Since Percy is high-functioning, everyone probably just assume that he's a bit weird from losing his memory, but they don't look much deeper into it.

Anyway, so then he gets to Hogwarts, and he could still be sorted into Gryffindor, but if you're wanting a different House, then Hufflepuff would be fun. He becomes friends with several other kids, like Oliver & Marcus (which plays into the fun trope of a Hufflepuff adopting a Slytherin), and he enjoys school.

The one caveat I see with your plot is that as soon as an 11-year-old boy with red hair named 'Percy' is called up for the sorting hat, Bill & Charlie would immediately notice it. It would be way too much of a coincidence, especially because Bill & Charlie would have been around 9 & 11 when Percy disappeared - definitely old enough to remember him.

Regardless, seeing the Weasley family reunite with Percy would be amazing, because his personality would be different, but so would theirs. It would be an emotional, intriguing story, and I hope you write it! 🥰

Thanks for the ask! 😊

#ask me #anon ask #percy weasley #weasley family dynamic #canon divergent au #hp #my thoughts #my opinions

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