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tinyhistory · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! Love your stories so much I just had to ask! Do you have any favorite drarry authors/stories? I sometimes compare the quality of other stories to ROA (oops!) because ROA is just that good. My personal favorites are ROA (of course!), the Foundations Series (saras_girl), the ordeal of being known (louisfake), denouement (the_never_was), Good to Me (And I'd Be So Good to You) (AWickedMemory), and To Hurt and Heal (cassisluna). Have you read these? Have a wonderful day! :)

Thank you, so glad you’ve enjoyed my stories! And thank you for so patiently waiting for a reply. I haven’t been online much in the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately I haven’t read any of your recs, but I’m always happy to add another fic to my to-read list.

I did a rec post a few months ago, but I’ll post an updated version now. The Skyhawke Archives appear to be down, which is crushing news. I’ve had to update a lot of the links.

So here are my favourite Drarry fanfics:

And We Are At Our Apogee (PG-13) by angelgazing

Summary: Draco wanted revenge, but it didn't work out that way.

My notes: Californian beaches, supermarkets, road trips, and a bittersweet ending.

A Reckless State of Mind (T) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Draco is a Psyche-Diver, and his newest patient is Auror Potter, who’s been a pathological liar for over a year—and has just tried to violently end his own life.

Notes: The plot alone guarantees inclusion on this list. Probably the most creative fic I’ve ever read, and the twists and turns will keep you guessing.

Berlin, In the Year of Our Lord (PG) by Are

Summary: Harry is a green-tea addict. Draco stalks him.

Notes: Probably my all-time favourite fic, along with Blue Vase. It’s sparse and minimal and I love that writing style.

Blue Vase (M) by ivyblossom

Summary: Let’s pretend.

Notes: Draco finds an amnesiac Harry and befriends him, pretending they were once lovers. It’s pensive, short, and bittersweet.

The Boy Who Only Lived Twice (E) by lettered

Summary: Harry Potter is an Unspeakable. Draco Malfoy is the wizard who shagged him. Adventure! Intrigue! Secret identities, celebrities, spies! It's all right here, folks.

Notes: Action-heavy fics are damn hard to write, but lettered nails it. The action scenes are breakneck speed, the conversations are threaded with double meaning, and even the silences are tense.

Draco in Darkness (T) by Plumeria47.

Summary: Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight.

Notes: This is one of the first fics I ever read (when it was over on FF in 2003) so it’s probably here just for nostalgia points alone. I read it when I was a kid and just thought it was a lovely golden fairytale, the best romance I’d ever read in my (very short, thus far) life. I love reading it again, even years later as an adult when I can see the tarnish on it; the things my childhood eyes didn’t notice. I don’t care. It’s my soft and fuzzy comfort fic.

The Flesh is Frail (NC-17) by wildestranger

Summary: None

Notes: Draco has injuries from curses and spells, and Harry keeps him company. Draco is angry; Harry is stubborn. They argue their way into a grudging relationship. It’s a short read and well worth your ten minutes.

Good-bye to Yesterday (NC-17) by furiosity

Summary: Draco felt ready to face even a million years in Azkaban as long as it meant that at the end of it all, he would make Potter pay.

Notes: It’s not a dark fic, but it certainly dips in and out of the shadows. If you like your romance to be sharp as a razor and bitter as black coffee, give it a read.

Hymn to Color (PG) by Lomonaaeren

Summary: Months after Draco cast a curse that took Harry’s eyesight, Harry is still trying to come to terms with it. Draco still wanted forgiveness, which was probably the problem.

Notes: Probably my very inadequate idea of “fluff”. It’s a quiet, introspective fic. Draco and Harry are well-written.

Kings among runaways (PG) by enderxenocide.

Summary: Later, the toast will be slightly overcooked, Draco will burn the eggs, and there will be another fist fight in-between the living room and the front door, but they’ll eat breakfast with second-hand plates and Draco’s great-grandmother’s silverware.

Notes: Dreamy descriptions, abstract scenes, and the characters are lovingly delineated. Beautiful writing.

On Broken Glass (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: After the final battle, Draco is holding the shards that are left of his and Harry’s life.

Notes: Established relationship. Harry’s forgetful and seems to suffer both short-term and long-term memory loss; Draco stays by his side through six years of post-war amnesia. Very short, just a tiny ficlet. There’s sequels (in bite-size pieces) but I prefer to read the first ficlet and leave it there.

Paper Dolls (M) by cupiscent

Summary: In the final year of the War, Draco gets a letter, makes a choice and pays the price.

Notes: Short, succinct, and packs a punch. No character deaths, in case the summary has you feeling nervous.

Portrait (PG-13) by Silent Blast

Summary: None.

Notes: Dorian Grey, but Drarry. Of course it’s going to be good.

Shattered (NC-17) by femmequixotic

Summary: One damned accident involving one too-lucky curse, and suddenly you'd think he was five again, with their Harry, be carefuls and their quick Levitating charms ready the instant the potion gives way and his rebelling hands lose hold of whatever's in their grasp.

Notes: Draco’s an artist. Harry’s intrigued by his sculptures and paintings.

Snatch (PG-13) by didntyoupotter

Summary: Harry is comatose, Hermione and Ron aren’t much help, and Draco isn’t sure about anything anymore.

Notes: The opening scene fools you into thinking this will be a light read with a streak of good humour. Don’t fall for it. By the third act, you’ll be hanging onto every word and feeling a lot of emotions. Also, back in the day, this was one of the Draco/Harry fics. Everyone knew of it. Pay your respects to your fandom history and read this beloved classic.

The Stages of Acceptance (T) by Lomonaaeren.

Summary: Harry, already happily married to Ginny, receives the news that he's Draco's mate. Law and custom don't give him the option of ignoring the news. The stages of his reaction, one by one.

Notes: This is not a romance, and I love that the author just casually chucks all the Veela tropes in the bin and says “nope”. In Lomonaaeren’s own words, this fic is more practical than romantic. Harry is unfamiliar with the Veela concepts and hates the very idea of being “shackled” to someone; he rejects Draco at once. Draco is miserable and lonely. They do eventually come to understand each other better, but it’s a huge struggle with lots of setbacks. The general air of pessimism and misery does make the small glimpses of compassion and empathy feel so well-earned. I love a fic that rations out its happiness.

The Stately Homes of Wiltshire (E) by waspabi

Summary: Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.

Notes: This one needs no introduction. The writing is polished, the characterisation perfect, and the dialogue is fun. I love the humour woven throughout it.

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain (E) by faithwood.

Summary: It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

Notes: Another one that most of us know. It’s a lighthearted and fun read.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow (M) by novembersnow

Summary: In the war-torn years after Hogwarts, one man has no knowledge of his yesterdays.

Notes: Another classic back in the feverish heyday of the Harry Potter fandom, when books were still being released and everyone had worked themselves up into a shipping frenzy. And no wonder this fic was an instant hit. Draco has lost all his memories and Harry’s investigating as an Auror, but the longer you read, the more you start questioning everything. Good twists and turns that lead to a tender ending.

Turn by Saras_Girl

Summary: One good turn always deserves another. Apparently.

Notes: An inevitable inclusion on any favourites list. I think my favourite thing about it is the characterisation. Everyone is so well-rounded; the characters are brought to life and feel like old friends. All their habits, styles, mannerisms, even the way they walk or talk. While I love everyone in this fic, I have to admit that Blaise is just amazing. Of all the thousands of Blaises imagined by fanfic writers, I love this one the best. “Old bean” indeed.

Under the Ivy (PG-13) by coffeejunkii

Summary: It is impressive how much you can learn about someone by simply sharing a few rooms. They don’t spend time together, not really, but Harry still knows that Malfoy prefers raspberry jam over strawberry, that he hums along to the Wireless when he thinks no one is around, and that his leg is bothering him more than usual when the temperatures drop below freezing.

Notes: Another old, old favourite of mine. It’s like snuggling into a soft blanket. Remus owns a cottage and Harry moves in after the war. Later, Remus lets a room to Draco, who is an outcast after the war and has limited housing options. Harry isn’t happy at first with the new lodger, but he eventually warms up to Draco. A slow and gentle romance.

Vale Sanare (M) by rurounihime

Summary: Draco’s world gains a new component, just when he thought he’d sorted everything out.

Notes: London nightclubs, one-night-stands, loud music and lonely nights. Draco has seizures due to a curse from the war, and the seizures have led to a fear of intimacy. Short and sweet.

The Way Down (T) by lettered

Summary: Malfoy’s all, “Come out of there,” the way you say to a cat who is badly behaved. And Harry’s all like, “No, what, I’m a hermit! And I have a chest-monster! And I am crazy magically powerful!” and Malfoy’s all, “We all have problems, bub.” (thoughtfully) “You are crazy though. I’ll give you that.”

Notes: I just adore this fic. The fic starts well-grounded, giving you a solid backstory and matter-of-fact context, but as it goes on, it slowly unravels into dreamy scenes, lush settings, and repeated motifs. It’s just such a beautiful story.

When Love beckons to you, follow him (PG-13) by megyal

Summary: Draco wakes up, lost, somewhere in a forest. He has no idea where he is or how he got there. As he is blundering around trying to find his way home, he hears Harry's voice in his head, telling him what to do.

Notes: I generally like my fics to be bittersweet or with a bit of heartache — but this fic is just a little cloud of softness. If you need something light and lovely without being syrupy-sweet, this is a good choice!

The World of the Living (M) by fourth_rose

Summary: A traumatised war hero and a convicted criminal under the roof of an eccentric journalist make for a rather odd ensemble, but Luna has never had a problem with oddities as long as they make sense.

Notes: The story is told from Luna’s perspective, which gives everything a lovely dreamy quality. She takes in a couple of strays after the war — first Harry, who is avoiding his other friends and has quit his Auror job — and then she offers a room to Draco right after his trial. Draco is rude, angry, and ungrateful; Harry is churlish, withdrawn, and moody. Luna doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, and over the course of the next few months, her house guests slowly warm up to each other.

Voices From the Fog (E) by noeon

Summary: After years of running away, Harry crosses paths with an all-too familiar face and follows him to Amsterdam.

Notes: Harry drifts across Europe, trying to forget the war. He ends up in a woodworking shop in Amsterdam, alongside a moody Draco. Atmospheric settings and solid characterisation.

#draco/harry fanfic #drarry #drarry fic recs #drarry fic #answered asks

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 4 years ago

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THE BOX IS NABOO

That’s it, I’m doing it, I’m writing that stupid meta I’ve had in the works for two and a half years, I’m sharing it with the world. I promised it for last Thursday, my poll was forever ago, but whatever! I’m writing that freaking thing.

(super duper long post, press j to skip)

Enter my rabbit hole.

First thing to establish: the Box makes no sense whatsoever in-universe.

((EDIT: Something I forgot to mention. IRL, the premise of a giant murder cube and the aesthetic - wall patterns, light designs, etc - of the episode come from the 1997 horror movie Cube, (see the episode’s wookieepedia page). However, while the two are very closely linked visually, the Box does not follow the movie structurally or narratively, as you can verify by simply reading the movie’s summary.))

Recap of the context for the "Box" episode (s4e17): Palpatine is planning his own kidnapping. It was never meant to succeed, and while the plan would obviously benefit him (making the Jedi look bad, pushing Anakin closer to the Dark Side, making Republic citizens more afraid -> more docile, etc...) his actual goal is never explained, and it’s weird that he’d go to such extreme lengths for results so minimal that we’re never told what they are.

So Palpatine asks Dooku to kidnap him at the Festival of Lights on Naboo. Dooku hires Moralo Eval to design a giant box-thingy to test bounty hunters to hire the best of them to kidnap Palpatine. Moralo then gets arrested to alert the Republic that something is afoot, and hires Cad Bane to break him out. Obi-Wan - undercover to learn Moralo’s plan - goes with them. They evade capture and go to Serenno, and Bane and Obi-Wan have to pass the box-thingy test. The level of brainkarked logic here... Truly on par with Megamind, Gru and Heinz Doofenshmirtz.

Setting aside the insane plot holes and utterly nonsensical behavior of the villains, the Box itself is moronic from a plot perspective. It’s insanely complex, obviously incredibly expensive and would have taken months (more like years but it’s a short war) to make when it’s not even needed for the dastardly plot! Just hire some guys who have already proven themselves against Jedi! Throw cash at Bane and Embo and a few others! Maybe attack them with your saber and see how they do!

And after all that, Dooku still ends up trying to kidnap Palpatine on his own. I can’t even...

So why does the Box exist? Well, apart from being a nerdy callback to Cube, giving us a good thrill and being generally awesome to look at, it has actual narrative purpose within the SW universe.

The box is Naboo.

What the Box lacks in plot relevance, it makes up for with its heavily symbolic meaning. It very closely follows Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s experiences on Naboo - but only certain parts, which I’ll explain later.

We start with clean, sterile environments, SW’s favored way of showing villainy.

Then we have the protagonists locked in a room as dioxis, a poison gas, pours in.

And then they escape... this way.

(Okay, here the shaft is down, not up. And it’s not a ventilation shaft per say, it’s the designed escape route. Same difference).

We then skip most of TPM (namely, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon discovering the droid army, finding Padmé, leaving Naboo, landing on Tatooine, going to Coruscant, etc, etc) to come back to Naboo and go directly to the lightsabers and catwalks.

(Note: in both scenes, Obi-Wan has to propel himself from a catwalk.)

In TPM and TCW, the catwalks are immediately followed by ray shields

And we finally end with the last scenes. Now, they don’t look the same but they are structurally identical.

Obi-Wan is faced with a challenge unsuited for his abilities (facing Darth Maul // shooting three moving targets when he’s far more skilled with a blade than a blaster) on a narrow space above a melting pit/pit of fire.

He first watches someone die failing to complete the task...

... and has to do it himself, faring much better than expected (holding his own against Maul // shooting all the targets easily).

He then almost falls to his death and gets saved unexpectedly.

And then there’s the final showdown.

In both scenes, Obi-Wan is angry. And in TCW Dooku eggs him on, banking on his anger. (More on that later.) In both cases though, he centers himself and is able to overcome both his opponent and his own unbalance. But in TCW, he doesn’t go for the kill, because he doesn’t need to.

The Box, as a literal character-explorator ex-machina, thus shows us Obi-Wan’s growth.

In TPM, Obi-Wan follows Qui-Gon’s lead. In TCW, he is the leader. He identifies the gas, makes the plans. He doesn’t fall from catwalks anymore - he runs atop moving ones. He doesn’t stay stuck behind ray-shields, he finds the solution. (Btw, how did Moralo know what blood type Derrown the Exterminator was? There was a 50% chance of him dying - thus killing all of the bounty hunters. Was that an acceptable outcome? TCW I need answers!) He doesn’t slay his foes, because he’s become powerful enough, skilled enough and wise enough to survive (and win) without needing to kill.

He’s grown - and, even more interestingly, he’s also stayed the same. In the previous episodes, we see some of the dark aspects of Obi-Wan. How he - like all Force-wielders, all people - could lose himself if he stopped maintaining absolute control.

But in the Box, surrounded by the worst criminals of the Galaxy, the most ruthless, worthless people, he’s still kind and tries his best to keep them alive.

The Box is a reminder and a reassurance for the audience that Obi-Wan Kenobi is still there under Rako’s face. He hasn’t lost his compassion, his restrain. He’s still a Jedi. And he’s an awesome, badass one.

And now, for what it tells us about Dooku!

It’s much shorter, don’t worry. Basically, Dooku considers that the best way to pick “the best of the best” of the deadliest people in the Galaxy is making them go through what killed his Padawan. There, I’ve broken your hearts, you’re welcome.

More seriously, Dooku is a manipulative ass. It’s pretty clear that he knows Rako is Obi-Wan, or at the very least suspects it.

He has an interesting reaction upon learning Rako’s identity, he keeps praising him despite his usual distaste for low-lifes, he smirks secretively after Eval says “I’ll show you who’s weak” (not included there because it’s a close-up of Dooku’s lips and no one wants to see that) and he tells Rako he’s very disappointed when he doesn’t finish off Eval.

[Later]

(Look at this smug asshole - I can’t. YOUR GRANDSON IS THE BEST, WE KNOW, STOP ACTIVELY RUINING HIS LIFE ALREADY.)

(Dooku... why...)

Now obviously Dooku couldn’t have made the Box specifically for Obi-Wan, because it would have to have been designed months before the Council ever decided to send Obi-Wan undercover, but he has no qualms trying to use it to push Obi-Wan to the Dark Side. Ffs Dooku, making your spiritual grandson relive one of the most traumatic events of his life on the off chance that he’ll join you (and desecrate his Master’s memory in doing so) is not okay!

Final tidbits of analysis: I mentioned that not all of TPM is mirrored in the Box. What’s omitted is the droids (even though Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon fight B1′s and droidekas between the dioxis and the ventilation shafts) and anything pertaining to Sidious (all the political stuff on Coruscant). You’ll also note that the fake lightsabers are orange.

=> The Box distances itself from anything that connects Dooku to Naboo. Red lightsabers are the trademark of the Sith, so they’re not used. The bounty hunters will be facing Jedi, so logically the fake sabers should be green or blue - and yet they’re orange, the color closest to red without being red. It fits with Dooku’s special brand of dishonesty - he always tells bits of the real story but twists them just enough to absolve himself of any fault and to justify his choices.

(”We can destroy the Sith” -> could maybe destroy Sidious with Obi-Wan, but fails to mention he’s a Sith Lord himself; “the Viceroy came to me for help, that’s why I’m attacking the Republic” -> political idealism is a small part of it, but fails to mention he’s Sidious’ underling and is playing the Viceroy like a fiddle; “Qui-Gon would have joined me” -> maybe, still fails to mention he’s working for the man who ordered Qui-Gon’s death; “I told you everything you needed to know” -> debatable, never said that Palps was Sidious; “Sifo-Dyas understood, that’s why he helped me” -> partly true, doesn’t admit to killing Sifo-Dyas right after getting his help)

So we have a twisted version of Naboo, droid-free (as droids are now irrevocably associated with Dooku, even if that wasn’t the case in TPM) and with sabers that aren’t quite red. Keep in mind that Dooku had already fallen by TPM. (We know this because he killed Sifo-Dyas and created the Clone Army - part of Sidious’ plan - when Valorum was still Chancellor, as per the episode The Lost One.) That means Dooku was (in)directly complicit in Qui-Gon’s death. And the Box doesn’t (=refuses to?) acknowledge that.

(Also omitted in the Box are the Gungans and Tatooine. It makes sense, because Dooku probably wouldn’t have the full details regarding those parts of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s missio as they weren’t as public, and would see them as irrelevant if he did. He utterly despises Anakin, and Gungans are the type of people he always dismisses out of hand).

Anyway, that’s my two cents about the Box. To quote Lucas...

“It’s like poetry. It rhymes.”

Thanks to @lethebantroubadour @impossiblybluebox @nonbinarywithaknife @ytoz and @kaitie85386 for voting for this one. Next up is a compilation of the Jedi being casually tactile with each other (because they’re a warm and affectionate culture, dammit).

Also thanks to @laciefuyu for giving me gifs I ended up not using ^^; you rock anyway!

#meta #my meta #the box #deception arc #rako hardeen #rako hardeen arc #naboo #obi-wan kenobi #count dooku #cad bane #moralo eval #darth sidious

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 4 years ago

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Wed 7 Apr ‘21

Louis left Tulum and went to Mexico City, and we got airport pics from both ends: the gathered fans were told by his bodyguard that they should keep their distance but that yes, pictures would be allowed. Thank you Louis! We got to see him a little for the first time in so long, in videos of him walking by (and getting ready to walk by) and blurry pics of him with his guitar, and Oli and Charlie- I’m excited to someday see the footage of whatever they’re working on. But for now, finally some proper pictures of the long long hair, or at least the below the hat part, all flippy and like...LONG! It’s on his SHOULDERS! Early pics had some interesting shadows around an elbow, prompting a flurry of NeW TaTtoO?? excitement, but when more pics were posted we could see that no, his elbow remains the same, false alarm. Once that tattoo kerfuffle died down the interest refocused on his shirt, which featured- a whole damn pile of skulls!

Louis went through a long phase of wearing skull shirts a while back, and the fact that it was during a period of a lot of very pointed t-shirt messages (and that he kept doing it more than ever despite knowing what we were reading into it) seemed to reinforce the theory that he did in fact mean things by it, and seeing him say yes to fan photos while wearing this shirt for the occasion… well! WELCOME BACK public Louis, we MISSED YOU! Yesterday’s shirt was for the band Obituary- is the band name a nod at the fact that Syco, generally considered to be the main target of previous skull shirts, is now dead and gone (rest in pieces assholes:))? Is Louis drawing attention to the livestream that band did a few days ago for their album ‘The End Complete’, and if so, is that also about Syco or about… something else? Inconclusive, but if we were meant to find their song “End It Now”, that can truly only be about one thing!! Am I to believe that SBB himself, Mr “I like to draw the fans’ attention to the lyrics of things” just, whoopsy, missed that! I mean, you would think every band on earth has lyrics about “ending it“ with the number of times he’s made that mistake, damn… he just never learns. Poor Louis, gosh how embarrassing! Lol. Anyway, I’ve seen people wondering lately what will happen when all the fans that have joined us in this time of lockdown and of no real contact with Louis will react when their version of Louis has to compete with the real one- and him barely being back at all but immediately reminding people that he is not a dad FFS feels like an excellent beginning, this should be good! BUCKLE IN friends! The real Louis is sooo much more fun than the boring made up one, just get ready to enjoy the chaotic energy and trying to keep up with him….

Oh also Louis liked a Snuts tweet about being underdogs as they fight to get the release week UK #1 for their new album, and a charity says they reached out to Louis AND LOTTIE to play in their celeb footie match PLEASE, HOW CUTE WOULD THAT BE? Come on Tomlinsons, say yes!

Liam has a big interview in Glamour to promote his BAFTAS performance! If *I* were doing the piece I would have really gone hard on the Two Liams angle of the performance (in which Liam will be accompanied by a hologram of himself) but alas they are boring and only interviewed one of him- maybe the part where he says “you're on stage, you're a certain type of person, and at home you're a certain type of person” sort of counts? The “that's always something I've really struggled with” makes it not so fun though, but that’s a Liam interview for ya; worrisome and makes you want to hug him a lot. “I didn't actually realize this for a long time, but I often give a little bit too much away,“ he says, and today is no exception. We catch up on the time since last we heard from him, when he told us he was going to take some well-earned time off and try to focus on writing new music; he continues to have difficulty with downtime unfortunately. Oh Liam, I do wish it were easier for you to take a break! He says, “I stopped working and I had a full, proper month off [and that was] really hard. And it was all a bit dark for me for a little bit... not being able to go anywhere, not being able to do anything. It really, really hit home. And I just found myself sat in the same place day in, day out. And I was like, okay, I really do not know what to do with myself” and “for me, learning to relax has always been quite a hard thing to do because I feel like if I'm not moving forward, then I must be going backwards.” He goes on to say “so, in a way it's kind of a blessing in disguise, as this has all kind of taught me to relax a little bit more. And to not be so worried about that, like the world is not going to fall over if I don't do something today,” and I wish I believed him, but that’s Liam’s way, to be like oh I need to add something upbeat and end on a cheerful note! So IDK. He also talks about drinking too much, at the beginning of lockdown especially, and how he’s dealt with it by getting back to working out and dieting. There’s nothing there that he hasn’t talked about before (he’s publicly addressed both his struggles with alcohol dependency and has talked a lot about his disordered eating though he hasn’t himself named it that) but after publication Glamour edited the piece to omit the part about his drinking-- I’m guessing the augmented reality app people didn’t feel it fit their ideal image (sigh). What that leaves is him saying how nice it was to be able to eat what he wanted during lockdown but that having the boundaries and rules in place of restricting his food again has made him feel better about himself, which if you ask me is still plenty distressing. Oh Liam :( <I’ve never wanted to hug someone so bad/ Spongebob meme> On a slightly more cheerful note, he tells us he feels supported and heard by a manager that he’s close to, and by Louis, and that those relationships are good for him (the interviewer does ask about Bear, but financee Maya is not mentioned even once in this article). The piece ends with a startling response to a comment about his upcoming performance: “I'll see you wherever you want me in your house, I guess.”

Niall posted about his Masters (golf) fantasy league and he was seen out and about! He was photographed in London driving a car the size of a house and on the street carrying one of his dozens of different reusable water bottles, with his hair floppy and down- is it a new haircut or just unstyled??- and shorts and little roundish shades. Hello Neil! There was a rumored sighting of Harry in London as well but no pics and like we know he’s there anyway so… shrug. And iHeart award nominations are up, and they’re pitting louies against harries, ouch. Will it be nasty (well when isn’t it even without this voted category, sigh), or will the louies simply steamroller everyone as per usual? Only time will tell, but if so harries can console themselves with their likely wins in the Male Artist of the Year, Best Lyrics (Adore You), and Song of the Year (WS) categories.

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gryffindormischief · 4 years ago

Note

can you write another jily x hinny fic 🥺

A/N: I wrote this for you while pretty sick and did not trust my judgment on it haha so now it has been edited post-fever and I think it’s pretty cute. I hope it fills your need <3

FF // Ao3

Liberosis

It’s always odd, that feeling of waiting for guests that aren’t quite guests. Particularly once the floors have been swept, all that can be dusted is dusted, and planned foods for the soiree have been prepped as much as possible. Then it’s just that awkward standing around ‘don’t mess the cushions’ feeling where you stand about like a stranger in your own home not quite knowing what to do with your hands.

One would think Harry Potter wouldn’t be subject to this type of feeling when it came to Ginny Weasley, at least not any longer. Not when they’ve known each other since they were in nappies and have been dating since - it’s hard to put a date come to think of it.

They so gradually slipped from friends, to just slightly more, to ‘can I snog you now,’ to ‘we are actually snogging’ it was a weird, nebulous kind of succession. Particularly that last bit where the ‘can I snog’ and ‘we are snogging’ were mere minutes apart, if that.

The strangeness was that in his 6th year rather than making any grand announcements or wondering how to tell everyone, they simply kissed each other like mad in front of the entirety of Gryffindor house and then proceeded to receive a flurry of owls from their extended family in the aftermath. The missives varied from Percy’s peevish ‘is that really proper Ginevra’ to Molly Weasley and James Potter’s ecstatic (and at times barely legible) ‘finally Finally FINALLY’ letters. Hogwarts was treated to Molly Weasley’s first foray into pleased-as-punch Howlers.

None of which means things are particularly new on the dating front. Two years in, they’re closer to engaged than not, Harry’s a fully qualified Auror, and Ginny has just completed her first training season as a reserve chaser with the Holyhead Harpies.

Which may be the cause for Harry’s heart palpitations - almost two months of missed face-time with Ginny and there’s that niggling thought in the back of his mind, ‘What if she’s realized you're a specky git and moved along?’

Not that he’s so slim and lanky as before. Certainly training to be an auror nearly gave him carpal tunnel and a perhaps never to disappear knot between his shoulders from entirely too much paperwork. But there’s also the more physical aspects that hopefully earn him some appreciation from his girlfriend (almost hopefully fiancée).

“Harry darling?”

He blinks and manages to focus his gaze on Lily Potter who is currently halfway through cutting out biscuits shaped into the Holyhead Harpy logo from a pale sheet of dough. “Mum?”

“You’re about to drool.”

Harry narrows his eyes but swipes at his in fact drool free chin nonetheless. “Lies don’t become you, Mum.”

“It was illustrative,” Lily smiles, “I know you don’t like to hear it because you’re so grown up, but you are adorable.”

“I’m an auror,” Harry puffs, grabbing the cutter from Lily and resuming her efforts with practiced ease. There’s no telling how many cozy afternoons mother and son had spent in almost precisely this manner since Harry was tall enough to reach the counter with a step stool.

“You’re my baby,” Lily corrects, rinsing her hands in the sink. As she swipes herself dry, she pins Harry with her stare. “And Ginny loves you. A mum knows. You’ve got no reason to be nervous about being a passing fancy or whatever you’ve cooked up.”

There’s a pause before Harry sniffs with some Percy Weasley style haughtiness. “I’ve cooked up nothing of the sort. Except a delicious summer roast that will be ready in - approximately…”

Harry’s estimate is cut off by a few short knocks at the cottage door. He freezes, rather deer like, and stares at his doughy hands in a panic. At his mum’s smirk, Harry maturely sticks out his tongue and repeats the washing process she’d just done for herself. With much more splashing and swearing.

Lily pushes him toward the entryway with a light touch to his shoulder. “Off you get Romeo.”

And then in a blur, the door’s open and Ginny’s in his arms, her lips so warm and sure on his he feels like a dunce for even questioning anything to do with them in the back of his mind. When he’s nearly breathless with the force of her, Ginny pulls away grinning, ponytail swinging behind her, cheeks wind chapped and freckled.

“Miss me Potter?”

“Of course Weasley,” Harry shoots back with an answering grin.

She rises on tiptoe and presses a depressingly chaste kiss to his cheek. “Missed you too, love. James in the yard?”

And before he can even muster up a response, Ginny’s already trotted through the house, disappearing into the back garden. The only pause comes when she shouts, “Back in a few. I need a professional chaser’s advice! Won’t linger too long.”

The door claps closed behind her, but not before James Potter shouts an excited ‘Ginny!’ and enters into some off-key rendition of a Harpy themed fight song.

When Harry turns back to his mum, she’s got his delicious summer roast in her arms (that looks and smells as amazing as he hoped) she’s biting back a commiserating grin.

Harry ruffles his hair and chuckles. “Should we be offended?”

Lily smirks. “We should sample the back side of this roast. They snooze, they lose.”

#blarg writes things #blarg writes hinny #blarg writes jily #jily au #hinny au #they live au #jily live au #hinny fic #jily fic #harry x ginny #Harry Potter x ginny weasley #James Potter x lily evans #James x lily #Chaser!ginny #chaser!james #auror!harry

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weirdoldmanhoho · 3 years ago

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do u have any fic recs?

Sorry it took me years to answer this! The truth was I really hadn't read many FMA fics (at least not since the FF days) and was waiting until I actually had some recs to give.

And now I have some! My list will surprise no one, I'm sure.

Soul Friends by KyberHearts

“They were not always, and simply, two minds in one body. Towards the latter part of their alliance, especially in the heat of battle and warmongering, their souls could not distinguish where the prince began and the sin ended.”

Ling Yao returns to Xing to seal his fate as the next Emperor and sets his plans for reunification and peace in motion.

Elsewhere, Alphonse Elric reconciles with the very Truth that stole his body.

I absolutely love the way this fic writes post-canon Alphonse and his relationship with Truth.

Damaged by xmypandabear

'"He's still in the hospital too, with the Lieutenant," Alphonse said dully. "Blood loss - someone slit her throat..." Ed stared up at the ceiling, remembered the scientist with the gold tooth, and shuddered at the image his brain conjured of the Lieutenant lying on the floor. "But Mei helped her! So, they're sharing a room - the Colonel and Hawkeye, I mean, not Mei, 'cause the Colonel can't use his hands yet, so she's helping him..."

"His hands?" Ed tried to remember.

"It's how they forced him to do it," Al whispered. "They pinned him down so he couldn't move."

Ed fought back nausea. The sense of wrong, wrong, wrong pervaded every sense of his being. How the fuck was any of that equivalent exchange?'

Love me a good post-promised day healing and processing fic. This one focuses a lot on how Al, Ed, Winry, and Roy are all doing immediately post-promised day and the relationships between all those characters.

Joining of Hands by ehmazing

If you're not breaking a couple of laws, is it really an Elric wedding?

Truly, the best thing about an AlMei wedding is all the hijinks and complications the come from foreign customs and marrying into royalty.

Legends by Elfpen

Alphonse Elric has been living and studying in Xing for a little more than a year and a half. Now, Ling has asked him - ordered him - to take on a new responsibility and fill the shoes vacated by Van Hohenheim four centuries ago. But what use are legends, really, when they're all frauds? The Son of Heaven and the Son of the Western Sage see it differently.

You ever find a fic that just feels completely catered to you and your interests? I love everything about this fic. Alphonse in Xing and the weird politics he has to maneuver as not only an incredibly skilled foreign alchemist but a close friend of the emperor's - all at a young age. His relationship with Hohenheim and the grief and confusion that comes from never really getting to KNOW Hohenheim and now having to come face to face with the lasting impact his father left on a foreign country. Ling scheming. It's all very, very good.

The Principle of Mentalism by The-Immortal-Moon (LunaKat)

There’s a woman with a wrench and a penchant for alcoholism, and what he doesn’t know is that she’s going to change everything.

Another fic that feels like it was written specifically for my interests. This one explores Pinako and Hohenheim's first meeting and how a rowdy mechanic from Resembool and a reserved guilt-written immortal from Xerxes ever became friends in the first place. Features Hohenheim and his one million soul friends and a young awkward Pinako who I want to give SUCH a big hug to. I love it so much.

We'll be Holding on Forever by zipadeea

"Hohenheim left them to save the world. But Dad loved them more than everything in the world."

AU where Alphonse gets his body back a little earlier on the Promised Day.

It changes nothing.

It changes everything.

Read this if you want to cry. It focuses on Ed and Hohenheim's relationship and it is full of pain but also healing and understanding. Great quick read.

ticket stubs and your diaries by nerdywriiterchild

Alphonse Elric is almost fifteen. He will never know Xerxes.

This one is short but packs a powerful emotional punch and a really interesting character study into only a few paragraphs. Explores the really interesting question: what is it like to mourn a culture you're a part of but will never really know?

Briding Her Time in Wait

The wedding date was set. Winry and Ling had screamed at one another for months during the preparation out of a mutual need for their childhood friend and half-sister to have the most incredible wedding in the history of either Amestris or Xing, and as a result the wedding canopy suffered from a unique blend of western and eastern traditions that left guests from both sides of the desert confused and requesting refills on drinks that didn’t exist. Still, the two wedding planners manipulated the day into running smoothly, Ling pulling his Emperor card when necessary, Winry pulling her, well, Winry card when necessary, while Ed and Lan Fan stood awkwardly around the food table making small talk that mostly consisted of complaints about automail. By the time the golden groom was ushered through a beautification process that left him requiring an escort to avoid the various women��and men—attempting to seduce him at the last minute, the guests were settled and the wedding was ready to roll.

Except no one knew where the hell the bride had gone.

I'm always a sucker for Scar and Mei's relationship.

One More Time, With Feeling

In the end the Elric brothers laughed over the irony: The traveller had settled to write books on alchemy while juggling two boisterous children blessed with Rockbell rockheadedness and Elric recklessness, and the settler had taken to travelling between Amestris and Xing for the remainder of his life. It came, really, with having two homes.

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

A bird could love a fish, but where would they live?

This one explores Alphonse's relationship with Mei post-series and is VERY in line with how I picture it. Being in love with a foreign princess in line for the throne with a duty to her people and country would make for a very complicated and often strained relationship.

Magic and Mind by Preelikeswriting

Of all things Edward was prepared for as the day of reckoning grew near, being transported from one world on the edge of war to another was not one of them.

AKA: Edward gets accidentally summoned by Death Eaters, and neither party is happy.

(Pre-Promise Day, HP book 5)

Ok so preface: I rarely like crossover fics and I very rarely like HP crossover fics, but this one just works for me. I think what I like so much about it is that Edward doesn't just get thrown into the world of HP and join the golden trio / order and start fighting Voldemort. Oh no. He does not care about their fight at all. He just wants to get back home and will do anything he needs to to achieve that, even if it makes him look like he's working with Death Eaters or going against Harry and friends.

I think the fun of this fic is that it kind of plays around with the fact that the READER knows who the good guys are of each series and would expect them to join forces. Sure, Ed is the Good Guy of FMA and Harry and friends are the Good Guys of HP, but Ed's goals don't really align with Harry's goals and so they're not really working together, and Ed kind of comes off looking shady af to the HP characters despite the fact that the reader knows why he's doing what he's doing. It's a far more interesting take on Ed goes to HP world than "Ed immediately joins the fight against Voldemort."

The series has three works so far and I haven't finished it, but I really loved the first and what I've read of the second. It also eventually heads into Ed/Draco territory which is not a ship I would have initially read but.....kind of works for me here.

#fic rec #fanfic #van hohenheim #alphonse elric #ask

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noahstayed · 3 years ago

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Sorry if you've already answered these questions but I still want to ask them so...

1) Are you going to make another book after Earthshine?

(If the answer is yes; (and you don't have to answer this one,) Are you going to do a time skip or will you go the 'the condom broke'?)

2) Will Edward have a mate (If yes; will you create an OC or simply pluck a character from the twilight saga archives are revamp them?)

3) If you do make a version of Breaking Dawn, will it have the same premise (Ie. Wedding, Honeymoon, (I typed hUMANmoon and then corrected it, don't know why my fingers went there.) surprise pregnancy (or not? Because Carlisle is a DOCTOR) turning, then the Volturi going all "We must kill the child!"?)

4) With regards to question three, in the (honestly, and sadly, unlikely) ( completely forgot what word I was going to type, and It as too much trouble to type that so I'm just going to use another word that won't flow as well) situation (I'm so unhappy with this word, my stomach is turning something fierce, man.) that you DO go the standard "with the other book as a very, very, loose guideline) Would you go the route of OYH or would make an entirely new plot?

Also, if you do go with the same general outline, (which is unlikely since Irina isn't with Laurant in newmoon but with Charlie, so there's no bitter feelings and she won't immediately go to the kings before she's heard Carlisle's explanation.) How would you make that work?

5) I know you said that if you do make a fourth book you would just use the dhampire from OYH, Elisha, does that still reign true? Or are you planning to make a new character entirely?

6) If you do make a fourth, and go the OYH route, would you still make Elisha Emse's mate, like in OYH? Or will you go with Garette?

7) Also, since you have previously made an ff about Garette and Bella having a brother-sister type friendship would we see that and get to see Garette claim her as his sister and charlie as his father, and everyone goes along with it? (Honestly, I REALLY want this to happen, especially since I've spent the last hour scrolling through your tumbler and stumbled upon the 'I'm older than my father' post.)

8) Really, all these questions border on the main one of "is there going to be a breaking dawn/part 4-5 (depending) in your rewrite?" but if you do, would Carlisle buy Isle Bella as a honeymoon present of would that be in the oneshots book (that you'll hopefully be writing after this is over) as like a "Have fifteenth anniversary" thing?

9) Are you going to write a book full of random one-shots you couldn't fit into your story? I REALLY HOPE SO.

enthusiastically hope so. :) (that's really a tense smile with eyes SHINING with hope. Just informing you that you'll be crushing my heart. Brutally. With a stake. No pressure :) )

10) If you don't write the fourth book will we get an epilogue with the wedding five years later? Like, with Bella being SUPER nervous?

And finally, 11) (I really want a war to showcase Bella's awesome vampire powers (because you've stated (in a previous Tumblr post) that you'd give Bella her BAMF!Bella OYH powers)) So if there's a part four, even though the Volturi is "lawful" and like, has a brain, in your series, can they like have a brain fart where they go. "He's making an army," Or just straight up CANNON!Aro with his need for power be like "It's an immortal child, and it needs to be destroyed." But really be thinking, "They're growing too large, already their numbers rival our own, they must be put down! This is the perfect time!" Like the (cowardly) power-hungry and villainess we all know and love. Kinda.

I have other questions but those can really wait lol.

I basically want breaking dawn and the third (Do you count Charlie's book as part of Bella's story or as a stand-alone since you weren't really progressing the plot very much (also a very good way to have a time skip in your main)?) isn't even done yet.

I don't know if you can tell, but I've been reading this series for three days straight (new fan!) and just started your OYH series and I'm just filled with a desire right now. Like, I typically hate sex scenes in a twilight book (but that's because I was a child when these movies came out (saw them all in theatre!) and still was when I read the books, so Bella is SACRED lol, and It just makes me uncomfortable to imagine her in those positions (it's like a trauma okay?) but I really enjoyed your stories (even if I basically glossed over your sex scenes and read through them quickly) and could actually sit through your sex scenes (mostly, because it wasn't INTENSE! Like, a lot of rewrites turn breaking dawn into literal Porn and sully the books for me because they basically remove a lot of plot to make room for Bella's sudden appetite, and while, yes, you gave her an appetite and... I am just really enjoying your stories and how you write so Thank You.

Okay, I've let you know your appreciated and put out my question into the tumblr universe so now I just have to wait for you to see this and maybe respond.

I hate waiting.

I haven't gotten an ask in a while and AJKHFJKHD Listen!! THE FACE I MADE AT HOW LONG THIS IS??? Superb!! I'm honored you've taken the time to write this all out so I'm gonna try to answer you as best as I can!!

Right now I'm 100% sure that there will be a couple of Novellas/Novelettes directly after Earthshine. The Renee Story, the Charlie Story, and the Roommate Story which all will get maybe 40k and mini plots that are far more focused than Charlie's first story. Charlie's new story will be focused on his relationship with Carlisle too, so that should be fun!

Edward having a Mate is still up in the air at the moment. Since he is still very young, I don't see the need to really give him someone so quick when other characters have waited WAAAY longer. As for who it might be, that's also still up in the air in case I want to do a short story with him that's a part of a series of Novellas after the main books

If I do make a BD rewrite IT WILL have wedding/honeymoon/surprise pregnancy then it will PRETTY MUCH go off the rails from there because the Pregnancy will be VASTLY different. Carlisle is a Doctor and Bella isn't an idiot. They won't be in Washington either.

Again. The first half will be loosely based on the book and then just go completely off the rails because, Like you said, the Volturi have brains and I LOATHE an 'idiot' plot where people are required to suddenly become stupid for the story to work. As for the OYH route, I will be borrowing a couple elements from OYH but the conflict will be very different.

Elisha is baby and there's no way I could make another Dhampir at this point. Not with how much I love him.

The aging process will work differently in this fic for Dhampirs, so this question is irrelevant since Elisha will be a child for the entire fourth book. As for when he's older, Its still up in the air for this series. He deserves to be baby and I very much dislike the trope of age faster = mentally develop faster because that's BS.

We'll see, I love Bella and Garrett, but there's A LOT I'll have to cram into the last book so we'll just see.

As much as I'd love to answer this, I'm covering the honeymoon in the fourth book so you'll see what happens in there ; )

I HAVE PLANS for random one shots. I REALLY DO. I just has so little time to work on the main story so I might write some when Earthshine is done! I have a name for the one-shot collection already too and some Ideas!

I very much plan to write the fourth book you'll be fine. Bella will not be nervous, she'll be WAY more anxious about it going right. Mostly her nerves will be from anticipation and excitement because she'll be 23 and be very secure in her forever with Carlisle.

There will be a fight in book four that will not have the Volturi turning stupid. Don't worry about how.

Charlies little story is a Novella so I don't count it as a book.... GOD hearing you plowed through the series in so short a time is MIND boggling. I get people telling me this occasionally and I NEVER stop being amazed by it!

As for the sex scenes, yeah, I didn't want this to be erotic literature. I frequently scream that 'THIS ISN'T A SMUT BOOK' because them having sex is just a normal healthy thing that happens in relationships and wanted to show that. The sex scenes I write tend to be glossed over anyways so I'm glad it was readable for you. I get feeling frustrated and wanting more plot, but there are plenty of people who prefer the very explicit smut.

If sex scenes aren't your cup of tea, that's fine. I don't view Bella as pure and innocent though. It teeters dangerously on the Madonna/Whore dichotomy to act like she is. I get wanting to preserve the innocence of your childhood through her. That's not me though. Bella/Carlisle's relationship is highly sexual in nature within SoG and that's ALRIGHT too!

Thanks for the super long ask!!! it was great to read and fun to respond to!

#asked and answered #acadiatclements #long post #Sound of Grey Series #SoG #NoahStayed Writes #Bella x Carlisle #Carlisle x Bella #Bellisle

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flameohotfamily · 3 years ago

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I love all your fics and HC’s. After reading Maiko ff for nearly ten years I finally decided to write some of my own and it’s not getting responded to much. Any advice on if I should keep it up or quit while I’m ahead?

OMG, dear anon <3333333333333

I'm... speechless? Thank you so much! Sending you virtual bear hugs!!!!!

I tell you what. I had been writing my first original story a few years ago, in my second language (not English, hah), and it took me around a year to write it, nearly 400 pages (almost a novel). I posted new chapters every week, I replied to every comment, every mention, I researched every drop of information and read a lot to have a good vocabulary. What do you think how many likes or comments I gained?

About a year after finishing it (plus the whole year I've been writing it and it was free to read at any time), I gained 62 likes under my story. A whole year!! Someone gains 62 likes in one day from a first chapter. Do you think I felt inspired, or creative, or talented?

With my first maiko fic it was even harder, my English level is still low and definitely was on the bottom in spring, and I was so so so scared to post it. Perhaps, in my native language my text would float like a river, in English I tried to write it at least grammarly correct (I failed even with this, seriously, my brain slowly breaks every time when I read something harder than Present Perfect) lol. And what do we have? Almost the same story, I mean, none of my fics has at least 100 kudos even now. Maybe you asked a wrong person for advice after all.

I become upset when I notice a mistake in my writing, I get frustrated every time when I read gorgeously written fics or stories (not because they are written gorgeously, but because I cannot write like this and I feel like a complete failure), I'm angry at myself every time when I cannot write at least a line for a new chapter. I guess, I might know how you feel sometimes.

But all of this is... strangely okay. Writing is a process, it's your learning and growth. Your mistakes, your frustration, your critical view of your texts, your insomnia at 4 a.m. when you have weird inspiration, your sitting in front of your notebook or laptop waiting for some creativity from above, your tired amused smile when you see a short comment under your work.

There is a great quote from one Talmudic sage, Hillel the Elder: “The shy man will not learn; the impatient man should not teach.” And I think it describes a lot of things perfectly. I know it takes courage to start, to write, it takes courage to post your work, it takes courage to read a comment from some critic who tears to pieces the text that you've been carefully writing for three weeks or even more. It takes courage. And you already did a good job and made great efforts by writing something and posting it, and I'm very very proud of you!!! You stepped outside from your comfort zone, you stepped over your shyness and insecurity, you're learning and it's... it's awesome!!!

I tell you honestly, yesterday I wanted to delete my modern au fic because I have no inspiration, motivation or power to continue it. Last week I wanted to delete this blog because I felt exhausted and I saw all of it as a useless waste of time (I mean, how many 20 y.o. make a whole blog about two cartoons? In this era of productivity and glowing up and making your own business from everything?). I burned out some time ago, and I'm still recovering from it. Some of my readers ask me when they can expect a new chapter, and I have no answer. Because I literally force myself to write and it doesn't feel right. I still get upset when my text is not smooth and beautiful, when I cannot find the words, or I simply don't know the grammar, I still doubt that I might sound ridiculous and no one talks like that (no one speaks English in my surroundings, so it's a kind of challenge), I still feel an urge to delete all of it. Or start to write in my native language at least, because personally for me it takes so much time to create something in English.

But the whole point of writing is that you should enjoy what you're doing. As long as you love writing in general, your texts and these characters, I think you should continue. Maybe write only for yourself, maybe for those five readers who would read everything that your mind would ever create, maybe for a big audience of your followers. Even if no one ever would appreciate it or comment it, I think you should write.

Take your time, rest some time, don't exhaust yourself, make something you're usually enjoying doing, whether it to listen to your favorite music, or reread your favorite book, or drink your favorite coffee/tea. And open a new page. Maybe you would write only one new line for a whole day or week, maybe you would write a chapter during one evening, who knows. But don't stop writing and don't give up on yourself so easily. Even a small step is progress, and even one kudos/like/comment means that someone somewhere spent their time reading your texts. Maybe you should quit it for some time, but please don't act too harshly and wipe everything out. Take days off, think about it, remind yourself why do you love this ship and why did you feel a desire to write about them, remember which positive emotions maiko or other ships/shows/stories etc. bring personally to you. Maybe you just need a break (I have a break right now, it's okay, it's refreshing).

Our maiko fandom is a tiny island between large oceans of other pairings (you know what I mean, since you're far longer in this fandom than me). We're small and unpopular, and underrated and even bashed sometimes. So I genuinely feel happy and grateful when I see new maiko content!! That's why I'm trying to support everyone who creates something new, or just appreciates it with kind words and positive vibes. What I'm trying to say, you are appreciated and welcomed, and it's great and wonderful that you decided to make a contribution into maiko family/nation/fandom or how you used to call it.

I know that perhaps I sound too motivational and supportive, but when I say it, I truly mean it - I'm ready to support every new maiko creator!! Because that's what some people here did and are doing for me, because that's what we're all supposed to do. Support and encourage each other. I wish I'd known who you are and seen your works, anon. Please feel free to write me here on in messages (don't be scared or embarrassed, I'm just like you!!!), and share your work. Write me, any of you, guys. I'm not a writer, I haven't written a masterpiece, I'm not a good advisor, but I'm ready to support you and help you to spread more maiko and your writings, and even share some of my experience if it might be helpful.

I hope I answered to your question. I feel so so honored and complimented that you've written me, so thank you!! Hope it helped, at least a little.

Send you, dear anon, and all the maiko shippers a lot of inspiration and positive thoughts. I bet you all are super talented and creative and deserve only the best things. Enjoy your writings and the process of creating, and don't be too hard on yourself because you're incredible <33

#flameohotfamily answers #flameohotfamily writing #flameohotfamily opinions #flameohotfamily blog #flameohotfamily maiko #tw writing issues #tw burnout #tw insecurity #maiko fandom #maiko fanfiction #maiko writing #motivational speech lol #hillel

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tehrevving · 4 years ago

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(This might be a duplicate cause tumblr sucks so sorry if it is) Did I hear requests are open? 👀 I have a mighty need for male!reader with Dante. I know male!reader isn't for everyone and I totally get that but if you're down, then maaaaaaaybe tipsy or drunk Dante doing anything with male!reader? 👀👀👀 Thank you!

It seems like everytime I write Dante with a male partner he just ends up being a bratty, slutty sub…....

You were just curled up on the couch, barely watching a crappy movie that was mostly static snow anyway, just waiting for Dante to come home. He’d been invited out by a client, to some high brow event, and you’d tried your best to not act disappointed that you hadn’t been invited, and sent Dante off telling him to have fun.

You heard the stomping of his heavy boots before you saw his shadow at the door and when you heard him fumbling for his keys for a little bit too long, you knew that Dante had indeed enjoyed himself at the party.

Eventually he managed to make his way through the door and you couldn’t help but smile at the way that his face lit up when he saw that you were waiting for him.

“Fancy seeing you here handsome,” he slurs out enthusiastically, walking over to you and pulling you effortlessly off the couch and into his arms. “I missed you,” he whispers into your hair, pressing gentle kisses to your scalp. You tilt your head up and capture his lips, gently at first before he deepened the kiss. You could taste the whisky on his breath and it was intoxicating mixed with his usual slightly spicy taste.

“I missed you too,” you smile, pulling back from him. He looks down at you with a goofy grin on his face.

“You look really hot tonight,” he smirks, his eyes flicking up and down your form.

“Really Dante?” you question, shaking your head because he’s fucking adorable when he’s a little bit drunk. You’re just wearing one of his shirts, sweatpants and with a blanket still wrapped haphazardly around your shoulders.

“Mhmm,” he says against your lips, his voice husky. “So fucking hot.” He kisses you again, twisting his whisky flavoured tongue around your own. He presses his hips against you to confirm his words, and he’s absolutely rocking a semi.

You pull away from him, pushing at his chest when he tries to pull you back in. “Go upstairs and get ready for bed,” you tell him firmly, “and I’ll close up down here.”

Dante looks for a moment like he’s not going to listen to you, but then to punctuate your words you slap his ass and step out of his arms. Then he gets the message.

By the time the door is locked and the lights are out, by the time you make it upstairs to Dante’s bedroom, he’s had ample time to sprawl himself naked out on the bed. He’s got one hand leisurely stroking his now fully hard and profusely leaking cock and you can see that he’s got at least two fingers of his other hand in his ass and ff the heavy pulsing and leaking of his cock is anything to go by, he seems to be pressing pretty violently at his prostate.

It’s not like you can deny that the sight of him like this is simply something else, that it doesn’t affect you. Dante winks at you and squeezes his fingers tight around the base of his cock as he bucks his hips. “I need you Baby,” he moans, “my fingers just aren’t enough,” and he thrusts them violently enough to make his cock shake just to emphasise his words.

You start undressing, taking a little bit of time. You take your shirt off first, followed by your pants and underwear while Dante’s eyes roam your body appreciatively and he wolf-whistles. You stalk towards him and Dante melts back onto the bed.

You pick up the towel that’s sitting by the bed and motion to Dante. He pulls his fingers out of his ass with a whine but moves so you can lay the towel down. He’s fucking messy when he gets fucked, and you’re not interested in sleeping on wet sheets tonight; or having to struggle changing them while a drunk, heavy and blissed out Dante tries to sabotage you.

“On your hands and knees,” you bark at him and he immediately complies. He turns his back to you and positions himself doggy style on the bed, ass high up in the air as he wriggles it in your direction.

Dante has helpfully left the lube on the bed, and you can see how his body shudders when he hears you pop the cap. “You don’t need to prepare me,” he turns and purrs at you, but like you’re gonna pass up the chance when he’s like this.

Dante is so fucking hot when he comes, cock untouched. When he cries out and his hips shudder, it’s utterly addicting.

Dante groans as your fingers slip easily inside him, he’s practically purring now. He’s so unbelievably warm inside, the temperature is almost unbearable, but you can manage. It’s easy to find his prostate, not just because it’s a little bit engorged but because of the sound that he lets out when you brush against it.

You’re not gentle with him, fucking him with your fingers and spanking his ass cheek with your other hand. Dante very quickly turns into an incoherent mess against you, legs shaking with the strain of keeping himself together.

It’s not long until he’s trembling around your frantic fingers, calling out your name interspersed with various swear words and variations of “gonna come.”

Dante howls, writhing and panting while his untouched cock spurts copious amounts of white all over the towel that’s underneath him. It’s practically drenched in his come by the time he stops shouting, his body shaking with left over pleasure.

He’s still just as hard post orgasm as he was before, his pulsing cock still begging for more.

You don’t give him any warning, pulling your fingers out and then using them to quickly lube up your own desperate cock. You press the head of it against his entrance and the tight ring of muscle tries to engulf you immediately. You wait for a moment, giving Dante the option to tap out if he wanted to. Instead he pushes himself back against you until your cock sinks easily inside of him.

He’s absolutely unbearably warm inside, squeezing tight around your cock while you moan and stutter, trying to keep it together. Dante is purring with contentment and you can feel the rumbles in his chest through the pulsing skin around your cock.

You start with a moderate pace, watching carefully for his reaction. But Dante is a fucking slut and starts rocking his hips back against you, making you increase your pace. He begs for you to fuck him harder while he shreds the pillow underneath him with his fangs.

You reach over the long, broad expanse of his back and grab a fistful of long white hair. You pull it hard, making him bow his back and forcing a low growl from the depths of his throat. His body tightens around you for a moment and it’s too much.

“I’m gonna come Dante,” you tell him, tugging on his hair, “you want me to fill you up. Don’t you?”

Dante moans in delirium and you slap his ass, releasing his hair. You use one hand to pull on his hips, accentuating your rhythm while you reach down around his hips and take a firm grasp of his cock.

You ram your cock against his prostate, frantically stroking his cock and twisting your wrist until Dante is roaring, growing horns as his cock spurts hard against your first and soaks the towel through once more. He tightens impossibly around you, growing even hotter inside and you can’t hold on, pushing your cock as deep as you can and spilling your seed inside him.

Dante collapses almost straight away once you pull out of him, luckily he’s coherent enough to not fall on the towel. He’s practically dead to the world on the best, and it’s left to you to clean up. Dante would absolutely be happy to fall asleep on the wet patch in the sheets while come leaked out from his ass all night; but you’re not quite that lazy.

You know by now he’s probably almost completely sober, his metabolism is fast but increasing his heart rate just makes him process the alcohol faster. He’s blissed out from being fucked though, so you pull him gently to your chest and make sure he drinks some water before, with a short, mumbled declaration of his love for you, he passes out. You hold him for a little bit and then turn off the light, curling around your favourite devil as you, yourself fall blissfully asleep.

#dmc #dmcv #dante #dante x reader #dante sparda #dante x male reader #rev writes #my writing #Anonymous

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phantaloon · 4 years ago

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right so, vent below on all for the game aka the book series I finished in three and half days bc my stupid brain would not let me live my life if I didn't finish and I haven't studied for two tests I've got tomorrow but this is somehow more important in my brain (and everyday I'm more convinced about adhd)

first things first... I love neil josten with all my fucking heart and oh jesus christ I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM, he's the typical damaged mysterious character I always love but I can't regret it, like I love every single one of these characters which is a lot to say bc that never happens? (well except maybe aaron, but he has his moments, and I totally get his attitude) BUT NEIL owns my heart, like genuinely, he is my everything now, he might be one of my favorite ever characters?? like I said, I love this type of angsty character, and it's dumb but I love him

also can I say how much I love this bc it literally is one of my favorite tropes? like found family? check. queer? check. mentally and emotionally unstable? check. enemies to friends to lovers? check. abusive pieces if shit getting what they deserve? check. did I mention found family????

like I genuinely love this, and the suspense of wtf will happen next is honestly what's pushed me not to sleep this past few days and push my assignments aside (which is so not me lmao) because I physically need to know what's gonna happen fr

like nora is a very clever writer that way, even though three books cover a year which is odd, she really has a way to captivate the readers, ffs she got me to read a sports novel?? I just love the simplicity and symbolism of her writing

but oc at this point, if you have any semblance of how I am you know exactly what my vibe is... andrew and neil. lowkey toxic relationship at first, andrew was truly a piece of shit as a friend, but am I a sucker for characters finding that person they can call home and feel safe around after not ever having that?? absolutely. (warm is the word I love when describing this, a person that makes you feel warm) the way their relationship was shaped over the three books and how subtle the details are is amazing

and how much of a fucking simp neil is. there you have andrew hiding his sexuality like a pro for a long ass while and then neil just cannot stop staring at andrew like dan howell looks at phil lester. he really did nothing to try to hide his fondness for andrew once they started hooking up even though they pretended it was purely physical. I just love how hard neil fell for andrew in so little time, like he went from yes I think I'm attracted to andrew to loving and looking for andrew like nothing else mattered (big percabeth vibes)

also can't not love andrew's development. like not in the literary character development kind of way, but more of a... personal kind of way, like it's not in a writing sense, it's simply his emotional development in a human sense. idk how to say it. it's not like apollo's in toa or damon salvatore's or tony stark's. it's simply his personal development from being self isolating, possessive, closed off, and just done with everything, with no semblance of a purpose to live, to someone whose doors just opened in every way. he gave in to his own dreams, his feelings, and he understands that he truly is not alone, he has aaron again and kevin and nicky and renee and neil and everyone else. he actually allows himself to be happy and live for once instead of just existing, and maybe he's not there yet, but he's definitely working to get there now, and I love him so much istg I wanna cry rn as I write this

but getting back to neil and andrew, god I love their relationship. they worked through every step of the way, they're so caring and careful of each other's boundaries and triggers and stuff, and they just understand each other so perfectly. not one of them expects of the other more than they can give, and they just work so well. I love that they never told anyone absolutely anything, their relationship is theirs, and theirs only, they don't deny anything, they're not ashamed of being together, but I really love that they chose not to let the others make a big deal out of it.

and I can't ever forget how much andrew must really love neil. we know neil is head over heels for andrew, but technically we don't know how andrew feels. except every single action he does proves it. it's in the details. from the second book and onward, andrew has such a soft spot for neil, even through what happened with drake in TRK, god andrew cares so fucking much for neil it hurts. he may pass it off as 'there's nothing here', but every one of his actions proves otherwise. even right after coming back from rehab, he cared for neil like he cared for no one else, not aaron or kevin. everything that happened was perfectly paced. from their first kiss to their last. just andrew even going against kevin when he was being too aggressive to neil is enough proof, not to talk about andrew letting the deal with Aaron go to be with neil, or everything when neil was kidnapped.

it's just, they both deserve all the happiness in the world, and I'm very fucking happy they found love in each other after all they've been through.

I'm sorry I'm ranting so much, but you can guess how I feel about smth when I've slept so little the past three days bc I was obsessed with finishing it despite having too much to do (I didn't pay attention to a class bc I was reading and it's fair to say I didn't do good in the following quiz), so yeah I have a lot of feels for this series

I just love their little family so much, you don't understand <3 found family is just my favorite ever trope and I have to stop my rant short before I write way too much when I should be studying for my very important tests to come

anyway you can bet I'll keep posting about this lmao <3 truly recommend it but mind the trigger warnings, some content can be a lot for some people, hell I like reading angst and I had to put my phone down a couple of times bc it's a lot, so yeah, ttyl

#queued #scheduled actually #aftg #long text #long post #tfc #trk #tkm #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #idk what to tag #andreil #andrew x neil

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inanauthorsworld · 4 years ago

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how to promote your fan fiction

1. Make sure you’re using the correct platform. When I started writing on Wattpad, I found it extremely difficult to garner attention when there were so many fics being posted in my fandom with hundreds of thousands of reads-- it was difficult to build a platform for me. On the other hand, another fandom I’ve written in has a community built exclusively on Wattpad and my attempts to post fan works on Archive Of Our Own were unsuccessful. Find out which platform works best for you and your fandom. Consider your established audience, the fandom presence, searching and tagging systems, etc. to decide where you’ll post. What works for one fandom won’t for another.

2. Tag appropriately/ Don’t over-tag. This is mostly based off my experience using AO3 but can be applied generally. While searching for fics, if something has twenty tags but is only a couple thousand words, readers looking for a specific trope might skip over it because the trope they’re looking for might not be extremely relevent. Only add tags that are major parts of the story. This is more of a personal preference for me, but also sorting tags by most to least relevent is a good way to show which tropes stand out and which are in the background. Similarly, don’t tag characters/ships that only appear for a short amount of time as that can be misleading.

3. Use other social media and be active in your community! When I started writing fanfction seriously, I had a real easy time gaining readers because I already had hundreds to thousands of followers on my other stan accounts. Fast forward to a few months ago when I jarringly switched fandoms and now had almost no dedicated readers willing to give me a chance. Now, after a few months in the fandom, my Tumblr following is growing and so is my fic audience, but it was very crushing to post for the first time in a new fandom only to realize no one cared. Also, being active in the comments on Wattpad/AO3/FF can help, too. For most of us, comments are a huge deal, and that can definitely prompt fellow authors to look around your page and explore. The only thing to avoid with this is directly self-promoting in other’s spaces. Make sure your comments are genuine and don’t take away from the author.

4. Update consistently This is advice that I don’t follow, but it would be way easier for me if I did. On the other hand, my SO spent months updating her fic consistently (at least every week or two), and it payed off. The longer you update consistently and consecutively, the more people are drawn to your work-- once you go a few weeks or months without missing, it’s easier to trust you won’t abandon your project. Plus, who doesn’t love a series you can get invested in and look forward to? Knowing your favorite fic updates on Fridays is something to look forward to while getting you through the week.

5. Most importantly: Remember that readership doesn’t matter and doesn’t reflect on you. While I’d love to say that the best fics have the most kudos, that simply isn’t true. The best works can sometimes fly under the radar no matter what you do to stop it. These tips are here to try to prevent that, but at the end of the day, you may just be unlucky. The numbers absolutely do not equate to the quality of a fic-- at most, they’re a nice bonus. Don’t get down on yourself over the small things, that just holds you back from bigger successes in the future.

#writing advice #writing tips #fanfic writing #fanfic writing tips #writblr #writerblr

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eury--dice · 4 years ago

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history, huh?

chapter 3: propius

(check the rb for chapters 1 + 2 on tumblr + ao3 links!)

Adam was woken at 5 o’clock on the dot with a series of sharp knocks on his door. “Up and Adam,” Gansey’s voice called, making the one stupid dad joke that always set Adam’s blood to a boil. He was too tired to react, however.

“Kindly leave until a later time,” he called, his voice heavy with sleep. “I don’t have class for another three hours.”

Gansey opened the door anyway, striding in with more pep than anyone should have in the morning.

“You’ve made the tabloids, my friend. Your weekend with Ronan finally hit.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Nope,” Gansey said cheerfully. “‘From America, With Love: Ronan and Adam flaunt friendship.’” He turned on his heel once he’d crossed the length of the room, which Adam could never forget was formerly Malia Obama’s, and seated himself in Adam’s desk chair.

Adam had never been closer to considering strangulation. He elected to shove his hearing ear into his pillow instead.

Unfortunately, the muffled sounds of Gansey speaking still made their way in. “‘Photos: Adam’s Weekend in England,’ oh, that’s boring…ah-hah: ‘New Bromance Alert? Pics of FSOTUS and Prince Ronan.’”

Adam resigned himself to his fate and mentally promised himself a giant cup of coffee. “As long as I’m getting fewer death threats on Twitter, I’m happy,” he mumbled into his blankets.

Gansey ignored him. “Why are you so tired? It’s the hour of kings, time to be awake and alive.”

“I’d settle for dead if it meant I could sleep at this point, to be frank.”

“Please don’t be frank. Be Adam.”

Adam sat up, eyeing Gansey in his wire-framed glasses with disdain. “Any more puns and I suffocate myself with this pillow.”

“Please don’t,” Gansey said, but his eyes had already returned to his screen. While he read through the articles, he continued his line of questioning. “Working on the campaign late last night?”

“Not really,” Adam admitted. “I had a Press and the Presidency paper to write.”

“Just write ‘I’m Adam Parrish’ on a piece of loose-leaf paper to turn it in and you’ll probably get an A. You live it every day, for Christ’s sake.”

“And yet I still need to cite sources in Chicago Advanced.”

“You’d think nepotism would work out more in your favor.” He flicked to a fresh article, a gesture Adam only recognized from all the other times Gansey had done it. “Luckily, I think the press is eating this one up.”

Adam grimaced. “Fantastic.”

“Not-campaign-ruining, you mean.”

“That too, I suppose.” He wanted nothing more than to flop back against his pillows and get the sleep his body so desperately craved after being jet lagged for a week, but he fought the urge.

“That _ People _exclusive takes the cake, I think. I didn’t realize how much you cherished your relationship with Ronan.”

“Fuck off, please. Or end my misery.”

“No to both. Why are you even taking that press course?”

Adam slid out from under his blankets, rolling his shoulders to try and wake up more. “Curiosity, I guess. It never hurts to learn more of what not to do.”

Gansey looked up from his phone to level a glance at Adam. “And what have you learned so far?”

“…Don’t have a sex scandal?”

“You _ would _need someone to tell you that.”

_ “Hey,” _Adam said, affecting outrage.

Gansey lifted his thumb to run over his lower lip, tilting his head consideringly. “One of us three will probably have a scandal before your mother’s second term is up.”

“If there is a second.”

“Chin up, young padawan. With you working on it we’re guaranteed.”

“I don’t know, Gansey,” Adam replied. “I don’t think I’m the good luck charm you believe in.”

“Of course you are,” Gansey said. “We won the first time, no?”

Adam glanced exaggeratedly around the room and to the phone in Gansey’s hand. “I’d say so. That or we’re about to get questioned very thoroughly about the the events of last three years.”

“Don’t make me cut you off on the true-crime videos.”

His eyes narrowed, focusing on Gansey. “Don’t you dare.”

“Blue agrees, anyway,” Gansey said, successfully deflecting topics. “Said there’s a ninety-four percent chance you’ll get into a sex scandal before the general.”

“Both of you date more than I do, why am I the one who’s supposedly having a sex scandal?” Once his initial outrage passed, disbelief crept in at the time of day. “Did you just text Blue at five AM and get a response? How the hell did you manage that?”

“She’s been up,” Gansey dismissed. Adam stared at him for a moment, and then Gansey seemed to feel the weight of his stare. His eyes widened almost comically. “Oh, Christ, no, not that. Nate Silver asked for another set of eyes on the Superbowl predictions, and she’s trying to get a shoo-in with them before the primaries begin. I just brought her some coffee.”

“And you didn’t bring me any?”

“You’re the only one of us who hasn’t been up all night. You need coffee the least of all of us.”

“Don’t blame me for your bad decisions.” Adam squinted at Gansey. “Were you working on an article all night or something?”

He snorted. “Hardly. They’ve been blocking all of my pieces. Too far from my mother’s politics, too far from your mother’s, too controversial, too critical, all in that order.”

“Thought you were liking the _ Post _gig?”

“On paper,” Gansey dismissed. “I’ve defaulted to writing about Welsh history.”

“Sounds like it’s right up your alley, then.”

“Once again, on paper.”

“How do you even connect the Welsh to the hellscape of American politics?”

Gansey waved a hand. “‘Eternal spirit,’ ‘fighting for honor,’ ‘remembering Glendower and others who set a pristine model,’ et cetera, et cetera.”

“People read that? That just sounds like you in high school spouting off again.”

“Yes, Adam. People read it.” Gansey squinted at his phone again. “Twitter _ really _likes you and Ronan together.”

“We’re exciting,” Adam said dryly, reaching for his laptop. He scanned over his most recent paper while Gansey dramatically narrated replies to the gif of them on _ This Morning. _

“‘Either of them could stab me and give me one of those smiles and I’d thank them,’ Jesus Christ,” Gansey read, “They really love your fake smiles… ‘name a more iconic duo, I’ll wait,’ hm, maybe any other duo? ‘Oh my God, just _ kiss already.’” _

Adam choked out a laugh as Gansey punctuated the last one with a dramatic and uncharacteristic hand wave. “At least it’s working,” he allowed, shutting his laptop once he felt secure about his essay. “Now get out. _ Some _of us have places to be.”

Adam’s phone buzzed on his way out of his cursed Presidency and the Press course.

Somehow, the interest of those around him seemed to pique even higher when he looked at his phone instead of in front of him. It wasn’t a new sensation by any means; ever since starting at Georgetown, he’d felt eyes on him constantly, but the intensity increased tenfold each time his classmates thought he was too occupied to see them staring. He noticed every time, but of course nothing could be done about it.

The name _ HRH shitty bird boy _ popped across his screen. How strange - in only a week, he’d almost entirely forgotten that the name he had (quite maturely) given Ronan in his phone was… _ that. _As he swiped the notification open, he felt a certain amount of trepidation as to what a technology-averse prince would ever text him about.

His harassment and emergency fears flew out the window with the body of the text, simply a screenshot of their tabloid appearance with the added caption of _ youre the nerd and I’m the cool jock. _

_ Competitive yachting? _Adam asked in response, nearly tripping over his own feet while typing.

_ ffs i told them to stop writing that as my preferred sport. _

Adam felt his lips twist against his will.

_ I’m sorry, this is a common problem? _

_ you can’t even imagine. _

_ I appreciate that they consider competitive yachting a regal sport. _

_ status symbols and faux athleticism are the core of the monarchy. _

Adam blinked down at his phone, stopping short abruptly. Persephone, from behind him, adjusted accordingly.

He…hadn’t been expecting this. Any of it. The text, the almost-joking response, the casual statement about the monarchy being ridiculous despite him being in it. Their conversation ended there, and it was probably for the better. He resumed his pace, trying to get to his next class. He almost forgot about the texts, too; save for a rogue screenshot Adam sent him of speculation on Ronan’s presence in Majorca, nothing else went between them.

Sometimes, Adam could _ just barely _ get away with being on his phone during briefings with Maura. He hated to be distracted during them - they were _ important, _he knew that, but all the same occasionally she spent a particularly long time covering an obscure dignitary’s comments and he’d gotten too few hours of sleep to truly focus and someone or other was blowing up his phone.

Maura’s topic of conversation this week appeared to be a series of Buzzfeed articles run on the lack of pets in the First Family, complete with a power point dissecting their points

The glamorous side of politics, truly. Discussing a clickbait series in the West Wing briefing room.

_ iMessage chat to _ ** HRH shitty bird boy **

_ Resumed 30 October, 2019, 1:47 pm _

_ if you want a pet chainsaw dragged in a mouse the other day _

_ Ah yes, the mouse. A pet eternally beloved by constituents. _

_ we can’t all have a raven, that would be unfair _

_ Your heights of cool and goth are truly dizzying. _

_ im glad you agree _

_ Modest, too. _

_ it comes with the wealth and fame _

_ As long as you’re being straight with me, feel free to be as ‘modest’ as you like. _

_ i’m the prince of bloody england. i’m straight all the damn time _

_ That’s the biggest lhxemxlp_

His phone slipped from between his fingers, landing with a dull _ thud _onto the wooden floor. Adam stared helplessly at it, a sleek black rectangle hiding between types of oak. But Maura repeated his name, and he suddenly remembered what had made him drop his phone in the first place. He dragged his eyes up, staring at a spot on the sterile white wall just beyond Maura’s head.

“Adam,” she said a third time, but he refused to look her in the eyes. She conceded immediately. “What the hell?”

He felt his cheeks darken as blood found its way up. “I’m sorry.”

Her lips thinned just like Blue’s did, turning into a dark line on her brown face. “Do you even remember what I was saying?”

“Er…” he scrambled. “Don’t mention animals in any public setting?”

She looked at him for a long moment, then picked up a mug of coffee and took a controlled sip.

“Get out?” she said once she’d swallowed her sip.

“I-”

She pointed to the door. “I am impossibly busy. Take your phone and go laugh in private.”

He nodded once, finally, ducking under the table with his spine pressed against the bottom to grab his phone. His fingers closed around it, grip the edge of the wood, and he was up in a second.

He couldn’t regret it.

Because - well, here was the weird thing.

He wanted another text from Ronan.

_ iMessage chat to _ ** HRH shitty bird boy **

_ Resumed 31 October, 2019, 12:03 am _

_ it’s finally spooky day in your hell country _

_ Isn’t it 5 am in England? _

_ Do you ever sleep? _

_ bold of you to ask that question _

_ halloween, bitch _

_ it waits for no one _

_ I’m really going to have to advocate better habits. _

_ I understand, you’re enthused for Halloween. _

_ do you even care at all _

_ I enjoy halloween like everyone else. _

_ Though your level of excitement feels a little pagan? _

when the skeleton army rises Jesus will forgive me

_ appreciate this glorious day parrish _

_ I have enough fear in my daily life, thanks. _

_ I filed my own taxes all throughout highschool. _

_ And payed rent. _

_ The horrors of early adulthood. _

_terrifying _

_ terrible i’ll never deal with that shit _

_ You’re the prince, we know. _

_ Do you also not have enough horror in your life? _

of course i do

_ but parrish. listen. _

_ this is the one day a year all the monarchy and parliament dress as they are in life _

_ hideous monsters _

He laughed a little harder at that than he should have.

_ You’re telling me the monarchy plays dress up. _

_ ronan_frankensteins_monser_costume.jpg _

_ matthew insisted. did this on me an hour ago _

_ oh my god _

The makeup _ was _really good, and the monstrous look suited him, but hell if Adam ever said that to him.

He may have saved it to his phone, though, to glimpse Ronan’s green-paint covered skin and crooked, drawn-on stitch smile on his perfectly blank face.

Although Adam certainly didn’t intend to make a habit of texting the Prince of England, when he saw a funny bird or a stupid article or an obscure meme his first thought became _I should send that to Ronan. _And Ronan, clearly, was thinking along the same lines. The sheer number of sole emojis that seemed to tell a Ronan-centric story he received at all hours only affirmed that. And somehow, between all the pictogramme and jokes, he started to learn snatches of information. Declan was a better storyteller than Ronan, Matthew was the only person who could make Ronan attend family dinners ever since their father died, and his mother - the Queen of England, Adam had to remind himself sometimes - drew further away every day.

The problem became that he always wanted to know _ more, _and Adam didn’t know if that was due to his rampant curiosity or something else buried deep inside of him, and he was too afraid of what he might uncover by digging to look.

Adam had very few friends.

Most of that came with the territory of being part of the First Family; nothing made casual acquaintances drift away quite like being constantly surveilled by Secret Service agents and trailed by NDAs. Adam didn’t have time for small talk and coffee, a fact which he sometimes lamented and often loved. Part of this came from the type of friendship he became accustomed to with Gansey and Blue, the all-encompassing type of friendship that took over their minds in spare moments and forged ties stronger than steel between them. He’d probably forgotten how to have normal, casual friends, not friends an outsider would think he was completely in love with. And, perhaps more than anything else, it came back down to Robert Parrish and his heavy hands and ringing words. Adam’s memories of his first few years were scattered and inconsistent, but they filled up a too-large corner of his brain all the same. Blue, who entered his life at the tender age of 5, had won his trust with greater ease than their other peers, and Gansey had done the same in high school. They knew him and what he’d been through, and so they could (platonically) love him for all that he was. When campaigning and political office came into the mix, that full truth of Adam Parrish became a secret to guard like any else.

But, oddly enough, Adam had a third friend: Noah Czerny, the thirty-three-year-old baby of the Senate.

Noah and Adam met through an Aglionby networking event while Adam was a student and Noah a recently-elected congressperson, both green as grass in different ways. Adam, thrown neck-deep into a Presidential campaign, had questions, and most of the time Noah had answers. Although all of the professors had warned Adam to proceed cautiously with Czerny, Adam found nothing to fear. Noah had mellowed out quite a bit from his high school days, becoming a familiar face at political events and a surprisingly-wise piece of advice always at the ready. Despite Adam’s near hero-worship of this brand-new politician, half-Mexican just like him and just as frequent to lose sleep rewriting policies that unjustly taxed communities of color or defunded children’s education, they’d formed an improbable bond. The summer before his sophomore year, Noah let Adam closer to the politics process than even his mother had as he ran for the Senate, and Adam took to it almost at once. A politician twelve years his senior was perhaps not a conventional choice of friend, but Adam seldom remained conventional.

It wasn’t too out of the ordinary for Adam to arrive at Noah’s congressional office unannounced, either with business or without, and so when Adam rounded on Noah’s stark, bright, white office, he wasn’t at all surprised to see him ducked over an obscene number of papers.

“It’s Friday night,” Noah said without looking up, barely before Adam had even crossed into the office. As always, the tiny burst of color in the Pride flag deposited in a tourist mug drew Adam’s eye for a long moment before Noah himself did. All Adam could see of him was his brown curls, resolutely held in place even as bent over a desk. “Go party or something.”

“Damn, I didn’t _ think _ this looked like a frat. I knew something was off.” Adam slid into one of the seats across the desk. He had several inches on Noah, but he always felt smaller in those chairs across from the most important legislators in the country. “What’s got you here at eight PM?” Off of Noah’s brief, incredulous look, he amended to _ “this _particular time, I know. You’re salaried. Shouldn’t you…ever go home?”

“I’m trying to get something done so that there’s at least a hope of banning fracking in our lifetimes.”

Adam scoffed quietly, though not for lack of faith in Noah. “Let me know when you’ve cracked the code.”

_ “If, _but sure, I’ll be in contact. Now, why are you here?”

“You didn’t answer my leaving-the-building question.”

Noah’s eyes flickered shut briefly. “Jesus, Adam, I am salaried by the taxpayers of millions of Americans. I’m not going to slack on them.”

“Fine, but don’t make me drag Gansey in here to make you take a long nap and drink some hot soup.”

Adam’s phone buzzed, but he ignored it; despite it being almost 1 am in England, Ronan could presumably take the blame. Noah asked, “Did you catch the Fox town hall last night?”

Adam grimaced. He’d seen part of it, trying to multitask with his macroeconomics homework at the same time, but instead he’d fallen asleep with his head on the laptop screen. “Part of it. It was a shitshow.”

“You can say that again.”

“I honestly thought that Whelk would pull more support from the extremists. He just seemed desperate last night.”

“Oh, he definitely was.” Noah leaned away from his desk, appraising Adam as though considering his words carefully. “We went to school together.”

“Aglionby?” Adam asked. He knit his eyebrows together. “How did I not realize he went there?”

“The school doesn’t exactly love toting him.”

“He’s older than you, though, right?”

“Yes, Adam,” Noah said slowly. “I’m thirty-three. He’s already announced a bid for President. How old do you have to be to run for executive office?”

Adam scowled. “I just came from class, I can’t use my brain. He was a senior when you were a freshman?”

“Yep,” Noah replied. “We were paired in upperclassmen-lowerclassmen bonding.” His lip curled a little. “He outed me.”

“Wait, _ what?” _

“He outed me to the school,” Noah repeated. He looked back down to the papers on his desk, his voice softening to a barely audible level. “I trusted him, which was a dumb thing to do, but I was a really stupid freshman. Scared, too. He was a friendly personality.”

_ “Fuck,” _Adam said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, that’s…”

“Terrible?” A bit of Noah’s life returned to him. “Don’t worry about it, kid. It was years ago.”

“But then…Whelk, he was the reason you…?”

“He didn’t make my parents react the way they did. They did that on their own. But no, they wouldn’t have known without him.”

Adam shook his head. “I thought it wasn’t possible to like the guy less, if only because of his politics, but he’s done it.”

“Done what? Received the full wrath of Adam Parrish?”

“He very well may.”

“Don’t worry about him. Whelk will be out soon, believe me. I know him. He may have his parent’s money, but he’s barely old enough to hold office and he’s running on fumes.”

“If he’s not, I’ll convince Blue to skew stats until he is.” Noah knew just as well as Adam that that wouldn’t change anything, but it lightened the air anyway. “It seems kind of pointless to entertain any of them. Greenmantle is probably going to win no matter what.”

Colin Greenmantle: former antique collector, congressperson from Massachusetts, and millionaire with the funds to take over the Republican primary, and very possibly the whole election, before any papers were even filed.

“It’s early,” Noah said. “Too early to worry about it. Too early to even be _ talking _ about it.”

Adam slanted a half-smile at him. “Never too early to worry about an election.”

Noah looked back to his papers before broaching the next topic. “I hear you’ve got a job on your mother’s re-election campaign.”

“Once I graduate, and maybe a little earlier, yeah.”

Noah cast a glance around the office. “Are you sure this is the life you want?”

Adam knew he was referring to the constant bustle, the fear of disappointing and harming instead of helping, and the ever-evolving media scrutiny. He knew it was the closest Noah would give to a warning. “I’m sure.”

Noah sighed. “Fine.” He pointed to the door. “But I won’t let you throw your youth away, not this early. After you graduate, Parrish. Go get drunk and make out with someone.”

Adam stood, his frame unfolding and standing tall. “You are a terrible role model.”

“Can’t hear you over the loud music.”

“You and Blue and Gansey - if I die of alcohol poisoning, it’s all your fault.”

“Feel free to blame, so long as you’re out there and not here.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus. You’ve made your point.”

“Finally,” Noah called after Adam’s retreating form. But Adam could hear the amusement in his voice all the same.

For someone so allergic and averse to technology, Ronan sure seemed to share a lot with Adam.

_ iMessage chat to _ ** HRH shitty bird boy **

_ Resumed 13 Novemeber, 2019, 8:38 pm _

_ bird.m4a _

_ she wont stop nuzzling my head?? _

_ Picking for lice, probably. _

_ God knows you have so many. _

_ my scalp is perfectly clean _

_ Forgive me for abstaining from running my hands over it all the same. _

_ I’ll leave that to her. _

He didn’t always respond, though.

Adam tried not to read into it.

(He mostly succeeded.)

Adam never tired of stepping into the Oval Office. On the Wednesday right before Thanksgiving, he stepped in with the same amount of awe he always had, allowing himself a single moment to glance around at the wide windows and perfectly upholstered furniture. He sat on one of the couches without preamble.

His mother looked up from what was in front of her on the desk and smiled, albeit a tired one that frayed a bit at the corners; Adam had seen a few particularly troublesome foreign dignitaries be escorted away not long before, so he didn’t have to guess at the reason. Ana looked like she belonged to sit right there amongst all the history at that desk, from the sun dipping just beneath her halo of hair straightened within an inch of its life and her stick-straight posture. It might have been a lot at times, but seeing her was a reminder of all the good that came from her position.

She rose and walked to join him, her heels clacking lightly at the ground before she sank onto the cushion beside him and pulled him into a loose hug. Adam had overtaken Ana in height some years before, but there had been a long gap in there as he grew - like one day he was three and a half feet tall and wrapped tightly in her arms and the next he was off to Georgetown and several heads taller. She pulled away after a minute, slowly and bit-by-bit as though savoring her moments as a mother rather than a president. Her hand reached to muss his hair a moment later, and Adam ducked away instinctively before exchanging an identical grin with her.

“God, I forgot how light your hair looks in here,” she said, leaning back a little. “Almost golden.” She tilted her head as though examining him. “Nah. Still brown. But much lighter.”

“How could you forget? The photo here was in _ GQ, _the same article that first declared me the family golden boy.” At the corner of their conversation was the knowledge of where he’d inherited that hair color, as it sure as hell wasn’t from Ana. But he let the thought stay buried, patting the dirt back down with the shovel himself. Their relationship always had an absence in it, and he didn’t particularly feel like deepening it in the Oval Office.

“Ah, so that’s the one I have to blame for your big head,” she responded, reaching for a piece of fruit from the little coffee table. It was a familiar half-jest, borne from Adam’s constant contradicting confidence and imposter syndrome. Idiosyncrasies were just Adam’s style, never one to make things easy for himself. He sometimes wondered if so much of himself conflicted because he tried to walk the middle road so often, balancing his weight over all sides to minimize the damage if the rug was yanked from beneath him, like lying down on a bed of nails: a thousand tiny, dull pains over one sharp, potentially fatal puncture. She smiled again. “Is Noah doing well?”

“For Noah he is. He would barely look up from some new reports on fracking, seems hopeful he’ll be able to garner enough support.”

Ana snorted. “Good luck with that. I’ll be shocked if it reaches the floor for debate.”

“That makes three of us, then.” He nodded towards the desk. “Bad meeting?”

The frown lines on her face deepened. “Don’t get me started,” she drawled, falling back fully against the cushions. After only a moment, she _ did _ get started regardless of what Adam did or didn’t do. “We received the memo a few days ago that a delegation from Sweden wanted to be in contact, right? Fairly standard stuff, Maura gets back to them quickly because they worded it like it was an urgent matter, and there’s a back and forth for a while about scheduling and accommodations. We’re of the belief they won’t be out here until Monday at the earliest.”

Adam knit his eyebrows together. “It’s not Monday.”

“You fuckin’ tell me. Anyway, I’m halfway through a meeting with a few UN representatives when Maura has to interrupt. They arrived at the White House, claimed they had a meeting, and just…didn’t leave. Evan Maura couldn’t get through to them, which is the thing that scared me a little.”

“You should have put Calla on it.”

“Believe me, if she were here, I would’ve. But as it was, I had to hurry out the UN members to deal with decidedly more antagonistic foreign relations.”

“Why were they even here?”

“They wanted to discuss the military relationship between our countries-”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” she said, waving one hand in dismissal. “Any points they were trying to make went straight out the window when they started pulling out cue cards, to be honest. I might have to call Löfven to smooth things over.”

“Well, there’s never a dull moment,” Adam said fairly. His mother snorted.

“Sure isn’t. Anyway,” she said, glancing at her watch, “it’s now Thanksgiving, so no more meetings for twenty-four hours.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

She pulled a face in dismissal. “We take our patriotism seriously, darlin’. Don’t want our home state gettin’ too mad.”

“Of course.”

Ana checked her watch again. “The turkeys will be on their way to the Willard by now, so we’re not ruining any American traditions today.”

“Wait,” Adam said. “Where?”

She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. “The Willard. They stay there every year.”

“What? No. _ No. _You cannot give the turkeys five-star accommodations with taxpayer dollars. You’ve been doing this every year?!”

“It’s public knowledge, sugar. Every news outlet mentions it.”

“How did I not-” Adam cut off. “There is no way you can do that! They’re turkeys! It’s a waste!”

“It’s precedent, Adam. I’m not sure if there’s anything to be done at this point.”

Adam stood quickly, pacing back and forth, and his mother stood behind him. “It’s a _ blatant _waste of money, I’m shocked we haven’t already been-”

“Hon, every president so far has done the same-”

“Imagine the story if we broke the tradition! Even conservatives would have to applaud your frugality-”

“We can’t play games with tradition, you know they already call us disrespectful-”

“-we can’t be using _ taxpayer money-” _

“-by all means, if you have the time to find lodging for two forty-pound turkeys-”

“Put them in my room!” Adam blurted. His mother stopped short.

“You’re not serious,” she said. “We’re not putting the turkeys for me to pardon in your bedroom.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Adam-”

He shifted his feet, coming to a stop. He lifted himself up to his full height. Debate Captain Adam, six-time Best Delegate Adam, and First Son Adam converged into one. His mother barely looked phased.

“Oh, God,” his mother said. “I can’t listen to another sales pitch.”

“Madame President,” Adam began, “I’d like to echo the sentiments of the forebears before me-”

“Nope,” she said, making double-time back to her desk. “You’re not going to filibuster me.”

“In 2018 alone, at least forty-three articles in the Wall Street Journal accused the sitting administration of wasting tax dollars. This came on the heels of a tax increase for Americans making more than ten million dollars per year and the subsequent pushback from a more conservative electorate in Congress.”

“Fine!” Ana said, her hand falling to the desk with a thump. She brought it back up to her head to massage her temple a moment later. “I’m too tired to hear my own history read back at me. You win.”

He sat back down on the couch, crossing his legs primly. “Perfect,” he said, allowing himself to smile once again.

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kuronekonerochan · 4 years ago

Text

The laziest compilation of thoughts about the mess that was Alice (spoilers)

I finish a lot of shitty dramas. Like a lot. I could review them, but I won’t bc there’s too many and I’m too lazy (when you ff some dramas from 45min to 5 per episode it doesn’t really count as watching too many dramas bc it’s really a commercial break, lol). Some I watch for the so bad it’s good content, or love hate watching or just to have something to watch while I eat, even if they’re boring af. It’s also a tiny bit of ocd bc I need to see how they end (even the ones I drop I check out the finale). I only drop the ones that as Marie Kondo says *Do Not Spark Joy, more specifically...annoy me and make me cranky.

I sometimes bitch about it on DMs with ranty spoilers without structure and that reference other unrelated dramas or shows, because ADHD and my mind refuses to stay on topic, which would make it probably unintelligible except if you are in the niche who happens to have watched the other unrelated dramas, so it’s probably useless as a review.

That said, here are some random disconnected thoughts about Alice.

MAJOR SPOILER ALERTS BEWARE

(this is like partly copypaste of DM rants bc I am that lazy biatch. Also, fair warning I will seem super harsh or this drama because that’s the thing about a bitching dm versus a proper review... I am not bringing up all the points and talking about the good and what I liked as well as the bad, it’s just the bad...and although the drama is imo a mess, it does have some good in it. So if it were a review I’d always argue pros and cons...ranty thoughs who cares about pros? boring..I will not be bothered with devil’s advocate).

This was fascinating to watch, interesting but not good... but like a trainwreck.

I continued watching this mess despite the headache inducing convoluted plot (I watched a lot of timetravel stuff and I love it...encompassing all the theories about it, from butterfly effect, to effectively changing the future (with characters forgetting it or keeping it in memory because “eye of the storm” theory, the “efforts are futile and you can try to change it but the future is set in stone”, to “small changes can be made but big events are fixed points in time”, to “every change creates a new time line” and multiverse, etc... and trust me, all of them can be done well when well written or turn out a confusing illogical mess and that has nothing to do with the theory chosen, but with presenting how time travel works for that story and what the basic rules are and sticking to them...or when something happens that contradicts them, come up with an explanation as to why that happens.

I don’t mean the drama should be an exposition borefest with too much pseudosciency jargon...but this drama gives you too little in the way of rules and the viewers sort of figure out how timetravel works (which is not bad per se, huge fan of show don’t tell...but there’s a limit to how much they cannot tell or the characters chose not to ask just for the sake of plot and not without any logic to it). Anyways, the little “rules” that we gather along the way...the writing doesn’t stick to them and keeps contradicting itself without addressing or explaining it and hoping we’re so confused we don’t notice. Some dramas you just say “eh, forget it, it doesn’t make sense, let’s turn off our brains and enjoy it”, but here if I wanted to try and follow what was going on at all it required “brain on” mode for their convoluted plot twists...which also made me aware of so may plotholes the time road should have looked like Swiss Cheese. I could go into them...but I cannot be bothered and the list would be extensive and still incomplete, so I will just put 3 here bc I can’t help it:

1) Hot Daddy with emotional turmoil the entire drama of “Oh no, I abandoned her in 92 and regretted it, it happened 1 year ago for me, and now I find out she died in 2010. How was she, did she suffer? What did she know? Oh god, if only I were a time traveler eventually going rogue who could show up and talk to her any time in the timeline between 92 and 2010...Alas, I have to live in misery with the consequences of my actions...there is just ABSOLUTELY no way of solving this. I guess I’ll just keep making unauthorized time travel journeys from 2050′s time agency back to the year of 2020 and only 2020 to constantly be blindsided by murder attempts on everyone everywhere without having a clue to what’s going on when I could simply go back to before 2010 and talk to the one person who is proven to know what is going on.” Here is where there could be a bullshit reason as to why he could go only go to 2020 and not before, but the drama didn’t even bother.

2) They say Tae Yi’s mom was originally a time traveler who settled with her physicist dad in the past, eventually making way for her to discover time travel herself. The mom is missing and this is never addressed again.

3) The book...who wrote it? Because I have guesses but they never outright answer it... and if the biatch author knew that stuff why the alice in wonderland stupid analogies?

Coward, or petty, or both.... or maybe just a chaos gremlin godlike entity who wanted to watch them all squirm, like the author from Extraordinary You...and that I could get behind, but sadly they don’t go that metaphysical/theological with the plot...which is honestly the main problem with this drama. It seems ambitious in concept but it’s never explored decently in any way, not in the pseudoscience, not in the philosophical sense of the meaning of time/space/existence, not even in its relationships, with the constant back and forth and weirdness of it.

Besides the timetravel migraine, we had the weirdest directing, that made the relationship between the leads feel a bit too incesty...which was the main reason I kept watching this drama...morbid curiosity of how they wrapped up this mess of a plot AND especially the relationship payoff...would it keep being weird with trope romance drama scenes like the female lead and second female lead facing off and being jealous, or that weird hair washing that felt more sensual than maternal? I knew it wouldn’t happen but my inner chaos gremlin wanted kdramaland to grow some balls and go full “predestination: oedipus edition” with this mess. Alas they sort of did, mostly didn’t. Even that angle was a whole inconsistent mess: there were times where it felt too romantic, then for a short minute I misguidedly shipped the journalist friend, then it seemed the dude was ace, then they calmed their tits with the whole weird romantic vibes and it got platonic cute, then with the memory merge thing finally motherly vibes, then I shipped the journalist again for 1 sec only...and then the ending:

Alice ended with the lead solving every problem by shooting himself (technically) in the head...and that's the second meta perfectly fitting ending for a drama with a good cast and terrible writing that drove itself into a corner this year, after the sleepless princess ended with the leads jumping off a cliff. I don't think it's a self aware choice of the writers, or an admission that they themselves know it was bad, but the irony is delicious.

Spoiler for the ending: he undoes timey wimey stuff from when his mom first got killed in high school and closed the time travel door. So he became an architect and new Tae Yi just woke up in her bed remembering everything, but in reality she had just come back from a conference abroad and had never met him. So mom TaeYi didn't die then, but never got back on screen after the time undo so who the f knows what happened to her.

Also, if new Tae Yi remembers, does that mean hot daddy from the future does as well, but he is just stuck in the future without a time door to ever see them again? The drama doesn’t care answering that and forgets his character is even a thing...I will miss you, my fave who looked emotionally and literally constipated 24/7 (it doesn’t care answering much at all tbf... a little known fact about the time travel paradoxes according to the physics of this world is that besides doppelganger chickenpox it induces severe lazy writing).

Anyways new Tae Yi went looking for architect (? okay...I guess) ML after she woke up, at first he didn't remember her, but it ends with him meeting her, apparently remembering her and they stare at each other... you know, like any bad traditional romantic kdrama finale....so there is still THAT vibe.

Honestly, the usual romantic ballad score for scenes between the leads WAS NOT the most intelligent choice for this drama in specific but boy did they stick with it (not to mention the ending song... that goes, in english “we be like Bonnie and Clyde we ride or die...which...k, sure)...so technically the ending was exactly the cliche post amnesia running back to each other and staring for the final scene while romantic music blasts trope. Take it as you will.

#alice #sbs alice #kdrama #mine #kdrama edit #kdrama rant #kdrama rambles #sleepless princess #cdrama #just the reference tho #alice kdrama #alice sbs

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 5 years ago

Photo

Everything You Need | Billy Batson

Pairing (platonic): Billy Batson x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 2k

Request: could you write an Ff with Billy Batson where s/o is his best friend who always makes everyone laugh, but in reality she is mega unhappy with her looks and hates herself? So she decides not to eat anymore, but Billy notices this and wants to stop her? Sorry if it’s too dark.

Warnings: angst, mentions of food and an unhealthy relationship with it, self-hate, depictions of worry/light anxiety, fluff, open ending.

A/N: I assumed anon meant “reader” instead of “s/o.” Either way, both the reader and Billy are 16 in this and the ending is open in case anyone wants a part two.

Gif credit @justiceleague

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Billy admired you. He didn’t consider himself a bad person anymore, but if he compared his attitude to yours, he fell short. You were the kindest soul he would ever meet, always giving your best to everyone, caring for and about your friends — you even helped strangers, offering to do things they couldn’t for whatever reason, and constantly making sure people around you were comfortable. You were the funniest person in his life, never failing to make people laugh, the nicest, one of the smartest.

You made people happy, you made him happy, and it worried him because he had observed you were acting weirdly lately. Maybe you were just tired because of school, or maybe he was getting too overprotective — he blamed you for the second one, but not in a bad way anymore. Not long ago he had found relying on people or having people rely on him pointless, frightening at times; Billy now saw it as less of a nuisance and more as a responsibility.

However it was hard, like every responsibility, and it not being his only one didn’t help. He was getting better at putting up with his teachers, though, that was something.

He turned around to look at you before the class started, as he did every day, but you weren’t there. Your usual seat was empty, again, it was the third time that week.

He looked for you everywhere, the art room, the gym, he asked around in case you had gotten there late, he faked having a headache to make sure you weren’t in the infirmary. Everyone but you were in the cafeteria at lunchtime, even Freddy had asked about you when he encountered his brother in the hallways, and by the time the school day finished, he was about to panic.

Billy sighed, relieved, finding you with your back against the big tree you usually made homework under. The park was almost empty apart from a couple sharing an ice cream at the bench meters away from the tree, but you didn’t seem to be paying attention to that.

“Hey.”

Wiping the tears running down your cheeks, you looked up with your eyes wide. “Billy! What are you doing here?”

Your best friend dropped his backpack next to yours, sitting down in front of you instead of beside you in order to fully stare at you. “What are YOUdoing here is the real question.”

Shrugging, you blinked rapidly. He would surely know it if you lied, Billy might be silly sometimes but never dumb — your only option was staying silent.

“(Y/N)? Is something wrong?”

How do you tell someone everything is wrong when you’ve fooled them for years? Hating yourself was easy, natural, but saying it ashamed you. You were utterly terrified he’d find it dumb, that he would think you had lied about everything just because you didn’t show how miserable you were when you simply didn’t want anyone else to feel as bad as you did.

“I’m stressed,” you opted for saying.

Billy nodded in understanding. He lightly placed his hand on your knee in a comforting gesture, “I will help you with all the school stuff, don’t worry!”

Faking a smile, you nodded back, hoping he would take his hand away quickly enough to not realize how plush your legs really were. You didn’t know if you thought it to be better if he didn’t pay attention to it or not which only made it worse.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Billy kept his word. Even though you didn’t really need help with school stuff you went with it, enjoying spending time with him and Freddy who didn’t need help either.

But the problem started when he showed signs of knowing you didn’t need help with homework. Billy noticed every change in your demeanor. Freddy teased him about it when he confided on his brother and best friend that you were acting differently, but Billy was too busy worrying about you to care if he was being teased or not.

The changes were startling, you were tired all the time, and jumpy. It was as if you were hiding something which wasn’t normal in you, sure you kept secrets but you never hid things — definitely not from him. The most worrisome part was how often you skipped lunch and the disgusted look on your face when you saw anyone with food in their grasp.

“Oh my god!” Billy exclaimed, making Freddy drop the bowl of cereal he had been eating for dinner.

“Wh—“

“I’ll tell you later,” Billy interrupted his brother, walking toward the front door. He put his jacket on, zipping it up before swinging the door open and leaving the house in a hurry.

How could it have taken him so long to figure it out? What kind of friend didn’t think something was wrong when one of the most important persons in their life stops taking care of themselves? Or when that person disappears at any time there’s food near them?

The way to your house felt so long that he considered summoning Shazam to get there quicker. He knew it was only the effect the nerves coursing through his veins had on him so he continued running, hoping your mom wouldn’t oppose to him being there that light. He hadn’t really considered it was a little late for visiting.

With no hesitation whatsoever, he rang the doorbell.

He smiled at your mom when she opened the door, “good night, Mrs. (L/N). Is (N/N) busy?”

“She isn’t feeling very well, Billy,” your mom explained, worry clear in her voice.

“Can I see her?”

Your mom looked at him for a prolonged moment. She was about to say no, to let you rest, when she saw the semblance Billy carried. He looked so worried, more than how she imagined she looked, and because of that she decided to spare the teen in front of her the anguish. “Of course, you know where her room is.”

Thanking your mom, he slid past her and made his way toward the stairway. He ran upstairs.

The door of your room opened out of the sudden, prompting you to turn the lamp on. Billy entered, not waiting for you to give him permission and not asking for it either.

He sat down on the edge of your bed, looking at you. The light from the lamp made your reddened eyes more prominent, confirming his assumption that you had been crying.

“Why?” he inquired, wild eyes fixed on your tired ones.

You mumbled, confused, “why what?”

“Why aren’t you eating,” he clarified.

Your heart dropped — a knot formed in your stomach as your pulse quickened. It was the most adrenaline you had felt in weeks, you were sure you would’ve thrown up by now if it wasn’t because he was right, you hadn’t been eating.

“I’m not hungry.” It was a pathetic lie, both you and billy knew. To make matters worse, your stomach rumbled seconds after you lied.

Your best friend glared at you. “(Y/N),” he said your name sternly, “Why?”

You turned your head to not have to face him. “I— I’m not— I don’t like myself.”

“Oh, come on, (N/N)! You’re the most amazing person in the world.”

“I don’t want to be that! Well, I do, yeah, but I don’t—“ your voice cracked, “I mean my appearance, Billy.”

“The only wrong thing with your appearance is how tired you look right now, I’m sure that’ll change if you eat and sleep better.”

God, for the smartest person you knew, Billy was either dense or was trying to force you to be more explicit.

“I’m trying to lose weight. Or at least not gain more,” you said quickly, hoping it didn’t sound as pathetic as you felt.

And you did, oh, you did. You just wanted to be happy with yourself, it wasn’t a crazy wish to have, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t. Every day you found a new thing to hate about yourself, a new thing anyone could make fun of you for.

Billy stuttered, trying for his words not to come out harsh. It had been really hard to learn not to be abrasive. “Well, maybe you can’t, you know? Genetics have a play there...” he trailed off upon hearing your scoff. He shifted on the bed, now sat in a position that allowed him to fully face you.

He felt something in his chest by seeing you so upset. Similar to what he felt when his siblings had been in danger. Billy wasn’t sure he could save you, though, and it made him feel worse. His mind told him he needed to reprimand you, to make you understand, while his heart told him he needed to comfort you. He was too worried to find a balance, yet he still tried.

He placed a hand on your calf from on top of the duvet. He felt you tense under his touch. “You’re smart, you know it’s not the solution.”

“You’re not helping, Billy. We’ll never agree on this because you are not the one who feels like crap because of their looks.”

“But what looks!?” He exploded, “you’re pretty, (Y/N), you must know that.”

“But I’m fat!”

“That doesn’t change anything! And you are just putting yourself in danger.”

“Maybe I don’t care if I’m in danger,” you bitterly pointed out.

You saw the redness of his cheeks leave his face in a matter of milliseconds. His hand felt heavier on your calf as if he was trying to ground himself.

“I do care,” he said in a breath, “I care a lot. I don’t want to see you tired all the time, or have to see you in a hospital bed being fed through a tube, or...” he couldn’t say it, he didn’t want to ever think about the possibility of you dying.

Your bottom lip trembled. “I don’t want to worry anyone—“

Billy shushed you, “I know, I’m sorry.” He didn’t want you to feel guilty, it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault per se. “I’m just scared for you.”

“I don’t want to be like this anymore,” you sobbed, hanging your head. Saying it gave you a mixture of anguish and easiness; having somebody to hear you was nice yet you couldn’t help but get overwhelmed by how vulnerable saying it made you feel.

Billy kneeled on your bed, pulling you into a hug with the side of your body against his front. “It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

You rested the left side of your face on him, letting the tears fall down. “I feel like it is.”

“There isn’t, I promise.” He sighed, feeling you shake as you attempted to stop crying. “(N/N),” he whispered softly, “there are other ways to do this. Maybe the answer is not the one you will like at first but your health is the priority.”

“I don’t like hating myself, but I can’t stop. I just want to look at my reflection in the mirror and not focus on everything that’s wrong with my body — I feel like people stare at me in the street and judge me and it makes me hate myself more, I just want it all to stop, Billy.”

Hearing that broke his heart, it truly did. It made him feel impotent to know he couldn’t fix it. What was the point of being a superhero if he couldn’t help all the people he loved? It wasn’t fair for you that he had the ability to save you from everything but your mind.

“We will find a solution,” he assured you.

“How can you be so sure?”

“We always do,” he squeezed you as tightly as he could, “but you have to promise me you will accept it, no matter what it is.”

“And if I can’t promise that?” You asked, scared he would stop being your friend.

Billy rested his chin on top of your head. “We will work on it, on everything you need.”

#billy batson x reader #billy batson x plus size reader #plus size reader #billy batson #plus size fanfiction #shazam x reader #shazam x plus size reader #shazam #dc x reader #dc x plus size reader

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years ago

Text

Now or never

(Hayffie ff ❤️. I initially shied away from this prompt because I didn’t think I could write it in a way that felt interesting. But I ended up having a great time with it, so much fun that this became one of my longest one-shots. — I make no apologies for the length of my posts in the feed or in the tags. I don’t apologize for any aspect of my free expression. For personal reasons, I write on my phone using the tumblr app, and the limitations are what they are. Like the limitations of my disabled body are what they are. For prompts, I reblog the prompt along with the link to my fic in case anyone wishes to reblog something shorter. — I write for myself, for my love of the characters and the process. When people comment on, like, or reblog my posts, I view those interactions as unexpected gifts. I have such love for writing that I’d do it old-school like Anne Frank, without any audience beyond my journal itself. This blog has been that for me for over 5 years, my space for coming of age and processing intensities in a strained and oppressive midlife. — I’m inspired now by prompts much more than I have been in past fanfiction efforts. So, thank you to everyone who offers them. And when people are willing to slog through my long fics and other posts, that is fabulous devotion to the characters/issues that are important to me, and I feel good to know I’m not caring alone. — 💛 Kim)

***

His facial hair was rough against her lips. The sensation triggered fantasy which played out more readily if she didn’t have to look at him. So she kissed him with her eyes closed whenever they fucked around. He was the same height as Haymitch. When she wore 5-inch heels, those added to the feeling of intimacy. It wasn’t entirely real, but it felt better than loneliness.

Their relationship was discrete, of course. Mutual discretion was a condition she established before getting involved with anyone, especially someone as high-profile as Seneca Crane.

As far as Capitol society was concerned, their connection was primarily professional, with occasional dinners at expensive restaurants. It was an image they’d been comfortable projecting, and it wasn’t far from the truth.

In moments that weren’t overly physical, she enjoyed his eyes. Blueish-grey with a streak of emotion, they were familiar enough to help her pretend. That’s why she’d first invited Seneca up to her apartment in the fall — to have sex with Haymitch in fantasy.

The sex was good enough. He was gifted with his hands, though he smelled too much like her. She wondered if he wore the same cologne as she did. And his body frame was smaller than the one she actually wanted intimacy with. By November, they’d become a regular *good enough* thing.

A dozen years earlier, they’d been schoolmates at the Academy. He graduated two years before her. She was softer then but already a force to reckon with. He was shorter in those days, sharp, obsessed with tech design. Ambition was an attribute they shared, perhaps the only one.

By 30, he’d become one of the youngest Head Gamemakers in history. He enjoyed the rush of adrenaline he experienced when executing the Games, and he relished the opportunity for artistry. The thrill and beauty he saw in death made Effie uncomfortable, but she viewed it as part of the job. He carried out the president’s wishes, though he confided in her that he didn’t fully agree with the way Snow ruled Panem.

On an evening in late December, they walked along a garden path covered in trellises draped with strands of fairy lights. Effie kept her hands warm in her pockets. It had been a long day, and she was ready to be home in bed, asleep, alone.

“What do you think about marriage?” he asked. The question was slightly more inspiring than if he’d asked her what she thought about the weather.

“I haven’t given it much thought,” she answered honestly, leaving out her occasional ludicrous fantasies about having babies with tiny purple wigs and predispositions for alcoholism.

“A union could be advantageous for both our careers. The publicity could improve your chances of promotion to escort for an inlying district.”

“And what do you stand to gain from a *union*?”

“You’re iconic, Effie. You represent the Capitol with style and positivity, and you execute your work flawlessly. You’re in good favor with the president. You could be a wonderful ally for me,” You could be a buffer for me, he didn’t say.

“Is there anything more?”

“Like what?”

“Really, Seneca, is THIS how you’re proposing??”

“Well, our families would support us. And there’s the matter of sentiment.”

“Sentiment?”

“I like you. I care for you, of course.”

She thought of Haymitch’s words from last summer, the night they almost... but didn’t.

‘I like you too much,’ he’d said, ‘I can’t fuck around with you and pretend it’s nothing. And that’s how it would have to be. That’s the only way it could be.”

Venia and Octavia insisted Haymitch loved her, but she believed that was still a pipe dream. She could keep waiting in vain, or she could choose a more sensible path.

“And there’s this...” From his coat pocket, Seneca pulled a black velvet box and flipped it open. Effie’s jaw dropped. The diamond was huge. It was far and away the loveliest ring she’d seen. She looked in those blueish-grey eyes that reminded her a bit of everything she wanted that wasn’t accessible to her.

Seneca pressed, “Say yes, and the wedding can be one of the biggest events of the year, rivaling even the Games.”

She imagined what her dress would look like. He was saying the right words to tempt her. They didn’t love each other, but maybe she could look past that inconvenient reality. Sometimes people married for other reasons.

“The press would go crazy,” he continued, “There would be red carpet interviews. We could invite everyone who’s anyone: stylists, victors, even Snow.”

Victors... Would he show up to watch me get married? 6 months ago, Haymitch had asked her what she wanted. He’d unzipped her dress and touched her body. He’d taken off his shirt and shown her his scars. Then he effectively told her a relationship between them was never going to happen, and he held her hand as she fell asleep.

Damn him.

She took her left hand out of her pocket. “Let’s see how it fits.”

Seneca had investigated her ring size, so the fit was perfect.

“Let’s show him,” she said.

“Show who?”

“Them. Let’s show them all.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. Let’s get married. ...This spring.” She could plan a wedding in 5 months, no problem. Isn’t this the time couples usually cry and leap into one another’s arms? Shouldn’t this occasion call for a show of passion?

“This spring it shall be then.” When Seneca kissed her, she closed her eyes and embraced the same fantasy as usual.

***

Haymitch rarely received mail beyond his compensatory income from the government. In March, when the post delivered an envelope addressed to him in gold ink, he almost tossed the thing straight into the trash, recognizing it as an invitation to a Capitol party. Then he saw the name “Trinket” and the return address of Effie’s family home.

What’s this? He opened it right there on the porch with uneasiness gnawing at his stomach.

“You are cordially invited to celebrate the marriage of

Euphemia Rosalind Trinket -and-

Seneca Lucius Crane

Saturday, the first of May

At 3 O’Clock in the afternoon

Palazzo Annaeus”

What the hell is THIS! His stomach churned, and he vomited up a pint of white liquor on the ground beside the porch.

Memories flooded in... tracing up the seams of her stockings, unhooking her garters, feeling her body without a corset, running his fingers through her hair as she curled up in bed, so soft. So damn soft. Fear had screamed warnings about getting attached to her. Fear was always screaming.

When those Games were done, he’d left the Capitol with a strained sadness between them, like a rubber band stretched too long. Today it snapped and smacked him in the face. He felt the sting of annoyance and regret.

Damn her.

He couldn’t fix this. The only thing left to do was decide whether or not he was willing to watch it happen. He would have burned the invitation in the fireplace if not for the P.S. in her obnoxiously perfect handwriting.

***

Seneca had been right about one thing. Effie’s parents were thrilled that she’d decided to marry one of *the Crane boys,* especially the Head Gamemaker. Historically the Cranes had been part of the old guard of the wealthy from the Capitol, and they’d successfully diversified their financial interests in the years following the Dark Days.

Her parents spared no expense for *the wedding of the decade.* Effie spent the winter so caught up in the comfort of validation and the thrill of event planning that most of the time she evaded the sense of dread that nagged her when she startled awake in the mornings.

When she’d addressed the invitations, she considered adding a postscript to Haymitch’s, either “Fuck you” or “I love you.” Both feelings were nonsensical and nonetheless true. In the end she’d written,

“H — Please come. — E”

She checked the mail each day for his response card among hundreds, but it never showed up. Figures. He probably threw it away.

She didn’t need anyone to *rescue* her from the fate she’d chosen. If she wanted to call off the wedding, she’d simply come up with a logical explanation to save face; she’d apologize to Seneca and her parents; she’d put a stop to all plans, and that would be that.

The phrase “Mayday mayday mayday” was a distress signal used by Capitol troops during the Dark Days. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d subconsciously scheduled her wedding on the first of May because, apart from the fine details, opulence, and attention, her heart wasn’t in this.

***

“We’re here at Pallazo Annaeus,” Claudius reported from the red carpet which had been rolled out along the walkway to the galleria of the Crane family mansion. “Just a short time from now, fashion icon and District 12 escort, Effie Trinket, will wed two-time Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane.”

“Isn’t this exciting!!” Caesar was in typical form. “The air is positively electric!”

“So much so that my hair is standing on end!”

“As is mine!! Thank goodness for hair products.”

“And wigs! We’re seeing all of the ABOVE as the guests arrive. What a crowd!”

Their interviews with attendees were concise, asking which stylists designed their gowns and suits, and if they had particular wishes to share with the couple.

“Now here comes... Is that?... It is! Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the second Quarter Quell.”

“How touching. One advisor for District 12 supporting the other on her special day.”

“I LOVE it!! Haymitch, do you have any words for the happy couple?”

Haymitch stomped past them without pause. He hadn’t entirely sobered up from the bottle of whiskey he drank on the train, and he didn’t even try to resist flipping Caesar off when asked the question.

“A man of few words,” Claudius covered for a shocked Caesar. “We never know what to expect from that one.”

“He certainly does keep us on our toes.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we have stylish shoes!”

“Indeed!” Each of them spun around on tiptoe, and the cameras zoomed in on their footwear as a distraction from Haymitch’s persistent middle finger.

Just beyond the entryway, the galleria was packed already. Guests were dressed in yards of fabric and large hats. Floral arrangements lined marble walls covered with paintings, some of which were probably older than Panem itself. Haymitch slipped into the first empty chair he spotted, ignoring the usher who asked him, “Are you here for the bride or the groom?”

The question pestered. The bride. Shit. I’m here for the bride.

***

With every detail attended to, Effie curled her fingers around her father’s arm in the vestibule. Flower girls and bridesmaids entered the galleria first, then it would be her turn.

“My princess is getting married in a palace.” Her father kissed her cheek.

“Daddy! Careful of my makeup. Photos aren’t being taken until afterward.”

“Of course. It’s YOUR perfect day.”

Effie had certainly made everything perfect, except for this unrelenting nausea and desire to run away. She forced herself to breathe slowly. The last thing she needed right now was to throw up, ruin her white gown, and have the press start a false rumor about pregnancy. She had no desire to have children with Seneca. She’d made that clear, and he agreed.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

Her father calling her “sweetheart” made every discomfort worse. Clearly she thought of Haymitch.

“I’m trying to be alright... but I don’t know,” she confessed.

Her father wasn’t sure what to say. “It’s almost time to walk down the aisle. Is that what you want to do?”

He asked it like she had a choice, but it was too late for choices.

“Let’s go pay the piper!” As Effie started down the aisle on her father’s arm, she didn’t notice the splendor and fullness of the room, nor the oohs and aahs from standing friends and family. She didn’t notice the rose petals on the floor, nor her fiancé sweating like a pig about to be roasted alive with an apple in its mouth.

All she saw was Haymitch.

He stood at the edge of the aisle, in the middle of the room. In the years that she’d known him, he’d been clear about his disdain for Capitol events, yet here he was, no RSVP and very much himself in his regular clothes from District 12. She’d probably be irritated if she hadn’t missed him so much. He was standing right here, and she was still missing him. It took every ounce of restraint to not tell him so.

“Great dress, sweetheart.” He offered a subdued smile as she passed.

She looked back at him once, and her eyes felt like old glass, holding tears too hardened to fall. Then there was nothing to do but look forward.

***

Fear was screaming different words now at Haymitch. Stop this. This wedding. Stop this!

As she walked away from him, he could see that her dress had an open back from her waist to the top of her shoulder blades. The gap was bordered in ornate jewels, stitching, and fancy shit. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her skin, and he couldn’t stop thinking about touching her.

She glanced at him again as she handed her bouquet to a bridesmaid. Her eyes were pleading. He knew the look because of all the times he’d tried to ignore her feelings for him ...and his feelings for her.

The officiant addressed the audience, “We are gathered here today to join Effie and Seneca in matrimony. Family, friends, and honored guests, do you support this union and affirm that these two should be married today?”

Haymitch looked around as the audience responded in unison, "We do."

I don’t.

The officiant continued, “Will you surround this couple in love, offering them the joys of your friendship? Will you support this couple in their relationship? At times of conflict will you offer them the strength of your wisest counsel and the comfort of your thoughtful concern? At times of joy, will you celebrate with them, nourishing their love for one another?”

The automatons responded together again, "We will.”

Like hell I will.

“If any of you has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Haymitch sighed and shook his head. Someday he’d be the death of her, or she’d be the death of him. Maybe today was that day.

This felt like now or never. The bit of whiskey still in his veins helped it be now. He stood up and moved quickly down the aisle to the sound of gasps and murmurs all around him.

***

“What are you doing?” Effie was stunned as he gripped her wrist.

“Excuse us,” Haymitch said directly to Seneca, then he pulled Effie out of the room down a long hallway.

She went willingly, chastising him in hushed tones along the way. “Haymitch! This is highly inappropriate!”

“More inappropriate than us having this conversation in front of the entire Capitol?”

“What conversation?”

He pulled her into a room down the hall.

“Not so tight!”

He loosened his grasp on her wrist but didn’t let go.

“What are you doing, Effie?”

“Do I need to state the obvious?”

“Marriage?? Why are you even WITH him?”

“I don’t owe you explanations — or anything else for that matter.”

She was right. She owed him nothing. His edge softened, and he stroked her wrist with his thumb. “Why are you marrying somebody you didn’t even look at as you walked down that aisle?”

“I LOOKED at him.”

“For about five seconds, and what did you see?”

She hesitated, “He’s wearing a tie, not an ascot. We had a dispute about it this week, and I insisted he wear the tie.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about on your wedding day when you see the man you’re about to marry — a goddamn tie?”

“Why are YOU giving ME the third degree! What are YOU thinking about on my wedding day?”

“I’m thinking about how much I hate Seneca Crane. I don’t want him marrying you. I don’t want you fucking him.”

“Well, that ship sailed! We’ve been having sex for months, not that it’s any of your business!”

“Not my business?”

“Absolutely not!”

He was burning with a mix of emotions: anger, jealousy, frustration, confusion, desire, fear. “If it’s not my business, then why did you ask me to ‘please come’ today? What am I doing here? ...If it’s not my business, then why did reading your wedding invitation make me puke. Why can’t I stop thinking about you? ...If it’s not my business, then why do I want to be the one to take this dress off you. I keep holding your wrist because if I let go, I’m gonna touch you, and what would your *fiancé* think about that? What would YOU think about that?”

He’d never confessed so much to her all at once, and she was in a mild state of shock about it. “Last summer you told me if we ‘fucked around’ then you’d have to pretend it means nothing. You told me you can’t pretend that, so where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

“I think you do. ...Let go of my wrist.”

“I told you what’s gonna happen if I let go.”

“Then let it happen.”

In a duality of reluctance and eagerness, he let go of her wrist and caressed her through the open back of her dress. She shivered and leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her, touching every inch of skin he could reach.

The wig she wore resembled her actual hair color, light golden, like wheat before harvest. In this moment, she was an angel. He’d kiss her if she’d just shut up, but she had things to say too.

“If it’s not your business, then why am I still here with you instead of out there marrying Seneca?” Her tone softened. “Why do I close my eyes and picture you every time I kiss him and every time we have sex? ....If it’s not your business, then why do I miss you so much?”

“Jesus, Effie. What are you doing to me?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

“I think you do.”

***

From the doorway, Seneca cleared his throat. He’d been listening awhile. Effie tried to pull away from Haymitch, but first he had to untangle himself from the back of her dress.

“This isn’t quite what it looks like,” Effie laughed nervously.

“It looks like unfinished business,” Seneca said.

“Then it IS what it looks like,” Haymitch told him.

“Will you please excuse us?” Seneca asked, proper as fuck. “Effie and I have some things to discuss.”

“I’m not leaving.” Fear and desire for her wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll handle this,” she insisted. “Please wait in the hall.”

This was the Gamemaker’s house, his wedding, and his girl for god sake. What else could Haymitch do? Pull out his knife and slit the guy’s throat?? This was Effie’s world, not his. Without another word, he stepped out of the room, and he hated that she closed the door behind him.

Seneca confronted her, “I’ll say this quickly because our guests have already waited long enough. A marriage of convenience is prudent when the motivations for such a union are stronger than the desire for love. I’ve realized that’s not the case here. For me, and apparently not for you either.”

“Are you in love with someone else?”

“Someone my family regards as unsuitable. I’m sorry I didn’t speak about it sooner. I was afraid you wouldn’t understand.” He glanced at the door, “But I see that you do. Frankly, this interruption is an enormous relief.”

Effie was slightly miffed to realize that Seneca would not be pining for her, but the interruption did lift her feeling of dread. “I apologize as well. I haven’t been forthcoming with you, or with myself. What do we do now? The Capitol is expecting a wedding.”

“The Capitol is expecting a show, and they’re getting that. Let’s walk out there together and announce that we’ve decided to cancel the nuptials and move straight to the reception. It can still be the party of the year.”

“But my parents...”

“I’ll reimburse your father for his investment in this. It’s the right thing to do. I do care for you, Effie, but I should never have discussed marriage as a hypothetical, let alone proposed and let it get this far.”

He held out his hand. “Shall we? Before any more time passes.”

She threaded her fingers with his in solidarity.

When the door opened, Haymitch was still there in the hall, fuming now at the sight of them holding hands.

“Seneca, give me another minute,” she said.

He let go of her and took several steps away.

She touched Haymitch’s arm and spoke into his ear, “The wedding is off. But we need time to appease our families and everyone else. Meet me at 9 o’clock at The Popina on 6th St. Do you know the place?”

He’d never been there, but it was a good call. He doubted the press would look for him at a swanky wine bar. “I know the one.”

She whispered, “I said I don’t owe you anything, and you don’t owe me anything either. Regardless, this feeling between us isn’t going away.”

Seneca told him, “Keep following this hallway as it bends to the right. You’ll eventually reach a side door you can take out of here if you want...”

Haymitch didn’t trust him and didn’t want to leave.

“...Unless you’d prefer a walk back down the red carpet with the other guests.”

I don’t.

Effie urged him to go. “I need to set this right. Please don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

“I don’t wanna run out in the middle of a pile of shit.”

“Language! This wedding is not a pile of anything. It’s an event we need to finish differently than expected. Will you trust me?”

“Fine.” He answered without conviction, turning away so he wouldn’t have to watch them link hands again. Holding the handle of the knife in his pocket, he followed the hallway to the side door and left all that nonsense behind him. Did he trust her?? If she walked into that bar tonight without a rock on her finger, then maybe he just might.

***

Afterward, the red carpet commentary indeed made for a more interesting show.

“The only thing more exciting than a wedding,” said Caesar, “Is a kiss at the altar between the bride and groom after they’ve CALLED OFF the ceremony!”

“You may now kiss the woman in white who is no longer your bride!”

“Oh, Claudius, you’re so cheeky!”

“I can honestly say I’ve never seen a couple more happy to be NOT married.”

“Did somebody bring the sun INSIDE the palace? Because they were positively glowing.”

“The reception is still on, and did you hear their words about it?”

“Caesar, I was on the edge of my seat, and I couldn’t miss them, but say them again.”

“Seneca began, ‘May 1st, May Day, is not just one of folktales. Mayday was a cry of distress during war, terrible war. The Capitol responded and transformed that distress into peace.’

“Then...”

“Then Effie continued, ‘Instead of celebrating a wedding, we’ve decided to transform the reception we’d planned into a festival honoring the glory of the Capitol. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.’”

“Don’t you just love that?”

“I DO! I absolutely do!”

“Well, that’s the only ‘I do’ that we’ll be hearing this afternoon!”

Hysterical laughter ensued between the two.

“Claudius, the question on everyone’s mind revolves around the influence of a certain mentor from District 12.”

“Yes. Haymitch Abernathy interrupted the ceremony.”

“He pulled Effie away, and Seneca followed. When the couple returned hand-in-hand, they called off the wedding. The mystery is, what happened in between?”

“As you said earlier, we never know what to expect from Haymitch. That one is a wildcard.”

“We’ve been waiting for him to emerge from the palace so we can ask him, but as we noted before, he is a man of few words.”

“Maybe we’ll catch him at the reception.”

“The festival!”

“The festival, of course!”

***

By 10 o’clock, Haymitch had read the sign on the wall a hundred times. “Hedone says, ‘You can drink here for one; if you give two, you will drink better; if you give four, you will drink Falernian.”

‘Hedone’ he recognized as the Roman goddess of pleasure. He thought pleasure would be a fine devotion if it wasn’t pursued at the cost of other people’s lives or pursued to chase away demons. He was already chasing one bottle of Falernian with another. “Damn Capitol wine doesn’t get you drunk unless you chug two bottles. And this is the best they’ve got?”

He’d been there a couple of hours. During that time, his attention was divided between that sign reflecting on hedonism and the screen showing footage of Effie’s non-wedding reception.

They were *saving face* alright. Haymitch had rarely seen Effie kiss anyone, and tonight he’d watched her kiss her *former* fiancé every time someone clinked a glass. The kisses were pecks mostly, a game they were probably playing to host a fun party and show the Capitol there were no hard feelings between them. But as the kisses added up, Haymitch’s dislike for Seneca Crane became more palpable.

“Slide a bit,” she said, showing up beside him. She was hiding in a simple dress and a light layer of makeup. Her hair was pulled back beneath a scarf instead of a wig.

He scooted over, making room for her at his booth in back. “You’re late, sweetheart. Did Crane kiss all that makeup off your face?”

“And you’re drunk.” She caressed the back of his neck, content to be with him right now, drunk or not.

“Wasn’t drunk an hour ago after the first bottle of this Falernian shit. But the more you drink, the better it tastes.”

She drank from his glass, and he didn’t object. From his perspective right now, she could drink straight from his mouth or off his body.

He encircled her waist, pulling her as close as the setting allowed. He was relieved to see that she wasn’t married. His inhibitions were reduced, so she could do just about anything to him right now, and he wouldn’t object. He tried not to think about her having that kind of power.

She stroked his arm wrapped around her. “There’s a rumor circulating about you.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?” He kissed her neck after each question. “Do they think I’m fucking you?”

She giggled because the hair on his face tickled her skin and because she was anticipating his response. “Not quite, honey.”

“What then?”

“They think you’re fucking Seneca.”

“What the hell?!!”

“Caesar and Claudius predicted ‘the mentor from District 12 is having a torrid affair with the Head Gamemaker,’ and you pulled me away from the wedding in the hopes of taking my place at the altar.”

“They’re lunatics.”

“It’s a risky move breaking up a wedding. Who knows what people will say.”

“What do YOU say?”

“I say you look at my breasts far too often for you to be interested in Seneca Crane,” she chuckled.

“And what do you say about me breaking up your wedding?”

As she looked into his eyes, there was no approximation, no almost. It was a relief to not have to *pretend* that he was the one she wanted, but to just KNOW it. “I say, thank you. ...Sweetheart.”

What fantasies and real desires would be accessible with him? She’d know more in time.

#hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #seneca crane #thg #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #hunger games #claudius templesmith #caesar flickerman #the capitol #pre-74th hunger games #may day #mayday #slide a bit nancy lee #HayffieFics

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