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Hello my beautiful beloveds. If you have not read the latest chapter, The Questions Have Been Terrific is going on temporary hiatus because I torture @actual-sleeping-beauty with too many words, and she needs time to get the next couple chapters beta-d. (She's about to graduate!!! Everyone say congrats, Rose!)

However, I am going to keep posting little side fics in-universe under the Aasimar AU series while we are on hiatus. Tell me which you all would like to see!

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Seventeen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen

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Author's Note: We've got Rhaenyra POV! We've got Aemond POV! We've got a surprise in the end! Thank you for all the support and patience. You're all getting this chapter early since I'm out of town for the weekend! Enjoy!

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my love to @vampire-exgirlfriend for her love and support and holding my hand through this chapter that just kept kicking my fucking ass. If you need more Aemond content, you must read, They Say I killed You (Haunt Me Then)! Now complete! (epilogue going up soon!)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Parrying the Daggers Thrown At Us

Rhaenyra receives a letter. Aemond cannot find peace until he gets a taste of it.

Grandfather is still ill, much like we saw him last but he prefers his wheel chaired more oft than not…

Things have been tense, understandably so, but Queen Alicent has been cordial and has made sure we are comfortable and have what we need… 

Aegon and Aemond keep their distance, perhaps so they can glare all the better…

I do not know how to make amends for what happened… 

…and they say Aemond is taken by his pains at times, darkening his room as his head aches from his wound… 

I should make amends, it is right… 

What do you think I should do?...

Heleana has been the warmest… 

…we danced together at the feast and she was quite happy to do so. It is nice spending time with her…

Aegon is happy around Lady Abrogail and she laughs freely with him. He is not like how he used to be as much with her… 

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased to see how well she is treated…

Many houses were represented at Aegon’s nameday… 

Most seemed to wonder if Aegon would have been named heir and displace you but none came to pass… 

…they will inherit Harrenhal. I can see the wisdom in it as Luke will have Driftmark one day, but I think of Joffrey and Aegitsos and my uncles who do not have lands and holds to occupy them…

I love you much, Muñus, I hope you are well and that I will see you soon…

Rhaenyra ran her fingers over her son’s careful script, her mouth twitching in fondness amidst her worry of her zēapos. His letter was long, too much for a raven’s wings and she started from the beginning once she had read it through once. Twice. Her ribs ached as if Jace had been carved out of her to go on this journey and she shook her head, trying to let the feeling flit away on the breeze. Her eldest had a temper, much as she did in her youth, much as his father had, in the ways that drew her in. Time stole away much, and her own bouts of temper had cooled with each broken toy, each yelling fight, each ‘he pulled my hair!’ and ‘He pushed me and won’t share!’

The sounds of swords clanged in the yard and her gaze flitted from her son’s letter - pages crinkled in her grasp - to the courtyard below where Daemon was testing the new recruits to the Dragonstone guard. His silver hair was twisted back from his face in braids as he preferred, something about war and mindset and always be prepared.

He called something towards Joff and Aegitsos as the knight before him panted, having been bested against her husband.

Baela had not written, that much she knew, though Jace had said that she had found a friend in Helaena after a tense standoff. Rhaenyra had found the mention of it surprising, for her little sister, in the times she’d been around her, had been a quiet thing, eyes large in her face, gaze flitting to everyone and no one.

Helaena has been the warmest…

Helaena was not yet married. The match with Aegon had never come to pass.

The invitation lay on the table before her next to the plate of lemon cake she liked for her morning meal on days such as this.

The wedding of Prince Aegon of House Targaryen and Lady Abrogail Strong of Harrenhal…

In five moons, the spectacle would be held in the Riverlands. In five moons, the realm would look upon her brother once more, peacocked and pulled out, as Daemon sneered, by Otto Hightower to show him off as a contender, to put pressure on her father to change his mind. Her father had nearly twenty years to change his mind and still, he had not. Not even in her absence, cowardly as it sometimes felt to retreat and lick her wounds, had her father’s support of the claim and her family seemed to waver. Try as the Hightowers might to scream and spread slanders that would call for bloodshed, her father still would not be swayed. It was the sense of satisfaction that she had felt when he came to her defense in that shadowed hall those years ago, the heated of curl in it that no matter what, there could be no question as to his choice.

He had chosen her.

Even as the feeling waned over time to give over to those moments where she doubted, all the times he had failed to reign his wife in with her abuses and vitriol, the words her son had sent her bolstered her.

I think Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin would be pleased…

Harwin’s little sister, big blue eyes and red curls bound in braids, peeking curiously over the edge of Lucerys’ cradle next to Jace because ‘She asked if she could see the baby and give him this,’ Harwin had said, as the little girl presented her attempts at embroidering a little dragon on a pillow. Little Abrogail, half Harwin’s, half Alicent’s. She had tried to bring the girl to Dragonstone with them. Would she not be happier away from the court politics with her brother and the quiet? Lord Lyonel had given her a surprised, then hard look, and Rhaenyra had felt chastened in a way her own father had never been able to evoke within her.

“I will keep my daughter with me, and should I send her away, it will be back to her home, at Harrenhal, with her brother.”

Grief washed through her like the crashing of the waves on the rocky shore below and she felt her own jagged edges inside of her. Lyonel Strong had been the best of them, putting the realm first, always by her side at every council meeting she attended, encouraging her, even as his face grew graver with each brunette curled boy she bore.

Violet eyes swept across the parchment again. A servant in the camp had tried to attack the girl, Jace said. Crept into her tent, assuming she would have been alone. Inquiries were being made, but as far as anyone could see, the man had just been a baseborn servant - blending in like no other. Rhaenyra pursed her lips and looked down at the training yard once more, fingers drumming along the stone ledge of the terrace.

She wondered how wrapped around Lady Abrogail’s finger her half-brother might be… and how opportune this moment was.

Alicent’s eldest was marrying and taking a seat in the Riverlands. It was not the bold choice that Rhaenyra had thought would happen. Surely one of the many Lannister girls, or one of the Baratheons - a great house who would be invested in their own daughter becoming queen would have made more sense.

Harrenhal, for the wealth and lands that it had, did not command armies the way the Stormlands did. It did not have endless coffers the way Casterly Rock boasted of. It was a moody fortress on the edge of the God’s Eye, surrounded by lush farmland and woods that were dark and deep and felt that you were somewhere fanciful, somewhere that didn’t hold dragons nor thrones, nothing except for a warm hand wrapped around her own.

The clashing and screaming of steel in the yard below pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts, and away from the path of her sorrows and regrets. Turning her back to the sight below, she reached for her own parchment and quill, pushing aside the letter from Lord Celtigar.

Lady Abrogail… Good tidings on news of your approaching nuptials…

Aemond pursed his lips, his gaze rising from the book before him, a study on the Conqueror’s approach to the first Dornish war,to squint across the barrel room near the top of the tower that held the library in the Holdfast. He drummed his fingers upon the scarred wooden table, a fingertip running along the crescent burn from the time Abby had accidentally knocked over a candle while they were reading about Harren the Black.

He exhaled slowly, the way the Braavosi manuals advised and looked back at his book.

It had been weeks since his brother’s festivities, and the chill of the end of the growing season had crept in. It was not cold by northern standards, but the air cooled, the rains rolled in for the next several months, and angry storms fell over them  from the Narrow Sea, their winds piercing and frightening, as if they were dragons themselves in the winds that the Storm God rode, threatening to tear apart the Red Keep brick by brick.

Helaena’s nameday had passed with quiet fanfare, the lingering lords of the realm who had not left parading their sons in front of his maiden sister. As if any of them were worthy of a dragonrider, someone as clever and kind as Helaena.

It had been complicated over the past weeks since the talk in the garden, and Aemond still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt. What had been most surprising had been the strange sense of release when his sister let him go, leaving him to sit in the rain before Visenya’s statue, her words ringing in his ears. 

‘I would burn Dorne for you… but I do not want to leave behind a world of ash and bone.’

How desperate Helaena had looked, angry and frightened and full of hope as she begged not to have a husband, but a brother back. ‘How else am I supposed to protect her?' he had wondered. How else could he offer his sister protection and security if it wasn’t to marry her, to tie her to him so that she would never have to fear, never have to doubt her acceptance and those who loved her?

Aegon had not wanted to marry her. She was weird, he’d sneered. How miserable Helaena would be, how miserable they both would have been. Aemond had done the right thing. He’d stepped up, he had gotten Mother and The Tower to break the betrothal. Even if they had not promised him and Helaena to one another, that was alright, it would simply be a matter of time.

He had Vhagar. There could be no further doubt that he was truly a Valyrian. There could be no more doubt as to his place in the world. All that was left was his sister.

Guilt gnawed deep in his stomach, shame twisting around his throat when the thought filtered through. Helaena was not a bauble he needed to collect to prove something. Collecting her was not protecting her. Collecting her was not about her, but for him, and it was this knowledge that he had thought about constantly.

His sister deserved more than being a broodmare, to be a pawn in the games. The forced distance the last few weeks had given him, after Helaena pushed him from the proverbial nest, had left him unsettled and snappish.

The loud thud of a book hitting the stone floor reverberated through the room. A heavy tome, judging from the heft of the sound, followed by a soft giggling, a deeper snickering sound chasing after it before they muffled and fell quiet.

He knew, with the utmost certainty, why it had fallen quiet.

Ever since the betrothal, the grip on his best friend had been slipping. Oh, him and Abrogail were an unlikely pair, but few appreciated books and history as his cousin did. While digging in the dirt and helping Helaena catalog her collection had been fulfilling, there was something joyous in being able to have someone who understood the quiet and sanctity of the library, and who loved books and reading and learning as he did. Lyonel Strong had always indulged his questions when was young - far more enthralling than Mellos and Orwyle were, and he had fostered that curiosity in his daughter.

‘All she’s going to care about is making babies with Aegon!’ Helaena had cried, frustrated and angry when they’d been alone after the fight in the brothel. 

There was a soft cry, and Aemond scowled at his book before his chair scraped across the stone floor and he strode purposefully towards the source of the sound. The histories of the Riverlands were there - not just observational books, but the census, the trade information, things used by the small council’s not-quite-so-small army of clerks and counters and lawmakers. The section of the library that Abby had frequented since the announcement and that he had helped her with.

“Not here,” came the whispered whine, laced with laughter. Aemond rolled his eye as he turned the corner of the aisle. It was shadowed somewhat this far down, The strategically polished silver angled to bounce the light around so as not to pose a fire risk among the precious books, although the day was gray and cloudy and the light reflected was that of a lamp. Abby was pressed against the bookshelves, the blue and silver brocade of her skirts rucked up with her stockings on display, her legs at present, wrapped around his stupid brother’s waist. One arm was stretched out to grab onto the bookshelf behind her, and the fallen book that had been in its place was still on the ground. Aegon’s face was buried into her chest, or maybe her throat? 

He was half-blind, after all, sometimes details could be mercifully missed. Or ignored.

“This,” Aemond said, his voice even and dripping with every ounce of annoyance and betrayal he felt, “is the library, not a brothel.”

Aemond’s fists clenched at the disrespect both of them displayed to a place they knew  was important to him. At the announcement of his presence, Abby squeaked, Aegon’s arms tightening around her as she scrambled to lower herself without sending them both toppling. He held his arms folded behind his back, his hand scraping along his elbow as the pair of them got themselves in order and he shook his head when Aegon looked at him, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Abby had turned to straighten her gown.

“Are you really going to act like this?” Aegon said, for it was barely a question. “We weren’t in front of you and your book. You were the one seeking us out.”

“Because you both weren’t as quiet as you thought you were,” Aemond snapped. “It was distracting.”

A lazy smirk crossed across his brother’s flushed face and he wanted to punch him square in his stupid nose. Let him kiss his future wife with his face bashed in. “Well, my lady is distracting-.” There was a soft sound as Abby smacked Aegon’s shoulder, cutting him off with an exaggerated ow, the flinch was nowhere near the violent response that inhabited his brother when it was their mother doing the hitting. She peered around Aegon’s shoulder, her mouth just as swollen, her cheeks just as flushed and her features apologetic.

“We’re sorry, Aemond. Things just got out of hand. I shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t you apologize,” Aegon interrupted her this time, a fierce look on his face. 

“No, actually,” Aemond cut in, taking a step forward, using the few inches he now had on his brother to straighten his shoulders. “She’s right. Thank you, Abby, for apologizing. Are you upset that she has to apologize for you, since your self-awareness is worse than a billy goat ramming his head into things?”

Aegon’s mouth gaped in offense, his flush deepening. There was a bruise along his neck that was going to be difficult to hide. The glib nature of his eldest brother was a trial at the best of times, but this? “You know this isn’t your place to run about as you please. Shall I just unlock my doors, let you roll around in my sheets and over my personal things while you’re at it?”

“It’s the fucking library, Aemond. It doesn’t belong to you-”

Abby let out a startled cry as Aemond’s fist shot out, but as much as he would love to punch his brother, he shoved him instead, feeling the crackling of frustration, the rumble of Vhagar in his chest.  “Because it’s all yours, is that it? You mewling fucking kitten. This isn’t just my library, it’s hers too, but you don’t fucking care about anything that means something to anyone else if it gets in the way of what your limp cock wants.”

“Aemond, truly, we’re sorry - Aegon, no!” Abby’s voice was lost in Aegon’s growl as his brother came back with another shove, sending him back a few steps. Aemond laughed, a hint of a sound like the thin scrape of wind whistling through a crack. Yes, yes let the idiot push him around. Let him continue to pull his friend away from him, from him and Helaena both. His gaze darted briefly to the redhead, blue eyes wide as she pressed herself back against the shelves, before meeting his brother’s lighter gaze.

“You are a glib fucking fool, Aegon,” Aemond said lowly, his mouth curling as he readied for a fight, needing to expend the burn of flame inside of him. “I don’t care what the pair of you do, I’ll say nothing should Mother hear of it, but-” he stepped forward and shoved Aegon hard into the bookstack. The ancient wood creaked and groaned, but the stacks were bolted to the floor to prevent them from topping. A few books fell from the force of Aegon’s frame smacking into it. “Stay the hell out of my library.”

He did not look over his shoulder, even as Abby called his name, apology rife in her tone. He strode through the halls, calling for his horse to be saddled while he went to angrily pull on his riding leathers. The left side of his temple ached as it was wont to do when his face was full of tension. Helaena would make him tea, protect him in the quiet, but that was not meant to be today. The last he saw, his sister was in the gardens with Jacaerys. 

How he ached to wring the stupid bastard’s neck.

How bright he seemed to make Helaena laugh.

How betrayed Aemond felt by it all.

Why hadn’t Helaena said anything? Why hadn’t she told him that she didn’t want to be married? Why had she just let him wander around like a puppy and now left the fool?

‘But hadn’t she told you?’ a little voice drifted through Aemond’s mind and he paused in the lacing of his leathers. Had she not told him by pursuing that fool Warren Fossoway, and the time that he had spied her kissing him - for he had seen Helaena push the squire behind the carved dragon pillar by the gardens. 

‘But she would let me kiss her, she would kiss me, and she’d touch me and I her and-’ The flurry of thoughts ached as he pulled on his boots.

It would not hurt as much if it was anyone but Jacaerys.

The ride to the beach beneath the shadow of the Red Keep was a blur. The rock outcropping of Aegon’s High Hill was a craggy, sheer thing, but the beach below was one that Vhagar enjoyed sunning herself, a guard dog laying at the foot of the bed in a way. Her head lifted as Aemond approached, lowing in greeting and shaking sand from her scales. The tension in Aemond’s chest began to ease at the sight of her, and he approached, patting a gloved hand along her scarred neck, scratching along a vicious scar she must have received in Dorne. There were no words exchanged, not the way Aegon chattered with Sunfyre. Aemond’s bond with Vhagar was one of feeling, of such deep understanding that no words needed to spill from him. In no time, he scaled her great bulk and yelled out the command to fly, which his dragon responded with her own, what he assumed was excited, call in return.

Vhagar landed on the cliffs on the western side of Massey’s Hook, the bay below dotted with smaller fishing boats this far out from King’s Landing and away from the bustle of the capital. Rage and grief, anger and fear were a tempest in his gut and he rankled at the call of Moondancer as his cousin circled above them.

If Baela wanted this fight, then he would meet her, unflinching. Let her see what dragons were made of. They did not all reside on Dragonstone.

“Laodijes peldios!” Baela howled at him, her voice a sharp shout on the breeze, her face twisted and ugly with fury, fists at her side as she readied herself to hit him should he get within reach.

Aemond glared at her, the distance between them shrunk now to an arm length. Vhagar was a great shadow behind him and he could feel the sulfuric heat of her breath as she exhaled buffeting at his back. Moondancer was a little ways away, shrieking fearfully and Aemond could not tell if the dragon reflected her rider’s mood, or her fear of Vhagar.

“You’re a fucking fool. Daemon Targaryen is your father, your mother a Velaryon, and you still don’t realize that a dragon cannot be stolen.”

“You had no fucking right!” Baela snarled. “Vhagar was for Rhaena to claim-”

“If Vhagar had not wanted me, she would have eaten me and you damn well know it.” Aemond cut her off, watching her jaw click shut with a curl of satisfaction. “Vhagar chose me, not your sister. What? You want to kill me to give her another chance at claiming her? Is that what you’re here? To finish the job that you all started?”

“Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?” Balea cried, and this time, there was a choked quality to her rage. Aemond’s eye widened slightly and he leaned back from her, a curl of uncertainty that he despised. His words had been harsh, full of the anger that he had felt simmering these past years. Aemond shrugged it off. He had earned his harshness in this. He’d been the one attacked, the band of them setting upon him simply because he chose to claim his right as a Valyrian prince.

‘Why would my mother’s dragon choose you?’

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth and leaned back on his foot, watching Baela gasp for air amidst her choking sobs, and turn from him to look out to the bay, towards Driftmark and High Tide.

He remembered his mother’s cries, her rage, her such careful and elegant control snapping as her voice cracked in the silence of the Hall of Nine.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“Why did Moondancer choose you?” Aemond asked. “Why did Moondancer choose you, and my egg never hatched?” Baela did not look at him but he could see the way her shoulders tensed. “Why didn’t you go find the guards? Why did you come, thinking a thief had stolen a dragon and Jacaerys brought his blade? Why did they give me a pig, pretending they had found me a dragon as they both had their own? Why did they do nothing but terrorize me with that fact for our childhoods?” 

Aegon had done it too, gone in on the fun, drunk on being the eldest. It had lessened considerably in the wake of Rhaenyra leaving the capital, even if his brother sought other ways to tease him - he’d never again mentioned his lack of dragon.

Aegon had come to him in his sick bed, his curls shorn, red eyed and puffy faced, tears on his cheeks, had knelt at his bedside and vowed to him. 

“We protect our own and I did not protect you. I do not care if you’ve claimed Vhagar, for I was not there for you when you needed me. It will never happen again. I will protect you. I will be by your side.”

Aemond had sometimes wondered how much of the words were his brother’s own, but he had known, with certainty, that the feelings were genuine. His brother was an idiot, and they butted heads, but his brother loved him in his own way, and for as angry as Aegon could make him, he loved him too. In his own way. 

He might admit that on his deathbed, unlike Aegon, who would only need to be in the depths of his cups and into the sad and tearful mourning edge.

“What do you know, Baela?” Aemond said, his voice even, coldness creeping along the edges. “Of fighting and scraping for everything that is owed to you?” He forcefully bit his tongue, copper exploding in his mouth as he broke skin, to keep from pressing further at the loss of her birth right to Driftmark for Rhaenyra’s folly.

“A prince has to scrape for all that is owed to him.” It was rhetorical, biting, and Aemond snorted, taking a step forward, his own gaze looking out at the water.

“You may have been an idiot child, but don’t play me for a fool.” It was impossible not to see how little Viserys thought of his second family, and he had seen it plainly on Jacaerys’ face, the surprise in witnessing it. “I’m sure your father relishes every word you send to him. His little spy.”

Baela’s lip curled in a snarl and she stalked closer. Aemond stayed where he was, watching her with a narrowed eye as Vhagar let out a low growl behind him. She did not move, did not lift her head, but her nostrils flared and Aemond felt the heat of her breath swirl around him. Baela’s eyes widened, and she paused, the indigo of them shining with tears. 

He turned his head slightly to look at Vhagar. “Ȳgha iksi,” he reassured her, feeling Vhagar’s displeasure seeping through him, her warning and the remembered rage from those years ago when she could not protect him or take away his pain. He reached for her snout, pressing his hand to the scar above her left nostril, rubbing against it. He turned his back to his cousin and brought his other hand up, feeling the anger hot as coals, hot as dragonfire in his chest. Vhagar was full of tension. He could feel it. Would she feel that way if it wasn’t him? If she was not so worried for him, would she recognize the girl behind him as the child that Laena Velaryon surely brought to her, as Aemond would have brought his own child? Had his grandfather, Baelon, brought his sons to this dragon before them?

The silence filled the air around them, the wind thick with tension. Aemond pressed his forehead to Vhagar, took strength from her, squeezed his eye shut and ignored the pain that lanced through his head and pulsed behind his scar.

The sob behind him was soft, and Moondancer’s cry was mournful.

“He’s your son, Viserys.”

“I did not mean to tarnish your mother’s memory,” Aemond finally spoke, his voice carrying as he looked, blind side towards Baela. “It was not done to hurt you, or to take something from you. It was… It was my only chance. And it’s something I don’t think you’ll ever be able to understand. I am… I am sorry about the loss of your mother. I did not have the opportunity to give you my condolences then, but I can give them to you now.”

The sound Baela made was strangled. Aemond turned to look at her. Baela was stiff beneath her red and black riding leathers, the metal rings in her hair tinkling as the wind tugged at her braids. He recalled the mourning child she had been sitting by her twin and Jace, the vicious yell she’d let out when she punched him in the nose that night, the howls and scream of pain. He felt Vhagar twitch and groan beneath his touch, another warning and he hushed her again, stroking her snout. He watched her gaze go towards Moondancer, who was crying fitfully, grounded still, her aquamarine wings more green against the lush grass of the clifftop.

“Do you want to pet her?”

Baela stared at him, the hostile lines to her face instantly slacking in surprise. “Skoro syt?” Her voice was small and wary, even as her eyes were wide with grief.

“My condolences,” Aemond repeated, and he found the words genuine. It was not Baela, nor her sister, or even his bastard nephews that rankled him. Oh, he wanted his revenge, He wanted what was due, but more of the blame lay with his eldest sister and their father. Of that, Aemond was secure in. He would gladly feed them both to Vhagar, to take an eye as payment for his mother.

His cousin shifted on her booted feet before whatever compelled her brought her forward. Aemond shifted, beckoning her to take her place by his side as he murmured words to Vhagar. Baela had taken her glove off, her slim, tanned hand reaching tentatively up before resting along the scar on Vhagar’s nostril.

They stood there for how long, Aemond was not sure, quietly beside one another as Baela grieved for the mother at the bottom of the Narrow Sea, and his own grief at what was taken from him.

“Do not mourn me, mother…”

‘But mourn the boy dead on Driftmark.’

It was not lightness or peace that settled over Aemond when he and his cousin parted later. He was not certain how much time had passed, only that after she had sobbed, they sat there in a strange, companionable silence eating hunks of bread and cheese and apple that Baela cut with a wicked blade. She did not give him thanks, she did not say anything, but Aemond took the offering of shared food as her own gesture of whatever truce was settled between them. The exchanged curt nods before parting, Baela northeast and away from the city to what Aemond assumed was High Tide and her grandmother and twin, while he circled back towards the city.

Aemond was not certain of the feeling he held except that it felt like he had scratched something out on a list, or deposited a burden that he was trying to carry with all his other, more cumbersome burdens. It was a closed door. That was enough for Aemond, and there was a part of him that wanted to march to his sisters and tell them that he had made nice, to have Abby’s warm smile proud with him, and Helaena’s little clap and promptly being the receiver of her latest mountain spider that Uncle Rodrik had brought her.

Instead, after entering the inner courtyard of the Red Keep and handing off his horse to one of the stablehands, he made his way to the gardens and to his own preferred solitude when the library - so recently desecrated - was not an option. No, Aemond needed air, he needed the statue of Visenya to look down upon him. There, where Helaena had snipped the strings and released him from the vow he had made, the goal that held him that was more about him than it truly was about her. 

Where his sister had set him free, and he loved her all the more for it.

The problem, he found, upon striding down the paved path and through the dripping ivy, was that his garden was not, in fact, as empty as he hoped. Wylla Karstark was kneeled in front of a bush of hyacinths, carefully cutting the purple blooms and placing them in a basket beside her. She was clad in a dove gray dress, the black fabric of her kirtle beneath poking out through slashes along her shoulders and puffed at her elbows. Her fox features were pinched in concentration and Aemond watched her for a moment, silent as she had clearly not heard his approach.

Wylla Karstark was an unknown. She was pretty enough, with a long nose and sharp jaw, gray eyes that flashed when she was annoyed, which was the majority of the time. She had a rather frustrating talent of being able to look down at him even as she had to arch her neck, for she was as petite as Abby was. Their joint misfortune, just like Aegon’s. She was also well read, their conversation at the feast turning from a mutual annoyance to discussing the book of poetry that he had seen her reading, which itself had turned into a rather long and in depth conversation on the Valyrian poet, Praxilla, whose work had survived by the grace of her living the life of leisure in Lys when the Doom happened. Wylla and his elder brother unknowingly shared a fondness for drinking songs penned by the scribe, although Aemond was smart enough to know he shouldn’t bring that up.

Not until he needed to.

“It is polite to speak when coming upon someone, Your Grace,” Wylla’s northern burr was arch as she focused on her task. “I would curtsy, but you can see I’m already on my knees.”

Aemond’s cheeks flushed at the turn of her words, and he was not certain if she understood how they could be taken. He decided that she didn’t, for she did not turn to look at him, seemingly unbothered. All for the best, he supposed, for Aemond did not think he could meet her gaze should she be facing him.

“Why are you cutting my flowers?”

“Your flowers, Your Grace?” Wylla laughed, a sharp, lilting sort of sound and he wondered if that’s what she sounded like when she sang. Did she sing? He had not asked her. “These flowers belong to Queen Visenya, for it is her garden, is it not?”

“It is my garden,” he pushed back, frowning at the back of her head, the mass of thick, twisted black braids kept in place with a woven, pearl hair net with wicked looking, pearl tipped hair pins to keep the heaviness of it in place. He flexed his hands, wiping them on his riding leathers as he approached. There were other flowers in her basket, like wisteria and some of the roses from the main garden. He sat, bending his one leg to rest an arm on while the other reached in.

Up close, he could see the red flush to her pale cheeks. He did not recall them looking so red when he saw her the day before, outside of the bit of sun all the girls had gotten during the sun.

Her smack was quick, the sound of flesh stinging flesh loud and he immediately pulled back with a hiss and a glare. “How dare-”

“Those aren’t for you,” Wylla said forcefully, the gray eyes of her bright in her face as she finally looked at him. “They’re for Lady Abrogail.”

Aemond had killed a man for the fox-faced woman before him without hesitation, and the knowledge of it settled in him still, generally buried over the past few weeks because he had no idea what to do about it. They’d been attacked in the night, and Wylla Karstark had shoved a knife between the man’s ribs without hesitation. So tall, Wylla Karstark seemed, so loud, filling up the spaces she was in without holding herself back, that he had so often forgotten how small she was.

Until she was there, in front of him, those gray eyes like the storm ridden ocean.

Aemond held her gaze, reaching back into the basket to pluck one of the deep purple, nearly blue anemones that she had gathered, twirling it idly between his long fingers before reaching up to tuck it behind her ear. Wylla was still beside him, her red painted mouth parted slightly, so he could see the flash of her white teeth behind it. Her cheeks deepend in their red to match the paint on her lips and Aemon hummed. 

Abby had been understandably shaken. Knowing her as long as he did, even with the smiles affixed to her face, he knew the signs as intimately as he understood Helaena’s or Aegon’s, or his own mother’s. Wylla Karstark was a mystery. She had been quiet, from what he had seen, but the wedding preparations had taken up much time with the girls, as well as her brother finally leaving the capital earlier that week.

He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking, before he met her gaze. “Are you alright?”

Her inhale was loud. It trembled and she pressed her red lips together, her throat bobbing with a swallow and looked back at the flowers but did not move to cut anymore. Aemond did not push her, but only waited.

“Yes? No? Strangely yes,” she finally whispered. “I think that’s what bothers me more.”

“That bastard came in with intent to harm,” Aemond said. “If you didn’t kill him, someone else would have. You were incredibly brave.” None knew  where he’d come from. The assailant had been clad in the same red garb as the rest of the servants. A baseborn man. Waters or Storm, Aemond couldn’t remember, much like he had no memory of the man’s face before he stared down at it, red and wheezing before he killed him.

“At least it wasn’t Aegon,” Wylla whispered, her eyes wide, drawing his attention back to her. “What would have that turned into - him sneaking in for them to slobber all over each other. Me thinking he was an attacker and-”

The snort of laughter that escaped Aemond at the idea of it all could not be held back. He bent his head, gasping for air as his shoulders shook and it was only a moment before Wylla’s own peel of laughter joined his. It had been some weeks since he’d laughed, in the wake of what happened at the hunt drying up what little humor he’d indulged in. There was an infectious quality to Wylla Karstark’s amusement that he found comforting. Aemond looked at her, her face flushed from her laughter, and he leaned in, kissing her.

The laughter abruptly stopped, her mouth soft against his, still from her clear surprise. She tasted like oranges. Abby must have indulged in the sweet and sour orange cakes they had at the feast. Wylla did not respond, but she didn’t move away either and Aemond took that as acceptance, and he lifted his hand to cup her cheek, thumb swiping softly against the apple of it. Kisses with Helaena had been different - always expected, always ready, with her initiating many of them. The one time he’d kissed Abby, when they were little and Jace had dared him to, did not count. The both of them had made faces, vowing to never do it again. 

Kissing Wylla, though? He never wanted to stop, especially not when she reached up, the clippers making a soft thump along the grass to wrap around the end of the braid slung over his shoulder. She tugged it gently and Aemond broke away, blinking and gasping. “What?” he asked. “Should I have not done that?”

“Oh, you should have,” she reassured him, breathless and red faced. She licked her lips and looked at her fingers still wound around his braid, toying with the leather tie. “I was just reminded of something someone told me once.”

He cocked his head, mouth pursed. “What was it?”

The smile that cut across Wylla’s face was amused, the scar along the top of her lip giving a mischievous bend to her small, red mouth. “It was about how dragons purr when you pull their hair.”

Whatever thought started to coalesce about her late night conversation with his sisters was pushed right out when her lips found his.

I would love to hear your thoughts! Even if it's just a keyboard smash! Reblog to spread a story around so others may find it! I would love to hear your theories! What did you love? What are you looking forward to? Happy to have you here as always <3

[Next Chapter]

[aparticularbandit]

imagine your favorite fashion guru on tiktok/instagram/youtube. very good about giving all the tips, about explaining things in a way that you can follow. shows cool ways to do make-up, how to sew missing buttons or replace zippers, to add patches to punk jackets, even hair dye tips - and the best brands for your buck! and very good about stories during the whole thing; you never get bored!

then you hear about something really bad happening in her country, and the videos stop for a while. you miss her, of course, but you get it. you wouldn't upload under the circumstances either. of course, you and a bunch of her other followers leave a lot of positive comments on her last video - the one that explains why she might not be updating for a while.

months pass. every now and again you check on her channel. you're subscribed, so you'd get an email for a new video, but. just in case, you know? and sometimes you go through the old videos. they're just so comforting. you wonder how she's doing. you hope she's doing okay.

one day, you get the email that she's been active again! you automatically check it out. looks like she and a bunch of her friends from school have decided to take shelter in an abandoned school building. they've completely locked themselves in, but she assures you that everyone is going to be just fine! it's just kind of boring in there and everything. but the headmaster has given her permission to do videos again; he doesn't think it's a threat at all!

so now you get a lot of videos. daily content. not just your guru giving her normal tips and tricks, but more real life stuff. she brings in some of her friends, and they all seem really sweet. they livestream video games every now and again, and sometimes she ropes them into doing jackbox stuff so even the viewers can get involved! it's entirely different, but you're addicted. especially when she has a set time every day for her streams and then others around that! and of course, it's so great to leave comments to make everyone feel better, what with everything they're going through.

sometimes, she cries on camera. it's really, really rough. but she thanks you - all of her viewers - for being there for her through everything. it's so nice of all of you. she'd thought you would leave after everything or that the abrupt change of content would cause her to lose viewers. then she says that, you know, given everything, viewer count's not so important to her anymore. she just wants you to know that she's still here, she's still alive, and that they're all going to try and do their best to survive together.

it feels like everyone you know is following her now, tuned into her life, the lives of her friends, their struggles. it's a weird sort of thing; you all have your favorites, but you don't really hate anyone either because...those are real people on the screen. you love all of them. but you love your girl the best. she was the first. of course, you love her.

one day, the live stream starts, and it's...different.

there's a bear? and something about murder? and none of your comments are getting through to anyone anymore. and it's just the bear playing moderator? and the headmaster is...gone? and so is one of the students?

only you look closer - you know what your girl looks like, you know - and that's...that's her sister dressed up as her, you're sure of it. which means your girl is missing.

something's...something's wrong. it's weird. you don't like it, but you can't stop following it. because...well.

there's a bunch of theories. maybe it's like when markiplier did one of his movies or whatever. maybe they were just so bored that they decided to do a movie series or something like that?

and then you see one of the students murder another one on screen.

and then the bear kills your girl's sister.

and you can't look away.

(junko enoshima trends on twitter for over a month, even through the other murders.)

[fountainpenguin]

hiii new reader here! I'm loving your neighborhood watch au :) I have a question though, what's up with all the hidden fics if you don't mind answering?

Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying it! I'm hoping to post more for that AU during 2025; working on the buffer this winter :) Next up should be "Goodchild Oscar," which I started a long time ago and have been itching to share. I love NW AU so much...

And good question! My hidden fics are in an unrevealed collection called Riddle WIPs:

Hidden works are my drafts, but in a way that prevents them from being auto-deleted by AO3 after 30 days (i.e. the way AO3's actual draft feature does).

Keeping my works in this unrevealed collection lets me see everything, organize everything, link them to other works, prep my tags in advance, and do my color-coding HTML in advance (for works that use the green/yellow/red name system for life colors). Multi-chapter works also get their spoiler dropdown boxes in advance too.

This is a lifesaver when working with series. I have my works in multiple series, and every time you add one of those (or an inspired work), you have to save/post to refresh the page before you can add another. People who subscribe to a series (as opposed to the story or author) get the notification after a work is posted. I like to make sure my work has all the series attached to it upfront, not just one. It's nice to feel like I have plenty of time to do everything I want for prep purposes without stressing about a 30-day timer.

In short, it's a LOT easier to stick to a weekly upload schedule if all the work on the AO3 side is done in advance and all I need to do is slap the chapter in and post. Here's a draft I prepped last night, for instance:

/slaps his little head - This work can fit SO much body text when I'm done.

On posting night, all I have to do is add the text, change the update date to the day I post, remove it from the unrevealed collection, and presto! People subscribed to any of those series (or to me as an author) get the notifications :) Huge time-saver that lets me keep my regular update schedule.

If you check that publish date, you can see I actually made this draft in April. I just did the tags and cover art for it last night, as I'd like to get this work posted very soon. It takes me a while to get around to each individual project, but at least I always know where to find them and I can do the parts I have energy for when I have free time.

I just made a spreadsheet this week that links all my docs and AO3 works, so I am living large...

Another reason I do this is because I often have limited Internet access, but I do have offline access to my writing docs. I have a lot of back-and-forth time on the road, and sometimes I finish my writing when I'm away from home. It's so nice to prep the AO3 side in advance while I have a stable Internet connection and mouse instead of doing all that on the trackpad.

[cnt'd - Long post]

Back when I started doing this with hidden works, it was mostly because AO3 had a bug where every time you rearranged a series, you had to manually edit every single work that came after it if you wanted the Previous and Next links to work properly.

And I did. Every time I posted. Because that's how I am. I write a series titled 130 Reasons Why I'm Fairy Trash, which used to be arranged chronologically before I went through and changed them to recommended reading order, and there are 130 one-shots in it. I have tasted so much pain...

In other words, the series feature was great for people posting new works that come "next" in the series, but it wasn't working well for people who like to rearrange the order when they post something new. Ex: I have both the Pixels Imperfect and Neighborhood Watch series in chronological order. Using the unrevealed works, I took the time to arrange all the hidden works in advance so that the timeline was properly arranged regardless of what order I submitted fics in. This way, I only had to dedicate a couple days to getting all my current WIPs prepped and arranged, with the hope being that my links would work properly for a long time before I wrote a new work and had to find a place for it. I have never written a series chronologically in my life and I think it would kill my motivation if I forced myself to do that, honestly.

I'm pretty sure this rearrangement bug was there since I joined AO3 in 2018. Guess what they fixed while I was in the middle of adding all my drafts and arranging them all :'D

This is the best bug fix ever; my crops are watered daily and my skin is clean. I live in constant fear this bug will return and I will once again be relegated to spending hours of an evening painstakingly updating every work that comes later in a series... instead of the 2 seconds it takes to place a work now.

Bonus reason why I like the hidden work feature: I have thousands of documents after my 13+ years of posting fanfics and writing original works, many of which are no longer as up-to-date as posted versions that received minor revisions over the years (like spelling fixes).

It's super nice to have a place on AO3 to keep backups where I can easily find them and not mix them up with my outdated files (which I should clean out, but hesitate to do so because it would take me days).

I do have downloaded backups of all my works as well (Bless FicLab). Went through and did a sweep last month! I will not lose over a decade of my life... I bought a flash drive necklace to slap them on, so they will literally have to pry this stuff from my cold, dead hands.

FFN went down for a week earlier this year and I had a few works that were exclusively on FFN, not yet on AO3, so I was very quick to slap those into my WIPs collection as soon as I could, haha... One of those is 30k words. Yep. Not losing that.

I really wish AO3 would let people use Previous and Next to navigate through a hidden work because it's very obnoxious for me and others who want to click through the series and then we slam into a hidden work, but c'est la vie.

I fear the bug's return with my life, and for this, everyone must click extra times to navigate around the wall.

Fun bonus screenshots of what I see on my end even though these works are hidden for you guys:

Pixels Imperfect #2, baby! ... The first wall you hit if you're trying to read the series by clicking "Next," haha... Oh no.

And some Neighborhood Watch:

The story beats are there! I'm just not yet... but it's a much bigger decision to drop a WIP if you're already "halfway there" because you've got the prep work done. Some people may not want to put that "pressure" on themselves, but I don't mind it. I like seeing the works yet to come so they remind me of how excited I am to get there. They just seem so close...

I'm easing into a hiatus from posting fanfics this winter so I can build my 'fic buffers and post a few one-shots I've had sitting around. Fingers crossed that 2025 will have a lot of NW content. I'm very excited for it and I'm glad you're looking forward to it too!

-> I am so glad NW is only the first 5 Life seasons in the same timeline, because if I had to work Wild Life's mechanics into the worldbuilding, that would be a rough one...

My late-2025 is set up to be extremely busy IRL and the next couple years are sure to be as well, so I'm putting my all into prepping buffers right now. This'll be a lifesaver for me down the road.

[drac-onion]

I think LFI is done. I've come up with a summary, a title (what LFI stands for stopped being as relevant during the second draft phase), and given each chapter a name. It's been beta read twice over and the little things have been adjusted. I feel like there's more to be done, but the reality is that there isn't anything else I can do. It's polished to the best of my abilities.

All that's left is to convert it all to HTML and then pick a time to release it.

The shorter thing has to go out first, mostly cuz it's shorter, but also cuz I won't want to post a oneshot while I'm in the middle of putting up a longwork. That'd be a little weird. Also the tonal whiplash would be pretty noticeable.

But who knows? Maybe I'll end up sitting on the shorter stuff for longer just to have something to put up during the inevitable drought between LFI1 and the next thing.

LFI2?

LFI1.5?

Working titles are hard. But I had tons of ideas during the writing process that I wanna work on. And a bunch of oneshots that will find their way down the pipeline eventually. I'm gonna have to make an AO3 series thing at this point, considering they all take place during the same "canon" now. BTM-verse?

Once again, working titles are hard.

Anyway. It's weird. It's just weird. I never thought I'd get this far. It feels like there would never be a time where I wasn't working on it, but I've worked on it and worked on it and asked people what they thought and it's to the point where there's nothing else to do to it. It's as good as it's going to get at this point.

I have to move on.

But man, if it isn't super hard to get into that mindset. It hasn't really hit me yet and probably won't until it's officially up. A little bit of fear has set in, but again, that will likely ramp up as I get closer to posting it.

What if it isn't good?

What if it reads poorly?

What if it's boring?

Effort isn't everything. I could spend a year on a marble sculpture but time+effort doesn't always equal quality.

Creativity is hard.

Hopefully this is the last major update before it goes up. Before the year is up, for sure. Definitely. Maybe. Hopefully?

(Shameless plug) it'll be on my AO3, so go ahead and subscribe if you haven't already. Or I'll have posts on here when the chapters come out. Either or. It's cool, promise. I should also do some promo and actually put up the summary at some point.

You may have noticed that I'm treating this sort of like a content creator would, and that's just because I find the process fun. Building hype, considering a schedule, things like that. Sure, it's in service to nobody because it's not like I'm some big name, but take it till ya make it, right? I'm not doing this for fame, just for fun, but it's fun to treat it like it's bigger and more important than it is.

It'd be more cool and stoic of me to release it without saying anything and pretend I'm so confident in my abilities that I don't care what anyone else thinks, but that wouldn't be genuine. I like seeing behind the scenes, and I think there's a lot involved in the creative process other than the actual creative process. There's a lot of doubt and confusion and hair pulling involved, so if there's someone out there who perceived creators as perfect beings that release stuff, then allow me to show you behind the curtain of the chaos and mess that is all this. It's all for the love of the craft. If I didn't enjoy the writing process so much, I wouldn't even bother. So don't worry. If you're flying by the seat of your pants, trying to figure out how other people write and seem like they know what they're doing, rest assured that I'm here to be an example of someone who's just making it up as they go along. For the love of the craft and enjoyment of the process.

Anyway. That's the end of this little update and ramble.

Stay tuned. Like and subscribe or whatever, etc. idk

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

SW Request Guidelines

This list is not cemented or exhaustive in any capacity, and will be occasionally updated, so please be sure to keep an eye on this post in my #frostfics masterlist and/or check before you make a request if you'd like some inspiration.

**Remember above all else, friends: 'this is War of Stars and Shit's Whack Anyways'. I more believe in having *fun* with the source material above strict adherence to it. If someone requested something that did not strictly adhere to whatever the current canon is, that's their choice. We all have our favorite aspects of Star Wars and they will not always align with another person's.**

UPDATED: 7/11/24

What I WILL Do

Headcanon requests

Drabbles

One shots

Short series (IF I am inspired by the request)

When it comes to X Readers: I can comfortably write in 1st, 2nd, or 3rd Person POVs. My default is 2nd and 3rd person, for the most part! (Readers can also have nicknames, if that is your preference!)

Want to request a non-x reader? I can do that too, don't be shy!

Tropes including but not limited to: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Enemies-to-Lovers/Idiots-to-Lovers, One Bed/Escape Pod, Fix-its, Soulmate, and Domestic.

Popular occupations or specified reader-types like Medic, Mechanic, Bounty Hunter, Jedi, etc.

As much or as little Clones-using-Mando'a as you'd like. Familial terms only? Sure! You wanna go for Oops! All Pet Names? You got it. You're allergic to Clones using Mando'a? Cool beans, buddy, I can do that and correct any slip-ups! (I know not everyone subscribed to that fanon trope like I did and/or for the same reasons I did.)

Platonic or romantic relationships

Implied smut/Mature on occasion! [Will range from 13+ to 18+ age rating depending on my comfort and familiarity with the requested character.]

I have more familiarity in writing AFAB/Female and Gender Neutral x Readers. I often write the general, physical description of Reader in a very vague, more "poetic" manner unless otherwise specified in the request. [Should be noted I am very unfamiliar with writing AMAB/Male x Readers so I'm afraid I'm likely not the one who will be best to ask.]

We're LGBT+ friendly; I'm a bi woman in my twenties for goodness sake. 🩷💜💙

Most SW characters, really. If you have a particular character in mind that isn't in my main niches of interest, I can probably swing it. There'll be better luck if you request something from one of my favorite eras (The Clone Wars, The Bad Batch, The Mandalorian). Please keep in mind that the less I know of a character, the longer it'll take me to complete. 

Like a particular fanon trope [ex: Gray Jedi] and want to see my take on it? Sweet, glad you trust me! I'll certainly do my best depending on what's requested.

We're AU and canon-divergent friendly here! You ordered the "No Order 66 AU with Domestic!Clone Boyfriend" with an order of "Somehow, ____ Lived." on the side? Coming right up!

Is it well past time for everything to Just Stop™ for your fave? We can magically give them a little break.

I will postpone or delete a request if you're impatient with me. I'm doing this for free, for FUN, on my own time with no set schedule. I have ADHD tendencies (and chronic health conditions) and sometimes the inspiration is just not there. Do not be an entitled little snot or you'll get put in timeout.

What I Will NOT Do

Whitewash the Clones. We believe in evidence of Temuera Morrison's physical characteristics in our Clone husbands/boyfriends here.

Art requests: Most of the fan art I'm posting in the #frostsfanart tag is done on whim, vibes and impulse; and it's a miracle some of those have gotten popular.

Sidenote: There is a *chance* you'll get an art response to an ask if I feel I can pull it off, or, if you give me an idea. [An acceptable example would be asking me if I've ever done a helmet doodle for XYZ before.]

Explicit smut as of now. Nothing against it, but I had a more conservative upbringing; I currently struggle with writing that material without unnecessary guilt.

Your OC x Canon. Don't want to butcher your brain-child by mischaracterizing them by accident. Not running that risk; doubt this would be a thing that would be requested but I'm just covering my bases.

I am not personally comfortable with Clonecest or Clone-shipping. They are brothers and refer to each other as such in-canon. I understand people will do as they please, but I do not support this material. Respect my boundaries.

Will absolutely NEVER do requests involving incest, dub-con/non-con, or general bigotry (homophobia, racism, etc). You will be fed to the Rishi Moon eels instead of Cutup. I'll free Echo and put you in his place on Skako Minor before anyone notices I'm there. Get lost, please.

I am not comfortable with the Rex/Ahsoka business or Master x Padawan romance. Platonic takes on Master x Padawan!Reader dynamic is acceptable. Characters need to be of-age for romances. Ahsoka was only 17 at the end of Clone Wars, for stars' sake.

I Will Love You If You Let Me

Talk about my Clone OCs!!

As the Clone Wars is my favorite era in this Galaxy Far, Far Away, I have a LOT of Clone OCs. I keep track of them in an Excel spreadsheet, so chances are a "throwaway" name that's not found in any Star Wars series is one of my boys.

Chances are good that I throw one or two in a fic as a cameo, as well! Some of them are more fleshed out than others with proper canon, while others have none at all.

Talk about my own fics from time to time!

I promise, there's no need to be shy!

I reread my own work often enough, and I'd love to have you stop by my ask box (on or off anon) with any questions you might have about what you've read! I'll gladly elaborate on why I wrote a scene like that or the particular headcanon(s) I've worked into the fabric of the story.

You're more than welcome to drop by and gush about things too. Authors truly do love to hear back from the people who've taken the time to read what we've written. 🩷

[lord-squiggletits]

For the fanfic writer emoji ask: uuuuh I'm super curious about everything!!! But mainly

💖 What made you start writing?

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

💖 What made you start writing?

I read a book called Julie of the Wolves by Jean C. George for an assignment in elementary school and basically became a wolfgirl when I was like 7 years old. But, basically I became really obsessed with wolves and nature-like stuff and I decided I wanted to try writing my own stuff like that, especially since I was further influenced by stuff like the Redwall series and Tamora Pierce's The Immortals quartet and I really wanted to write my own "magical archer girl with animals as companions" stories ahahaha. You wouldn't guess it from the fact I write Transformers (science fiction) but I'm actually a fantasy writer through and through.

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Already answered this in the ask right before this one, but a trope that I actually can't stand in romance fics and would never ever write is "I'm mad that the person I like is dating someone else, so I'm gonna date/have sex with this other person to try and make them jealous and want me." It's just so immature and I can't see any of my favorite characters doing that, much less it actually working.

I was thinking of saying "infidelity" but honestly, I could see myself writing an infidelity fic if it was something like "one character is in an arranged marriage with another, but they meet their true lover in secret" because I like the vibes of tragedy involved in that. But like, I would never find it appealing to write a monogamous pairing where one of them cheats on the other even if they end up working through the drama and going to therapy or whatever and staying with each other. That's just not the kind of thing I come for in my romantic fantasy fanfic :( not to mention that for the ships I write, it would be out-of-character/I'm not interested in writing for scenarios where it might be in character.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Mmmmmmm I'll give you a freebie about a fic that I haven't posted yet: I'm planning to write a silly, stupid Pharma-centric fic in which he teaches sexual education to a class of MTOs. It'll feature a lot of valveplug worldbuilding, Autobot high command being very concerned about soldiers having safe/sane sex, and the MTOs behaving similarly to teenagers giggling about their teacher saying "spike" and other similarly immature antics.

Also, Pharma accidentally awakening a sexy doctor fetish in more than a few students.

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

Uploading prolifically is a good way to get more subscribers/kudos/comments if you feel that getting more attention is important to you, which I won't lie, is a validating part of starting out on AO3. People will be more likely to become a "fan" of yours if they notice that you're always uploading new fics/updating multichapters. It'll make it seem as if you're an active author who can be talked to, as opposed to posting one fic and then disappearing and people wonder if maybe you already left the fandom and aren't interested in writing more or talking about it.

I wouldn't worry about posting one-shots versus multichapters, or worrying about whether it's too short or too long. Frankly, I admire people who can regularly write things <1,000 words long because I always end up making stories really long even when I intend to be short lol. Just make sure that if it's a really, really long oneshot (like... there's not really a specific rule for this, but maybe 10k words? or if your oneshot has a lot of different scenes and a convoluted plot), split the oneshot into at least two chapters. Some people's browsers don't save which part of the page they stopped reading on if the tab reloads, and I've heard many people complain about fics that didn't have chapter breaks to make it easier to save their location or take a break while reading.

If you want to get popular, it's better to post things that make you happy/entertained and create a niche for yourself than it is for you to try and write the most popular pairings/tropes/etc. Or rather, I would say that having a unique niche with a small but dedicated audience is far more rewarding than trying to pander to popularity. I kind of feel like my more niche stuff may not have as LARGE numbers as the more popular stuff, but it seems to get more comments and detailed feedback than stuff like PWPs. And the more I post niche or very specific fics that are tailored specifically to my interests, the more people who ALSO have niche tastes come out of the woodwork and go "holy shit I didn't think anyone else liked this" and we end up becoming good friends! And maybe one day your niche takes will make people notice how passionate and well thought out they are, and you can start new trends in fanon and headcanoning!

[gurugirl]

Miss guru! Hope you’re staying hydrated and having a great day!! i have a confession that I really really hope you take no offence to at all? I promise it’s not a dig, I appreciate literally everything you put out and the time you spend interacting with us, but more of a me problem…

Basically, I really really struggle reading multi-part fics... I’m not sure exactly why, I think my brain just gets easily muddled the minute anything goes beyond a part 3, I lose the plot and end up rereading the first bits all over again just to work out what the original plot is😅 especially if I’m reading lots at once! I’m subscribed to your Patreon and absolutely love being there❤️ but we get lots of squeals I feel? No complaints of course, I just find them a bit tricker to keep up with! I was wondering by any chance if you have a routine for posting one shots/ maybe two parters vs posting a series? I adore your writing and don’t want to miss out. You don’t owe me an answer to this at all of course, but it’d be great to know how often to expect a one shot I can sink my teeth into!

Lots of love and a big thank you

…sorry this turned out to be so long xx

Hi hon! Thank you for the support! This is so nice :) I try to stay hydrated but some days are better than others haha! I hope you're staying hydrated too!

I get the whole thing with the series. Sometimes I'm the same when I'm reading fic, so definitely understand :)

I try to give y'all one shots, I swear. But when I start writing sometimes there's a story to tell and it can't be all posted in a quick one shot (usually) and I hate rushing through a story. The one shots are more filler content with less plot overall and my favorite is the slow burn with a real story when I'm writing and it's not easy to get that good slow burn and pining when we're clipping the story at 10k words or something. It's just how the process works out when I'm writing.

In all honesty, I'd like to write book length stuff for y'all so I can really delve into the characters and you really see the vision. But with the way Patreon is set up I have to continuously be posting for anyone to stay interested so it's going to be posted one part per week for me to maintain. It's a tricky spot for me to be in to please everyone as much as possible. Most prefer multi-part series over one-shots (based on feedback and likes) and I'm often asked for more of a one-shot that I felt happy with ending it where it was but for the sake of making subscribers happy I extend the one shot and make it into a mini series - like hothusband and boss!harry for example.

And, if I post 2 parts of the same series in the same week I get complaints about it being too much at once and if I skip an update on a series one week then I get complaints about that too.

I'm just trying to make the majority happy. I love doing one shots too (they're typically a lot easier to write bc they're low plot stories) but they don't get as much attention as my series do.

I know I totally rambled, I'm just trying to explain a little bit of why you get more series than one shots. I've been at this for just over a year and about 7 or so months in, I realized the one shots just aren't as popular among my readers or the reader wants more parts.

Also, I don't know if I'd call any parts of the mini series sequels because every part is all the same mini series. And like once I'm done with each series or mini series they can all be read at once.

That's not to say I don't have more one shots coming. I'm working on a 2 parter and a couple of one shots for Patreon but can't say when they'll be ready.

I'm sorry the content isn't keeping you engaged! That's a big fear of mine for people to start reading and then it gets boring or the previous part wasn't memorable so you have to go back. I never want that to happen with my writing but I know my stuff's not always the most exciting so I understand losing the plot after a couple of parts as a reader is frustrating on your end too. Not what I hope to hear for feedback but I appreciate you telling me nonetheless. Thank you, hon 💕

xoxo

[sparcusfun]

10 TV Shows That Deserved More Than One Season

Welcome back to our channel! In today's video, we’re counting down the 10 Amazing Shows That Deserved More Than One Season. These shows captivated us with their unique storylines, brilliant performances, and unforgettable moments, yet they left us wanting more after just one season. Whether it’s due to low ratings, network decisions, or other mysterious reasons, these series didn't get the chance to shine for as long as they deserved. From gripping dramas to thrilling sci-fi, there’s something in this list for everyone who loves a good binge-watch. Get ready to relive the frustration of those too-soon cancellations as we dive into the world of these one-season wonders. Have you ever found yourself hooked on a show, only to be disappointed when it was canceled too early? We’ve all been there. But no worries, we’re here to celebrate these hidden gems that deserved a longer run on our screens. If you're a fan of shows with incredible potential or love discovering under-the-radar series, this list is for you. Don’t forget to let us know in the comments which show you think should have lasted longer or if there’s a favorite we missed! Make sure to like, subscribe, and hit the notification bell to stay updated on more exciting content like this. Enjoy the countdown! #tvshow #tvseries https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uvcp2OULZI

[gabbyandmercy]

#minecraft #minecraftshorts Minecraft Rabbit's Surprising Sports Journey!

Discover the hilarious and heartwarming story of a Minecraft rabbit who defies expectations and joins a sports team. Watch as it overcomes obstacles, makes friends, and proves that anything is possible with determination. Don't miss this adorable and inspiring tale! #Minecraft #Rabbit #Sports #Adventure #minecraft #minecraftshorts 🐰 Minecraft Rabbit's Surprising Sports Journey! ⚽️🏀 Welcome to an exciting new adventure in the blocky world of Minecraft! In this thrilling episode, we follow our adorable rabbit protagonist as he hops into the world of sports like never before! From dribbling a basketball to scoring goals on the soccer field, this little bunny is ready to show you that anything is possible when you put your mind to it! Join us as we explore the vibrant landscapes of Minecraft, where our furry friend takes on various sports challenges that will leave you on the edge of your seat! Will he become the ultimate sports champion or will he face unexpected hurdles along the way? Get ready for some heartwarming moments, hilarious mishaps, and jaw-dropping skills that will inspire players of all ages! 🌟 What to Expect: - Epic Sports Challenges: Watch as our rabbit tackles soccer, basketball, and more in a series of fun and engaging mini-games! - Incredible Gameplay: Experience the magic of Minecraft like never before with stunning visuals and creative gameplay mechanics. - Life Lessons: Discover valuable lessons about teamwork, perseverance, and believing in yourself through our rabbit's journey. Whether you're a seasoned Minecraft player or just starting out, this video is packed with entertainment that will keep you coming back for more. Don't miss out on the fun—join us on this whimsical sports adventure! 🔔 Subscribe for More Amazing Content: If you enjoyed this video and want to see more exciting Minecraft adventures featuring our lovable rabbit and his friends, make sure to hit that subscribe button! Join our growing community and stay updated with all our latest uploads. Your support means the world to us! 👉 [Subscribe Here](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCde68JxF6O9SG00Ll3IE6vg?sub_confirmation=1) Thank you for watching! We can't wait to share more incredible journeys with you. Remember to like, comment, and share your thoughts below—what sport do you think our rabbit should try next? Let’s hop into action together! 🐇💨 #Minecraft #MinecraftShorts #MinecraftRabbit #SportsJourney #GamingAdventure #SubscribeNow #abc123

[firoz857]

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[internerdionality]

Okay, I'm going to throw this out there because as an author it drives me absolutely *batty* (and sad!) when people do this on my fics.

Do not subscribe to completed fics on AO3

Even if you really want the author to write more!

Even if the fic ends on a cliffhanger!

Even if the author says they're thinking about writing a sequel!

It's actually a big faux-pas for an author to add ANYTHING to a completed fic on AO3, because a lot of people don't like to read works-in-progress and intentionally filter them out, so updating a completed work can make people feel like you posted it as completed in order to intentionally get them to read a WIP when they didn't want to. Which means that if the author decides to write more, they will, 99/100 times, post it as a separate work in the same series, and you will not get a notification about that.

But in the meantime, the author sees that there are subscribers on that fic, that fic that they will never update because it's already marked as completed, and they (or at least, I) just sit there feeling horrible that there are people who want to read my content and I have no way of reaching them. 🫂💔

But wait, Inty, how do I tell if a fic is completed?

When you're scrolling through a list of works, every work has four colored boxes next to it. The bottom right one indicates completion status:

Once you've already clicked into a work, check the chapter count. If the first number matches the second number, the work is complete:

While if the second number is larger—or if there isn't a second number at all, just a question mark—it's a work-in-progress.

But Inty, what if the author changes their mind?

Now, if a work is marked as complete, but you want to see/think the author might write more, there's three things you can do!

1. Check to see if the work is part of a series. You can subscribe separately to the series to get notified if a sequel is posted. Series will be listed below the language and above the stats at the top of the fic:

Some authors use series to group generally related works—like all their works in one fandom—as well as direct sequels. This is particularly common for authors who write a lot in a few fandoms, since a lot of readers may want to get notified whenever they post works in one particular fandom, but not another.

2. If there's no series, you can still subscribe to the author to be notified if they post anything. If they're someone who posts often and you are only interested in this particular story, it may not be worth it to you, but that's one way to be sure you'll know if they update!

3. Comment and ask! Let the author know that you'd love to see more in this particular story, and they will probably respond to let you know whether or not they're planning to do so! And if enough people comment, they will be a lot more likely to create a series you can subscribe to.

Okay! This has been my subscriptions PSA, thank you for listening!

[funnyanimeplace]

The Funniest Anime of 2021: A Laughter-Filled Countdown

 Are you in need of a good laugh? Well, you're in luck because 2021 was a year filled with hilarious anime series that had us rolling on the floor with laughter. From quirky characters to side-splitting scenarios, the world of anime delivered some truly unforgettable moments that kept us entertained throughout the year. In this blog, we're going to take a closer look at the best funny anime of 2021, sprinkled with those unforgettable anime funny moments.

Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid S

Kanna Kamui: The pint-sized dragon in human form, Kanna, had us in splits with her childlike innocence and her amusing interactions with her human friends.

Lucoa's Assets: Lucoa's rather 'impressive' assets led to countless hilarious moments and reactions from the other characters.

Elma's Obsession with Office Supplies: Elma's quirky obsession with office supplies provided plenty of comic relief throughout the series.

Komi Can't Communicate

Tomohito Sugino: Tomohito's constant misinterpretations of social cues and his earnest but often misguided attempts at helping Komi communicate had us in stitches.

Yamai Ren: Yamai's over-the-top obsession with Komi and her attempts to 'out-communicate' her rival led to some of the funniest moments in the series.

My Senpai is Annoying

Nanase Haruka: The deadpan reactions and inner monologues of the protagonist, Haruka, as he navigates the daily antics of his annoying senpai, are pure comedy gold.

Senpai's Clumsy Moments: Senpai's klutzy nature and her constant mishaps provide plenty of opportunities for humor.

Anime Funny Moments That Kept Us Chuckling

Apart from the hilarious series mentioned above, 2021 also gave us some anime funny moments that are worth revisiting:

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo Satoru's playful demeanor and his 'Getou, Getou, Getou' chant became iconic moments within the anime community.

One Piece: The legendary 'One Piece' franchise continues to deliver epic battles and memorable humor. The Straw Hat Pirates never fail to crack us up with their antics. Watch One Piece Funny Anime Moments on this channel!

The Way of the Househusband: The stoic Tatsu, who was once a fearsome yakuza, tries to adapt to domestic life, leading to comically exaggerated situations.

Sk8 the Infinity: Reki and Langa's bromance and the eccentric characters in the skateboarding world brought laughter alongside thrilling skating scenes.

Get Your Daily Dose of Anime Funny at Funny Anime Place YouTube Channel

If you can't get enough of anime funny moments and want to dive deeper into the world of anime comedy, make sure to subscribe to the Funny Anime Place YouTube Channel. We regularly update our channel with the funniest anime moments, parodies, and much more to keep your spirits high. Don't forget to hit that notification bell, so you never miss a hilarious moment! Whether you're a fan of 'One Piece Funny Anime Moments' or any other anime, you'll find plenty to laugh about on our channel.

2021 was undoubtedly a great year for anime comedy enthusiasts. From dragons in human form to socially awkward protagonists, there was no shortage of laughter. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy the hilarity that these anime series brought us. And for your daily dose of anime funny, remember to tune in to Funny Anime Place!

Subscribe to Funny Anime Place now: Funny Anime Place YouTube Channel

[peachy-tea-anon]

Sᴍᴀʟʟ Sᴛʀᴇᴀᴍᴇʀ

ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ x ꜰᴇᴍ! Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Warnings: none, just super fluffy and crackheaded :)

You open up streamlabs, getting ready to start your twitch stream.

You were a pretty small streamer, averaging about 1k viewers per stream. You couldn't complain, your fan base was super sweet and to you it was less about fame and more about doing what you love.

Before you could start, you made sure to turn on your signature pink lights, and grabbing a water bottle to make sure you don't get dehydrated during stream.

As the stream starts, you wave at your camera. "Hi chat!! How are we tonight?"

HI Y/NNN

Good :)

YOOOOO Y/N STREAM

You smiled, pulling up Minecraft.

"So today we're just gonna do a chill stream, im gonna hop on my world and do some building and answer questions!"

You open up your minecraft world, greeting your dogs and heading to to mine. You thank fitters, answer a few questions about college, basic stuff. After a while of answering questions, the chat gets pretty slow.

But then all of a sudden, everyone starts spamming. The chat moves at rapid speed, and you can't even see what they're saying.

"Uhhh chat are you guys good??"

So you open up streamlabs again and see...

Dream has just subscribed at tier 3!

Dream has just donated $50!

Your face drops in disbelief, and you go to read chat again.

DREAM???

WTF

DREAM ON Y/N STREAM LETS GOOO

You quickly realize what just happened and quickly thank him, your hands covering your face as you're still just in utter disbelief.

Dream has just donated $100

Dream: Check discord :)

"Guys wtf..." you stare in awe at the screen, then scrambling to get into discord, putting on your "switching games<3" screen for the stream.

You finally work up the courage to open his message.

Do you wanna join the DreamSMP?

You're internally freaking out at this point, everything was moving so fast.

You quickly reply with a

Yes omg!! Thank you so much!!

After that, you're sent the link to the server.

You turn your screen on so that your chat can see.

Y/N has joined

You walk around a bit, still in utter shock that this is happening. You're personally seeing all of the landmarks you had watched in so many streams from your favorite MCYTs.

All of a sudden, someone joins your voice chat and runs up to you, starting to hit you. They look like dream, but have the Mexican flag and a small beard.

"WTF MANNNNN" the voice says, immediately recognizing that it's quackity.

"Quackity???" You say.

"Nooooo im Mexican dreammmmm man. You can call me MD"

"Okay MD.. where's dream?" You ask cautiously, not knowing what the figure could do next.

"AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU MAN??"

He starts shouting in Spanish, and you giggle until you see the real dream sprinting up to MD, killing him with his netherite sword.

"Haha sorry about him... anyways hi!! Im dream, ill be your guide around the server!"

You smile at him, greeting him in return. As he takes you to a few landmarks, you meet plenty of people along the way. A young boy that seems to curse a lot, Tommy, and his quieter best friend tubbo. Tommy freaks out about something along the lines of a woman being added to the server.

Then you meet sapnap and george, dreams best friends. George is British, and sapnap makes a lot of sexual jokes to piss george off.

"Awwww now Y/N is gonna be dreams lover and not youuuuuu" sapnap teases.

You look at your chat for the first time in a while, and you've jumped to 10K viewers.

They all start spamming "Y/NWASTAKEN" and "💞💚" and you giggle.

After a while, you say goodbye to dream, george, and sapnap and eventually to your chat.

You can't even comprehend what just happened.

A/N: Hi everyone!! Hope you enjoyed, this one was a bit rushed, but i wanted something in between me writing part one and two of the school project series. If you haven't read it yet, be sure to check it out!!! It'll be updated very soon. If you have any requests, leave a comment!! Thank you <3

[not-a-space-alien]

Watch Your Step: Chapter 12: Welcome to the World Wide Web

HAPPY MERMAY!!! A certain merman may appear later in this chapter, and in his honor I got a commission made, which you can see here.

Another update since my last chapter, we made a gt discord server! There are many servers like it, but this one is ours :p You are ABSOLUTELY allowed to join even if we've never DM'd before, I see some of you in my notes a lot but for the life of me I can't remember all of you to send you an invite. If you're over 18, just message me if you'd like to join.

EXTRA big thanks to @appelsiinilight for their help with this chapter. Their willingness to share their perspective has helped me throughout this whole story to make the narratives about disability and English as a second language more respectful and authentic.

As usual I also have @static-stars for helping me hash out worldbuilding details, who convinced me to add mermaids in the first place >:3c

the next "chapter" ended up being way too long, so I split it into three parts. I also decided this triple-barrel chapter will be the ending to this story (so total of 14 chapters and an epilogue), HOWEVER! don't fear, because I will be continuing to write and the sequel will pick up right where this leaves off, I just thought this was the point where it made the most narrative sense to insert breaks. This story #1 as well as the series is called Watch Your Step....the next story....well, you'll just have to see >:3 I also started a series on AO3 to reflect these changes, which you can subscribe to if you don't want to miss the continuation.

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!

Story masterpost.

AO3 link

Thistle was excited by his new little castle; in fact, he was thrilled to bits with everything he’d picked out from the store, once he realized they were his to keep.  They represented a step forward in his life, transitioning to a more dignified life than the one he was living now: one in which he had privacy and personal belongings.  However, he soon became much more enamored with something else they’d brought home: the phone.

He wasn’t really interested in it at first; he’d seen Marcy, Teddy, and Colin all absorbed by these mysterious, possibly magic rectangles at various points.  He’d even been shown images and scraps of writing on them before, but they’d always been yanked back away from him eventually.  He still wasn’t really sure what they were, or how to use them for anything.

Marcy was determined to help him figure it out.  She set up the device on her own, then lay down on the floor next to Thistle and demonstrated how to pull up the contacts list.  He had three contacts, each with a picture next to them.  He seemed delighted by this, reaching out to touch Marcy’s picture.  He seemed surprised when the screen changed, calling Marcy’s phone.

Marcy got up to the other side of the room and answered her phone.  “Hello?  Who is this?”

Thistle giggled, tilting his head towards the top where her voice was coming from.  He skittered down to the bottom where the microphone was.  “Me.”

“Me who?  How did you get this number?!”

Thistle wiped the smile off his face, furrowing his brow.

“It’s a joke,” said Marcy, giving an exaggerated laugh.

He mirrored her, clearly not understanding, but relieved that they were joking around.

She spent the next few hours with the internet disabled on the device, showing him the various functions he could access, the flashlight, the calculator, the camera, the messaging app.  She held her phone next to his and let him see that anything he typed in and texted to her would show up on her phone.  He went absolutely wild for this, and slapped the screen in an uncoordinated way to put together a string of gibberish that he then sent to her.

He’d need a little bit of practice.  It was made for someone with much larger fingers.

Marcy was starting to get afraid of what would happen when she finally let him use the internet.  He seemed like he was going to explode from excitement just leaning over the phone and tapping the icons, gasping with delight at the moving sounds and colors.  After about the fourth or fifth time he called her and demanded she go answer his call elsewhere in the house, she took it from him and discretely moved some of the more…purchase-oriented apps off the home screen, disabling them so he could only access the ones she set with the parental controls.

She leaned the phone in the corner where his castle was, plugging it in.  She disabled the lock screen and demonstrated how to tap the power button to turn the screen off and on.  He nodded along, then immediately zoomed in on the contacts list again and called Colin.

“Hello?”

“Colin!”

From the dining room, Colin’s face appeared, leaning over the table.  “Hey, bud!  You sound so big!”

“Phone!  Sui ovaudio?  Min?  M’ova aun!”

“Yeah!  You got it!”

Marcy gave it a day for the novelty to wear off.  He lost interest after a while, probably thinking that he’d explored all the features the phone had to offer and there was nothing left to discover.  At this stage, Thistle privately thought it was a little stupid that the three humans were on their devices so frequently.  What could they be looking at so often?

He found out soon enough.  Marcy took the phone and turned the WiFi on.  He clung to her shirt, leaning over her shoulder to watch her comparatively huge fingers swiping and tapping way faster than he’d been doing with the width of his microscopic hands.

She used parental controls to disable everything except YouTube kids, a dictionary app, and an encyclopedia app.  Still, paranoia got the better of her as she put it back down in the little corner in the living room Thistle was making for himself.

“If anyone asks for credit card info–the numbers on these little cards–see, here?  These numbers.  Don’t give it to them.  Don’t tell anyone where you are, or how old you are, or how big you are, or–You know what, I don’t think anyone is going to be able to DM you on wikipedia or the thesaurus…But remember that some of the stuff on here isn’t necessarily true.  Well, most of it is.  The stuff you’re looking at is mostly reliable.  Well, except for the kid’s shows and whatnot.  Oh God, YouTube kids has comments disabled, right?  Yes.  Okay, you can have an account to save videos to watch later, but that’s it, okay?  You can’t type any comments in.  No comment boxes.  Don’t talk to anyone.  Well, you need to type in to search for words.  Well…”

Thistle received all her instructions absolutely bewildered.  She plugged the phone back in and set it up for him.  “Okay.  Go ahead.  You’re gonna learn English way, way faster this way, and it’ll keep you from being bored.”

Baffled, he cautiously leaned over to examine the phone, his miniature knitting still clutched to his chest.  “Ko?”

“Uh…  L-Lem… Lemu?  Lenu.”

He brightened up.  “Learning?”

“Yes!”

“Reading?”

“Yes!  And watching.”  She pointed to the TV.

Thistle eagerly scuttled over, standing before the device, practically the same height as him.  He reached out one delicate finger and tapped the encyclopedia app.

A smattering of article previews came up, an assortment of pictures, and the blinking cursor on the search bar.  He furrowed his brows.

“Here,” said Marcy.  She demonstrated how to bring the on-screen keyboard up.  “Write what you want to read about here, and it’ll give you something to read.”

She typed in clown fish.  A wall of text came up, broken by colorful pictures and clickable links.

Thistle’s face lit up, and he sat, stretching his arms out to put one on either side of the device, an extra large TV.  She advised him to sit back slightly, thinking vaguely that being close wasn’t good for someone’s eyes, right?  And then left him to it.

***

Marcy turned out to be right.  Thistle’s language skills skyrocketed, as did his understanding and knowledge of the human world.  He absorbed vocabulary like a sponge, so despite his imperfect grasp of syntax, his speaking went from broken, frustrated fragments to fuller, richer, more confident sentences shockingly fast.

He spent most days reading or watching educational programs with subtitles on, seemingly determined to make the most of this new tool he’d been given.  Marcy would occasionally check in to give him something else, kid’s literature, books on tape, podcasts, materials written for ESL learners.  She could see the delight on his face when it clicked, when he actually started to understand what was being said, the change of noise and nonsense becoming words and sentences that meant something.

They fell into a routine of sorts.  Usually there was at least one of them home to sit with him.  When he wasn’t reading, learning, listening, or watching, he did activities with them.  On the days when he was alone with Colin, they watched movies and sports games.  When he was alone with Teddy, he did crafts and art.  He painted his wooden house, a nice little scene with green paint for grass and sky blue with clouds up above.  When he was alone with Marcy, he chattered excitedly about whatever articles he’d been browsing and what he’d learned.  Sometimes all four of them were together, and she could feel Thistle radiating happiness, seeming like he was about to burst.  It was starting to feel like they had another roommate, who just happened to be five and a half inches tall.  Five point five six, Marcy declared when she measured him with a ruler, or 14.1 centimeters.

He kept a journal, crafted from Post-it notes bound into a book, written in Pixish.  Marcy watched him write in it almost every night, feeling a twinge of sadness.  The immersion of having no one and nothing that shared his native language was certainly conducive to learning a new one, but the isolation must be heart-breaking.  She made attempts to reciprocate his effort and learn, but she had never been very good at picking up new languages, and of course he didn’t want her to read his diary.  She also had her attention split because she was still trying to learn her own things in grad school…her dissertation was starting to stress her out again.

She never let the dregs of everyday life distract her from making time for him, though.  She paid close attention to him.  Franz Kafka be damned, if someone she cared about was a bug, she would love them all the same.

As his language skills increased, his accent also noticeably changed.  Before, his English had been accented in a way that sounded vaguely Italian, or some other romance language.  It suddenly veered very heavily into sounding more British.

Marcy suspected this was because of the amount of Peppa Pig he had been watching.  This was confirmed when she had to gently explain to him that oinking at the end of your sentences wasn’t a standard manner of expression in English.

He also seemed to be embarrassed to learn that the language he was learning was called English.  When she pressed him, he sheepishly admitted he’d been calling it “Giantese” to himself.

All three humans found this uproariously funny.  Marcy asked what his own native language was called, thinking surely it must not be named after the species, right?

It turned out it was.  This was when she found out it was called Pixish.  He seemed to think this was normal.  His hours with Dora added Spanish to his vocabulary as well, and he peppered it in sentences sometimes.  He didn’t seem to grasp instinctually that there were multiple languages that humans spoke, instead thinking that he was learning some universal, pan-cultural language.

Marcy was gobsmacked by this, because it implied to her that wherever Thistle came from, there was just one language per species, or that there weren’t foreign languages at all.  She had to pull up the encyclopedia entry on human languages and try to explain it to him.  He seemed to get it eventually, and he seemed embarrassed, as though he should have known all along.

That seemed to be a big theme.  He was very, very excited to learn, and eager to ask Marcy questions, but no matter how gently and encouragingly she answered, he usually seemed frustrated to not know.  The amount of knowledge he was jamming in that little head of his over such a short period of time was impressive, and she made sure to tell him, but he had bouts of frustration, seemingly fed up with being adrift in an environment he barely knew anything about.

He also expressed the desire to go outside a few more times, but Marcy always gently rebuffed.  Outside would be an environment he knew more about, and would be more comfortable in, but she was still rattled from what had happened last time…She knew she wouldn’t be able to put it off forever, though, so she always promised him they could try again soon.

Just…not right now.  Especially not when she heard that damn dog loose outside again.

It was safe inside, though.  There was usually at least one of them home to keep an eye on him, and Marcy was nervous about leaving him home alone.  But they all agreed that it should be fine if they put Mochi in the basement.

***

“You sure I can't cat up?”

Marcy turned from the basement door, where Mochi was pitifully sticking her paws under the door and meowing, to Thistle, standing on the banister by the stairs.  The little fairy had his hands in his pockets, watching her.

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Marcy.  “Sorry.”

Thistle got down on his hands and knees, peering down at Mochi’s pleading paws.  “Awww, Marcy! Sad cat!  She wants playing with me!”

“Right,” said Marcy.  “That’s what I’m worried about.  She also wants to play with her toys.”

Thistle pouted, stretching his emerald eyes wide.

“Nope,” said Marcy.  “Sorry.  If no one is home to keep an eye on things, there’s a locked door between you and the cat.  We agreed on that.  No exceptions.”

Thistle folded himself into a sitting position, crossing his arms and looking sour.  “Uhn, fine.”

“You have done nothing besides cuddle her for the past three days.  I saw you.”

“Not true!”  Thistle stuck one finger in the air.  “I also read everything in the encyclopedia about fishes in Percomorpha.”  He tossed his hair over his shoulder, then put one fist on his hip and the other to his chin.  “That's tuna, seahorses, anglerfish, and pufferfish.”

“....right.”  She gathered her backpack and lunchbox.  “That’s great, sweetheart, but why don’t you read something a little more, uh…”

Thistle rocketed to his feet, vaulting over Marcy and landing on the coat rack.  “Useful?  You're saying useful?  It’s not useful to, ko ae vi, fish? Know fish?"

“No, no,” said Marcy, feeling obligated to backpedal, as a biologist who worked in a field many people thought was useless.  “It just seems like you might want to prioritize reading about, like, society and language and stuff.”

“...but they named one the jellynose.”

Marcy very gently bumped him into her hand, raising him up and giving him a kiss, planting it right on his chest.  “You are adorable.”

He giggled, pushing her away.  “Go to work.”

“Maybe I should make you get a job now.  Pay rent.”

Thistle twirled a strand of his shiny black hair around his finger.  “Sorry!  If the…ehm…Ko ea vo…?  Government!  I'm not exist.”  He stuck his tongue out.  “No driver’s license. No security number.  No ID."

She smiled at him, delicately brushing his hair back.  “I think Colin will be back at 3 today.  You feel okay about that?  Being by yourself for a while?”

He puffed out his chest, putting one hand on it regally.  “Of course, Marcy.  I can alone.  I don’t scared.”

“Right.  Well, if you change your mind, you can always call me, okay?  I might be able to come home early, anyway.  I have a lot of computer work to do, so I can probably work from home.”

“Okay.”

“Man, I really don’t want to go….They’re giving me more instructions for that video project I told you about, I really don’t want to do it…”  She sighed.  “Well…  I’ll call you when I’m on my lunch break to check in, if I can find the time.”  She thought about saying I love you again. She hadn't said it since that first time, and now she was too scared of what would happen now that he might actually understand what it meant.

He didn't notice her lingering indecision. He was preoccupied with thoughts of someone he could talk to now that he was left alone in the house.  “Okay. Talk you later."

Thistle stood in the window, watching her walk to her car.  She occasionally looked at him over her shoulder, waving.  He waved back.  She mistook his interest in her departure as nervousness, and gave him another reassuring reminder she would call him at lunch, shouting muffled through the glass.

He gave her a cheery thumbs-up, and she beeped her horn as she pulled out of the driveway.

As soon as she was gone, he dashed into the living room, practically leaving skid marks, and hurled himself up at the fishtank.

He misjudged his landing slightly and ended up banging into it, conking on the glass and scaring away the fish that were lounging nearby.

He shook his head, then looked up.  The merminnow was still on the anemone where he spent most of his time, and he’d rolled over to give Thistle a deathly glare.

“Sorry!  Hey!  Hey, look!”  He held up his rubber fish, pressing it against the glass and pointing to it.  “It’s you!  That’s you!  See?  You!  Ria!  Ria!  Ari!  Hey!”

Nemo closed his eyes, mouth slightly ajar, and let out an inaudible sigh that released bubbles from his nose and mouth.  He rolled over and shielded his face with his hand, as though to block him out.

Thistle tossed his rubber fish off the end table; it bounced and rolled across the carpet.  He crossed his arms sourly.  “Hey!  You hearing me?”

The tailfin flicked at him dismissively.

Now was the time to break out his new weapon: his more advanced grasp of Giantese….or should he say, English.  “You’re rude.  I’m favoring you!  Ee…. aralvi faon.  Doing a favor.  Maybe I’d tell Colin you’re here?  He’ll back at 3.”

Nemo’s fins stopped their idle rustling.

“I want t’tell.  But I don’t.”  He twirled a lock of hair around his finger.  “So maybe you’ll talk t’me?”

Nemo rolled over, face scrunched up in a hostile expression.  Thistle suddenly doubted himself.

Nemo lifted off the anemone and pumped his tail to get up to the top of the fish tank.  Thistle heard the sound of the flap of the lid opening, and felt a slosh of water from up above.  He craned his neck to see Nemo leaning out from the top, locks of his sopping wet hair pointing straight down at the Pixie, framing a scowling face.  “What do you want?”

Shaking with excitement, Thistle flickered his wings and leapt up onto the half of the lid that was still closed.  “I just want to talk!”

Nemo retreated back into the water slightly, only leaving his chest above the surface.  He crossed his arms and rested them on the lip of the tank, hunching over.  “Okay, fine.  Talk to me then, if you’re going to threaten me over it.”

Thistle suddenly felt guilty.  “Er–I’m not going to tell actually.”  He knelt, bouncing with excitement.  “I just–I just want to talk really!  Please!”

Nemo sighed.  “Well, why don’t you give me a worm, then?”

Thistle blinked.  “A worm?”

“Those worms they get for you!  I only get to eat the fish food, and whatever they happen to leave close enough for me to climb out and get!”

“Oh!”  Thistle was suddenly delighted by the opportunity to share his bounty.  “Okay!  Wait right there!”

He leapt down and jogged into his little castle, where he’d stashed the plastic cup of worms.  He snapped it open and took one out, then rushed back over.

“Here!” he said, panting as he alighted on top of the tank again.  “They’re good really!”

Nemo snatched it and dove back down into the water.

Excitement fading, Thistle leaned over, peering into the water, watching the shaky, wobbling shapes beneath the surface.  He watched as Nemo sunk into his anemone again, snarfing down the worm.

He waited.  And waited.  Finally, Nemo’s orange face reappeared at the top of the water.  “Oh, you’re still here?”

Indignant, Thistle said, “Wh–Yes?!”

“I figured since you talked to me, you’d got what you wanted.”

What?  He’d barely said two words!  “Talk–I only–”

“Can I have another one?”

“What?”  He hadn’t even said thank you the first time!  “Why would I even?”

He leaned back in the water, hands laced behind his head.  “Well, they’re really good, and I can’t get them on my own.  Only seems fair, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah I guess you…Wait!  No, no it doesn’t!”

Nemo chuckled, slapping the water with his tail languidly.  “Whatever.  They are really good, though.  I can see why you’ve gained weight eating them.”

Thistle put a hand to his belly.  “Huh?  Weight?”

“Yeah.  You’ve definitely gone up a pants size or two.”

“Well, I….so what?”  He’d said it like it was a bad thing.  To Thistle, being fat meant you and your hive were good at foraging.

“The humans think it’s bad.  They think it makes you ugly.  They think it means you’re lazy.”

Thistle’s cheeks flushed hot.  “What?!”

“Doesn’t it make it harder to fly?”

Thistle flickered his wings, looking over his shoulder at them.  “I can fly, it’s okay.  Wait…Lazy, you said?  Ko, ne, Marcy is….”

Nemo grinned impishly.  “You think she’s fat?”

Thistle flushed again, unsure if that was rude to say.  He did think Marcy was fat, but he also didn’t think that was a bad thing…but the way Nemo said it…  “She’s work all the time!  Always!  More than…Pilio iuan…anyone else…any other human I know!”

Nemo rolled his eyes, idly squirting a drop of water out between his two front teeth.  “You only know three humans.”

“...So?!  She doesn’t ugly!”  Thistle knew that what humans considered attractive was different from what pixies considered attractive, but to most pixies, it was desirable for females to be large.  Marcy–and Teddy too, for that matter–therefore represented a cartoonishly exaggerated archetype of the pinnacle of femininity, which he honestly tried not to think about too much, lest his mind start wandering in indecent directions.

Nemo looked at him tiredly.  “Well, whatever.  If I talk to you, will you give me more worms, then?”

Why was he being so mean?  Thistle almost regretted working so hard on his language skills, just to understand his one potential friend thought he was annoying.  His eyes watered.  “Why would you hate me?  Ceve… neo pao…Nemo, surely you like a talk at least a little?”

“You don’t think my name is really Nemo, do you?”

That caught Thistle off guard.  “Uh…?  Well, what is it really, then?”

“Hah!  Wouldn’t you like to know!”

“Well….Yes, that’s why I ask.”

They stared at each other in silence for a second.

The fishman sighed.  “You can’t pronounce my name.  It’s only pronounceable underwater, by someone with gills.”

Thistle perked up.  “Oh!  It makes sense!  Your language does under the water!”

“Yeah.”

“You learn to speak…ahm…”  He pointed to the TV.  “You watch a lot like me, to learn?”

“Yep.”

“So you also have to have…”  Gah, what was the word for it?  He’d just read this.  He sucked in a few breaths in an exaggerated way.

“Lungs?”

He nodded and pointed.

Nemo flared his gills and sucked in a breath at the same time, making a weird popping sound.  “Of course I have both.  What kind of chump breathes with only lungs or only gills?”

Thistle found himself oddly embarrassed now, as though he’d chosen lungs only in a moment of arrogance thinking he wouldn’t need gills.  “Well, ehm…”  Suddenly all the questions he’d so desperately wanted to ask had slipped out of his grasp, mind coming up empty.  “How are you….ehm…How did you get here?”

“How did I get here?  I put myself here.”

“Well, yes, but–but how?  Where did you come from?”

“From the ocean.”

“...And??”

Nemo held out his hand.  “Worm.”

Thistle scuttled down back into his little house and came back with a worm.  Nemo took it and bit its head, chewing and savoring with his eyes closed.  “Mmmm…”

“Well?”

Nemo nibbled on the wiggling legs, pulling one off and rolling it around in his teeth.  “It’s not that hard if you know what you’re doing.  A lot of aquarium fish are caught in the wild by humans, who bring them back to give them to other humans to put in their aquariums.”

Thistle tightened his fists.  “They kidnapped you, too.”

“For the last time,” said Nemo.  “I did it on purpose.  I’m here because I want to be here.  I could leave if I wanted to.”

“Nuh-uh!”  Thistle shook his head.  “You’re lying!  How would you?”

“I’d go out through the mail slot.”

“Hm?”

“The slot in the front door.  I’d just climb out of the tank and out the mail slot.  Boom, I’m outside.”

“Okay…and then what?”

“Then whatever I want!”  Nemo slapped his tail on the water in a frustrated way.  “I don’t know!  Why do you care so much?  I don’t want to leave.”

“Don’t you have a family?”

“I don’t need things like that.  All I need is what I have right here.  Plenty of food, a nice anemone, a nice place to live with clean water, and best of all: no predators.”

Thistle looked sad.  “Yes.  Predators are scary really…with no family to help.”

“I told you I don’t need a family or anything like that.”

“But you said no predators was best of all.  You came here for to be safe?”

Nemo flared his nostrils angrily.  “I can take care of myself.  I got in here by myself, I like living by myself, and when I want to leave, I’ll leave by myself.”

Thistle suspected he was more scared than he was letting on.  “But you’re not alone.  Colin cares for you.”

Nemo grit his teeth.

“And you’re afraid of Colin knowing you’re here.”

Nemo flipped his tail and sent a cascade of water at Thistle, who jumped back.  “Okay, fine!” he yelled.  “I’m small!  I’m very small, and easy to eat!  Is that what you wanted me to say?  Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Uh…”

“And if Colin found out I was here, it would be easy for him to pick me up and carry me around and do whatever he wanted to me!  I’ve seen you crying about Marcy doing the same thing to you!  How are you going to say that stuff to me like you don’t understand?”

“I do understand!” said Thistle.  “But you don’t have to pretend–”

“I’m not pretending anything!  I really don’t need anyone else!  I’m only pretending to be a clown fish!”  Nemo’s voice had started to wobble.  “And I don’t want to talk to you because you’re going to get me found out!  Don’t draw attention to me!  Just stay away from me!  I don’t need anyone else!”

Thistle knelt again, tucking his hair behind his ear.  “That fish in the movie, the one that’s you...  A predator killed his family.  Right?

“Shut up,” said Nemo.

“Did you–”

“I’m done talking to you.”  Nemo lunged, muscular back bending as he dived down, flashing into his colorful tail giving one final slap on the water.  Thistle got a last faceful of droplets showering over him as he leaned forward to plead with him.

He sat on the lip of the fish tank for a few moments, dripping, disappointed.  I suppose I kind of deserve that.

But Thistle was nothing if not persistent.  He flickered down onto the floor, feeling in command of the living room.  The creature in the tank could say whatever he wanted, but he still had to wait a full six hours alone with Thistle until anyone else came home.  Thistle would just try again later…. Maybe he’d start with a worm next time.

———————————–

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[atherix0]

YOU OMG I LOVE YOUR MUMSCARIAN SERIES ON A03 I READ LIKE EVERY SINGLE FIC. I SAW YOUR POSTS ON TUMBLR AND I WAS LIKE EODUSHEHOWNSHSJWKUSBEISBISH

IT CANT BE BUT IT IS IM SOOO GLAD I FOUND U ON HERE

BUT I WASNT EXPECTING IT?!?!?

Anyways just wanted to say that I love your fic series and wonder,

how you have written so much in about a week?

Like dont get we wrong I love the updates

But I have never seen an series get this many updates a d words sooo fast

I feel spoiled bc all the other fics im subscribed to take like weeks to update

Your fics are legit what I look forward too and how I get threw the week

HI YES HELLO I am Atherix, the anonymous author of the Midnight Series <3 WELCOME TO MY PAGE thank you for messaging, I'm happy to hear from you and I'm so glad you're enjoying Midnight Series! <3

Oh! Most of the Midnight Series and its plot were pre-written, all I'm doing now is writing more scenes and editing others to match the changes I've made, since I decided not to share it as a oneshot/twoshot- the freedom of making it a series instead of a single story (that would have felt disjointed with the time jumps and POV changes) <3 My very first document for the Midnight Series was created on August 3rd! So it's been about three weeks, I only started posting it about a week ago <3

Also, writing's my passion (lowkey obsession, I love sharing my worlds and ideas with people and I love seeing what other people are saying about them!) and I do it for fun and relaxation, any time I'm not at work I'm writing, and I write a LOT. I write at home, I write on the car ride to work (I carpool, I can't drive), I write while on break at work, I am always writing <3 It probably also helps that I don't start posting until I have at least half that part done- like, chapter three of Midnight Strolls is already ready (I just need to go through and edit/proofread and make sure the lore-y bits make sense outside my head) and I'm a quarter of the way through Chapter Four.

Thank you so very much!! Your message made me smile so much when I read it at work <3 I'm glad you're enjoying them!!