#sincerely calling all the attention of fanfic writers

[peachypola]

[pallysuune]

Summary: You have been at the Lion's side since he first walked onto Camarth and remembered who he was. Whatever else anyone says about him, you've seen how human he can be, and try to help him in an equally human way.

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Lion El'Jonson

Warnings: spoilers for The Lion: Son of the Forest, I guess. Some good ol' fashioned fluffy smut. No beta we die like fanfic writers.

A/N: I love how different the Lion is in Son of the Forest, how much more mature and respectful he is. I've got a soft spot for the old man. This, uh, may have gotten a little out of hand.

The Protectorate was nearing a state where it would be self sufficient. Where Lion could step away without fear that 'his people' would once more fall to the predation of chaos. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking most of the time, but everyone near him could tell that he was affected by that notion. How he was affected was up to debate, though. His Risen were of the opinion that he was anticipating his return to the Imperium at large, maybe even excited for it in his own way. But you thought there was more to it than that.

Not anxiety, exactly, but something adjacent to it.

While the majority of the Lion Guard would remain in the Protectorate, there was a small number who would be joining him and his sons in their travels. You were one of them. It wasn't much of a surprise, if you were being honest. While you weren't the captain of the Lion Guard, or any other named rank, you served as close to an equerry as he currently had. You'd dare even say you were close to him. Closer than most.

The ship that would carry you all away from the Protectorate wasn't one many would call worthy of a Primarch, but Lion himself had seemed nothing but satisfied with it, thanking the tech priests and engineers who had gotten it in working order with a sincerity that had left them flustered and star struck. It was still, in fact, a little small for someone like him, especially in the private cabins, which was what necessitated him sitting cross-legged on the floor as he currently was.

He'd been sitting there for so long with his eyes closed, you thought he was meditating, or that he'd fallen asleep, when he spoke suddenly.

"You know you don't need to be here all the time."

You fixed him with a flat look, even if he wasn't able to see it currently. "The last time we were on a ship, you took a walk in the middle of the warp and none of us knew what happened to you," you reminded him, in a sharp tone you only dared to use in private.

He opened his eyes and looked up at you. You blushed a little. He didn't intend it, you were pretty sure, but his attention was always so intense that it got to you every time.

The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a faint smile. "My sons were quite upset with me about that," he conceded.

He motioned toward a chair, offering for you to sit, and, in a way, accepting the fact that you were going to be staying there. Triumphantly, you sat down.

Silence fell between the two of you for a moment, before you cleared your throat softly. "Can I ask you something, Lord Lion?" He looked over at you again. For how calm he could be, he still didn't like to be kept waiting, so you went on quickly. "Why did you bring the Lion Guard with you? Not just now, but when you first brought us with you from Camarth. You... don't really need us. Especially now that more of your sons have joined your side. So why...?"

He didn't answer immediately, glancing away instead, his eyes lowering to the floor as he thought about it. "I do need the Lion Guard. I cannot protect these planets alone, nor can I traverse the stars to rejoin my father's imperium alone. Even a Primarch is nothing without people who are willing to trust and follow them."

He looked meaningfully at you.

"In truth, I need you just as much as you needed me. I am still human."

You knew he meant 'you' in a general sense, but your heart still skipped a beat all the same.

His gaze seemed just a little more focused on you, and you suddenly recalled a rumor you had heard once that he could hear so well he could even hear a person's pulse. Was it true? Could he hear how yours was suddenly fluttering in your chest?

"Don't you ever get tired, sir?"

He arched a brow at you. "I slept for ten thousand years," he said, his voice so dry you couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

"That isn't what I meant," you huffed, flustered.

His expression softened ever so slightly. "I do. But there is too much to do to give in to it."

You hesitated again, looking at him. Your heart was beating so fast, you were almost sure it would break out of your rib cage and fly away. "Would you... permit me to help you with that?"

His expression closed off, becoming more guarded, and for a moment, he just looked at you. And then, slowly, he nodded.

You took a deep breath and rose from your seat. After one last second of hesitation - you could stop this before it started, your brain said, pretend it never happened, and go back to serving him as normal - before you slipped into his lap, sitting lightly on his thighs. This close, you could so clearly see the lines at the corner of his eyes, the silver in his blond hair and beard. He didn't move in the slightest, and his eyes never left yours. Slowly, you reached up, fingertips brushing his cheek, before you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

He didn't respond immediately, but after a moment, he wrapped his arms around you. He was gentle, almost achingly, as if he was afraid of hurting you. His broad, warm form enveloped you. He kissed you back, slowly, and you could practically feel the tension release in his shoulders as he let himself let go and accept the affection and comfort you were giving him. His fingers slid into your hair, his hand cradling the back of your head.

You had seen the Lion fight before. To think that the same hands you had seen kill daemons with such ease could be so gentle when touching you made your heart ache.

The kiss grew deeper, his tongue slipping past your lips, sweeping into your mouth and gliding over yours. You moaned softly.

He smoothed one large hand down the curve of your back, letting it settle low, where the edge of your shirt had ridden up ever so slightly. He slid one calloused finger beneath, drawing over your skin. "Do you wish to continue?"

You realized it was a genuine question. He would not stop you or blame you if you didn't wish to go any further. That, just as much as the warmth of his body and the way he had responded to your kiss, urged you on.

"I do."

The Lion kissed you again softly, beginning to pull your shirt up. He's wearing a shirt that buttons down the front, something made for him on Avalus to wear when he's not in his armor. You fumble with the buttons, fingers slipping on them in your eager haste. You felt the quirk of his lips in a smirk of amusement, and felt heat rise to your cheeks. When he pulls away to draw your shirt over your head, you take the opportunity to undo the buttons since you could see them. You pushed his shirt back off his shoulders.

He was a broad man, muscular and strong, his skin pale, with the ghosts of freckles dusting his shoulders, waiting for the kiss of the sun to bring them out. Scars mark his body, a long with the metal ports where his armor interfaced with his body. It was strange how different it was and yet how recognizably human. You ran your hand down his chest, marveling at him.

He said nothing, watching you silently as you looked over his upper body. When you glanced up, you met his his eyes. That intense forest green gaze. You flushed.

He leaned in and kissed you again.

Lion lifted you with ease, making quick work of the rest of your clothes before removing his own. Naked, he drew you back into his lap. Your breath hitched at the feeling of skin against skin, his cock resting against your sex. His hands roamed over your body as he held you close and kissed you, in utterly no hurry. He trailed kisses down your neck and over your shoulder. He lavished your body with kisses and touches until you were squirming in his lap, panting softly.

It was only then that he laid you back onto the floor, shifting over you. One large hand guided your leg around his waist. His lips pressed softly to your breast. His beard scratched your skin lightly. His mouth was hot as he took your nipple into it to suck lightly on it. His fingers brushed along your folds. Heat and pleasure rushed through you. You were slick and hot under his hand as he circled your clit and pressed a finger into you.

You whimpered softly, your hips arching up into the movement of his hand.

"Patience," he murmured against your chest.

You wasn't sure how he could expect you to be patient when he was slowly fucking you with one thick finger. But you bit your lip, trying to keep from squirming too much.

"Good girl."

His voice alone was enough to make you whine again.

Lion took his time, patient and thorough, fingering you and playing with your clit until you were practically dripping for him, your arousal slickening your thighs. You were nearly delirious with need when he drew back, slipping his finger from you. He raised it to his mouth, and you watched through lidded eyes as he sucked your essence from his fingers.

"A man could lose himself between your thighs," he rumbled, green eyes locked with yours.

"Lion," you breathed.

He pursed his lips, and you were sure it was to hide a smile, and leaned back down over you. He guided your legs around his waist again. You felt the press of his length against your slit. Slowly, he rolled his hips forward, pressing into you, stretching you, filling you. Your back arched, your hips rocking up to meet his. A long, low moan slipped from your lips.

He groaned softly before his lips met yours. He kissed you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading in his hair. He was the only thing that existed to you in that moment. You clung to him, grounding yourself in the strength of his body. And you let yourself get lost in the push and pull of your bodies, in the pleasure that seared through your veins. Nothing else mattered.

He began to move faster, chasing the high both of you so desperately needed. His fingers found your clit once more and you keened, pushed over the edge. Your pussy tightened around him, your juices dripping down your thighs as he continued to fuck you through your release. Everything was a haze of sensation, highlighted with the sound of deep, masculine groans in your ear, as your body began to tread that line between pleasure and pain, too much and not enough. You trembled in his arm. He continued fucking you.

He bucked into you and stopped, filling you completely. You could feel the throb of his manhood in you as he pumped you full of his seed.

For a moment, you both remained like that, twined together. You were panting. He was breathing a little hard, too, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. He pressed a kiss there before finally pulling himself up.

You expected him to pull away, get dressed, and return to his meditation. Instead, he drew you close to him again, back into his lap as he shifted to lean back against the wall. He took his shirt and draped it over you. You hadn't anticipated cuddling but, well, you certainly going to turn down the opportunity. You let yourself lay across his chest as his arms came to settle around you again.

Lion didn't speak. But as you began to fall asleep, you could have sworn you felt the touch of his cheek against the top of your head.

[e-pluribus-unum-e]

Haunted (1/?)

A/N#1: This is a Mattheo Riddle x OC fanfic, I did this just because I struggle with writing "Y/N" over and over again. I feel like an actual name for the reader helps you connect better, and I already struggle with being a personable writer. Please forgive me. The OC is named Veralynn Post, she goes by Vera. Idk her middle name yet so don't ask. She has long curly blonde hair, it reaches to her mid to lower back, it's also very poofy (think Hermione Granger). She has amber eyes, almost like whiskey and honey. She's 5'2 and a Hufflepuff. And she's from the US of A 🗽. It probably doesn't make sense why she's in a wizarding school in England but bare with me. Also I'll probably have smut in this at some point but that won't be until they're well into their 7th year.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Mattheo 🥵, my terrible writing, eventual smut but not until much later in the series

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Fem!OC

Summary: Vera's best friend finds herself in a whirlwind romance with none other than Theodore Nott. Vera reflects on her own love, how ever unrequited it is, and wonders when she'll finally confess to the man that holds her heart in his hands. 6.0k+ words

A/N#2: Dear Reader, Hello! This is the start of my very first attempt at a series LOL. I've written for my own enjoyment for years, but never on a blog or anything even similar to Tumblr. Last night at 2 AM I was hit with inspiration after hearing a series of songs play one after the other that reminded me so much of our baby boy Matty <3. So I have a timeline worked out and a list of songs I want to incorporate, one song per chapter, but that list is constantly changing because I'm trying to find the best ones possible to make this work. Also I'm starting them off in 6th year because yes, while they are minors, I need the time afforded to me by starting them off that young. No smut, NO SMUT, will happen before they're both well established 18 year olds in year 7. Please let me know how I can improve with my writing, it means a lot. It is my absolute pleasure to present you with the very first chapter in my Haunted series, When Emma Falls in Love. ---Sincerely, Me

When Emma Falls in Love

When Emma falls in love, she paces the floor Closes the blinds and locks the door When Emma falls in love, she calls up her mom Jokes about the ways that this one could go wrong She waits and takes her time 'Cause Little Miss Sunshine always thinks it's gonna rain When Emma falls in love, I know That boy will never be the same

Emma Hemlock is my best friend. I met her at Platform 9¾ on our first day at Hogwarts, and ever since then, we've been joined at the hip. With her dazzling blue eyes and her straight brown hair, her tan complexion, and her warm smile, she drew the boys' attention immediately. They would scramble to write her love letters, asking her on dates and whether or not she'd give them a chance. And she never said yes. Until, now.

Theodore Nott had been asking her out since 3rd year, always being met with a resounding "NO." He even asked me for advice!-- "C'mon Veralynn! What's her favorite flowers? Does she like butter beer? When does she-" "PISS OFF THEO"-- (spoiler alert: we didn't get along). But it seems he finally 'wore her down.'

That's such a terrible expression. At least, that's what Emma says. She explained that 'no, he didn't wear me down, I just finally had the courage to say yes.' Or something like that. In all honesty, her hesitation to say yes in the first place made sense. Theo had gained the reputation of a ladies' man, him and the rest of his crew. Draco Malfoy, Lorenzo Montague, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Mattheo Riddle.

Mattheo.

A man who could simultaneously get my heart racing out of fear and attraction. Fear of him, fear of the attraction, attraction because of the fear, however, you want to put it I don't care. But we'll get back to him later. Right now, it's all about Emma and her love life.

Emma finally said yes to Theo's persistent nagging, making him quite literally the happiest man in all of Hogwarts. No seriously, he ran into the Great Hall shouting "SHE SAID YES! WE'RE GETTING MARRI- OW, DAMN IT VERA!" (I may have thrown a dinner plate at his head).

So here I am. Waiting, sitting on the couch in our dorm, my arms wrapped around a pillow as I sat on my legs, watching the door in anticipation. They started dating in the summer. Emma's family had decided to spend their two months break on vacation in Italy. They ran into the Nott's while they were there. I have a theory that Theo caught wind of where the Hemlock family would be that June, and he begged his parents to let him go spend the summer in their family villa.

All that being said, they had had a whirlwind romance that didn't end when the warmer months came to a close. It's only the second week of our 6th year and they've gone on a total of four dates. It's almost hilarious how utterly whipped Theo is for her. That boy will never be the same.

Creeeeak. The door was pushed open—interrupting my thoughts—and Emma slipped into the room. She locked the door behind herself, her face looking... oh that's weird. She paced across the floor, closing the blinds, effectively putting an end to the bright sun I was basking in. I had expected her to come in, huffing and annoyed with the latest story on Theo's escapades. But this time, no, this time was different. Her eyes held a different story. "Vera..." Her grip on the window loosened as she turned towards me. Her lip trembling, and her eyes squinting. Suddenly her face split into the widest grin she's ever given me. "Vera-" "I know." We smiled at each other, one sincere and one feigned.

"I need- I need to send an owl to my parents. I need to ask my mom- oh shit this has never happened to me before. Vera, what do I do? What is this?" She started rambling, all the while her smile remained and she ran over to her desk. She pulled out her stationary and began her letter to her mother. "Ughhh I shouldn't even be writing to her about this, it's going to end in disaster anyway!"

What made me chuckle was the way she said it. The words were foreboding, but her smile never slipped. She didn't really expect this to end in a 'disaster.' "Write your letter, Em. Tell your Momma you're falling in love." I encourage softly from where I remain seated, nuzzling my face further into the pillow between my arms. Emma nods at me, eyes crinkling yet again as she leans back over her letter.

Okay, sure, maybe I don't sound as excited as I should for my closest friend. That's not the case, I am excited for her! But now's the time when we finally get to talk about Mattheo.

Chocolate eyes, curls the color of rich dark dirt, dimples when he smiles, and the scent of cigarettes and rain that clings to him no matter where he's been. To be frank, the man is liquid fire. And everyone else in Hogwarts noticed that too. And he took advantage of that fact. He had a new girl on his arm almost every day, never coming up empty in the 'love department.' But it was never love. Everyone understood he was never and would never be interested in anything serious. The problem with this?

Well that requires a bit of explanation.

I met him the same day I met Emma. Before her, even. I had gotten lost in the muggle train station trying to find the right platform, getting bumped into by grown strangers who didn't seem to notice the lost little girl tripping under their feet. I was born and raised in America until being invited to Hogwarts, and unfortunately, my parents couldn't afford to come with me to this wild train station. So I was all alone, trying desperately to find my way to Platform 9¾.

~flashback to that day~

I huff, dragging my luggage behind me as I try my best to push through the crowd. I couldn't see many children, which gave me my first clue that I wasn't in the right place. It was mostly muggle adults going to and fro, not glancing down to notice the small poofy-haired kid all alone. My thoughts were interrupted as someone slammed into me, "OW" I cried as the luggage slipped from my fingers. It hit the pavement floor below my feet, buckles popping open as the contents spill out. I shake my head in disbelief, looking up to see who knocked into me. All I saw was the back of a grown man walking away from me, seemingly the culprit, and also seemingly ignoring the fact that he just ruined an 11-year-old's day. "Hey wanker, watch where you're going!" I jump, startled at the grumbling voice ringing in my ear.

That wasn't my voice. No, that was behind me. Turning around, I gaze upon—for the very first time—the boy who would turn my whole world upside down. He was wearing jeans, and an almost too-big-for-him flannel, his curls falling effortlessly over his forehead as he glared past me at the man who just Kool-Aided into my back.

His eyes flickered from over my shoulder to my belongings on the ground. Wordlessly, he crouched down and started folding up the clothes and slipping them back into my suitcase. "Oh- no no that's okay you don't have to- I mean- agh this is such a mess." I scramble, trying to stop him from helping any further. 'This is so embarrassing.'

I squat down next to him, working side by side to get everything packed away. His hands stopped moving at the sound of my own voice, his head turning toward me as he took in my appearance for the first time. "You're American?" "Uh-" I blush, distracted by his pretty frown. "-yeah." I finally answer, a bit dazedly. "Cool." He responded. We just sat there, chocolate eyes looking into amber, until the distant sound of a train's horn broke us out of our trance. "Riddle. Mattheo Riddle. Where are you headed?" The boy asked, sticking his hand out for me to shake.

"Oh! I'm Veralynn Post, um, you can call me Vera. Everyone does." His eyebrow raised at that. "E-Everyone back in my- HEY!" I gasp as he starts laughing. "I was just teasing you Anna, no need to fret. But seriously where are you headed?" He tried to quiet his chuckling as he lifts my bag from the ground, carrying it along with his (and refusing to let me take it off his hands).

I took out the letter in my pocket, looking at the information it contained. "Platform 9¾." He seemed to ponder that for a minute. "I don't think that exists..." My eyes widen. How could I be so stupid? He's a normal not-wizardy-boy and here I am, spilling all of Hogwarts beans to the first person who would listen. Maybe if I play it off like I'm a dumb tourist he'll just forget all about it. Wait- is he laughing? OH THIS BOY- "Man it's easy to trick you. Lighten up, Vera."

My blush deepens, but not out of embarrassment. No, I was mad. "That's not funny Mattheo, I'm genuinely lost and alone and you're laughing at me." He seemed to soften at that, his laughter quieting down. "I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing with you." "I'm not laughing." "Hmm... touché." The way he said it made me want to punch him in the face.

Mattheo seemed to notice the anger in my eyes as he straightened up. "All jokes aside, I'm headed there too. We can walk together?" He offered, looking at me apologetically. "...fine, but no more teasing." "That's too high a price." "Fine," another huff from me, "you can tease if you want to but at least make it obvious you're not being serious."

His grin grew. "You're funny, Vera."

~end of flashback~

I met Emma when we got onto the train, and ever since then, I've had an unrequited crush and a best friend. Emma was everything I could have asked for; a dear friend, a confidant, and a sister. And I will always remember that day in fondness for when I met her, but alongside the sweet memories of a friendship comes the tainted recollection of a lost love.

Mattheo and I have remained friendly up to this very moment, as I watch Emma fall in love with his best friend, Theodore. But after I was sorted into Hufflepuff and he into Slytherin, we went our separate ways. Never being close but always painfully aware whenever he walked into the room. In his defense, it's not like he ignored me or anything. We were amicable with one another, just not in each other's core friend group.

The sad truth is, is that girls tripped over themselves because the kind boy I met seven years ago grew into Adonis reincarnate. They notice him because he's effortlessly good-looking and always seems to get great grades, even when he's constantly skipping class to smoke or make out with some girl in the broom closet.

His chiseled abs, strong jawline, and generally Greek-god-like physique (thank you Quidditch) made him a heart throb.

However, the female population of Hogwarts treat him like a piece of meat. Even though they're aware that he’ll cast them aside after just one night of being in his embrace, not only being aware but wanting it because no one really wanted to love him. Him. I've had to watch as everyone acted as if he really was just a carnal beautiful body and not a soul.

Sure, his core friend group (Pansy, Theodore, Blaise, Enzo, and Draco) didn't care about his looks. From what I've observed, they genuinely care about him. But after years of almost the entirety of Hogwarts not caring, I've noticed how it's worn on him.

And it's not just Hogwarts and their obsessive drooling over him, it's his home life. His father in Azkaban, his mother dead, his brother ignoring his existence. He had an abusive childhood and the roughest of up bringings. The very same women who will beg him for one night in his bed, turn around to gossip about how he's the next Voldemort.

So very few people cared about him.

And I've noticed how it's worn on him.

I've noticed lots of things.

I've noticed how when he walks through the food line, he never takes the last of anything, always leaving it for the person behind him. How he hangs behind after dinner to pick up the plates and trays our fellow students were too lazy to clean up themselves. I've noticed that whenever a girl in our year comes into class with bruises on her body, her boyfriend is in the infirmary the next day and there are cuts on Mattheo's knuckles. How he slips treats to the magical creatures when everyone's too busy listening to Hagrid's lecture to even notice the exchange. Everyone is too busy to notice, except for me.

I've spent my entire Hogwarts career falling in love with a boy, who grew into a man, all while I remained unnoticed.

I hang on to every word I hear him mutter to Theo, to every nod he sends my way as he walks past, and the rare time he asks me for my notes after he misses class.

So here we are, back in my dorm, watching my best friend's love life blossom before my eyes. Yes, I'm happy for her. But yes, I'm also, admittedly and ashamedly, jealous.

'Cause she's the kind of book that you can't put down Like if Cleopatra grew up in a small town And all the bad boys would be good boys If they only had a chance to love her And to tell you the truth, sometimes I wish I was her

I tried to listen as Cedric droned on, talking excitedly about this new book or muggle movie or something. To be honest, I've missed about 90% of what he's said. I slept roughly two hours last night, staying up to be Emma's sounding board. 'She really has fallen hard for this guy.' I think to myself as I glance across the Great Hall. Theo was sitting at his usual table, with the usual people. One of those people is Mattheo...

Mattheo laughed at something Enzo said, leaning across the table to grab food off of Pansy's plate (much to Pansy's protest). 'I hope he has a good day.' I sigh, looking back down into my cup. I had my hands wrapped firmly around the mug, sipping the warm black nectar. Emma still teased me after all these years, calling me a "Yank" for preferring just plain old coffee over tea.

A masculine rumble broke me out of my thoughts as my eyes flickered up again to see what was happening. Oh. Theo was here. And he was yapping, per usual. What, when did he get here?

The man in question was leaning his hand onto the table to my right, looking down at Emma who was in between us. "Hey, honey..." He muttered, their voices getting collectively quieter as they got wrapped up in each other's presence.

I rolled my eyes, sitting up slightly to grab Cedric. He leaned forward, but not willingly. My hands firmly grasped his collar to pull him halfway across the table. "AH- Vera let go-" "Not until you get me a new dorm and a new table. I can't handle it anymore, DO YOU HEAR ME? TOO MUCH THEO! TOO MUCH!" I shouted, sleep deprivation getting to me.

Theo stopped whatever poem or other crap he was reciting for my friend, looking up just to glare at me. "Oh stop being the anti-Cupid just because you're jealous." I turn my head, poor Cedric still being subject to my grasp, just to glare right back at Theo.

"Jealous? What the hell would I be jealous of? The fact that y'all effortlessly behave as if you got SLEEP LAST NIGHT?" "No, jealous that no one got you flowers." "Flowers? What flow- awwww Emma those are so pretty!" I push Cedric back down, turning fully in my seat to see the pretty roses in her hands.

She smiled up at me, nodding. "Someone told him they were my favorite." Her lovesick grin made me crack a genuine smirk. I sigh, feigning disappointment as I respond, "Too bad they lied."

"WHAT?" Theo exclaimed, eyes widening in horror. "Veralynn Post quit lying to my boyfriend!" Emma cried out as I just laughed harder. "Sorry, sorry, I had to."

I straightened up my posture, leaning back over my food, finishing the rest of my coffee as the lovebirds said their goodbyes. We both watched as Theo made his way back to his side of the Hall, sliding in to sit next to Mattheo.

Mattheo.

He was looking right at me. I smiled hesitantly at him, but he just looked back at his own friends, conversation continuing like it never stopped.

Oh.

My heart skipped a beat and not in a good way. This happened sometimes. I'd think he was encouraging me, I'd make an attempt to reach out, he'd go back to acting like I barely existed. My thoughts wandered to Emma. Emma. She seemed to be a natural at taming the 'bad boys.'

She had broken down the walls of her man, her man who was so misunderstood and underappreciated. Theo wanted to be good for her. It was like she was a drug he couldn't walk away from, a book he just couldn't put down.

My final thought echoed in my head like a constant ringing in between my ears as my eyes felt glued to the man who held my heart. And I knew—I knew that while I was happy to be myself—that sometimes on the coldest of nights and loneliest of days, when the absence of his love and affection rang the loudest... sometimes I wish I was her.

Well, she's so New York when she's in L.A.​​ She won't lose herself in love the way that I did 'Cause she'll call you out, she'll put you in your place When Emma falls in love, I'm learning

It was only the start of our 6th year, but every morning felt as if I was waking up on death row. Like my days were numbered, and with each passing minute, the executioner took another step closer. I've always been able to comfort myself by saying, 'It's okay that I can't hold him in my arms. At least I can be near him.'

Being in his presence alone has always been enough for me. His aura, his being, his soul being in the same room as mine has been enough for me to be content. But with graduation comes the end of it all. The end of us. The end of him. You might be going, 'Ah but graduation is just next year! You have time!'

Time? Time? It's taken me six years to get to this point and you think one more will be the difference between my anguish and my happiness? The time needed to cause a change? When him and I, two separate souls, intwine to become just us? No. There's never enough time and I'm too much of a coward to try it now, with another year in Hogwarts, where I would have to suffer not only 6th but 7th year in embarrassment and rejection. Because Mattheo Riddle doesn't want an us.

'Who am I even kidding? There is no us, there never will be. I sound like a fucking stalker.' I scoff, aggressively zipping up my bag. Potions had ended a while ago but apparently, I spaced out, only coming to when Professor Snape closed a desk draw rather loudly. It was only me and three other students in the room with him, taking our time to pack up and clean our workstations.

"-Vera. VERA." My eyes snapped up, noticing Emma waving her hand in my face. I grimaced, pushing her hand away. "How long...?" "A few seconds." She answered, frowning. I squirmed under her scrutinizing overlook. Her eyes swirled with a flurry of emotions; confusion, doubt, concern, etc. "What? Do I have something on my face?" She frowned deeper at that.

Chuckling nervously I hiked my bag over my shoulder, leading us into the hallway as we began our trek to the courtyard. Once a week we always pack lunch ahead of time, and then walk down to the Black Lake to have a picnic together. It was the highlight of my day and the pick-me-up I've really needed this past week. 'I just hope we can get there before we run into Theo.'

Theo's been really good for her, and he's been really good to her. Honestly, never thought I'd say it, but he's become like a brother to me. I usually look forward to our playful banter and then watching him whine and pout and tell Emma she hasn't spent enough time with him, but something's been off with him lately.

His behavior is as if he's walking on eggshells around me. His glances were full of concern. His questions, 'How are you?', 'Do you need to talk?', etc., etc. have been way more persistent. Nothing about me has changed, at least I don't think it has. I have no clue how he's somehow gotten the skill to look right through my mask.

I risk a glance over at Emma, eyes narrowing. She was chewing her lip, her fingers tap tap tapping. It was a trait she picked up from me. She used to complain about how fidgety I was, constantly having to at least drum my fingers or shake my knee to be able to focus. Something that became more incessant as I would get nervous or uncomfortable.

And then I noticed her doing the same thing whenever she got... nervous. 'You must have rubbed off on me,' she'd say. Well, it's a two-way road, Emma. Because your annoyingly empathetic self rubbed off on me too.

I left her with a habit she hated, and she left me with the ability to read her emotions like a book. It had it's benefits. We push through the bustling crowd, making our way to the ‘glass room,’ as we so eloquently coined it in our 1st year. It was a room with an entire wall made up of windows and an almost simple back-patio-like door that worked as one of the many exits that led to the courtyard. It was our favorite, just because of how homey it felt.

I twist the doorknob, pulling the door open for her before following her outside. There was a small friendly match of quidditch being played on one side of the courtyard, some kids were studying, and there was just a general bustle of life out there. Both from the students and from nature. As we walked down the steps and into the grass, further past everyone, weaving through all the hubbub and finally getting away from all the prying ears, I turned toward Emma. We continued down to the lake but now we finally had privacy. 

“Emma, what’s been up with you? You and Theo, now that I mention it. It’s felt as if you’ve both been… watching me. It’s kinda weird.” I nervously laugh, running a hand through my blonde curls to push them out of my face. Our black robes with yellow accents swished with our movement, though Emma’s posture noticeably stiffened when I spoke up.

She slowed to a stop, hand reaching out to grab my own and making me halt right alongside her. “Em?-” “I know.” “Know what?” “I know you’re in love with him.” Time seemed to slow. My heart quickened and my hands started tap tap tapping. I tilted my head slightly, looking at her closer. I never told anyone, I never spoke a word about my feelings.

Which means she noticed, she caught on, and she figured it out. She’s the only one who could’ve figured it out. Theo’s too dense to have- she told him. “Love who?” I spat out, anger simmering just below the surface. She caught on to that too. “Matt-” I yank my hand from hers, stomping away from her and towards the water. “Vera! I’m not judging you- stop just stop running away!” “Running?!” I whip back around. “You told Theo!” 

Her eyes looked wet, her lip trembling as she took in my ruffled appearance. “I didn’t.” I scoffed. “I didn’t.” She repeated with a firmer tone this time. “He knows you enough to know something is wrong, but he doesn’t know what is wrong.” “My- my love isn’t wrong. It’s not the end of the world for someone to be loved by me.” I shutter out running a hand down my face as I try not to spiral.

I know she didn’t mean it like that, I know she didn’t mean to have that heart wrenching look of pity in her eyes. But I could just hear what she was thinking, my insecurities clanging like a gong in between my ears, ‘Oh Vera, how could you ever think he’d love you back?’

We stood in a field. Surrounded by tall grass and beautiful wildflowers, a lake just a few feet to our right, a tree about two yards to the left of us, and the sounds of our school echoing down the hill and filling the uncomfortable silence that fell upon us.

“Vera…” My friend’s words cut through that very silence, voice sincere. “...you love with a love so loyal, that you are content with standing on the sidelines for years. You love, with a love so fierce, that you will defend and fight and protect even when the object of your desire doesn’t take notice. You think I haven't noticed your absolute adoration toward the boy? I picked up on it back in 2nd year. You can’t keep secrets from me, you know that.” We both laughed through tears at that one.

I looked at her in shock, not knowing what to say. 

But she quickly spoke up before I could even fully process what she said before, “You love with a love anyone would be blessed to receive. But the fact of the matter is, you absolutely suck when it comes to confessions.”

My eyes narrowed at that sudden change in tone, getting whiplash from how fast she went from serious to downright insulting. It would be funny if the situation wasn't so emotional.

“You watch him from afar, you love him at a distance, but graduation is closer than it's ever been and you’re letting him slip through your fingers. I’ve watched you lose yourself in this love for long enough. It’s time, Vera. Tell him or move on but I won’t let you throw away our last years at Hogwarts just because you were trying to hold on to something you’ve never had.” I flinched at that, looking back toward the ground.

“I-I don’t know what you’re saying…” Evidently, Emma crossed the distance separating us, and I felt her hands comfortingly squeezing my shoulders. “I’m saying… it’s time you come clean. It’s time you tell Mattheo you’re in love with him.”

Emma met a boy with eyes like a man Turns out her heart fits right in the palm of his hand Now he'll be her shelter when it rains Little does he know, his whole world's about to change

So I told him I love him. 

KIDDING. After Emma surprise attacked me in that field, I ran back to our dorm and hid until noon the next day. She gave me her notes and we caught up on all the classes I missed, and then we talked for hours about him. And I told her everything.

Everything I felt toward him, everything I loved about him, everything I knew about him. She just smiled at me and rubbed my back during it all, giving nods of encouragement as I stuttered over my words.

The days went by as I tried to figure out what to do. I’d sound absolutely bonkers if I just went up to him and professed my undying affection. I’d become every other girl! ‘Except this time, it’d be a girl who truly cares about him…’ I thought bitterly to myself.

Every time I started to brainstorm on how I could run into him or get his attention, I felt like a crazy person. Like someone could peer into my thoughts and watch as I spiraled further and further into the madness of conspiracy theories and red string. It felt wrong to be so… calculated with him. He deserves better than that.

So I stayed quiet, waiting for an opportunity but not pushing it. Waiting for the stars to align and him to drop in my lap. Waiting like I’ve been waiting for the past six years. My frown deepened at that thought, heart weary as I walked into Transfiguration. Three things immediately drew my attention to the far corner of the room.

The object of my affections was actually… attending class.

He was sitting in my seat.

He was staring right at me.

I gulp, hands flexing around the strap of my satchel, nervously and uncomfortably holding eye contact with his gorgeous chocolate pools, the windows to his soul. The only way to describe the emotions swarming in those very same windows, was… curiosity? Amusement? Warmth? It was hard to tell at this distance—the occasional student walking to their seat or passing by to meet up with their friends making it hard to gaze wholly into his eyes.

‘Oh how I wish I knew what you were thinking…’ I shake my head, breaking that train of thought as well as the spell Mattheo and I seemed to be under. A shoulder bumps into me, reminding me I was planted in the doorway. I crossed the threshold, walking towards Mattheo— my desk.

“I’d say I was happy to see you but I’d be happier if I had my own seat.” I prodded jokingly as I sat down rather heavily in the seat to his left. A laugh slipped out of his lips, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile, throwing his head to the side to look at me. “Your seat? I’ve never seen you sit here, baby.” Mattheo teased, eyes glinting with humor.

I felt my cheeks burn at that comment. He said it so casually, that term of endearment that I would give anything to hear him say with meaning.

Our interactions always went this way. He'd shamelessly flirt with me (making me feel as if I couldn't breathe), I tried my best to meet his challenge (occasionally I got him to blush too), and it always ended with him walking away without a backwards glance. ‘Stop, stop thinking that. He’s talking to you, talk back!’ My inner Jiminy Cricket chides.

“You’ve never seen me sit here? Well, darling, I’d have to say this is the first time I’ve seen you in this class. It’s no wonder you’ve never noticed me sitting here.” Mattheo’s eyes widened slightly at that but his smile never faded, pleasantly surprised respond with your own pet-name. 

“Wizards and witches, quiet down!” Professor McGonagall called out, dropping a heavy book onto her desk. The sound of the loud thud echoed as the surrounding voices hushed to a silence. She had everyone’s attention. Well, everyone except for the two kids in the far corner.

We continued gazing into each other’s eyes, brows furrowing into an almost challenge to see who’d turn away first. “Ah, Mr. Riddle. Glad to see you bothered to grace us with your presence.” The older woman clicked her tongue, effectively pulling us apart, our eyes breaking contact as our heads whipped toward her. “Talk to me after class.” McGonagall made sure to stare point blank at Mattheo, voice steady and tone devoid of humor. “Fuck, she looks mad.” I put my hand over my mouth, holding in a snicker at Mattheo’s whispered comment as our teacher begins her lesson. “Stop, you’re gonna get us in trouble.” I scold, opening my notebook and reaching into my bag looking for a quill. Oh crap.

My eyes widened in panic. No quill. I started unzipping the different pockets, rummaging around, hoping that with enough silent begging and prayer, one would just magically appear. ‘It’s fitting we’re in Transfiguration… maybe the lesson will be on “Making Your Own Quill.”’

I’m pulled out of my inner grumbling with a tap on my shoulder. I was bent over toward the side, in between Mattheo and I’s tables, searching as silently as possible for anything to write with. So the sudden feeling of two fingers tapping my arm made me jump slightly.

I glance up, seeing the prettiest and most annoyingly smug grin. “If I lend you a quill, will you lend me your seat?” He asked, tapping on the chair he was leaning back in. I frown, eyebrows furrowing yet again as I sit back up. “You not only brought one, but two quills? I didn’t know you owned a notebook.” I whisper back, happily shocked to find out he had planned to pay attention today.

“No, I brought one. And trust me, it was a spur of the moment decision. Deep down we both know I wasn’t gonna use it anyway. Just take it.” He finally pulled out the writing tool from his bag, sliding it onto the wood slab in front of me.

“Mattheo I can���t take your onl-” “You can, and you will.” He smirked, insisting. "Well..." I sigh, nodding as I picked up the feather. "...Mattheo Riddle. You are my hero." "Call me any day baby, I'm happy to rescue such a beautiful damsel." His eyes glinted with amusement at my burning cheeks.

He turned back to face the front of the class, his heart stopping stupid ass grin staying plastered on his gorgeous stupid ass face. ‘He called me bea-HE CALLED ME BEAUTIFUL. What the heck is happening.' I close my eyes, breathing in and out a few times to try to get control over my racing thoughts.

'Will I ever get used to the utter heart palpitations this man causes me to have? It’s like a rabbit is trapped in my chest.’ I shake my head, looking back down at my journal.

I didn’t even know where to begin, utterly lost in this day's lecture as the past however-many-minutes was spent paying attention to Mattheo and panicking over my lack of writing tools rather than the actual subject Professor McGonagall was droning on about.

My thoughts wander back to what I was thinking of before I saw the beautiful boy to the right of me. I’ve been waiting for six years. For six years I’ve been waiting for the perfect opportunity to drop in my lap, or for Riddle to come profess his love to me, or something, anything. I can’t even remember at this point.

I was tired of it all. Tired of waiting, tired of not knowing, tired of not living just because I yearned for something I didn’t have. I dip the quill in the ink, hesitating as the tip hovered over paper. The ink gathered at the point, almost falling off and splattering on the white page.

I glance to my right, gazing fondly at him. His profile, his curls, his general posture as he tried to pretend he was paying attention but he was simultaneously fighting sleep. His eyes kept fluttering shut and he was slumping further and further down into his chair.

I look back down at the paper. I’m tired of waiting. And so I began writing.

I met a boy with eyes like a man Turns out my heart fits right in the palm of his hand Now I’ll be his shelter when it rains Little does he know, his whole world's about to change

[cricketsatnight]

hi there, i just wanted to let you know that a writer named errantrue posted a story on AO3 called Occupied in the olivia benson/elliot stabler tag that has plagiarized from the mile high chapter of your fic (two days later) the hours in-between and after. she forgot to replace a "Joyce", which led me to search the jopper tag for mile high fics, which is how i found yours.

Hey anon!

First off, thank you SO much for bringing this to my attention. You are a true fanfiction hero. (Seriously like... I want to buy you a coffee. May you be blessed always.) I know these things happen, but I have never had it so BLATANTLY happen to me before.

This fucking sucks. New milestone moment as a fic writer, I guess? (That I know of. Yeesh.)

Here's the fic in question on AO3. I imagine it won't be up for much longer, because I will be commenting there. Here is my fic. (The plagiarized scene is in Chapter 2.)

I saved their fic, also saved it in screen shots... what a headache.

You know, typically, I try not to engage in... well, being pissed off online.

But lol.

Since you're following me, and have been since October 2022, hey @errantrue - what gives? This is so disrespectful. I'm glad you fucked up with plagiarizing my work by leaving Joyce's name. Incredible clown shoes moment for you! (Joyce Byers, stay winning.) Moreover, I'm sincerely glad there are readers on AO3 that care enough to look into these things when something is off. (Anon, stay winning.)

Why would you follow me, assuming because you liked my work, and do something so rude and uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh terrible? Shitty? I'm at a loss for words, think you could help?

I do this as a hobby. I do this for free, when I have the time, because I love writing. I share what I write in fanfiction with a lot of trust: all fanfic writers do. I trust readers to simply, in good faith, enjoy that I want to make the fictional people kiss. Not to rip my efforts off.

Everyone is capable of writing. I implore you to write what you want, but with your own fucking words. Not just bare minimum changes and tweaks. (Especially when you're copying and pasting a different character's name.) I think about how many of us get anxious wondering if we are writing things too alike to someone we admire, or the hellish what ifs about if there was a catchy phrase or descriptor we picked up in a story years ago, etc etc. These things do happen. I would never care much for or about that; creation is... a lot of fine-tuning and stumbling.

Don't do this.

I get sad when I am on a hiatus (like right now) because fanfic-writing is a beloved hobby of mine. Really one of the few creative pursuits I have that capitalism can't suck the joy from. Shit like this makes me more likely to extend a hiatus than come back smiling, though I know that feeling will pass.

I'm posting this and calling you out PRIMARILY because I am pissed off but also because chances are I'm not the only person you've done this to. Barring you don't panic-delete off of the internet, maybe other writers will figure that out when they comb over your fics.

Putting the passage the anon mentioned (and another) behind a KR link because they are NSFW passages from E-rated fics.

(This is my fic.)

(This is "their" fic. Fucking lol, where did Joyce come from???)

(My fic again.)

("Their" fic.)

[ltleflrt]

If my response came off as Terfy, then I sincerely apologize. I include trans people under the queer umbrella, and the trans men in my life are gay, and the trans women I know seem to lean towards a preference for men too. My enby friends can go either way (which is thematically appropriate lol). I'm not saying all the trans folks in the world have a preference for men, btw. I'm just putting out the reminder that trans folks are also men-lovers in a lot of cases. Either way, I could have been clearer that what I actually mean is cishet women + queer people of all orientations and genders when I said "women and/or queer folks".

I still stand by my point that MY OPINION is that Shadowheart is boring to ME. She's a blank slate due to her memory loss. Almost a Born Sexy Yesterday trope. And all the cishet men I see talking positively about her say she's their sexy goth princess. Maybe that weird rhetoric colors my vision of her, but I still find her the least interesting companion. But LARIAN STATS state that she's the #1 love interest.

WHY THEN, is she ignored on AO3?

Well do you know who hangs out on AO3 the most? Statistically, mostly cishet women and/or queer folks. Again, "queer" is an umbrella for LGBTQ+, but it's important to remember that cishet women also have an extremely high presence in the fanfic writing community as a whole compared to cishet men, so that's why I call them out specifically in addition to literally anyone queer. Especially in romance centered fanfiction stats. Not all of these characters are going to be involved in ships when they're tagged on AO3, but people tend to include side characters that they have affection for from canon. And I'm talking about why people might have more affection for some characters vs others. Adding the straight girlies to the queer pile really weighs down the "prefers male characters" side of the scale when we're talking about the population inhabiting AO3.

Fandom as a whole does not only include fanfiction writers on AO3 though, so OP's argument that the numbers the characters pulled are problematic is weak. The cishet dudes are hanging out elsewhere. My husband, a cishet dude, romanced Shadowheart. He's not writing fanfic and posting it on AO3. (When he does write fanfic, it's Self-insert/Rogue X-Men, and he's not sharing it anywhere because he's afraid of being shamed for shipping himself with his bae, even on AO3.) He reads his fic on Fanfic.net because that's where he finds the more Gen oriented fic. And he's the ONLY straight man that I know who reads fic at all, and I've got a very large circle of mostly male gamer dude friends that I've known for 20 years because we all met through MMOs.

So if Shadowheart is the #1 love interest in the entire game, but not among the AO3 crowd, that leaves the gamer dude bros as a very large remaining slice of the pie. I'm not saying no women or queer people love her or find her interesting. Obviously she's not tagged zero on AO3. There's just a smaller group of women and/or queer folks that she appeals to p. That doesn't invalidate whatever they read into her character and story arc, it just means that it's a more unique lens to view her through. And I think that's excellent! Not my bag, but good for them.

The thing about the original post though, is that it's comparing similar characters to each other and saying that their writing is equal, when it is NOT. I think that there is an extreme imbalance of the quality of writing and quantity of story for just about everyone on this list. I will concede that Shadowheart has more in-game structure as a character and a storyline than everyone else on this list, including Astarion, but she's the ONLY one on this list who is given more attention from the game, and I…PERSONALLY, as I specified in my first reply…find that content bland. YMMV. If you read her through a queer lens, please continue to do so, I support you 100%, and I hope you're writing fic for all the other thirsty SH Girlies.

The post doesn't talk about Lae'zel, who I started out thinking was a bitch, but who I fell head over heels for before act 1 was finished. It doesn't talk about Karlach, who I truly expected to be Larian's #1 on the love interest statistics because she's hot (no pun intended), she's fun, she's got an interesting story despite having less content than some of the other companions. Especially since she appeals to straight men as well as the queer audience. And Wyll… lord, bringing up poor Wyll in that post would have invalidated the whole thing's point because canon treats him so dirty with both the quality and the quantity of his content in the game. But they're not brought up in the post because they're harder to pair up with someone similar. (Though I would argue that instead of Shadowheart & Astarion, it should have been Karlach & Astarion instead, or even maybe in addition to.) (Also, I'm not really bringing Gale into this because he's popular compared to Lae'zel, Karlach, and Wyll, but I find him bland too.)

The original post is specifically pointing out 2 similar characters and saying they are given equal attention in the writing, and they. are. not. I joked about Jaheira and Minsc in my original response, but the truth of it is, Jaheira has waaaaaaaaaaay more story that Minsc and it shows in her tag numbers. Fandom girlies (gender neutural) love a himbo, so if it was "people just love guys more", then Minsc would be a clear winner. He's a himbo with a small fuzzy pet. That is BAIT. But he's in the game for a blink of an eye compared to literally everyone else. We get to know Jaheira for 2 acts, and her questlines in act 3 are pretty significant chunks of the main plot, whereas Minsc is just part of Jaheira's story and we get barely anything on him. And it shows! Jaheira is wildly more popular than Minsc! Because their stories in canon are of uneven quality or quantity.

The post says "here's 9 sets of characters who DO have comparable characterization, plot relevance/presence, and personal development" and then gives us 1 example that proves their point, and 8 examples which do not, the last one being the literal exact opposite of what they're trying to prove here. Their point, as I understood it, is that female characters are ignored by FANDOM even though CANON treats them equally to male characters. But their examples are weak, and their sample size is bad.

There are, statistically, more people involved in the writing fic side of fandom, specifically on AO3, who are into dudes. I'm sorry if that means there's less content for the folks with preference for female characters. I'm just SO tired of "fandom is problematic" arguments about it, especially when it's propped up by poor examples.

A common issue in fandom spaces is female characters ignored in favor of their male counterparts, and one of the biggest reasons I see given is that the women just aren't as interesting as the men. They're placed in lesser roles with less story impact, less personality, less character development, so of course the men get more fan interest.

With that in mind, here's 9 sets of characters who DO have comparable characterization, plot relevance/presence, and personal development -- and how many tagged works each character has on Archive of Our Own. Spoilers: it's pretty bad.

[roo-bastmoon]

do people not understand that couples don’t need to be up each others bootys every day 😭😭 jimin was in la for a long time , that is a 12 hour time difference then seoul he’s gonna have jet lag and he’s gonna have to get used to the time difference again anon pls chill out

Dear Understanding,

Agreed. Let's assume that Anon was being sincere somewhere in between all that gloating and snark. If they ever do enter into a long-term romantic relationship, I fear they are in for some really hard times ahead, because what's normal behavior among partners will feel like neglect or disinterest to them. But that's between them and their partners (and their therapist). To each their own.

More likely, that Anon was a troll who is either very insecure and needs to poke holes in Jikooker's beliefs in order to feel comfortable with their own ideas, or they thrive off negative attention and so come to badger and harass. It doesn't really upset me but it does sort of depress me that anyone would spend their life behaving that way. There are so many interesting things in the world to be doing. They could be chasing dopamine in a productive or positive way.

I will say that BTS is my first real-person fandom (I've been a fanfic writer for over 23 years now). And it's been eye-opening. I'm a bit shocked by how many toxic narratives persist in this space, particularly around shipping and the maknae line.

Jikook aren't together all the time so clearly they don't miss each other.

Jikook don't mention each other on social media so clearly they cannot feel romantic feelings for each other.

When Jikook are together on their personal time, it's all set up by the company as fanservice and staff pose as fans to take photos or it's photoshopped and not real.

Jungkook is forced to do fanservice with Jimin in official content and it breaks Taehyung's heart.

Jungkook tortures Taehyung by doing things like hanging out with Jimin or removing his tiger and eye tattoos.

Taehyung and Jimin appear to be close and call each other soulmates but it's all just a lie.

All the members lie.

The company deliberately hides Taekook, even though Taekook is the biggest ship and pushing it in official content would result in more money.

Jimin is a homewrecker.

Jimin can't sing or dance and isn't handsome--he just sleeps with PD Bang to get special treatment.

Even though he got no formal vocal training (despite begging for it) and no promotion for his OST and he was the only member who didn't have a demo track on Proof. He went over to PD Bang's house to discuss his solo album and that's all the proof you need that he's the favorite.

Jimin and his father are forcing Jungkook and his father to enter into the shady world of conservative politics.

Jimin went to support Hobi at Lollapalooza to clout-chase and steal his spotlight.

Hobi and Hybe use LGBTQA themes as a marketing ploy but force the two real gay members into the closet.

And on and on and on, each theory more unhinged. When I say it's getting to Q-Anon levels of conspiracy, I mean it. Part of me feels like Army should actively smack down each and every instance of it, but then we'd all be exhausted. We could starve it of oxygen by not paying attention to it, but people who are attracted to conspiracies will continue to doggedly pursue anything except logic. I doubt they will ever, as you say, chill out.

The best I can come up with is to pat them on the head, wish them well, and then get right back to enjoying what brings me joy: Jikook. Whether they are together romantically or just super close friends now, I love their bond. I love their talent. I love what they've brought to my life.

In a world where so many people want to tear things down, I prefer to stick with folks who lift each other up.

Yours,

Roo

[cicaklah]

Who knew that hitman fandom was big enough for wank? But it turns out it is. It's Sunday morning and the birds are chirping and yeah vague blog at me, I will vague blog back.

Agent 47 is not real. He is a character in a video game who is a hyperviolent, ruthless killer. He frequently, canonically, kills people who are just in the way. People who have done bad things, sure, but we all do bad things.

47 is not asexual representation. He isn't representation of any kind. He is much more of a nuanced character than most of hitman fandom (the parts outside of Tumblr mostly) gives him credit for. He isn't a robot, he isn't emotionless. He is a bit of a trope inversion in many ways by not being James Bond. He has conflicts and crises that lead to him exploring salvation through the church (H2SA), through revenge (absolution), through outsourcing his choice of contract to someone who he believes has a strong moral code (Diana, implied all games but explicit as of H3). He doesn't trust himself to make the right decisions. He also is designed to be dichotomous. He's both devastatingly handsome and an everyman who can pass for anyone. He's a savant at every job who can blend in easily in any scenario and so stiff and robotic that even when lying down he looks like he's vibrating with rage. He's a charming conversationalist and yet everything he says is a clumsy dad joke about murder. Part of the character design is that to everyone he is this charming, handsome chameleon who can turn his hand to anything flawlessly, while to the player he's barely more than a stiff limbed ken doll we're marching around our bedrooms assassinating the other toys.

Agent 47 is not asexual representation not because you can't personally believe he is asexual. Most of the fandom does believe he is asexual. Go to hitman forum, go to Reddit, go to twitter, look at the ao3 back before 2015. But fanfic writing fandom is a place where people write romantic and sexual fanfiction about their faves, and here on tumblr is the part of fandom where we do that. You coming here and not just disagreeing with us, but telling us we are wrong to do so, and then vague blogging that we're just big meanies who don't understand how wrong, how morally wrong it is to write fic about a serial killer and his line manager because it violates YOUR sacred cow? Fuck off. Sincerely.

Because even if he was asexual representation, it still wouldn't be wrong to write fic about him being a world champion pussy eater. That's not how fandom works. That's not how the world works. Agent 47 isn't real. He isn't. I can write him fucking anyone I want. There is no law to stop me. I can do. What. I. Want. No one pays me to do this. The only reward I get is attention. If I didn't get attention, maybe I would stop doing it, but lbr I wrote steak back when the fandom was so tiny it took a week to get one comment on it, and I'm a fairly known writer in my circles. Writing the fic is its own reward if you care enough. In this case, it absolutely was. For two years every time it got a kudo I smiled to myself because it was something I was so proud of. I got a comment on it in September 2020 that was so nice it ranks as one of the best things that happened to me that year. Then H3 happened, and the fandom exploded with other people who see what I saw, and 2021 has been this glory period of camaraderie and fun with other women who believe agent 47 is a champion pussy eater and romantic lead for the ages.

Fandom has a lot of unofficial rules and one of the main ones that stops fandoms deteriorating into moralising morasses is this policy called don't like don't read. This kind of thing isnt new. Look up the ray wars from due south in the 90s...and know that there was a troll in that fandom in 2015 harassing people on Tumblr and the ao3 for shipping wrong in a fandom that by that point was so dead it was even smaller than the thirsty thirteen. When creators fought back and said fanfic was immoral, and rich and famous people like Anne rice sued fans for writing stories, we kept going. When moralists said that porn on LJ was child abuse, we made the ao3 so we owned the fucking servers. No one gets to tell fan writers what to do. This isn't our first rodeo.

I get that it feels awful that people are being wrong on the internet. How dare those uppity sex obsessed bitches write the fics that defile my poor woobie 47. But kid, he's not real. The fandom is real. Your headcanon is not gospel. There is nowhere in the holy book that says 47 doesnt fuck, but crucially, even if it did, I'm still going to write him as someone who fucks. I recommend you find a way to deal with it.

[lunarianillusion]

A change in fate

authors note: Sorry this chapter took a while, writers block is a pain and school takes a lot of time. Still I hope you enjoy this chapter and this story is now also on archive of our own under the same name. Now on with the story.

a maribat fanfic

Chapter 07

Marinette had been greatly relieved when Mist had returned so quickly and seemingly having succeeded in their mission. The miracle box safely tucked in their tail, a ball of memories between the leopard’s jaws and Wayzz sitting upon their silvery head. A small smile graced her lips at the sight.

But the small moment of joy had been shattered when a. unknown presence made themselves known. How had she not noticed them, she was the true holder of the miraculous of emotions, she could feel everyone’s emotions within a six-mile radius clearly. Even if she could not on a person’s scent, she should have been able to sense his emotions long before they made themselves known. So, how had she not been able to sense them following her guardian. 

In a quick and flowing motion Royal shifted into her battle stance. Her fan at the ready in one hand miracle box in the other, Mist had her claws out and growled from deep in their throat and Wayzz nuzzled into the female’s neck hiding away from the possible danger. All their eyes focussed on the figure that now slipped out of the shadows.

To a certain degree the wielder of the peafowl was relieved that the intruder was neither Chat Noir nor her replacement. That however did not rule out the possibility that this was another akuma, albeit a better dressed one. The male wore upon a quick glance a near skin-tight suit made out of a reinforced material she could not quite place. His main colors consisted of red and black with a golden yellow coloring for his utility belts, that sat on his waist and crossed over his chest. Overall a decent ensemble, definitely better than what some akumas wore. The only things that really did not sit well with her was the length of the cape and that bloody cowl!

The male raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and moved his head to bear his throat. “I am not here to fight you, Blue Royal,” the stranger stated calmly. “Or should I refer to you by your old identity, Ladybug.”

The blue clad hero went absolutely rigid at this comment as did her companions. How? How did he find out?

Seeming able to read her body language he went on to give her a simple explanation on how he got to this revelation. He told her about how he had been there when the last akuma attacked and had made the connection due to her mannerisms around the so-called heroes and her overall combat experience. For not even someone trained in any form of martial arts, no matter how long they may have trained, would be able to pull of what she did in that little of time without real life experience. And from her reaction he could tell that his theory was correct. Great so she ratted herself out, well done Marinette.

“Who are you?” she more demanded then asked.

“I go by Red Robin and I was formerly known as Robin and protégé of the Batman of Gotham. I have come to Paris to offer you my help in taking Hawkmoth down,” Red Robin told her, while looking straight at the female before him. Though his eyes were covert by the cowl’s white lenses, Mari swore their eyes were locked.

“And how am I to be certain that you are not one of His akumas or accomplices?” The blue clad girl asked skeptically with a cold tone her eyes narrowed into a glare. The tension in the air could almost be touchable as the two continued their stare of.

Red Robin nodded at her reasoning, seeming to understand her suspicions and following cautios manner. “Understandable concerns. Though I doubt I shall be able to put your worries to rest, with just my words. But quite a few people have made my existence public to the world. I hope that when you have seen that you can be assured that I am here to help,” He spoke calmly as he lowered his hands.

“Not very secretive of you to become known to the public, protégé of the Bat,” Royal could not help to comment. It gained a small chuckle from the male before her. “Well the existence of the League is not really a secret either, hence why I were the cowl,” He bantered back. Marinette could not help her lip twitching upward even as she kept her look skeptical. For her nerves were not put to rest.

Since she could not sense his emotions, he must have a strong control over them, she focused her connection to miraculous to look into his soul. It was in correlation with a trick that Duusu had been telling her about during training. How when transformed a true soul can look through the eyes of their kwami and gain the ability to see someone’s soul. It was however a very exhausting technique and she would most likely have a massive headache in the morning, but it was a small price to pay to see if he was a threat.

The only thing giving away her use of this skill was the thin glowing ring of silver surrounding her pupil.

His souls held several shades of blue implying to someone who was loyal and strong of mind. But the colors were dull and several cracks could be seen in the core of his soul and were festering in a malicious black veins. While black could been seen as a color of mystery, which would fit with his secret ID, the way the veins seemed to be invading re-laid to him being hurt greatly. From Blue Marinette could tell though was that the vigilantly infront of her was being sincere to her at the moment. Though it took a second as she got distracted by the sight of his soul.

Still best to play save and do a background check on this ‘protégé of the Batman’ when she got back to her room. “If I were to believe you and you truly are here to help end the reign pf Hawkmoth. How would you be able to help me?” The female asked firmly as she called off the leopard beside her.

“Do not assume me to being rude, but even though you are capable the akuma’s in battle. Far better then your stand in or the mangy cat. I have come to surmise that detective work is not your forte,” Red Robin answered as he took to leaning on the railing. “I was trained in the fields of being a detective, combat and stealth by one of the best that I know of. I believe if we combine both our skills, we will be able to finally to put the plague that Paris is under to rest,” he finished.

He was not wrong she did need help in that department. She could deal with the combat part more easily now than in years past, having learned from experience. Though she had also collected some leads on the possible identity of Hawkbitch, she was unsure on how to follow up on said leads. If he truly was trained by the Bat of Gotham, someone who was considered the number one detective, he would definitely be a useful asset to the mission.

She only had one question left.

“Why now?” The question seemed to startle the vigilante before. The raw emotion in her voice a reflection of her young thirteen-year-old self, sounding so tired and confused. “I sent a message to the league years ago. Why is their only now a response?”

The male’s expression turned soft at her tone of voice and seeming to understand why she would ask this. “I have no excuse to the sheer incompetence of the one who thought your call of distress was nothing more than a prank. The suffering and deaths of the people of Paris is not something to be brushed off as a prank,” he seethed in anger a small flicker of emotion slipping from his control. Telling the blue clad hero of his sincerity.

A beeping sound of the peafowl wielders miraculous rang through the air. Six minutes.

“I get the feeling that our time is limited so I shall get to the point. Will you give us working together a chance?” And that was the question wasn’t it. Could she trust him to help her?

No, she could not, but she needed someone who could dig deep. And if the Bat had trained him his skills in what he mentioned prior would definitely of use to the cause. Still, he was an unknown with strong control of his emotions and even by looking at his soul, she was able to get more information on the male, she did not feel that she had a good read on him. So, this would be a gamble on her part. She needed a second opinion.

Turning her head, she looked at the little turtle god on her shoulder. For while she and Fu had not always had been able to see eye to eye, Wayzz has always been there to come to some sort of compromise. The little kwami always staying level-headed when there was a whirlwind around him and for that she was grateful. So, she knew she could trust him with being her second voice. The kwami and omega duo locked eyes into a silent conversation as Mist kept watch over the anomaly.

The omega’s eyes soon locked back on the vigilante’s masked once, her decision made. Marinette only hoped she would not come to regret this in the future.

“We will meet to compare notes and come to a full partnership arrangement on Wednesday at eleven p.m. at the arc de triomphe. Should there be an akuma attack before that time I want you to focus on evacuating the civilians away from danger. Try not to get spotted by Chat or LB for I belief we both agree they are not to be trusted,” the peafowl wielder informed the male of her decision. She barely made out the smallest amount of tension leaving his shoulders as Red nodded his head in agreement.

“To that we can most certainly agree,” Red Robin voiced. “Then we shall leave further questions to each other for Wednesday.”

The silence that followed his statement gave the vigilante the impression that it was time to leave. However, as he was about to take of the hero Paris called for his attention once more. Turning back to the blue clad female he motioned for her to continue. “Can you make certain no other heroes come to Paris,” her command gained her a curios tilt of the other humans head, question implied but not voiced.

“When I started being a hero, I thought the JL would be able to help, but after some research of the battle tactics they would only bring more problems than actually solve. For most league heroes seem to rely on an emotion power boost,” Red nodded along with her statement gears starting to turn. “And with Hawkmoth feeding on those emotions would make them a liability.”

“Agreed, I for one do not want to fight a mind controlled and upgraded superman,” The cowled male answered giving her some assurance that he would make sure the league would not interfere with Paris.

Being assured things would be stable until they could talk things out in two days, the two bid each other goodnight. 

As Red Robin took off into the night Blue Royal took one more look at his soul, but instead of looking at his core she observed the spectral dragon that was coiling around his soul. It was the mark of a true soul. Which led to the question: Was that Timothy?

The nudge of the leopard beside her snapped Marinette out of her head and back to reality. Swiftly she and her companions took off to her nest. She had a lot to think about, to plan for and to do and the night was not getting any younger.

taglist: @moonlightstar64 @iloontjeboontje @mickylikesstuff@myazael @scribblinggraveyard @incredulous-reader@mewwitch@woe-is-me0 @fan-written @coolspidermanmusicflower@heretopasstimebi @jjmjjktth @ichigorose@cmouse @nyx-in-line@chocolatecatstheron @bookgirl14 @toodaloo-kangaroo@iglowinggemma28 @itsmeevie01

[meetmeatthecoda]

(star emoji) for Grifting With The Enemy :D

Pumpkin!! 🧡🧡🧡 Hello, my dear friend, thank you so much for your endless interest & support!! 😍😍 And for giving me a reason to re-read GWTE, which I haven't done for a loooong time!! 😂😬 (But, the good news is, it low-key got me inspired to hurry up & finish it!! ��) BUT - in the meantime - here's some BTS info from my re-read under the cut, which is a lot - fair warning - since it's a 4 chapter fic & counting!! ❤️

LOL I forgot how stressful it is coming up with names for random extra people in fics, I hate doing that LOL But I did think it was important to open with Red NOT being a merciless crime lord who kills anyone who displeases him, cause - while he does have that side to him when necessary - that's not who Red is or wants to be.

I liked including that little moment with Red & Dembe about the parallel parking. I love those father/son & brotp moments for them, they're just the best. I tried to sprinkle those in wherever I could in Red's POV in this fic.

I loved the mental picture of Liz - with glasses & beanie a la The Harem - just leaning casually against a bookshelf the first time Red sees her... & he's immediately captivated, just like in canon. Especially with her eyes, I can't NOT write any version of Red that is not completely blown away by Liz's eyes, I mean, come on I also thought it was important that he thinks she's much younger than she is (intentionally part of her persona) & I'm looking forward to writing the reveal of her true age in a later chapter.

I loved writing a Liz that instantly challenges Red, already having heard about him (& more than that, as revealed in chapter 2) & point blank telling him she may refuse the job bc she has a say too. I liked keeping - & even amplifying a little - that dynamic from canon!Liz of always surprising Red & keeping him on his toes, all while he's trying so desperately to stay ahead of her & impress her.

I LOVED writing the brush pass scene - that moment where Red realizes he has officially underestimated her - & LOL I completely forgot I wrote that part about the condom LMFAO wow past!Coda, mighty daring of you 😂😂😂

Plus, I couldn't help the bonus bit about her stealing his phone & tossing it to him to end the chapter, that was just so fun to throw in there!!

I liked opening chapter 2 with Red still thinking about Liz, just to show how she captured his attention, even before he finds out she's been stealing from him. And I liked writing that revelation without any anger on his part, with him understanding it wasn't a full-scale attack on his empire, she's just a thief taking well paying jobs where she can get them, & instead it just shows him how talented she is. I thought that was an important thing to clarify before moving forward.

I LOVED writing Red & Dembe surprising Liz in her apartment, especially the part with Red's snooping & being confused & surprised by what he sees there. I loved kind of creating/designing Liz's apartment to showcase her true self, not her "young thief" persona that Red falls for at first. I wanted it to be clear that Red is fascinated by her seeming duality from the start (canon LOL) as well as just straight-up attracted to her (also canon LMAO).

Also I gave Liz a loft apartment cause I've always loved those!!

And I LOVEDDD writing Red super confident about surprising her & looking forward to taking her off guard by settling in on the couch & all that macho man stuff, only to be rendered fucking dumbstruck when she comes downstairs with no pants on lmfao & I included that little detail of her usually wearing a knife on her leg to show she's not to be underestimated 😏 & I couldn't help but throw in there Dembe kicking the back of the couch, that made me cackle lmfao

I think the truce was important to establish asap bc I didn't want any secrets or lingering animosity between them. That's for canon 😒 Only flirting & sexual tension here, thank you very much.

I had to include Red being a gentleman & asking if she wanted to get dressed, but I also couldn't resist Liz being confident & careless about it, while still hiding tactfully behind the counter. I thought that was a cute exchange.

lmfao of course, I included their coffee preferences being noticed by the other, I think that's an obligatory thing in any Lizzington fic ever, I'm so guilty of that lmfao

I loved the idea of Red being ready to start on a classic Red's Blacklister Presentation but Liz once again stops him in his tracks (while still secretly being impressed by his presence, of course, & I even accidentally switched POVs for no reason to include that?? nice Coda lmfao) as well as trading barbs & quips with him while Red feels awful & guilty at any accidental slights bc he can't bear to insult her.

AM&R vs. AR&M whoops typo lol

I liked the little snippet of dark!Red we see in their conversation of consequences for his enemies, that way Liz sees a little bit of what he's capable of & Red sees how she's not phased by it.

And that last little flirtation & wink to finish the chapter - lol can't resist

Ooooh, I loved switching to Liz's POV (fully ha) for chapter 3, I enjoyed describing how head over heels she is for Red already, that was fun. I liked writing about her lil movie day & chores she's completed, as well as fleshing out her AU past a little with Sam & her young grifting experiences. And her burning her popcorn while daydreaming about Red cause... same 😏

Ooooh, phone conversations are always so fun to write between them, I love trying to get that perfect mix of joking & sincerity & flirting & pining & pressing the phone close to their ear.

I thought it was important to keep (or rather re-invent, since TPTB seemed to drop it like a hot potato 😒😒😒) Liz's intense interest & respect for psychology, especially as a reason for being attracted to Red, since it kind of mirrors one facet of his interest in her. Not to mention Red thinks at first that it's just a useless, do nothing degree for her LOL

Ohhh, I loved establishing that mutual respect & friendliness between Liz & Dembe early on, that's such a fave of mine, I've always loved their friendship & thought it had a lot of potential. Liz loves & respects Dembe for keeping Red safe & Dembe loves & respects Liz for being so dear to Red.

Ugh, I LOVED writing Liz so completely disarmed by Red's relative state of undress at his safe house (paralleling her pants-less parade in chapter 2, of course) bc sameeeeeeee girl.

I also had fun writing Red blabbing on about some story as he often does, meanwhile Liz has already picked the lock on the safe, once again impressing & surprising him while she admires his different passport pics. That was so fun.

And I loved the quick shift to just a little animosity between them with Red insulting her lockpicks & Liz flaunting her thefts from him. I think those little spats give a little electricity & tension to the relationship, even if they blown over quickly, which they always do. And the fact that Red apologizes & they shake hands & make up is very refreshing to me (since they never fucking do it in canon lol fml) & also it's an excuse to write a little teasing physical contact & sexual tension 😁😁😁

And damn, I forgot how fun it is to throw a little teasing jab in there at the end of a chapter, just for fun - probably bc I'm allergic to multi-chapter fics & never write them lmfao wow

Ahhhhhhhh. I remember how much fun I had writing this whole restaurant scene, partly bc it was a difficult & long process (trying not to make all the flirting & physical movements repetitive while fitting in all the necessary dialogue in a semi-non-boring way lol) but also bc it was so fun writing their back-and-forth while seated at a table alone with nowhere else to go & nothing to distract them. I also wanted to take the opportunity to show Red's genuine interest in her as a person & let them spend some quality time together for the first time. I loved the idea of them losing track of time & Dembe having to come interrupt them with a knowing smirk. Also I def referred to the Olive Garden website for the food they ate cause I'm lame lmfaooo

I thought it was cute to throw in that Liz almost couldn't find Red when she arrived but for the fedora marker he placed out for her & then when she's leaving, she can feel his gaze on her the whole way out. Little parallels like that are my guilty pleasure 😁

Omggg I forgot about the end of this chapter, I remember I wanted Red to surprise Liz yet again & I thought the dessert snuck into her bag was a cute touch. Plus, tiramisu is a favorite of mine 😋 I also tried to make the vibe of this phone call a little softer & more tentative, not so much on tender hooks with lots of tension as the previous ones have been, showing how they're getting used to each other & falling in love at a break neck pace lol

Welp, that's all 4 chapters that are posted buttttttttt a sneaky look at my document that I haven't opened for an embarrassingly long timeeeeeee shows my sketch for the rest of the fic which revealssssss....... a detailed 10 chapter map with an epilogue!! Wow, I forgot I sketched everything out in such detail, this isn't too bad, maybe I should actually write this 😂😂😂 And I promise I will, hopefully sooner rather than later!! ❤️❤️❤️

Well, there you go, Pumpkin, I hope that didn't take you too long to slog through & there was something enjoyable in there for you!! 😂 Thank you so much for your interest again, my lovely friend, & getting me excited about this fic again!! 🥰 Much love to you, always, Pumpkin!! 🧡

Fanfic Writers: Director's Cut

[katehuntington]

2020, 2nd edition Disclaimer: ‘Kate Huntington’s Author & Fanfiction Recommendations’ is a platform for writers, to show appreciation for their work and expand their audience. I do not claim to be the author of these stories, neither do I own them. Read each writer’s warnings carefully, most of them are rated +18.

Without further ado, here is my list of recommendations.

One shots

“My Hero” - written by @plaidstiel-wormstache Angst/fluff - Sam Winchester x female reader, Dean Winchester - 1524 words     When Sam gets hurt on a hunt, Y/N is the only one who can help him. What I love most about this fanfic is the medical accuracy. I am no expert in any way, but after seeing countless medical dramas and having done plenty of research for characters and stories, I really appreciate it when knowledge about medicine practically drips from my screen. A lovely read.

“Everytime You Leave, I Hit Rock Bottom” - written by @arazialotis  Angst/fluff/slight smut - Dean Winchester x female reader - 2050 words      This story portrays little snippets of Dean’s and Y/N’s relationship as they struggle to balance her normal life with his life as a hunter. The writer has done a beautiful job showing how much of a challenge it would truly be. The longing for each other after weeks apart, the realistic arguments. It’s liberating to read fanfiction that shows the imperfections that come with being a hunter’s other half.

“Nicotine” - written by @talesmaniac89 Angst - Dean Winchester x reader - 1966 words      Dean has plenty of unhealthy coping mechanisms to help him get through his dark days, but the only drug that really helps, is you. This story is inspired by the song Nicotine by Chef’Special and was written for my 1K celebration. The lyrics to this song are surprisingly depressing, despite it being an upbeat song, and the writer has captured it better than I could have ever hoped for. If her writing was music, it would be a symphony played by an orchestra. Her way with words is melodic and moving. Goosebumps all over.

“Over Our Heads” - written by @deanssweetheart23  Fluff - Dean Winchester x female reader - 2482 words      The feelings Dean and Y/N have for each other and have been under wraps for years begin to surface during a movie night. Oh my word, what an amazing thing to witness. This sweet story is a gorgeous piece of writing. How the author is able to take such a quiet and simple moment and turn it into something so meaningful and heartfelt, is beyond me. Talent oozes from this fanfic and is worth your time and love.

“The Voices” - written by @fictionalabyss  Angst/comfort - Dean Winchester x female reader - 1215 words

Based on ‘I hear the voices when I’m dreaming. I can hear them sing’ from the Supernatural anthem Carry On My Wayward Son, comes this breathtakingly beautiful piece of fanfiction. Perfect lines, spot on dialogue and it couldn’t have been more true to the character. It’s painfully raw, sad, and tears will fall. It makes you feel for Dean in ways that are difficult to describe. The writer of this story is known for her talent with words, but she outdid herself here.

“The Things We Tell Ourselves” - written by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord  Comfort/fluff/explicit - Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester      Y/N is miserably stuck in a stale relationship, and then an old flame rolls into town. The very first line is already a winner; what a way to start a fic. The picture this writer paints of a flawed relationship is very realistic. I think a lot of people can relate, being stuck, too far in to just pull the plug. The descriptions are very detailed and this story has the reader wishing for more. 

“Promise Me We’ll Be Alright” - written by @impala-dreamer  Angst - Dean Winchester x reader - 1303 words      This one shot portrays Dean’s struggle with bearing the Mark of Cain so beautifully. Everyone could imagine how rough it must have been for him, but this writer took that pain and my heart with it. She has the ability to leave things unsaid in order for the next line for a bigger impact; it’s smart writing and it’s so effective. It’s vivid, it’s realistic, it’s breathtaking.

“Time For Plan B” - written by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters Fluff - Dean Winchester x pregnant!reader, Sam Winchester - 1900 words      So much fluff, that I smiled all the way through. For one, it’s incredibly well written, it flows so wonderfully. Secondly, the comedy and the lightness of this bit of fanfiction is perfect. Writing something that’s funny isn’t easy, but this author did a terrific job. It’s a perfect blend of fluff and funny. Thirdly, who can resist father-to-be Dean? “Side By Side” - written by @talesmaniac89 Angst - Dean Winchester x reader - 2542 words      On the anniversary of yet another fallen friend, Dean is unable to cope with the loss, but thankfully he has Y/N by his side. Another brilliant creation, based on the song Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol. A song which surfaces a lot of emotions, much like this poetic and amazing piece of fanfiction. Words that come to mind are heart wrenching, tear jerking, and in a way comforting as well. A must read.

“Cabin Fever” - written by @slytherkins Angst/explicit - Dean Winchester x Chloe (OFC) - 17002 words      This has got to be hands down the best thing to discover in a while. What an amazing work of art. 17K might sound like a lot and original characters aren’t read as much on this platform, but it is worth every second of time. The storytelling is gripping and the well told tail will not let the reader go. The way the creator described Dean and his torment, his inner thoughts and his struggle is absolutely superb. It’s a homage to everyone dealing with chronic pain, disability and depression. This fic had me clutching my chest and praying ‘no no no no, please don’t do it’ all the way through. I haven’t felt emotional about writing like this much, but this writer knocked it out of the damn park.

“I Just Called To Say I Love You” - written by @talesmaniac89 Angst - Dean Winchester x reader      When Dean gets lethally injured and has only minutes to live, he calls the woman he loves to have one last normal, happy moment with her. It hurts as bad as it sounds, but in the most wonderful way. It’s exactly how Dean would go down, the characterization beyond perfect. The descriptions, the dialogue, the details, the choices. The song that serves as the perfect title has been forever ruined for me. It’s a Rembrandt painted with letters.

“To The End Of Time” - written by @impala-dreamer Angst - Dean Winchester x reader - 2600 words      Talking about fanfiction completely changing the meaning of a song. I have heard ‘Paradise By The Dashboard Light’ by Meatloaf a couple of times on the radio now, and I cannot listen to it without thinking of this story. Dean mourning the death of his loved one is painfully well described. The alternations between the present and the flashbacks, the evident contrast between the happiness that was and the sorrow that is now. It’s beautifully done. The song fits the story perfectly. What a read. 

“Calm After The Storm” - written by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters​ Angst/comfort - Dean Winchester x reader - 2200 words      What a pleasant surprise this one shot was! As a stormchaser, this little AU had my heart from the beginning, but you certainly don’t need to be an admirer of the weather to appreciate it. Besides that the subject really appeals to me, it’s also incredibly well written. The comfort Dean offers is sincere and moving.

“Bring It On Home” - written by @thoughtslikeaminefield  Fluff/explicit - Dean Winchester x female reader - 1207 words      Dean comes home to his girl after a hunt, unable to wait to be with her again. This writer has a very poetic way of describing this sweet scene. There are so many wonderful lines in here, little gems wrapped up in heartwarming, carefree and happy fluff. I wish something so pure for my favorite hunter.

“A New Future” - written by @kittenofdoomage​​ Fluff/angst/explicit - Alpha!Dean Winchester x female Omega!reader - 9944 words      Dean is unable to deal with the aftermath of losing his brother, but Y/N is there to pick up the pieces. How she puts the battered hunter back together is a beautiful thing to see in words. I’m always amazed how well this author writes A/B/O. Although it might not be everyone’s cup of tea, she certainly managed to get me on the alpha omega train. The storytelling is strong, the characters authentic, the details amazing, every word of dialogue spot on.

“Comfort” - written by @idreamofplaid​  Fluff/comfort - Dean Winchester x female reader, Sam - 2342 words      Y/N and Dean have a routine when he leaves on a hunt, but also one when he comes home to her, and it’s such a beautiful thing. It’s lovely to witness how comfortable Dean is and how he allows her to love him, as much as he loves her. The details are astonishing, how she makes everything perfect for her hunter to return, how they don’t talk about the hunt, but just are. Very well written, I was floating while reading this and felt warm from all the affection. The writer does a wonderful job drawing the one reading in, making it impossible to put down.

“If It Was To Work” - written by @deangirl93​ Angst/Fluff/explicit - Dean Winchester x reader, Sam Winchester - 3979 words      After a much needed black and white, non-Chuck hunt, the Winchesters go to a bar for a good time. Dean doesn’t expect to run into a familiar face, however. The very first one shot of a new writer and it certainly deserves attention. This new kid on the block has so much potential! This story for instance is an uncut diamond. The writing is smart, with beautiful quotes which call back to the show we all love so much. The author of this fanfic is one to watch!

Imagines:

“Imagine Dean debating asking you out” - written by @luci-in-trenchcoats​   Fluff/comedy - Dean Winchester x female reader      Dean has a crush on a girl, Sam is calling him out. When his little brother threatens to expose his secret, Dean tries to silence him, and it’s honestly the funniest read I’ve had this month. Writing comedy isn’t easy, but this was flawless.

“Imagine depression hitting you hard” - written by @wicked-wayward-warrior​ Angst/comfort - Dean Winchester x Jazzie Baker (OFC) - 1993 words      Jazzie is struggling, but thankfully Dean is by her side. This story is an ode to everyone dealing with mental illness. The way this author put depression to words is both chilling and amazing. Dean being the support and the comforting man that everyone wants in their life if just what I needed.

“Imagine experiencing your worst nightmare” - written by @carryonmywaywardcaptain​ Angst - Dean Winchester x reader      The angst is strong with this one, because Dean expresses what he really feels, but it will not be what you think. The opening is painfully dark, then it takes a turn, and the way this writer described the confusing and anxious thoughts of Y/N is really well done. Everyone can relate to this; being dismissed and hated by the ones you love is worse than losing them all together. A good read.

Drabbles:

“All That’s Left” - written by @impalaimagining​ Angst/comfort - Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Misha Collins - 559 words      Just the thought of my favorite show ending has me emotional, not to mention when it’s put into words like this. God, this is beautiful.  The way this author describes Jensen, Jared and Misha is amazing. So true to them, so tangible. She’s brave enough to leave things unsaid, the silence expressing so much more than words ever could. Reading how everyone’s favorite people say farewell to Supernatural pulls at heartstrings in a way that is both sad and comforting.

“She’s Not You” - written by @winchest09​ Fluff - Dean Winchester x female reader - 995 words      At the night of senior prom, and Y/N’s date stood her up, until someone knocked on the door. I for one am a total sucker for a prom date!Dean; still a teenager, sort of innocent, and yet still the Dean we’ve all fallen in love with. This was written so effortlessly and sweetly. If anyone is in the need of some tooth-rotting fluffiness, this is the go-to fic. 

“You’re Home” - written by @impala-dreamer​  Angst/explicit - Dean Winchester x reader - 682 words      Another drabble that’s worth mentioning is this short story. It portrays the hunter waking up from a nightmare about Purgatory, Y/N next to him to sooth him. Beka does Dean’s PTSD more justice in 682 words than the writers have ever done on the entire show. A beautiful piece of art.

“Home Is Where You Are” - written by @muggleishly​ Fluff - Daddy!Dean Winchester x reader      Dean comes home from a hunt to his family, and oh my word, it couldn’t be fluffier. Dean as a father melts every fangirl’s heart, but the creator of this lovely little drabble turned it up a notch. Sweet as candy, uplifting and light on its feet. This one will definitely lift your spirits in dark times.

“Handy Man” - written by @deanwanddamons​ Fluff - Dean Winchester x reader - 862 words      Dean fixing a blocked drain under the kitchen sink in a black shirt and Levi’s jeans; what a sight that must be. The writer of this fic is able to describe the scene in great detail. Besides the obvious appreciation of the gorgeous man, it’s great to see him doing something normal and domesticated. It’s the life we all wish for him. A great little drabble for a Sunday morning with a cup of tea by the side.

“One For Tomorrow, One Just For Today” - written by @thoughtslikeaminefield Explicit/fluff - Dean Winchester x reader - 662 words      Sex with Dean is always amazing, but there’s nothing hotter than him singing a classic while he’s doing it. After reading this, that famous song by The Doors will never sound the same. Sit back, relax and listen to the music.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the work of the authors above, don’t be afraid to let them know. I’m sure they will appreciate it. Feel free to share!

If you have any suggestions or would like a tag in the future, drop a request in my inbox or send me a message.

Love, Kate

[lemony-snickers]

Hey hey hey hey hey

Don't feel bad about stuff you do in your writing.

Seriously.

If there's one thing I learned about in my writing Journey it's to pay the most attention to READER feedback than fellow writers. Get us all together and suddenly we turn into elitist dicks that think there's only one way to write anything.

The novel I published legit commits EVERY writing taboo in the writing world.

SO.

Yeah take notes, always take notes especially for things that you know you do, IF YOU WANT to change that thing, check and do so.

IF YOU ARE FINE writing how you do, let them shit.

Just because someone looks at a pie and calls it shit doesn't make it stink, and readers aren't going to know what the fuck the shitters are calling shit when they're hungry and looking at their favorite pie.

If you really really really want, check out the series: Dear Authors.

I know your a fanfic writer but I feel like it can still help alot.

It's a series done by a youtuber named Merphy Napier.

It's from readers to writers about stuff they wish we would write.

And guess what: all the elitist dicks would be PISSED off they ever find out what readers actually want 😂

Sincerely, a fan of your fiction, and fellow writer. 💕

hey there. first of all, congratulations on your novel! that's awesome!

secondly, i appreciate your kind words. it's very nice of you to reach out. <3

i started reading up about this writing thing i do that apparently is a Bad Thing and what is sort of interesting about it is the only discourse i can find about the Thing is fandom-specific.

so apparently it is a writing tic that most people don't consider as much an issue outside fandom? at least from what i can find. which might be why i've been able to skirt through years of writing workshops and college courses without anyone saying, "oh hey lemony, maybe don't do this."

(or maybe i am also bad at internet searching, who knows! lol.)

idk. it was a reminder for me that if i don't want to feel bad about my writing, i really just have to be careful about where i engage about it. because i am apparently too sensitive to listen to folks shred apart the way i write, even when they have absolutely zero idea that's what they're doing.

it just sucks because now every time i do it, i know i'm gonna feel like, "oh right, here is that Bad Thing i do that people think is stupid."

[hopeswriting]

Hullo hullo Hopes, it's for the ask game ! 4, 23 and 43 ? :O

Hi there, thank you for the ask!

4. Link your three favorite fics right now.

I simply could not only choose three of them, so you get six instead, in no particular order.

come get me by MakeItVoid on ffnet (Katekyo Hitman Reborn).

Reborn waits a little impatiently for someone to come get him. He doesn't know what to do now. The fire is creeping closer. (Reborn doesn't want to die like this.) 

It’s a one-shot, with the exact dynamic I reach for in all my Arco fics, and it hits just all the spots for me. Simply cannot recommend it enough.

Just Another Tuesday by ariathal2410 on ffnet (Katekyo Hitman Reborn).

Tsuna doesn't know why all this supernatural shit started happening in his life, but he'd really like it to stop now please. Mild Arco27

OR in which Tsuna attracts too much attention because he's surprisingly good at recognizing supernatural beings (and he's just too cute to resist).

A 10k one-shot where Tsuna is in college, and keeps stumbling upon these supernatural creatures that then just never leave his life. Very domestic fluff like, and never fails to brighten my mood when I need it. Very funny too.

Survivor by atruwriter on ffnet (Harry Potter).

Waiting. He was always waiting. He'd already buried one best friend and now the other will follow. There was nothing he could do or say. There was no Harry without Hermione. Ron witnessed the beginning and now he must accept the end. HHr. 4parts Complete! 

It’s been a long time since I reread this one tbh, but as long as you’re a Hhr shipper or just don’t mind the ship? I recommend it a thousand times.

It’s written from Ron’s pov, and is written so well, and I remember having called it a masterpiece after I read it, and I still stand by it. Just a very beautiful fic in all its tragedy.

Sincerely, Scattered Shards by You_Light_The_Sky on ao3 (Katekyo Hitman Reborn).

Tsuna’s the foolish type to give a bit of his heart to anyone he meets. No one ever wanted his ugly heart shards until he met his Guardians. No one ever treasured his heart shards until them either. Hints of All27 and R27. 

It’s an ongoing fic, and I don’t remember it in details anymore lol, but just read it. You want to read it. You won’t regret reading it if it seems the type of fic you might like.

It’s beautiful, and sad, and a bit tragic at times, but then Tsuna starts finding his Guardians and it becomes a little better. And worth it.

Those Last Few Memories by Ourliazo on ao3 (Katekyo Hitman Reborn).

In one future, the Arcobaleno band together and try to fight off the Anti Tri-ni-set radiation. 

As the author says, “ this story follows their slow descent into death”, and it’s low key fucking heartbreaking, and high key gets you in the feels and makes you want to bawl your eyes out, so really, I can only recommend it asdfgh.

Target Acquired: Wicked Jester by poorasdirt on ao3 (Katekyo Hitman Reborn).

Colonnello has always been a military man. He understood what led to him being cursed. He understood why the others had been cursed. Or, well, why most of the others had been cursed. Skull's motivations had always been a mystery to him. Now that the curse had been lifted, Colonnello could finally sit back and try to puzzle it out. If only it were that easy.

Or Colonnello's instincts were telling him something wasn't right and curiosity only kills cats.

NELLO/SKULL SUPREMACY. Also told in Nello’s pov so Nell-centric. But also entirely about Skull, so Skull-centric. What more do you want??

Azesdfgh ahem, jokes aside. This one is seriously good. Not just because it’s focused first on Nello & Skull relationship (it’s actually a gen fic lol, my bad), or because it has just the right amount of Poly!Arco hinted for us shippers even if it’s platonic/found family.

The fic gives Skull a very in depth and intricate backstory, and for having read my fair share of Skull-centric fics, it’s a very original one. A very mysterious one too, and the fic has a spy/thriller aspect to it that’s very fun to read, as you discover more and more about Skull along with the Arco.

Some of Skull’s backstory also tie with canon worldbuilding the author then expands with their own take on it, and even if it’s a characters driven story, and the plot is only really there first to enhance that fact, it still gets you curious to see it unfold.

And of course the Arco interactions with each other. The fic has a very low key found family vibes fitting to it, but that are very present nonetheless, and feel genuine and heartwarming.

Though there’s some Sky Arco, and specifically Uni and Aria antagonism, but as a Giglio Nero stan myself, it’s not present enough you can’t overlook it if you try.

So if you like Skull and/or Colonnello and/or found family Arco and you didn’t read the fic yet? Don’t wait any longer!

23. What’s your absolute favorite trope to write? 

Already answered this one so I’ll just copy past it!

I’ve been thinking about it, and it’s gotta be Hurt/Comfort, both as a writer and a reader. And this is probably just me projecting lol, but there’s just something in seeing characters be hurt/hurting, knowing they’ll have/will be given care after that speaks to me.

Also I guess it’s pretty obvious to say it, but mostly as a reader, the hurt must come with comfort. Or at least I need to be 100% certain the comfort will come at some point, and will matter.

And I actually think that’s why I can only handle so much amount of angst, because unless it’s tagged for it (and even then, I find Angst with a Happy Ending and such, and Hurt/Comfort just don’t hit the same way), you never know if it’ll be  worth it in the end. And I’m a big softie so I can’t handle it zsdfgdsc.

A very close second favorite trope, also both as a writer and a reader, is when any characters with Responsibilities/Duties/Expectations (namely The Chosen One trope and such) just say fuck it all and does fuck it all.

Either by finding a solution that won’t leave them incredibly traumatized when all’s said and done, or by actually fucking off and making it everyone else’s problem.

I find it’s mostly present in Dark![Character Name] fics, which I also love to write and read, so it all works out for me lol.

43. Talk about a positive experience with fanfiction or the fanfiction community that you will always remember.

Mmmh, not sure if I have one yet? I only really started trying to get involved in the fanfiction community last year, so I feel maybe I’m not quite there to have these type of experiences.

That said, I can only talk about that one time I did a fanfic event for the first time, and @chierry was there every step of the way, leaving me a comment on each of my fics, and that was incredibly motivating. Felt really amazing too, and made the event that much more fun, so shoutout to her<3.

Also shoutout to that one time where we got Arco brainrot at the same time on the same frequency, and kind of just went nuts about it for a while zsdxfgh. That was very fun too!<3

[sinnerandafool]

Winter to Spring - My Skyrim Thieves Guild Fanfic

This is my Skyrim fanfic, based loosely on my current play through. If you are able to use mods, I highly recommend Take Notes - Journal of the Dragonborn. Writing a journal as my character definitely made me more invested in her story. 

Here is the link to the whole story on Ao3 x.

I’m a rookie fic writer, so any feedback is appreciated, but mostly I hope you enjoy it, and that it serves as a good distraction from the hellscape we live in (Americans). 

Title: Winter to Spring

Chapters: 4/?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (the MC experienced some in her past, and is experiencing sexual harassment in the first chapter.)

Rating: M (for violence, eventual sexual content)

Relationship: Brynjolf / Female Dovahkiin

Chapter 1

Aerlith woke alone, drowsily opening her eyes as the sounds of morning birds and running water filtered into her consciousness. A piney scent permeated the little fur tent. She rolled to one side, her sore muscles protesting. She closed her eyes, trying to fall back into the delicious dream she had been having. All she recalled were light touches, warm embraces, and a soft, deep voice calling her name. Well, not her name precisely. No one knew her true name, only the false one she used day to day. She sighed. For the thousandth time in her life, she cursed her past for making her a fugitive. She rolled over again, restlessly seeking sleep, but hunger nagged at her stomach, so she reluctantly got up and exited the tent.

Sitting on a boulder next to the stream babbling by, she stared up at the entrance of the ruin before her. The Twilight Sepulcher. The trials of the Pilgrim’s Path were still painfully fresh in her mind. Aerlith never liked ruins. The smell of decay, the damp darkness, and worst of all, the deafening silence, which often signaled the presence of slumbering draugr. She shuddered, recalling their evil glowing eyes and hollow flesh.

Despite her fear, Aerlith had been successful in her mission to return the Skeleton Key to its rightful place. She felt apathetic about Nocturnal, and suspected the lady of twilight felt similarly about her. Daedric princes were never concerned with the fates of their human worshippers, and to Aerlith it seemed a tad foolish to risk one’s life in exchange for unreliable favor. But no matter her skepticism, she’d completed Nocturnal’s trial, and at last reached the Ebonmere, where she returned the Skeleton Key. She didn’t do it for Nocturnal. She did it for her family.

She smiled sadly, thinking about Karliah and Gallus, saying their final goodbyes before he faded into the Evergloam. Gallus had extended his spectral hand to touch his beloved’s cheek with such tenderness and sincerity it made her heart ache. “Farewell,” Karliah had intoned softly, leaning into his intangible touch. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Her voice was even, and Aerlith couldn’t see her face, but something in her tone betrayed absolute misery at the parting.

Aerlith took the last bite of her apple and stood. She stretched, then set about packing up her camp. She was tired, yes, but she was also brimming with excitement. Nocturnal would no longer sabotage the luck of the guild, and their chances of success would increase. The wealth would marginally improve the lives of her newfound family, and she couldn’t wait to share in their happiness. And, of course, she was curious about what he would have to say.

Aerlith hired a carriage to take her from Falkreath to Riften, opting for comfort and rest in exchange for one hundred-fifty hard earned septims. But it was worth it, she thought, snuggled under a warm fur cloak and hood, watching the scenery pass by idly while the horse did all the work. Her life for the past few weeks had been constant hiking, camping and delving into dangerous ruins. She was ready for a break.

One long day and night later, the carriage creaked its way up a gentle rise, and Riften Stables came into view. Feeling lethargic and in need of exercise, Aerlith tapped the driver on the shoulder and asked him to let her off. He obliged, and urged his horse up the road without her.

She strolled languidly along the road, slowly stretching her stiff legs. The Rift was blooming. The aspens sprouted new leaves, wildflowers grew madly across the landscape, and birds were everywhere, singing their chirruping songs. Aerlith breathed in the clean spring air, intoxicated by the warmth and life of it all. After the dank Sepulcher and gloomy Falkreath hold, this was paradise.

By and by she reached the main gate of Riften, nodding to the guards in their livery, who smiled coyly at her as she passed. They knew who she was, or at least, they knew her reputation in the hold. She had been gone for a long time, and among the nosy guards there were several betting pools on whether she’d make it back alive. The guard guffawed and shook hands with his partner, who reluctantly tossed him a purse. Arielle had returned home at last, and he was rich.

Aerlith skirted the marketplace, moving quickly along the perimeter towards the keep. Though it was a warm day, she pulled her hood securely over her face, and kept her head down. Thankfully, it was a busy time in the market, so she was able to slip through without attracting much attention.

At the secret back entrance to the cistern, she nudged the button and waited for the coffin to slide back. As usual it made an unpleasantly loud grinding sound, and she wondered for the hundredth time why none of the citizens ever commented on it, or attempted to gain entry. It was another strange feature of Riften life. She still wasn’t used to the confounding apathy that permeated the city.

Below, she lifted the hatch and descended the ladder into the darkness. Though the cistern was damp and cool, warmth spread from her heart when she saw her guildmates gathered on the center dais. Everyone was here, safe, and from the looks of it listening raptly to Karliah. The dark elf stood beside Brynjolf, entertaining the small crowd with her part of the tale of the Skeleton Key’s return. Arielle approached silently to listen.

“I was working to clear some rubble when I saw the portal glow to life. I knew what must have happened, and I eagerly stepped through it and into Nocturnal’s sanctum. I just managed to catch the lady fading back into her realm, and then I saw Arielle. Her face was the perfect picture of shock. I called out to her and she looked at me as if from a hundred miles away. I swear I’ve never seen her look so bewildered.” Karliah smiled, and Brynjolf chuckled softly, looking thoughtful.

“In all fairness,” Aerlith said softly, feeling the eyes of her guildmates shift to her, “If you’d just taken a leap of faith, fallen toward your certain death, and then come face to face with a daedric prince for the first time, I imagine you’d look the same, Karliah,” she smiled, meeting her friends’ eyes.

Karliah beamed at her. “Welcome back Arielle!” She crossed the dais and pulled her into a tight hug. “Would you care to share your side of the story?”

“At the moment, all I would like is a bath and a bottle of Surilie wine,” she said, smiling. “And, to be honest, I think our lady would like to keep some of her secrets sacred.” Aerlith winked at Rune, who was staring at her with boldfaced shock.

Brynjolf stepped toward her, smiling. “Well done, lass. It’s good to see you in one piece.” He clapped her shoulder, then became more serious. “I’m not much good at things like this, but I need to thank you for all you’ve done for the guild. I’m so proud-”

“Oh, enough fluff Brynjolf,” Vex said exasperatedly. “We’re all happy. Let the poor woman have her bath in peace.”

Karliah grinned and squeezed Aerlith’s hand. “Indeed. Let’s all go to the Flagon and have a proper celebration!”

The guild all made approving noises and began to filter out, several of the members stopping to offer words of encouragement to Aerlith.

“Arielle!” exclaimed one, a handsome, burly nord with striking warpaint beneath his eyes. “I’m so glad you returned safely. ” He took her hand and kissed it, never breaking eye contact. “My sword and bow are always at the ready for you. You need not fear any foe with me by your side.”

“Hello Thrynn,” Aerith said tiredly. “Pleasure as always.” She pulled her hand away. “But I really would like to go relax now. It was a long journey from Falkreath. If you’ll excuse me.”

He stepped closer, a mischievous smile on his face. “Perhaps you’d like some company in the bath, little dove,” he growled softly, his voice like the ragged edge of an old battleaxe.  She could feel his breath on her ear. A chill ran down her neck, goosebumps rising.

“No,” she said firmly, “Thank you.” She pulled away from him, and strode, head held high across the cistern to the entrance of the baths.

Thrynn admired her retreating figure until it vanished into darkness. He turned to go to the Flagon, but was stopped short in his tracks by Brynjolf, who leaned against a wall by the door, face wreathed in shadow. Thrynn scowled. “What are you doing skulking around like that, Brynjolf? Out of the way.” He tried to push past, but Brynjolf stopped him.

“When will you give it up, Thrynn?”

“Give what up?”

“Arielle. I don’t know how many times you need to be rejected for the message to come across loud and clear,” Brynjolf stood up, taking a step closer.

Thrynn laughed heartily at the threat. “You know nothing of women if you thought that was rejection,” he said, his voice dripping with menace. “Women always play hard to get.” He smiled lasciviously then continued, “That’s what makes Arielle so irresistibly delicious.”

Brynjolf’s mouth set into a grim line. “Don’t talk about her that way. She’s not a blushing lady for you to seduce. She is your sister in arms,” he said forcefully.

The bandit chuckled. “Not like you to be so hypocritical, Brynjolf. You hold your subordinates to a higher standard than yourself.”

“Not sure what you are implying, but I advise you to choose your next words very carefully.” Brynjolf’s green eyes hardened, the anger in them sharper than the finest glass dagger.

Thrynn swallowed. “Everyone knows about you and the fence,” he said boldly.

“Oh yes?” Brynjolf smiled darkly at Thrynn, and the bandit wondered for a moment if he should be ready to brawl. “Get out of my sight,” the second in command spat at him.

Relieved, Thrynn pushed past his superior and rushed through the door to the Flagon. Brynjolf frowned, his brow furrowed, and stared off into the darkness where Arielle had been a moment before.

Aerlith had never been so happy to sink into a hot bath. She wasted no time, quickly shimmying out of her light armor, leaving it in a heap on the floor. She lowered herself indulgently into the water. The grime from the Sepulcher, the dust from the road, and the cold of Skyrim that permeated her bones gave way to the warmth of the water. She glowed with happy contentment. She was home among her friends again. The faces of Karliah, Vex, Brynjolf and Delvin brought such joy to her. After her lonely sojourn through Skyrim, she had everything she needed. And Brynjolf was proud of her. His warm green eyes and welcome smile made her glow even brighter. She grabbed up her soap and began to wash, smiling to herself.

Her mind wandered unbidden back to Thrynn. The former bandit was friendly enough, though difficult to trust at the best of times. But his constant flirting was beginning to be more than just a minor annoyance. She’d failed to reject him firmly enough the first time, and he had been ignoring her subsequent tries with horrifyingly admirable gumption.

When Aerlith first joined the guild, Thrynn, along with practically every other man with eyes had been quite open about their interest in her. At first she had blushed furiously red when they complimented her, or touched her. She would always freeze in place and clam up, her mind unable to form thoughts, her mouth unable to speak. Her innocent reaction made them laugh, at which point they would ruffle her hair and leave her to go about their business. Aerlith began spending more time with Vex, observing how her friend would openly laugh at the men accosting her, and she learned how to handle unwanted advances with more confidence. As she rejected the men, one by one they moved on. It was better this way. She hoped their interest stemmed merely from her novelty, and not from any other motives.

Thrynn was not as easy to deal with. He pushed past her discouragement, whether it was polite or harsh. He continued to harass her, to touch her, to whisper vile things in her ear that made her blush. She felt beat down by his constant disregard for her wish to be left alone, and had resolved to just ignore him when she could. It reminded her a little too much of the way Jarl Siddgeir’s sneering, lecherous expression, when he cornered her in the darkened servant’s quarters all those months ago. She shuddered at the memory. She could still feel his body weight pressing her into the wall, the hard length of his arousal grinding into her angrily. Something died within her that night. She had no skills, no strength, and no way out. Her silver eyes hardened. Things had changed. If she ever met Siddgeir again, she would have her revenge.

Aerlith soaped her long, pale blonde hair, gently teasing out the tangles. She never felt more powerful, more able to protect herself at this moment. The frightened and helpless girl she once was had grown into a dangerous woman. Her mediocre skills with a dagger, which had been scoffed at by Vilkas of Jorrvaskr, had improved under Brynjolf’s friendly tutelage. Thanks to him, and to the other members of the guild who shared their expertise, Aerlith was silent, fast, and deadly.

Feeling clean and refreshed, Aerlith allowed herself a moment to wallow in the hot water. There was one man in the guild who was ostensibly uninterested in her: Brynjolf. His attentions to her were friendly, but professional. He patiently taught her the tools of a thief’s trade, gently correcting her when she needed it. She was grateful that he did not ridicule her inexperience. He offered his advice after giving her a job, and usually ended by staring her down with his shiny green eyes as he said, “And be careful, lass.”

When she returned successful and pocket jingling with coin, he would clap her on the back or shoulder, offering her encouragement and smiles that she hoped contained pride. She was his protege, after all. Thanks to Brynjolf, Aerlith had a safe place to sleep, and a well paying job that allowed her to keep a low profile. She was more than grateful to him, and their relationship was more than a simple friendship. But whether her feelings for him were platonic was a question she desperately tried to avoid. She knew he didn’t see her as anything more than a pupil.

However, Aerlith occasionally caught him staring at her from across rooms, his eyes serious as he contemplated her. It seemed unfair to her that she couldn’t decipher the meaning behind this. It was all too easy to imagine that he felt something for her too. On the night they met, Brynjolf flirted with her shamelessly, and though she knew now that his attention had been false, simply a means to an end, her attraction and interest in him that night was real.

Another memory fought its way to the surface. The guild threw a large celebration when the three Nightingales returned successful, Mercer dead and Karliah safely home again with her honor restored. That night, Aerlith begged off an arm wrestling match with Vex, opting to take a cup of wine to a quiet table on the outer ring of the din. There she sat and watched the merriment, laughing as Vekel hit on Tonilia and she slapped him forcefully for his impertinence, nearly knocking the slight man down. Tonilia huffed away, going to sit across from Brynjolf at his table. As Aerlith’s eyes followed the woman in amusement, they lit upon Brynjolf and stuck there. He was watching her again. She looked back at him, surprised. She couldn’t make out the expression on his face. The shadows made it too difficult to see, but the glint in his eyes couldn’t be mistaken.

She didn’t look away. Neither did he. Aerlith felt heat beginning to rise in her cheeks, but she was transfixed. His green eyes shone at her as he leaned forward into the candlelight, resting his chin on his hand. The light revealed his faintly amused smile, which she returned hesitantly. But then, Tonilia said something to him and he looked away, the tension released. Aerlith felt let down. The rumors of Brynjolf and Tonilia’s romantic involvement may not have been true, but to Aerlith it seemed they shared a closer relationship than was usual. It pricked her to see him smile so easily and openly with Tonilia, joking raunchily and teasing her. With Aerlith, Brynjolf acted as the wise teacher, the helpful mentor. Her gratitude prevented her from feeling resentment, but her disappointment could not be helped.

Aerlith finished scrubbing her hair and rose from the bath. She toweled herself quickly and dressed in a simple shirt and trousers, pulling on her stockings and boots. She didn’t bother to arrange her hair or apply any cosmetics. Fatigue wore on her, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in the giddy depths of a bottle.

She entered the tavern a few minutes later. Karliah, sitting with Vex and Delvin, saw her come in and motioned for her to join them. Aerlith smiled and went over.

“Here you are, yer ladyship,” Delvin said gruffly, pouring her a cup of her favorite Surilie vintage. “Only the best for the woman of the hour.”

Aerlith sat down and picked up the cup. Seized by a sudden emotion, she raised it and said, “To the guild! May it last another thousand years.” The others raised their flagons as well, adding their “Hear, hear”s and “To the guild!”s. Aerlith drank deeply, draining half her cup in one go. She wasn’t planning on drinking lightly.

“So,” Vex said, “Care to tell us more about your exploits, Arielle? Delvin is practically foaming at the mouth with curiosity.” She smiled wickedly at him, and he smacked her hand.

Aerlith laughed. She had missed the banter of her friends during her long journey alone. She drank again, considering. Vex was still looking at her curiously, so she said, “Not much to tell I’m afraid, Vex.”

Vex scowled. “You Nightingales and your secrets,” she muttered darkly. But she brightened up quickly when she spotted something over Aerlith’s shoulder. “Watch out,” she said, smiling sneakily at Aerlith and rising from the table. “Delvin, Karliah, come here. I want to show you something.” Vex beckoned them across the room, leaving Aerlith alone with her wine.

Puzzled, Aerlith drained the rest of her cup, and reached for the bottle to pour another. A larger, rougher hand covered hers and tightened it against the glass bottleneck.

“Thirsty tonight, eh little dove?” Thrynn’s rough voice whispered in her ear. Aerlith pulled her hand away, and watched as Thrynn poured her wine, filling her cup nearly to the brim. He moved and sat down in the chair next to hers, resting his head on one hand lazily. “I can think of many more delicious ways to quench your thirst.” He licked his lips, the suggestion obvious.

Aerlith rolled her eyes. “Thank you for your input Thrynn.”

He chuckled. “So cold. Any other man would think you hated him.”

“Then why don’t you take the hint?” Aerlith asked sharply.

Thrynn leaned back in his chair and regarded her. She felt his eyes roaming over her face and body. “I want you to sing for me, little dove,” he crooned, taking her hand in his. “I’ve the skilled hands of a thief and the strength of a barbarian...care to take a ride?”

Aerlith yanked her hand away, standing unsteadily and staring down at him. She swallowed her nerves and said, “I am not your little dove , Thrynn. I am a Nightingale, an agent of Nocturnal. And believe me,” she said, her words pure venomous threat, “I am more than capable of making you sing for me.” She rested her hand on the hilt of her dagger, staring at him pointedly.

Thrynn stood and pulled her to him, his hands tight on her waist. His eyes burned with desire. “That’s the fire I love about you,” he said roughly. Before she could react, he pressed his mouth hungrily to hers.

Panic took hold of her, and she tried to wrench away, but he was too strong for her. Desperately, she fumbled for her dagger, drew it, and stabbed it mercilessly into his thigh. Thrynn howled and released her. Aerlith pulled her dagger back and brandished it, sinking into her fighting stance.

“Little bitch,” Thrynn spat. He reached for his battle axe.

“Enough,” Delvin said, stepping between Aerlith and Thrynn. “Calm down the lot of you.” He looked over his shoulder at Aerlith. “All right?” She nodded. “Good. Now, get yer hackles down Thrynn, before I gut you like a fish.”

Thrynn looked from her and back to Delvin. The tavern had gone quiet. Aerlith did not turn around, but from Thrynn’s mild panic, she could tell the thieves were watching the scene with little love for the bandit. “Fuck you,” Thrynn spat at Delvin, and turned to leave the Flagon from the front entrance. The door slammed behind him.

Aerlith breathed out, slow and steady. She grabbed a linen from the table and wiped her dagger on it, sliding it back into the sheathe. Karliah appeared at her shoulder. “Are you alright, Arielle?” she said with concern.

“Fine,” Aerlith said, anger still coursing through her. “That bastard deserved it.”

“He did indeed,” Karliah said, a smile curling her lips. Around them, the thieves returned to their drinks, and conversation began to buzz again.

“I need a drink,” Aerlith said, beginning to relax again.

“It’s on me,” Karliah laughed and headed to the bar to procure another bottle.

Aerlith sat with Karliah, watching her guildmates fraternize and drink. Delvin brought out his lute, and Dirge his drum, and the two began playing a lively tune. Tonilia got up and started to dance, her lithe body and agile feet drawing the eyes of every man in the room. Aerlith’s eyes drifted to the bar, where she saw Brynjolf sitting the wrong way round on his stool, leaning back on the bar as he watched Tonilia dance, smiling and occasionally sipping his drink.

He is so handsome , Aerlith mused. Brynjolf had shiny long hair the color of garnet, which set off the color of his deep set green eyes. But it wasn’t his appearance as much as his personality that made him stand out. He had a habit of catching her off guard with a sly look in his eyes, saying her name with his lilting accent, catching her in a daydream when she was supposed to be learning lockpicking. She would snap out of her trance and meet his eyes, and get lost again for a moment before smiling apologetically and telling him to continue with his teaching.

All the lifesaving lessons he taught were sorely needed. After her family went missing, she arrived in Skyrim and became a ward of the old Jarl of Falkreath, the suspicious and feeble Dengeir. Her mother had a cousin who worked in the longhouse, so Aerlith was allowed to live there in return for working in the kitchen and cleaning up after the Jarl’s family. She didn’t hate it there, but when Dengeir’s nephew Siddgeir assumed the throne, the trouble began. Siddgeir took an unhealthy interest in his ward, resulting in the terrifying night he had confronted her in her room. Worse, once he had his fun, he threw Aerlith cruelly out into the street, claiming that she was a liability he couldn’t afford any longer. He may very well have been correct, but without his protection, Aerlith was a sitting duck.

The day two strangers came through Falkreath asking after a pale haired girl with silver eyes, she fled with her few possessions and never looked back. Aerlith didn’t adjust well to life on the run. She arrived in Riverwood hungry, filthy and tired, and nearly collapsed on the porch of the inn. She had enough money to pay her way, but being a weak young lady with riches and no protection, she soon lost half her purse to a sneak thief in the night. Desperate, she moved on from Riverwood to Whiterun, with shallow hope that she would find sanctuary at the Temple of Kynareth.

Lost in reverie, she realized she was still staring at Brynjolf. He hadn’t noticed her yet, so she turned back to her bottle, attempting to drown out her thoughts with the intoxicating liquid. Karliah regarded her, sipping from her own cup. “Something on your mind, friend?”

“That business with Thrynn took me back to a different time,” she said, her face hard. “I haven’t always been as good with a blade.” Aerlith wanted to unburden herself and share her troubles with Karliah, but she couldn’t risk it. From Falkreath to Riften, she was hunted by various heavily armed strangers. She suspected they were the same men who took her parents away, come to finish the job. Telling her story to anyone was foolish and could possibly bring harm to them.

Karliah smiled sadly. “Being a woman in Skyrim is tough. But you are strong and worth their respect,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the gathered guild. “It is good that you remind them now and then.”

Aerlith grinned. Though Karliah knew nothing of her past, Aerlith always felt that her friend understood her perfectly. It was a comfort beyond measure. “At least I have you, my friend. I couldn’t ask for a better sister in darkness.”

The dark elf laughed and patted her hand. “I’m off to bed,” she said, standing. “Eyes open, and walk with the shadows.” Aerlith nodded at the familiar send off.

“Good night.”

Some time later, when the music had ceased and most guild members had stumbled off to bed, Aerlith tipped the bottle into her cup once more, only to be disappointed when nothing poured out. She sighed and leaned over the table, contemplating throwing in the towel and going to bed. Questing in the interest of the guild was great and noble, but it definitely didn’t make her rich. She tiredly imagined how many jobs she would have to take on before she made up for all the traveling expenses.

While she was lost in thought, Brynjolf came over silently and plunked a full bottle of wine on her table, making her jump a bit. “You shouldn’t have an empty cup, lass,” He said, looking down at her with playful eyes and a warm smile.

Aerlith nodded her approval and reached for the bottle. She noted that Brynjolf also looked pretty deep in his cups. His cheeks were reddened and his eyes were extra shiny.

“May I join you?”

“Of course,” she replied, taking a sip and offering him the bottle when he sat opposite her. He poured out a cup for himself, then looked at her for a moment.

“I never got to thank you properly earlier,” he said.

Her heart swelled, but she kept her voice even as she said, “I got all the thanks necessary from Lady Nocturnal herself.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much,” he laughed. “But truly, without your help, the guild would still be under the thumb of Mercer and suffering from a daedra’s displeasure.” He looked at her seriously, and she felt herself beginning to blush. “I’m very glad I chose to scam you of all the people in the city that day,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Aerlith took a swig of wine to cool herself. Feeling vulnerable, she spoke quietly, “If you hadn’t tried to rob me, I never would have joined the guild, and would have wandered alone forever.” She chanced a look up at him. “All the skills you’ve taught me have saved my life countless times already. Performing this task for the guild was nothing in comparison to what I’ve received.” Saying it felt right, but Aerlith thought Brynjolf would laugh at her sincerity as he usually did.

He surprised her by reaching across the table and grasping her hand tightly in his. His grip was warm, his calloused fingers rough as they held hers fast. “Don’t be silly. You’ve accomplished something great, and I’m proud of you, Arielle.” He stared intensely into her eyes, burning her with the heat of his conviction.

She pulled her hand back and took another long drink from her cup. She grinned at him. “It’s a strange thing, hearing a thief speak so earnestly,” she joked, trying to dispel the tension she felt.

“As I said, I’m not one for sincerity. Enjoy it while it lasts, lass.” She relaxed a bit, knowing that the hard part was over. “Now, about that bandit,” he said, looking at her smugly.

“What about him?” She asked, twisting the silver ring on her right hand repetitively. Maybe the ‘hard part’ would never really be over with Bryn.

“I enjoy seeing Thrynn being put in his place. Well done indeed, Arielle,” he replied, a sly smile playing over his lips.

Oh. He saw that . Shame burned a blush in her cheeks. She didn’t like to imagine what Brynjolf must have thought, seeing her with him. The memory of Thrynn’s hands on her felt dirty. “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” she said, looking down. “I did what had to be done.”

“And did it well,” he said gently. Aerlith raised her eyes to his. Brynjolf smiled. “Chin up, lass. That bastard couldn’t best you if he trained for a hundred years.”

A poignant feeling of relief and sadness stung her. Aerlith fought back tears, disguising her pain by gulping deeply from her cup. She wanted to say something, but her thoughts were scattered. Her mind’s eye kept flashing to Thrynn’s face, his mouth stealing hers, his hands gripping her painfully. Siddgeir slid into her thoughts too, clouding her vision with fear and shame. She breathed out shakily, carefully training her gaze into her cup.

“Arielle? Are you alright?” His chair scraped the floor as he stood, coming up close beside her. He rested a hand on her shoulder.

Finally, she looked up at him. “I don’t know,” she said, voice breaking. She felt tears begin to fall and blushed, looking down again. Brynjolf knelt down and leveled with her gaze.

Tentatively, his eyes searching hers, he reached up and touched her cheek. His thumb brushed a tear away, and she inhaled shakily, unsure of how to react to his touch. “It’s all right, lass. Whatever the trouble is, we can make it right,” he said slowly.

“I can’t shake them, Brynjolf,” she said, trying to speak through the sob choking her. “No matter where I go.” She hung her head again, resting it in his palm. “I will never be free from my past,” she concluded, and despair overwhelmed her. She cried softly in front of him, hating herself and hating her weakness. But she was tired, so very tired, and his kindness had opened a floodgate within her.

For a horrible moment, Brynjolf stayed very still, and she dreaded his reaction. But he didn’t say anything. Instead, he took her hands in his and pulled her to him, carefully encircling her in a gentle embrace. “All right, Arielle. It’s all right,” he whispered. He stroked her hair, letting her ride out the sadness. Finally, her crying quieted into sniffles, and she felt him pull her tighter to him “That’s it, lass.” He pressed a kiss on the top of her head.

Aerlith tried to calm her breathing. She squeezed her eyes shut as visions of the past threatened to take her over again. With her head pressed against his chest, Aerlith could hear Brynjolf’s heartbeat. The steady rhythm pulled her focus back to the present. Gradually, she felt herself coming down to earth as her breathing slowed and her thoughts cleared.

Reality rushed back in like frigid water, a cruel reminder of who she was, who he was, and where they were. Aerlith pulled away from Brynjolf quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, bowing her head. “I should go.” She nodded to him and tried to make a hasty exit.

“Wait,” he said, and grabbed her arm. Aerlith didn’t look at him. She couldn't. “I’m worried about you, Arielle. Can’t I help you?” The worried kindness in his voice almost made her break again.

Aerlith steeled herself. Turning to her mentor and smiling brightly, she said, “Nothing’s much wrong, Bryn.” His brow furrowed as he watched her skeptically. “I’m just very, very tired, and I think I’ve had too much wine. I’m sorry to make a scene.”

“Alright, lass, if that’s really how you feel.” He looked thoughtful for a moment, then pulled her into him again, wrapping her in his arms tightly. He held her silently for a long moment. Aerlith listened to his heartbeat again, wishing she could hear it forever. I broke so easily for him , she thought, squeezing her eyes closed. Wrapped up in his warmth, she realized that for the first time in a very long time, she felt totally safe. Safe enough that the iron doors of her resolve cracked open, revealing the vulnerability and fear within. The revelation scared her, but she didn’t pull away this time. She breathed him in. His scent was leather, wine, smoke, and just a hint of sweat. Eyes closed, she let him lull her into a state of serenity.

Finally, he held her out at arms length. “Get some rest then,” he said, smiling gently. Before she could move, he took her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead, lingering there. Aerlith's eyes widened in surprise. So many invisible lines had been crossed tonight, but what truly surprised her was how right it all felt. Brynjolf took a deep breath and pulled away, blowing it out slowly as he stared at her. The look in his eyes confounded her. It was a cross between tenderness and fiery determination, with a touch of  heated aggression that made her breath catch in her chest.

Aerlith smiled. “Thank you, Bryn,” she whispered. He nodded, his eyes still burning with that mysterious energy. “Good night, then.” Aerlith walked off to bed, praying to the divines that it hadn’t been a dream.

[labyrinth-runner]

How Wonderful Life Is

The Greatest Thing Chapter 11

Christian x OC

Moulin Rouge fanfic

Read the rest here

Estelle spent the next couple of days writing letters to send ahead to Annalise so that they could fool her father. She loved to watch Christian work away at his typewriter while she did this. The way his brow would crinkle as he searched for the right word or the way he scrunched his nose when something didn't sound right made her smile. Oh, how she had missed that face. When he wasn't writing, he was at rehearsal. At first, she had been hesitant to go along with him, due to the stares that she would get from some of the performers, but as she got to know them better she was more comfortable with them. She'd swap stories with them about Poppy and life on Grub Street, and in return, they taught her some romantic phrases in French that always seemed to make Christian blush.

One day, she was pulled aside by the owner of the Moulin while they were rehearsing.

"Mademoiselle, I don't know how to accurately thank you," he murmured.

"Thank me?" she asked in confusion, "Whatever for?"

"I was beginning to lose hope about this production," he explained, "He was having such a hard time writing it that I worried it would never get done. We've revamped the entire building for this. I couldn't afford for it not to happen. But now, since you've shown up, it might actually happen."

Estelle blushed, "Yes, well, you can count on Christian."

"Non, ma petite. I can count on you," he winked before leaving.

"It's true," a voice said from behind her.

Estelle turned to see another one of the performers, Nini, standing behind her.

"For all her feminine wiles," Nini said with an eye roll, "Satine couldn't get him to focus. Everyone wants a writer to write them sonnets and go on with all the bullshit about how they love them and can't imagine a world without them, but she just made the mistake of picking a taken writer."

"I can assure you that Christian was not taken," Estelle replied.

"Not with her," Nini corrected, "He was still taken with you. You should've seen him moping around here like a lost puppy when the novelty wore off and the homesickness came in. He was going on and on about how he never knew it was possible to be homesick for a person. Quite pathetic, if you ask me, but a less realistic woman would call it sweet I suppose."

"I suppose," Estelle said with a small smile.

"Have you seen much of Paris since you got here?" Nini asked, leaning on the balcony next to Estelle.

"Regrettably, no. We've spent so much time up in his apartment working on the play," Estelle replied.

"Is that what you're calling it?" Nini teased.

"Oh, no, we haven't... I-I mean," Estelle started to stammer.

"But you want to," Nini winked.

"It would ruin my reputation," Estelle sighed.

"Honey, if you're hiding here, your reputation is already in question," Nini laughed. "But... Paris is the city of love. Perhaps you should take advantage of that."

"How do you suggest I do that?" she asked.

"Take him to the Eiffel Tower. It's quite beautiful at night. You can see the city in a new way... and maybe he'll see you in a different light, too," Nini said pointedly.

Estelle blushed, "Why are you helping me?"

"Because you're sweet, he's sweet, it's a good match," she smiled before dropping her voice and looking down at where Satine was on the stage below, "Besides... it's nice to see her not always get everything she wants."

Estelle followed her gaze before looking over at Christian. Did Satine want him? She cleared the thought from her head. Even if Satine wanted him, she knew she had Christian's heart. Their love had withstood distance, years, and society. It could handle a courtesan. She was pulled from her reverie by a set of arms encircling her from behind.

"Darling, you seem pensive," Christian murmured, kissing her temple. "Should I be worried?"

"Not at all, my love," she said, turning a bright smile to him. "Should I be worried?" Estelle nodded her head towards Satine.

"Of course not," Christian said adamantly, turning Estelle to face him completely. "Darling, the only person I want to be with is you. I can feel that in every fibre of my being. Things... things have never been better," he admitted.

"Is that so?" Estelle asked, reaching up to cup his cheek.

Christian leaned into her touch, turning his head slightly to kiss her palm. "Ellie... Every day I try my best to put into words how wonderful life is now you're in this world with me here. You're my star."

Estelle blushed and looked down. "Rehearsal is over?"

"For me it is," Christian smiled, sliding his arm around her waist. "Shall we go home?"

"Actually..." Estelle started gently. "I was wondering if we could go see some of the sights? Nini told me about the Eiffel Tower. I would very much like to see it. Well, visit it, really since I've certainly seen it from far away."

"Of course. I think that would be a splendid idea," he replied, offering her his arm to escort her.

When they made their way outside, they procured a carriage to take them across the city. The atmosphere was already different as they found themselves closer and closer to the Seine. While the area around the Moulin Rouge was bustling and loud, this area was peaceful. The lights were still on as they passed by, however it was relatively quieter in comparison. The carriage came to a stop across the street from the towering monument and Christian stepped out of the carriage to help Estelle out.

"It's more imposing in person," Estelle murmured as she looked up at the tower.

"The view from the top must be incredible, though," Christian replied.

Together, they walked the short distance to the lifts, taking them up as far as they could go until they would have to complete the rest of the journey on foot. As they ascended, they were able to see more and more of the city below. Once at the top, the world stretched out around them in every direction like they were a buoy in a sea of lights. The wind whipped at them and Estelle pulled her shawl tighter. What had been warm enough to leave the house in the early months of fall was barely keeping her warm in this moment. Christian came up behind her to shield her from the wind, holding her close against the railing to offer her some of his body heat.

"It's mesmerizing," Estelle said in awe.

"It is," Christian agreed.

"I don't know if I've ever seen a more beautiful sight."

Christian looked down at the woman in his arms and blushed, "I have."

Estelle turned her attention to the sky above them and frowned. "You can't see the stars."

"Sometimes, the light from the city competes with the heavens and you lose the stars," he explained.

"Is it worth the sacrifice?" she asked.

"To vanquish the darkness away, perhaps it would be a fair trade," he replied.

"But at what cost?" she asked. "When you have the natural beauty of the heavens, wouldn't it make sense to want to preserve that? To live amongst the starlight? After all, stars have been used for navigating. Without them, we all could be lost."

"Yet, sometimes the stars can't be seen. If the clouds block out the light from the stars, then you'd live your life in darkness. By having lights, you ensure that you will never be left in the dark again," Christian replied.

"Enlightenment versus the natural order," Estelle smirked.

"Something like that," Christian chuckled, running his hands up and down Estelle's arms. "Ellie, your lips are turning blue. Perhaps we should go."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed, allowing him to lead her back down to the lifts and to the ground. The two of them walked along the Seine, not quite ready to go back home. The gentle sound of the rushing water was a calm backdrop as they walked in silence, each in their own thoughts.

"Ellie, I've been thinking about what you were saying about the stars and I've come to a conclusion," Christian said suddenly.

"And what might that be, Mr. Thompson?" she asked in amusement.

"That as much as I enjoy living in the light, I don't want to lose the star that guides me home," he told her, stopping to take her hand.

Estelle's brow furrowed in confusion. "Christian, what are you saying?"

"I want to do what I should have done in London," he said seriously. "I would like to court you."

Estelle blushed in the glow of the streetlights. "Christian, aren't we a little passed that? I do live with you."

"Yes, but, I want to make it official. I want you to know my intentions," he said sincerely. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Darling, I want to marry you someday when we're not lying to your family."

Estelle felt her heart skip a beat. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of the prospect of being your wife."

"Is that a yes?" he asked with a grin.

"Yes, Mr. Thompson, I shall allow you to court me," she said with a serious air of formality before breaking out in a grin.

Christian's smile widened and he scooped her up in her arms, playfully spinning her in the air while she laughed. When her feet touched the ground once more, her chest was against his as her hands rested just below his shoulders. Estelle tipped up on her toes to press her lips against his, no longer shy about her affection. Christian's arms tightened around her, crushing her against him as he returned the kiss with fervor. When they broke for air, they wore matching smiles of glee. Nothing could bring them down in this moment.

"Take me home, Christian," she breathed.

"Gladly."

[mysterylover123]

My 12 Favorite BKDK Meta Posts

by mysterylover123

So you might have picked up, if you’re following my posts, that I like BKDK. Katsudeku. Bakudeku. Izukatsu. Whatever you call it. Shipping Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugo. I love this freaking pairing so much, but it’s always difficult to explain to people why that is. That’s why I often will point to meta, written by far more eloquent and organized people than me, to explain what about it interests me so much. So here’s a list (not comprehensive, I can’t read every BKDK meta ever written) of my favorite meta on the two’s relationship, and a shout out to my other lovely tumblr posters, organized in order of when the incident they’re covering takes place, how many spoilers there are, etc.

1. Ryokure  “Deku vs Kacchan”

https://ryokure.tumblr.com/post/147489960804/deku-vs-kacchan

Ryokure is one of my favorite BKDK meta writers - great at correcting some of the early mistranslations and analyzing most of the early arcs. The Ryokure meta only go up to about the training camp arc, and for some reason stopped after that. I picked this one as my favorite Ryokure BKDK meta, it’s a rare one that covers the Battle Trial Arc. My favorite line from the meta is the ending:  “On this point I’m like 80% sure that Mineta’s existence, Yaoyorozu‘s stupid costume (come on, she’s fifteen! it’s too early to be objectified!), etc are there so people wouldn’t think that this is shounen-ai.”

2. PunkBakugo: “Deku and Bakugo’s subconscious understanding: A Sports Festival Analysis”

https://punkbakugo.tumblr.com/post/169830270570/kacchan-dekus-subconscious-understanding-a

I’m currently rewatching the sports festival right now, and despite this being the big Tododeku and Izuocha arc, it’s pretty impressive how subtly pervasive BKDK still is in this arc anyways. This meta is very impressive, pointing out small details throughout the SF arc that showcase how central BKDK still is to the narrative, the ways in which Deku takes inspiration from BK, how BK fixates on Midoriya, and how they think in similar manners. It’s also quite well-written, and I recommend this poster if you’d like the POV of a non multi-shipper tumblr.

3. The-nysh “Episode 37 Commentary”

https://the-nysh.tumblr.com/post/165680156361/bnha-episode-37-commentary

The-nysh is another great BKDK poster, and I have at least 2 from them. The first is their very in-depth and image-heavy commentary on Episode 37 (they have another one on episode 61 that’s just as good), which provides some nice analysis of BKDK in this arc. The second is this one: https://the-nysh.tumblr.com/post/171252060116/whats-your-opinon-of-kiribaku-and-tododeku , which while it’s mostly about the poster’s opinions on the other two ships, has a few choice snippets about BKDK that I find helpful - one is also in connection with Ryokure, to quote: “Deku is such a super special case that if a fanfic has him and Kacchan in it - no matter the parings - and they don’t have some case of mutual obsession, I actually consider that OOC.” Definitely another good meta writer worth checking out.

4. Osakakitty “Vol 10 Katsudeku thoughts ramblings”

https://osakakitty.tumblr.com/post/167402985369/vol-10-katsudeku-thoughtsramblings

This one is a good analysis of the Training Camp Arc and Hideout Raid. Osakakitty has some very sweet BKDK meta and generally writes very close analysis of them, taking a more emotional stance on the pairing than some of the meta before. There’s a very raw quality to these, a feeling of reacting in time to the story as it unfolds and getting your heart broken. This one does a good job of outlining how deeply personal the Hideout Raid is to Deku, because it was Kacchan who was taken. Definitely worth a read. 

5. KiraElric’sInsanity: “What is your favorite Headcanon about Izuku”

http://kiraelric.tumblr.com/post/154543674203/what-is-your-favorite-headcanon-about-izuku

KiraElric was one of the first meta writers I encountered with BNHA, and really helped me get a grasp on the series. She has tons of great meta on the series and a really fine grasp of BKG’s character. There are lots of them worth reading, but this is one of my all time favorites because of how thoroughly in depth it is about Izuku’s feelings on the matter. Since Deku is unquestionably my favorite BNHA character, it was very important for me early on to determine who I shipped him with, how I perceived his relationships. And something about this meta helped me understand exactly why I liked BKDK so much. But if you want more of the other side of things...

6. KiraElric’sInsanity: “My Best Friend’s a Fxcking Nerd and an idiot God he pisses me Off”

http://kiraelric.tumblr.com/post/158423114578/my-best-friends-a-fucking-nerd-and-an-idiot-god 

This is BKG’s side of the coin. This meta helps contextualize a lot of BKG’s actions, in a way that made a ton of sense to me. This, and the one before it, both contain spoilers up to DVK2, so if you haven’t caught up just be aware of that. This meta does a great job of spotlighting how important Deku is as a force in BKG’s life, as someone to talk to and admit to feeling weak around, who cares about him unconditionally. These two meta together are great to read for getting an all around feel for each side of the relationship.

7. KrisPNatz “What’s in an OTP? Bakudeku”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ay8TbIzMh-E

OK this one’s a video, not a tumblr meta, but it’s still an analysis on the relationship so I count it. It’s more of a funny one, joking and goofy in tone, but with a very sincere and passionate discussion of the relationship, what it means to ship something, how their interactions have evolved over time, and why the creator of the vid ships them. This one’s less analytical than the others, but still has some good insights into the duo.

8. Makeste reads BNHA: “Chapter 120 A Secret Among Three”

https://makeste.tumblr.com/post/181564960173/bnha-chapter-120-a-secret-among-three 

Makeste is my favorite BNHA liveblogger, going over the entire manga (she just posted Chapter 221 today, it’s pretty great). This is her reaction to Chapter 120, which she proclaims right away is her favorite chapter of the series. While it’s mostly a reaction post, it’s also interrupted with a few mini-essay meta on the nature of this relationship, going into some deep analysis of both characters’ feelings from a very attentive and clever reactor, whose absolute favorite character is Katsuki Bakugo. I recommend makeste to BNHA fans, the reactions are absolutely fantastic.

9. CuteIzuku “Izuku Midoriya’s Image of Victory”

https://cuteizuku.tumblr.com/post/178341507379/izuku-midoriyas-image-of-victory

This is a good meta on Deku’s classic “image of victory” comment from DVK2, going into some more depth about how Deku perceives Kacchan and what that means for the narrative. It also helps compare Deku’s perceptions of Katsuki and All Might, how Deku feels towards both, and what the differences are. It’s a nicely written piece and not particularly biased about the ship.

10. Mujoe-girl “The Way They Look at each other 

https://mujoe-girl.tumblr.com/post/148453703491/katsudeku-the-way-they-look-at-each-other

Another one that looks at both sides of the equation, parcelling out first how Deku looks at Kacchan, then how Kacchan looks at Deku, and acknowledging both sides and how they’ve changed over time. It’s pretty subtle and touches on various extreme expressions (one of my favorite things about BNHA: how expressive the characters are) from each character and what they mean. Certainly worth a read.

11. Riruru “The Choice of Wording Here”

https://rirururu.tumblr.com/post/181106272152/the-choice-of-wording-used-here-is-something-that 

OK, this one is getting into really recent manga spoilers - avoid looking over this, anime onlys. Basically this is a brief, but effective meta about Chapter 210, written after 210 came out and before the reveal about OFA. It talks about Deku’s reaction to Monoma’s dissing Kacchan, and puts it quite well exactly why this is significant to their relationship. This is a really recent development, and something that went over my head the first time I read it - certainly helped me understand more what’s going on here.

12. Makeste “The New BKDK Status Quo”

https://makeste.tumblr.com/post/184123732903/yes-the-new-bakudeku-status-quo-of-excitedly

Another one from makeste to finish us off - this one discussing the current status of BK/DK in the manga, up through Chapter 217. So again massive spoilers. Makeste, responding to a comment, talks about how the relationship is so much healthier these days, how the two have improved and how much better a friend BKG is to Deku now, post DVK2. It’s very sweet and a lovely place to end things off for now.

So yeah those are my 12 favorite BKDK meta out there so far. Any recommendations for more are welcome. I hope you guys enjoy reading these, and special nod to all my fellow posters for being so clever.

[bondsmagii]

5, 6, 10, 12, 23, 24, 30, 48 :)

thank you! 👌

5: what is something you’re proud of?

over the last few months especially, I’ve gotten a lot more self-disciplined and self-motivated, which has always been incredibly difficult considering I have what we referred to earlier as a diagnostically bad attention span. I’ve seen an increase in my productivity and an increase in my staying on top of things, and as a result I’m getting a lot more done that I want to get done and I’m not as stressed out or rushed by things. it’s something that I have to consciously commit to every day, because it never gets easier to just get up and do things, but the fact I can make myself do it now (and it is easier once I get started) and I can actively see the results of this discipline is something I’m very proud of.

6: name three books that changed your life.

how the fuck do I choose, honestly. the first three that come to mind are The Secret History by Donna Tartt (I would not be nearly as Like This as I am without reading that book); IT by Stephen King (as an example of How To Write, this book is second to none and my writing is all the better for it); and probably the whole Shades of Magic series by V. E. Schwab (just in terms of how enjoyable it is, and how much it’s made me realise I can really Go There in my own writing).

10: state an unpopular opinion that you have.

I’m well aware that this is a popular opinion in the real world, but it seems to be growing ever more unpopular on tumblr dot com, so: reading about things in fiction does not make you more likely to carry out those things in real life, and those who do have other mental issues going on that have stopped them from telling the difference between fiction and reality, or have otherwise convinced them through delusion or paranoia to act. reading and writing about nasty things in fanfic (or any media, really) will not make you go out there and commit those acts, and a vast, overwhelming majority of people engage in these things and live absolutely normal, non-murderous lives. like. it just doesn’t work like that, and I have seen no compelling evidence to say it does. the most popular thing I’ve seen thrown around on here is a study where one group learned to play a simple piano piece, and the other group simply visualised it, and yet both groups created the neural pathways in their brains that was needed to play the piece. this is stupid, because the people in the second group still didn’t play the damn piano. it’s the equivalent of one group beating someone up, and the other group visualising it. the reason the pathway is there is because the second group now possesses the knowledge of how to do it, and we all know how to hurt or torture or murder people. it doesn’t mean we’ll do it. like. people who sincerely believe that reading/writing about something will cause more people to go out and do it are simply thicker than a bowl of oatmeal and that’s that.

12: describe your ideal date?

I have no idea tbh. all our dates have kind of been pretty impulsive, and I don’t have anything necessary for an ideal date other than “spending time with someone I love, having fun and maybe spoiling ourselves a little”. I think we’ll be hard pushed to beat what I consider to be the best date we ever had, though, which was of course staying at the museum until 10pm, wandering around all the empty lowlit galleries, and then running around London until the early hours.

23: how are you feeling in this moment?

emotionally I’m feeling mostly content. I’m just taking it easy and will commit back to my full workload tomorrow, and I feel OK about that so I’m just having fun doing whatever I want. physically I am very achy and tired, which is a bit of a drag.

24: are you reading a book at the moment? what do you like about it?

I am! I’m reading The Foreign Correspondent by Alan Furst, who is of course a writer you recommended to me. I’m 100 pages in right now and I’m enjoying the fast pace it’s written at, and how the story doesn’t get lost in itself and simply paints a clear picture of everything you need to know. I also like the moments of humour and ridiculousness in it, and of course there’s a heavy sense of danger and espionage which is always fun. the book breathes a lot of life into Europe at a very specific and complex time, which is always cool to see.

30: name an experience in your life you wish you could do over?

university, without a doubt. I did the best with what I had, but my god. I’m so angry at the circumstances that led me there; I’m so upset that I had to suffer all the way through it, when I wasn’t ready for it and I couldn’t do my best at it, all because it was the only way to escape a life that was even more horrific. I’m proud of myself for escaping that life via whatever means possible, but I have no sincere good memories of university itself, and as someone who loves learning as much as I do, I feel dreadfully robbed.

48: do you typically look for a partner with the same traits as you or someone to complement yours?

honestly what do you think ya clown!! I mean, technically we didn’t look for one another in that way, it just kind of happened, but I think there’s something to be said for how it happened. you and I are creepishly alike in some respects (as in, I could not make it up and if someone wrote two characters with that much in common I would call it unrealistic) and generally we have at least one or two obsessions in common at the same time, but on the other hand we are sometimes so different that I can’t believe we manage to get along as well as we do. when I look at some of the differences we have in philosophy and interpretation and outlook, I have no idea how we don’t throttle one another, but I suppose it’s because of the rest of the qualities and traits that we do have in common – we’re both incredibly open-minded, and have a very you do you attitude. (even if I do have to take a deep breath every time you try and tell me salmon tastes good. like. it just does not but alright.) so I suppose in that respect we compliment one another; it’s different enough to keep things interesting, but we have enough in common that we’re not completely alien to one another. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that a combination of both seems to work best.