#update: i actually wrote the backstory to this as a fic so this is the sequel to 'cause you used to be a part of me'

[updownlately]

i don't wanna be twenty-somethin' (and still in my head)

| alessia russo x reader | a/n: this blurb is technically a sequel to this fic, so go check that out first if you want :)

~~~

They said heartbreak was for your twenties. You were told it would build character. That the first one was unavoidable, that it would feel unbearable but you'd make it out alive. That your friends would get you through it, terrible rom-coms and tubs of ice-cream accompanying your nights. They said you'd be okay eventually.

What they didn't tell you though, was how bad your heart would ache, nearly ripping itself out of your chest. They didn't mention how the hole she had left would tear itself open just a little bit more each time you saw her at her last few practices. No one spoke a word about how the nights you spent laying together, talking about your future at United would become a distant memory, one you desperately wished to forget yet wanted to sear into the cracks of your soul.

Your hometown friends reassured you they would be with you every step of the way. Teammates you both shared promised they wouldn't pick sides, choosing instead to support the both of you the best they could. Both mentioned that they wouldn't let you suffer alone, neither of you, being there for you in every and any way possible.

Yet, when the nights came, and you longed to be solely in her arms, chasing the familiar strawberry scent that was nearly faded from your shirts, you knew they couldn't help you. Not when the only person you craved, longed for, needed, was the one person who didn't stick around. Not when she decided that moving three hours away was something worth throwing your relationship away over. Not when she took your heart with her, leaving you with just damaged and bruised tissue.

And when the mornings came and no one was there to wake you up, cold sheets, her forgotten favourite t-shirt and an abandoned apartment your only companions, you gently shushed your shattered heart.

Without fail, like the countless mornings of the past few months, you let yourself fall back into the sheets, wishing that she was here beside you. That she hadn't actually left and it was just a terrible nightmare. You wished that she had stayed. That you could've worked it out. That, maybe, just maybe, your love could have been enough.

Instead though, prayers unheard, you were left here - twenty-something, nursing a broken heart in an apartment that was never meant to be just yours, wondering what she was doing now.

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 | Dave York x reader

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summary | Dave was the exception to your rule, fortunately. But, he still wanted to do things the right way, his way.

author's note | @pr0ximamidnight is partially responsible for this, constantly feeding me ideas and tiktoks, which birthed this baby.

content warning | 18+ smut, divorced!dave, soft-ish!dave, age gap (unspecified), dating apps, g*n play (consensual), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, this has an unnecessary amount of backstory, i wrote this during gremlin hours don't judge me

word count —6k

They never make it past the third date. Ever.

Except for Dave.

You’ll give him credit where it was due–he was older, wiser, and more charming than any man who you’ve swept right for on these awful dating apps you’ve tried out in the past year. And by an even crazier chance, you had met him in person; a run-in at a coffee shop that would have usually ended in one of you spilling coffee on the other, but actually ended in him stealing your drink and you his own. 

He’d only been halfway paying attention when they called out the order instead of the name, subconsciously assuming he was next, he had swiped it up without a thought and left you dumbstruck and being slid a black coffee with a look of apology from the barista who knew he had just walked off with your drink.

Usually, you would brush it off. Spend another fifteen minutes waiting for a fresh drink, but not that time. You had chased him down, a block from the coffee shop and a sharp right and you were on his heels, his face buried in his phone and the coffee cup hanging from his fingertips in his right hand, clearly undrank. 

“Hey,” You shout exasperated, but he doesn’t whip his head around like you expect. You huff, jogging a little closer until you can tap at his shoulder and as if his reflexes had kicked in, he turns on his heels and has a sudden look of annoyance, not much different than the one he held in the coffee shop but his brow was more pinched—until you hold up the coffee cup that belonged to him.

It had a name on the ticket—you looked it over. Dave. Black coffee. Six shots of espresso. 

Your eyes widen at the sheer amount and you pass it over, watching as he stuffed his phone in his pocket, “Six shots? That’s—”

“Not nearly enough,” He grumbles, swapping out the drinks with a surprisingly gentle grip.

He’s dressed for work, donning a charcoal gray suit with a maroon button-up. He looks official, stoic, and serious, intimidating in a way that makes you want to shrink away. 

He takes a peek at your order before he passes it off completely, smirking slightly at the sheer amount of caffeine you had ordered for yourself—not in the form of a straight black coffee and an insane amount of espresso shots, but it was calling a spade a spade. 

You both clearly had your vices.

After that, he’s a familiar face. Someone you see the Monday mornings after a terrible Sunday night date, rubbing at tired eyes as you reach for your coffee, and eventually he finds himself more curious than he should be, wondering how someone at your age could seem so…burdened. Not that it wasn’t possible, but it was clear that you never ended your weekend on a high note, and burying the shittiness under a mountain of sugar and syrup was your way of coping.

Fortunately, the coffee machine had been on the fritz one particular Monday which lent you a moment of conversation that was surprisingly refreshing given your unfamiliarity with each other.

He slaps the back of his phone against his palm as he does a quick glance over your figure, hunched under the protection of your sweater you chew at your bottom lip, staring down at your feet.

“Rough weekend?” He asks casually, looking over at you curiously.

You could smell his aftershave, the rich scent of expensive cologne. 

You weren’t sure why he was speaking to you, but you answered anyway.

“That easy to spot?” You volley with him, glancing up at him briefly before leaning into your hip.

“Comes with experience,” He shrugs, seeming far more approachable than you would have expected. You conspicuously track your eyes over him, how perfectly put together he was, not a piece of his outfit out of place, aside from the prominent tan line on his ring finger.

Married. Or…was married. You didn’t feel it was your position to throw that kind of question at a stranger.

“Oh,” You feign intrigue, feeling the words slip out before you can stop them, “plenty of experience in the field of dealing with men who can’t be bothered to hold a thirty minute conversation and expect you to fuck them after the first date?”

You’re expecting him to balk and walk away, wonder what the hell was wrong with you—but instead, he smirks again. More prominent than the first time.

“Sorry,” You apologize meekly, “that was—It’s been a rough morning.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dave brushes it off, his name sounding in your head again as it comes to you, “and no—I don’t, but still—a bad weekend is a bad weekend.”

You raise your eyebrows slightly as you nod in agreement and it is within that small distraction of conversation that the machine comes roaring to life again, but instead of walking toward the counter to order, Dave slips in front of you.

You have half the mind to tell him to fuck off for cutting, but when you hear your coffee order spilling out of his mouth you stare at him wildly, giving him a look of confusion after he pays, scribbling away at a receipt before he turns and walks silently toward the other side of the shop to fetch his coffee order. You follow wordlessly, obediently as he nods at you.

“Consider it returning the favor for the first time I screwed up with our orders,” He tells you, smiling at the barista she slides the two cups into his hands—he shoves yours into your open palm, receipt tucked against the cup with his thumb as it transfers to you, “and fuck those guys.”

You laugh softly, sipping gingerly at your coffee as he departs with a half-smile, footsteps clicking against the tile floor as he departs with a hand shoved into his pocket as he shoulders open the door. The receipt is long forgotten and tucked into your pocket.

It isn’t until hours later as you're throwing your coat over the back of your couch that the paper floats to the floor, staring at you like it had its own set of eyes. You pluck it up curiously and pull apart the crumbled-up ball, noting the smudged black ink scribbled on the back of the receipt.

Third date is the rule, right?

Followed by his name and a haphazardly scribbled number.

So, not married. Definitely not married.

You text him without a second thought, finding that his response is almost immediate.

Suddenly, you needed to know all about him.

—

And you made that your mission.

Texts turn into calls, sparse and spread out but it was kept light in the beginning. General small talk, and occasional flirting, but still you had far too many questions. The one thing you do learn is that he was divorced, not newly, thankfully. It had been a couple of years and he admits very early on that he doesn’t do this often.

Whatever that meant.

He’s older, but you don’t feel the need to address that. He knows you’re in college, mid-twenties, but beyond that, you’re just a puzzle he’s piecing together on his own. Learning about you over the following weeks with a refreshing interest you haven’t been privy to before.

Your first date happens on a Saturday, a late night and last minute plan due to his often changing work schedule. It was shitty food at a small diner in town but it didn’t matter.

Eventually, he does slip up and admit that his work is freelance—but under what pretenses you weren’t sure, always skirting around the subject. And usually, you would see the immediate red flags, but that doesn’t happen. He seemed like a private person and maybe over time…

He doesn’t ask you the much-anticipated question after your first date, but he does kiss you.

It was soft and quick, fleeting in a moment as he walks you to your doorstep and leaves you reaching for more, but all you’re left with is a smug smile as he climbs into his car.

The second date is fancier, a few weeks later between occasion phone calls that would last longer than they needed, but you didn’t mind, sometimes Dave liked listening to the sound of your voice, he’d admitted at one point—Dave had planned this date out in advance at a nice restaurant in the uptown area of the city, giving you dress code requirements, exceptions, and all of it is entirely overwhelming. 

But, it fades the moment his hand touches your waist. 

There wasn’t a feeling of fear or an immediate urge to run away. It was protection, the warm and steady touch of him at your back just felt safe and it went against every fiber of your being to feel this way about someone so easily. But, the way Dave winks down at you as you fumble with the bracelet hanging loosely around your wrist reminds you that you have nothing to worry about.

The dinner is ridiculous, for you—convoluted meal courses with silly names that have you furrowing your brow in confusion as you look up at Dave who only seems entertained by your amusement, feeding you a piece of the shared dessert with the single fork they had served with the plate. It was intimate and shocking how easily you gave in tointo it and followed his lead. 

Trusted him.

You aren’t sure if it was his original plan, but he ended up at your place later that night.

He does walk you to your door again, but you’re not as easy to let him go this time. A few flutes of wine in your system and you’re far too clingy to let him slip away—begging, pleading for a few extra minutes.

“I’ll give you a quick tour,” You tell him softly, a sultry tone to your voice as your bottom lip pulls between your teeth and your hand's slide off the lapel of his peacoat, dragging him backwardinto the door that leads to your apartment building, “seriously—just a few minutes.”

“Sweetheart,” The endearment slips out despite himself, but he doesn’t thwart you off, his hand twisting and intertwining with your own as you lead him toward the elevators.

“Third date rule, remember?” You tell him, smiling sweetly, “Don’t worry, I’ll behave.”

“I’m counting on it.” 

—

As promised, Dave only stays for a short time. However, the tour was a total lie.

You kiss him gently as the door closes behind him. Quick, closed-mouth pecks that are driving Dave insane, but he grips your biceps, pulling you back with ease.

“Behave,” The gruffness in his voice brings you back to the surface, “you promised.”

Dave has never lacked self-control, but with you, it was nearly impossible.

Luckily for him, you felt like following your self-set rule, but it doesn’t stop you from cuddling up on your couch for a brief time, a hand combing through his thick, perfectly quaffed hair—though the same couldn’t be said now, slightly askew as he squeezes at your thigh when you pull at a few strands too hard.

“Ask it,” Dave says suddenly, seeing the apprehensive look in your eye, “whatever it is.”

“I’m just curious,” You tell him honestly but quietly, your eyes dragging up his face until they meet his own, “about you—I feel like I know bits and pieces, but nothing…real.”

He grunts, a non-committal response.

“I can keep your secrets,” You tell him like a sacred promise, “no judgment, either.”

His thumb drags over your nose in a sweet, gentle manner before it lands at your chin, cupping the side of your face as he begins to speak in the quiet room.

“I have two kids,” He admits, “—two girls with my ex-wife. We share custody but because of work…it makes it harder to see them often.”

You make a face, one that conveys sadness, a feeling of empathy as his gaze drifts off behind you while his fingers massage gently into the back of your neck.

“Don’t do that,” He pleads, “don’t feel like you need to–”

“You are the first guy in eight months that hasn’t tried to fuck me within two hours of meeting me,” You tell him, a soft giggle bubbling in your throat, “There is no need, Dave.”

“It’s taking…a lot of effort on my behalf,” He admits with a soft laugh, his normal monotone and emotionless face cracking with a smile, “I’m trying.”

“I just—I don’t want you to feel like you need to be careful with me,” You assure him, “I won’t break that easily. I’ve shared with you, I want you to feel like you can do that with me.”

“Tell me something else about yourself then,” He waits, your mind trialing away for a moment, thinking.

“I feel like I never have control over anything—my life, my relationships,” You sigh, “it…it is a lot deeper, I think. But, I don’t know how to fix that. Sometimes it feels pointless.”

Dave nods slowly, and thoughtfully. 

“I can teach you control, sweetheart.” Dave assures you, “Do you want that?”

The intensity in his eyes is new, but it doesn’t scare you. Instead, you find yourself nodding obediently. He kisses you that night again, more intensely than he ever has, a hand fisted into your hair, your body curled around him and it is nearly impossible to let him go.

—

The third date is intimate, as you had expected.

He invites you to his place and it takes you a few minutes after hearing him say it for the words to click in your head, until he reiterates it again and you agree eagerly. 

It was how you ended up on his couch after a full, delicious meal that Dave had cooked you himself and the drone of a local news channel playing on the television as you curledl up at his side, taking in the sights of his own apartment. It was so…detached. No family pictures, no drawings, no personal artifacts outside of expensive art and sculptures that had to cost more than a month of your own rent, maybe even two.

“How can you afford this?” You ask harmlessly, eyes dragging up to the gaudy chandelier hanging overhead, “I mean, your living room is the size of my entire apartment.”

“I’m not a starving college student,” He jokes, taking your playful jab in stride, “—this is just a temporary space, sweetheart. I…travel a lot for work, I’m only ever here maybe one week out of the month really.”

It explained why your dates were so spaced out and why phone calls and texts were preferred over an in-person meeting. But, he’s still skirting around the topic and it heightens your worry the tiniest bit.

“My turn to ask a question?”

You nod.

“If I had tried to fuck you on the first date, would you have let me?”

You smirk slightly, knowing the answer despite your distaste for the other men.

“I’ve had…really bad experiences any time I break that rule,” You admit, “it’s another situation where I feel like I’m losing control and it quickly turns into something I’m not interested in. I want to say no, but the answer is probably yes.”

Dave’s eyes go pensive, his gaze dragging to the small gap between you both, the arm slung over your shoulder stopping for a moment, but his touch remains, his fingertips against the slope of your neck and he’s fighting something within himself. You can see it.

“Just say it, Dave,” You find yourself pleading with him, “I think we’re beyond the realm of a third date. Whatever it is, I promise not to judge.”

“I know I told you I work freelance, but it’s…more than that,” He looks around, wondering if he should flee now and escape this conversation, but your gaze is heavy and unrelenting, “I used to work for the government, but things happened. Now, people hire me too—”

The gears are working overtime in your head, putting things together as he speaks, and really—it should have been more obvious, that far disconnected from his personal life, and the unwillingness to share information so freely.

“You’re a hitman?” You break the tension and spit out the word he’s dancing so carefully around.

“More or less,” He nods, carefully examining you to gauge your reaction.

“I mean, you’re not just…going around killing innocent people, are you?”

“Only the people that deserve it,” He doesn’t want to go into detail, already seeing the disconnect on your face, “It isn’t—it’s not something I’m doing often and it isn’t shit that I take lightly. It’s also not at all ethical and if you want nothing to do with me now, knowing that, I can respect that—”

“Would you kill me?”

Dave looks at you incredulously, “No—what kind of question is—”

“Then—” You shrug, “it isn’t my business, unless you want to make it my business.”

“You are…something,” Dave says aloud, his thoughts trickling from his mind to his mouth.

You smile, tilting your head as you rest it against the back of his couch.

“Did you still want a lesson in control?” Dave asks curiously.

You nod silently.

“Do you trust me?”

“So much,” You admit, “it’s a little embarrassing.”

Dave sits up then, nodding toward a far-off room you hadn’t been privy to exploring yet.

“Follow me.”

—

His bedroom is large, but it isn’t anything surprising. It’s dull colors and clean, almost sterile. But, you still wander—and he allows it, lingering as he unbuttons his cufflinks and strips himself of his button-up shirt. You run your hands over the soft sheets on his bed and climb on carefully, feeling your dress ride up with the movement, the cold touch of the comforter bringing you back to reality.

“I wanna try something,” Dave admits, tilting his head to meet your gaze from across the room, “—and I need to hear it again, that you trust me.”

“I do,” you nod easily, “I trust you.”

“Take your dress off,” He instructs and you’re slightly confused, but you follow his direction and pull the dress over your head, bare breasts spilling out with the lack of bra you decided to go without and Dave’s gaze lingers, heats up, his movements only slightly more hurried as he works at his slacks, “lay down—close your eyes.”

You laugh quietly at the absurdity of his clinical tone of order, but the weight of him as the mattress dips has your body pulsing at the thought, cunt throbbing at the smallest hint of his smell that you’ve become so accustomed to.

“I’m going to put something in your hand,” Dave tells you, “only open your eyes when I say so, alright?”

You nod obediently and unfurl your hand, feeling a heavy weight press into your palm and another hand trail down the inside of your thigh, squeezing at the junction where your inner thigh meets your cunt, and then his other hand is grabbing your hand, and curling it around the object and your senses do the work for you, unfortunately—

“Dave, is that a—” Your heart races in a panic as your eyes rip open, “is that a fucking gun?”

“Baby, calm down,” He soothes, and weirdly, it works, “the safety is on.”

He retrieves the gun that has fallen from your grip and returns it, dragging the weight up until your hand is resting between your legs, the barrel of the gun pressing into the skin just above his belly button, watching as his bare stomach flexes against the cool touch of the gun. It was then that you had a moment to admire—you figured this line of work required him to keep some kind of strict regime for himself, but it wasn’t clear until now. He’s wide, and broad, but you already knew that much. He’s not ripped in a sense, but he looks—feels strong, his tight grip on the inside of your thigh an immediate sign and he breathes, pushing against the barrel.

“You want control? I’m giving it to you.”

“Dave, this seems a little—”

He guides the barrel down, down, until the weight of it catches against the front of your underwear and guides your hand in slow, careful circles as the tip of the gun catches your clit and you find your pussy quivering at the action, but not out of fear.

You were turned on and Dave knew it.

“I want you to be comfortable around it,” He admits, and oddly, it makes your heart ache, “but if you don’t like this—we can stop.”

You find the gun dragging back toward his abdomen at his words and the smile on his face is immediate. Dave doesn’t move a fucking inch.

“No.”

“There’s my girl.”

His thumb replaces the barrel, rubbing slow circles over your clothed clit, and his eyes are locked on you, somehow managing to make everything else fade in comparison.

“Can I taste you?”

It sounds lewd, more than it should. Like an animal dying for a taste, He can feel the warm, wet spot forming in the patch of underwear covering your cunt and he needs it, but only if you’ll allow it.

You nod, the barrel slowly crawling up his chest as he lowers himself, fingers hooking into your underwear as he pulls them down, tilting his head up to look at you as his warm breath fans over cunt, “Put it against my head,” He suggests rather than orders, and you’re hesitant for a moment before he’s giving you that nudge, his tongue dipping into your cunt without warning as he’s lapping up the center of your pussy, groaning as the barrel presses front and center to his hairline and your back arches, fingers still carefully off the trigger but tightly wrapped around the grip and you moan, so loudly you find yourself trying to muffle the sound with your hand.

“Soundproof,” Dave notes, “don’t hold back, baby.”

He doesn’t either, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he spreads you wide, broad shoulders giving you no relief as he licks, quick and practiced tongue flicks over your clit until you’re keening, the gun trembling in your grip as he presses his head further into the barrel, leaning down until he can slip his tongue inside of you, grunting at the way you cry out, walls pulsing around his tongue.

He pulls away suddenly, featherlight kisses over your pussy, gentle lips over your mound and it feels like it’s all in an effort to tease—you’ve never gone this far before with him but somehow he was already in tune with your body, and frankly, you’ve been waiting too long for this to allow him to drag out your release any longer than you’ll allow.

He grins as the barrel pressed more firmly at the center of his forehead, a silent demand. But, he’s not satisfied.

“Tell me. With your own words.”

“Make me come,” You order him, another firm press, “now.”

He buries his face into your cunt without another word, nose pressed against your clit as you felt yourself clench around the work of his tongue and fingers, the breach of one, as it pushed inside of you, had you squirming under his touch. Your grip on the handle slips but Dave is there, hand wrapping around your own to keep it firm as he hums, lapping you up greedily. 

Your eyes are half-open, stuck staring at the plain ceiling as your head tips back, gasp caught in your throat as he doesn’t relent, his mouth moving over your clit to suck, alternating between that and precise flicks of his tongue before you’re curling over the edge with a loud moan, all while Dave’s hand slips to the barrel, keeping at steady while he admires you, the strain in your neck as you shout, legs shaking around his head as he finally gives you some relief, trapping him there as he cleans up the mess between your thighs.

He rises slowly then, gun trailing down until it drags against his chest, watching it indent in his skin until you’re pressing it against the bulge in his boxers, the dark material hugging his thighs and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, and nod as his fingers trace over his waistband, still unmoving despite your eager eyes.

Take control.

“Take them off,” You tell him, the end of the gun tucking itself between the fabric, a playful smile pulling at your lips, “I wanna taste you, too.”

He hesitates, his palms pressing against your knees as he tilts his head slightly, “This is about you, sweetheart.”

“And what I want is your dick, in my mouth—is that too much to ask?” You pout slightly, dropping the gun to the comforter as you pull at his waistband but his hands stop you—maybe you weren’t as in control as you thought, it was all just metaphorical and Dave was into some weird shit.

“I’ve got…plans, for that,” Dave hints lightly, grinding his bulge into your palm as you press it against his clothed cock, “how about—you let me fuck you? I did make it to the third date, after all.”

He wanted you to be selfish—to soak up all the pleasure he was attempting to offer. He knew your past hookups couldn’t have been great; short three-minute fucks on the bed inside some dirty apartment of the man you had selected for that weekend, this was about you. 

He wasn’t trying to control you, but rather guide you. 

“Plans?” Your ears perk up as you lean forward, one hand tucked behind you for support as you squeeze at his cock over the fabric, his hand sliding over your neck to caress your cheek, his thumb rubbing over the curve of your lips before tilting your head up, “Who said I keep things going after the third date?”

He can see the inkling of playfulness in your expression as he surges forward suddenly, getting his hands underneath you and pulling your hips over his own, squeezing at your thighs as you instinctively ground yourself down against him, a wet patch forming in his boxers.

“Grab it,” He nods to the lone weapon.

It feels feeble now, just a prop. Sure, it made your heart race at the weight of it in your hand—that it was real, but you knew there was no real danger. Still, you play along.

You pick it up, examining it leisurely as you move your hips, “Have you killed anyone with this?”

Dave nods silently, his eyes following the line from your abdomen to your cunt, watching as your cunt dragged over the material and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted something so badly, his thumbs pushing at his waistband, but the jerk of the gun being set effortlessly in your grip and placed at the center of his chest startles him for a brief moment.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” He answers, “I have—does that scare you?”

You nod absently, helping him as you lift your hips and let him push his underwear down his legs, kicking them off haphazardly as you drag your bare cunt against him and his mouth falls open slightly, his eyes still closely following your face, waiting for your response.

“No,” You shake your head, because as much as it should—it didn’t. 

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” Dave teases, feeling the subtle flex of your fingers into his chest with the hand that you had free, the barrel dragging up slowly until it forced his chin higher, resting just against the center of his throat.

“Maybe,” You reply, “does that scare you?”

“Baby, nothing scares me anymore.”

You flick off the safety in the heat of the moment, but there’s no reaction, not even a flinch. 

“I wouldn’t have given you that if I didn’t trust you,” He ignores the way your face softens, a frown forming on your face, “Don’t—don’t worry. You won’t, I know you won’t.”

He guides your hips up as your eyes stay locked on the weapon at his throat, finger off the trigger but your heart is hammering in your chest, afraid that even one small movement would be a mistake. But, there was something in the way his jaw flexed, pressing his throat even further against the end of the gun as he slid into you, hand fisting his cock as your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, sinking further and further, until he was rooted inside of you.

“Don’t think,” He tells you, “just move, baby—take.”

Take it, claim this. Him. 

It dawns on you in the heat of the moment, mind partially clouded that this was the craziest thing you’ve ever done, especially for someone you were fucking for the first time.

But weirdly, you felt comfortable—and you knew if you wanted to stop, Dave would allow that. Still, you didn’t.

You rock your hips slowly, free hand gripping his shoulder as his own fingers dig into your skin, aiding in the rise of your hips as his own lifted and smacked into yours with a quickly building intensity. No words were shared, just sounds breathed into each other’s skin.

He trails a hand up the center of you, curled around your face as his thumb presses against your bottom lip, pulling until it touches your teeth and you finally understand, taking the digit into your mouth and sucking.

Dave’s thrusts are rough, precise. It hits a spot so deep inside of you that your entire body aches at the feeling, rubbing against your g-spot with every stroke, feeling your eyes roll back in your head as he forces his thumb down on your tongue, a wordless communication as the the gun slips with you fleeting mind, but he’s there with his hand on the barrel to keep you steady.

“Come,” You command, “come inside of me.”

And his sanity be damned, he was. He didn’t care what the aftermath would bring—he’d do whatever you needed him to, silently praying that you weren’t that reckless. 

You wouldn’t have asked otherwise. 

Your nails dig into the muscle of his broad shoulder and his hips jerk at the feeling of you squeezing down on him, your thumb hesitantly pulling back at the hammer of the gun—he knows that sound and he feels the vibration of it against his throat as he comes, it hits him like a force.

He grunts through gritted teeth, rocking your hips with every weakened thrust as he pulses inside of you, still having half the mind to swat the gun away carelessly, his demeanor changing on a dime after you’ve had your fill of him. You shout softly as he rolls, trapping you underneath him with his hips and hands, shoving your palms under the pillow, and settling between your legs.

Your first instinct is to reach out, and touch him.

“Don’t,” He warns, “don’t move.”

You freeze, hands squeezing at the silk pillowcase, fabric bunching on your grip as he reaches for the gun.

“I want you to come again,” He demands, flipping the gun in his grip, the barrel pointed at you now.

“Dave—“

“Again,” His eyes flick down, “—get creative.”

You take a shallow breath, eyes pleading.

But, you knew you could. You wanted to, especially with him looking at you so hungrily, unexpectedly pushing his cum back into you with two fingers as you felt it seep out, a touch so delicate that it gives you whiplash against the dark dichotomy of his tone.

“Hold—hold it against me,” You tell him, “please?”

“You’re asking?”

“Do it,” You sound more steady and he moves with hesitation, pressing the tip of the barrel against your swollen clit, already too sensitive and the moment he presses the cold metal there your entire body shutters, mouth dropping open in shock, “fuck—I’m too sensitive.”

“Or I can fuck you with it, is that what you want?”

There’s a brief moment of intrigue that crosses your features and Dave can’t help but chuckle, his cheeks dimpling with the emotion.

“You’re trouble,” He admits, “so much fucking trouble.”

You rock your hips against the hard, but somehow dull edge, knowing that it would only take a few seconds but you were teetering, riding that line and needing more.

“Dave, please—your fingers,” You squirm, eyes squeezing shut as you grip the pillowcase so tight it might rip under the stress, “put them inside of me.”

Thankfully, he does. It’s the crook of his middle finger and the weight of the gun against your clit that pulls you over the edge a second time, vision whiting out as you came and forcing a broken sob from your chest, finding that the emotion floods you in an instant.

It wasn’t sadness, just a feeling that overwhelmed you.

Pleasure, peace, and with Dave staring at you with such adoration you weren’t sure how you’ve gone this long in your life without him.

You sigh shakily, “Fuck, that was intense.”

“Hey, sweetheart, look,” Dave cocks the gun back and your eyes draw to the weapon, showing that it was empty—it had never even been loaded, “it was all about control, alright?”

You laugh lightly, the absurdity of the situation sending you into a temporary delirium. Dave recocks the gun and flicks the safety back on, placing it on his nightstand before he’s tending to you, pulling at your arms and rolling over onto his back. You cuddle against his chest wordlessly, his soothing hands on your back a constant presence as he fumbles for the blanket, covering you both.

“I’ve never done that before,” You admit quietly.

“Did you enjoy it?”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking, he already knows the answer.

“I trust you, so much,” You admit, “I don’t even know—“

“I wouldn’t have attempted that on a first date,” Dave tells you, “just so you’re aware.”

“Oh, so the gun has a three date rule, too?”

He knows you’re being coy.

“It has a you rule, sweetheart. If you had said no, I wouldn’t have questioned it.” He tells you, feeling your heart swoon despite the absurdity of the situation, “Being behind the barrel of a gun, pointing it—it’s that surge of adrenaline. The control of the situation. I wanted you to feel that.”

You stay silent, lost in thought as you stare at him, watching as his gaze flicks down at you briefly with a knowing smirk, “Plus, I never would have handed you a loaded gun—not when you don’t know anything about gun safety. Was that your first time holding one?”

You nod meekly, wondering if he was going to feel regret.

“Would you teach me? If I asked?” You ask suddenly.

“How to use one?”

“I mean, is there a better person to ask?”

Dave chuckles dryly, a faint smile showing that quickly disappears.

“I’ll teach you, baby. As long as I get a fourth date.”

“You can have as many as you want. Five. Ten—“

“Careful,” He chided, “there’s still stuff you don’t know. About me.”

“I want to,” You assure him, “in your own time—as much as you’ll tell me. I can wait.”

Dave feels like he’s taking advantage of your kindness, your blind willingness to trust him. But, it has been so long since he’s had this—a confidant, someone who he could connect with without judgment. 

He knows you’ll find a reason to run eventually, they always did.

“How do you feel about Paris?” He asks suddenly.

“It’s…pretty? I’ve never been but it seems alright.”

“Are you free next weekend?”

Your eyes widen at the implication.

“Dave—“

“Is that a yes?”

You nod shyly.

“Perfect,” He mouths into your hair, pressing a kiss against the scalp, “pack something fancy to wear.”

“How fancy?”

“Absurdly fancy,” He chuckles.

Because if there was one person who could get you to agree to anything, it was Dave.

[envy-of-the-apple]

I'm 99% sure it was called "Forever Yours" and it was a yandere oneshot series basically of a ton of popular anime boys from the time. The ones I remember were the Tokyo Ghoul dude, there were some Death Note guy chapters, there was the ML from Kamisama kiss, OH and the white haired guy from Psycho-Pass. There were like 50 chapters. It had probably a million likes or something it was INSANELY popular.

Ryntymy also had some other ongoing fics (and a ryntymny/reader crack fic, god, love them for that), but god it's soooo hard to remember.

i DID find a post about one of the fics i knew of that was actually REALLY GOOD that you would have LOVED (it was very similar to saltburn although it's quotev so this yandere was ofc pretty tame):

https://www.reddit.com/r/Quotev/comments/1b652gu/trying_to_find_old_x_reader_fic/

as for what's still up... hm. i do remember parallel ink, and also psychadelic peanut (they had this really trippy izaya fic):

https://www.quotev.com/story/9754667/Unfortunate-YandereIzaya-Orihara-x-Reader/1

AH parallel ink wrote kingdom of possession, which i DO remember:

https://www.quotev.com/story/6759314/Kingdom-of-Possession-Yandere-King-x-Reader

and there was this one series that was ACTUALLY quizzes, which was neat:

https://www.quotev.com/quiz/8085561/Out-of-Sight-Out-of-Mind

this one was a pretty fun sort of mystery style thing:

https://www.quotev.com/story/11260294/Seesaw/1

and this one was like. formative for my longing for pathetic masochistic men. i wasn't super into it back then but THE SEEDS WERE PLANTED:

https://www.quotev.com/story/8901227/Then-Came-You-Sadistic-Reader-x-Yandere-Character-One-Shots/2

SEESAW????? I lovedddd that fic so so much ahhhh it was amazing!!! the fic put me in so much denial cuz i was like 'its him! wait no its not him? wait it IS him? no wait-' very very entertaining

speaking of murder mystery yandere fics...there was this one where the reader was isekaid onto a train and quickly pieces together that all of the passengers resemble ppl from this book they read years ago...except they cant remember the ending aka they dont know who the murderer is. pretty sure the author deleted it but it was good!

its so funny you mention psychedelic peanut cuz i remember they got canceled???? actually...pretty sure parallel ink did too...as well the rest of their clique....and thats why i zipped outta the quotev yandere community!

actually that one aot isekai i was talking about was hosted on quotev! pretty much the height of literature, there's no competition. if i dont find it im just tempted to just rewrite it.

Curse of a Broken Promise is still up there and i think it still holds up! its a yandere kaneki ken fic and the writing is so....whimsical? idk how to explain it but it whenever i read it i always felt so sad. good read!

Imperishable affection (yandere!mafioso x reader) is ALSO written by the same author. basically yandere mafia boss guy threatens you into loving him or else your family dies yada yada so ofc the mc does. for a quotev yandere fic its pretty dark actually.

You Need Me (Yandere Manipulator x reader) THIS was the fic that brought me into the yandere thing. and the author used to update EVERY day so this whole this was an event. and the TWIST i remember being 14 and gasping like 'omg he did EVERYTHING???' very very good

If you want a izayax reader fic whos author WASNT wierd might i suggest Twisted Obsession. Beautiful writing. Its better than most ao3 writing actually and wayyy above mine. I love the way this author characterizes Izaya in this and the backstory for why hes so strange is pretty believable. like i fully believe it should be canon.

Savior Complex is an aot isekai where the mc gets whisked into a yandere sim where Petra is the love interest and the rest of the aot cast is obsessed with her. but we can all guess what happens. pretty good tho!!!

BUT EVERYONE GO READ PRETTY its a gojo x LATINA READER AHHHHHH YESSSS. i just LOVE LOVE LOVE the way this author writes. its so poetic and there's so much left up for interpretation.

[sockatoothewafflebird]

mcsm community hear me out. petra stans hear me out.

what if??? petra had a tragic and emotionally devastating backstory? and what if i wrote a fic about it: in which petra and jesse go on adventures that bring back bad memories?

yeah, i'm writing that right now! fic will be called Mama's Boy (listen to the song mama's boy by dominic fike if you want.. like... plot i guess) and i'm planning on it being somewhere between five and ten chapters? i also plan on incorporating some of the recent minecraft updates like the pale oak forests.

yeah if you wanna read a jesstra fic that'll probably be at least multiple thousands of words about petra learning how to talk about her issues. then you better keep an eye out *finger guns*!!! i'll post an actual summary/preview of it soon, but this is all i have for now. stay tuned! here's my ao3 profile btw so you can check for when i post it, should be within the next week if all goes well :)

[commander-rahrah]

Talking to the Moon: Part V

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader Word Count: ~6200 Warnings: emotional hurt/comfort, arranged marriage, slight family angst aka daddy issues? I'm terrible at these

archiveofourown: here

masterlist: here

part I: here part II: here part III: here part IV: here

Summary: Set at the end of Act II, after Moonrise Towers and Kethric. Reader/Tav leans on Astarion and reveals more about their family and their story from before the Nautiloid.

Notes: I've emerged from my cave I made on the couch in my basement and finally finished this update! I got bronchitis a week or so ago and it kicked my booty, but I'm finally feeling better!! YAY! I have no voice still, but good thing I don't need that to write fanfiction!

So this update reveals more of our Selune blessed Tav's backstory that is based off my original D&D character. I was really hung up on whether or not I should include more backstory and lore for this GN!Tav/Reader, since it isn't very typical for a lot of the gn!reader fics I've read. But it was giving me such writers block if I did not include it, as I honestly have the rest of this fic completely planned out and the endgame I have for this pairing relies on more of this backstory, so I decided to include it! Also, its my fic… and my character sooo I hope you enjoy my baby and the little story I wrote for them five years ago. This character will have a special place in my heart forever, and I'm excited to share more of them with you all!

I also desperately wanted to include a scene of Astarion and Tav/Reader kissing for the first time since his confession and them setting boundaries about physical intimacy and contact. I know the game just lets you click the kiss option right away, but I like to think its something that Astarion would build himself up to again and would maybe even have to relearn — not kissing like it was a performance, but instead an expression.

Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts! It means so much to me and every time I see a notification! It fills me with infinite joy ♡♡♡ I know there is lots of posts circulating about this and tags get filled with it, but reblogs and comments are so so appreciated!! :)

·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨:·..·:¨༺ ༻¨

He wasn’t sure how you did it. Astarion was exhausted, beyond that actually — shattered. His feet were stiff and aching, his mind fuzzy with weariness. Yet you were still smiling, accepting the gratitude of every single person at the Last Light Inn with humble nods and smiles. He’d never had a longer day in his life. The temple, the Shadowfell, Shadowheart, Moonrise Towers, the goddamn Absolute. Gale... Gods, you had talked down Gale from fulfilling the desire and demands of an actual goddess. All in one day. All he wanted to do was to fall into a bed with you, and sleep. To just pretend for one moment that there wasn’t any marching armies or impending vampire masters waiting in Baldur's Gate. To ignore the thrum of anxiety and fear that coursed through him as he remembered exactly what was carved into his back — what Raphael had finally revealed to him. Just for today, he had wanted to rest. But no — the end of this never ending day was to finish with a celebration. An annoying, lively celebration.  The vampire was being stereotypical as ever — standing in a shadowy corner, moody and silent as he nursed a red glass. It was wine. Gale had found a decadent bottle, buried away and forgotten about on some dusty shelf. The wizard had made an eloquent toast to the group gathered on the bottom floor of the inn. But he was now standing with Wyll — the two of them conversing politely with a pair of obviously flirtatious tieflings. Karlach had her arm wrapped around Damon, the two of them chatting enthusiastically and laughing.  Astarion was surprised to not see Shadowheart by Karlach — the two of them inseparable as of late. No, what was more shocking was that the dark-haired cleric was sat next to Lae’zel. Their mouths barely opening as they spoke to each other in low voices, buried under the noise of the celebration in the inn.  He almost choked on the sip he had just taken as his red eyes finally returned to you — where several people were forming a makeshift line to speak with you. The next one more bashful than the last as they leaned in to speak with you, all flushed cheeks and batting eyelashes.  You always had a certain charm about you, an innate ability to draw out easy smiles and laughs from others. You were also undeniably attractive — anyone who said otherwise would be a blind idiot. But other people being enraptured by you had never bothered him before. He had just silently agreed with them — that yes, you were indeed a prize like no other.  But you were his now, weren’t you? As he was yours. Even without the label or words that he still couldn’t figure out how to say. That he was too afraid to say. Regardless, why were you entertaining these fools?

He'd not felt this before — was it jealousy? Gods, he was being like a petulant child who didn't want to share their toy. You were a person, you could make your own decisions. That was the entire point of all of this. 

What was he going to do — follow you around like a lost puppy? Drape himself over you, clutch onto you like a coat so others would see he was with you? 

You must have felt his red eyes piercing through you as you suddenly flicked your eyes over to meet his gaze. Your face instantly brightened, a smile tugging on your lips. An overwhelming sense of relief went through him as you waved apologetically to the small group in front of you, before weaving your way over to his dark corner. 

"Yes, darling?" He drawled as you approached, trying to hide any emotion betraying on his face as he tipped his wine glass in front of it and took another sip. 

"Why are you hiding away in this corner? Not feeling like being paraded around like a hero?" You said sarcastically. 

Astarion rolled his eyes at you, replying dryly, "I am many things, but a hero, I am not."

You leaned in conspiratorially, lowering your voice until it was just a whisper. "I would beg to differ. But you have a reputation to uphold, don't you?"

He barked out a laugh, before flicking you in the nose gently. "You cheeky pup." 

"Ow." You feigned, scrunching your face up at him. "That hurt." 

A wave of courage swept through him as he pushed back the little voice in his head. He leaned forward and pecked his lips onto the tip of your nose. He hoped the tingle that spread across his lips as they met your skin would spread to you. It seemed it did as your skin then flashed a delicious, brilliant shade from surprise. A tiny squeak even escaped you, your eyebrows shooting up. 

You had not kissed, not since his confession. Not since all of this had started. Not a brush of lips against hands or cheeks, nothing. The look on your face and the sudden increase in the thrum of your heart had him feeling light headed. Did he truly have such an effect on you? 

For a moment, he let his gaze from you lapse as he swept his eyes across the inn. To the disappointed glances of a few partygoers, and the knowing looks of his companions, watching the pair of you interact. 

A flash of gratification went through him, satisfied at the effect he had not just on you but at those who had eyed you before. It squashed the jealously that had made a pit in his stomach, instead twisting it with a new, slowly recognizable feeling. 

"There, all better?" He smirked. 

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding at him. 

Astarion rubbed his lips together, the tingling sensation on them lingering still. "How much longer does the Hero of the Shadowlands need to stay down here?"

You looked over your shoulder to the gathered patrons, the crowd thinning out more and more as the evening faded into a dark, late night. "Bored already?" 

He let out a weary sigh, letting his shoulders droop. "Exhausted, darling. And I know you are too." 

You were always a sight to see, holding a beauty he could have never imagined or conjured up in his head. But he could see the purple circles under your eyes, the usual sparkle in them had long gone dull. 

Your eyes flickered to your boots, nodding your head in defeat. "You're right." 

"I believe they have set some rooms aside for us, if you wish—"

"Do you?" You caught him off, trying to hide your own eagerness.  

His gaze softened, a smile tugging on his lips, "Very much so."

The pair of you bid goodnight to your companions quietly, subtle nods and waves as they continued their own conversations or headed to their own rooms. Astarion walked slightly behind you on the stairs, his hand resting gently on the small of your back as you led the way.  The path you took was familiar, the worn floor boards creaking before you were outside the private room the two of you had occupied once before.

Astarion let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door softly behind him, the sounds from the lingering party below muffled and leaving you in a peaceful quiet. But as he found reprieve in finally being alone, you suddenly crumbled.

You dived for the bed, a heartbreaking sob escaping you as your hands covered your face. 

Your name choked out him before he crossed the room quickly and joined you on the edge of the mattress. Gods, what was it about this Inn and room that had you breaking apart on it? "Darling, what's wrong?" He asked, concern etching every feature.

"I- I, didn't-"

He remembered your words earlier today — gods, was that today? How comforting his touch was for you, being reminded of his presence. He placed his hand carefully on your own that was trembling on your thigh as you tried to speak. 

You finally gasped out, "She wasn't there, she wasn't-"

Mol. The little tiefling girl. You had promised those rascal children downstairs you'd find her. And it was you who had told them she wasn't in Moonrise tonight, swallowing deeply as they dipped their heads with disappointment. But you had told them not to give up hope, that she was resourceful and strong. You had sounded so convincing that even he had believed you. 

But here you were, sobbing and breaking apart in front of him. "Oh, sweetheart. Gods, I should have seen this, I'm sorry."

You sniffled, glancing up at him with wide eyes. "Why are you apologizing?"

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shining with understanding, "I know you better by now. It was a mask you were wearing tonight...," He tucked a stray hair back behind your ear. "I hate it when you wear it."

"I just wanted everyone to be okay, I tried so hard..." Your voice cracked and broke. 

"You've done so much, darling. Look at what we did today, that was because of you." 

You always took care of everyone else. But who took care of you? Astarion thought, perhaps... him. He could… he would.

He had been.

"Oh my little moon, you don't have to carry the world by yourself, you know?" 

You sniffled and nodded, silver still lining the bottoms of your eyes. 

"May I?" He echoed the question you so often asked of him. You'd never touched him without asking the question first. Your consent you'd granted him was a separate conversation, one where you had told him casual, simple touches were okay. A silent conversation and agreement sometimes was exchanged with a look of your eyes. But with him, you had always asked. He thought that now he would return that favor to you, as you opened yourself to him — vulnerable and upset once again on the edge of this mattress. 

He hoped you appreciated the sentiment, as much as he did.

The vampire reached down, hovering his hands over your boots. Your brows furrowed slightly before you were nodding. Your eyes never left his pale fingers as he untied the laces of your boots, gently prying them off before setting them down neatly at the foot of the bed. Then he did the same to his own before he slid his way up the bed, leaning against the headboard before patting the spot next to him. 

"Come here." 

You hesitated, before beginning to scooch over to him. When he opened his arms as a silent invitation you hesitated again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please come here." He nodded solemnly.  

Astarion willed himself to keep steady and clear, drawing a breath he truly did not need. He enveloped you in his arms as you laid next to him, trying to stop his limbs for stiffening. It was all so foreign, it was terrifying. 

But your familiar scent filled his nose, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat with your chest pressed to his side. His fingers laxed as you settled into him, bunching into the material of your shirt. Your breaths started calming and eyes fluttering as you laid with him. 

"Is this okay?" You whispered — uncertainty laced every word. 

"I was just going to ask you the same thing."  He said softly, before swallowing thickly. "I don't know what I'm doing." You started to remove your limbs his, but he tightened his hold on you. "Don't, please."

"Astarion if you aren't comfortable—"

"I am, it's not that." He rubbed the soft material of your shirt between his fingers as he spoke, "I want so badly to be this for you, to be what you need. But I don't know how."

You craned your neck up to look at him, "I think you're doing a good job of it."

He looked down at you through his long lashes, "Truly?"

"Yes, Astarion." You sounded genuine, "No one... no one has ever made me feel the way you do."

He let out a sigh of contentment, settling in deeper with you before resting his chin on the top of your head. "I know we have so much left to do... But laying here with you. It makes it worth it."

"Are you scared?" You asked in a whisper. 

"Terrified, actually." He admitted. 

Your thumb rubbed across his stomach in smooth lines back and forth, "I will be with you every step of the way."

"That's part of what makes it all so terrifying." The vampire whispered, "Sometimes, I know that I couldn't do any of this without you by my side. But other times... when Ketheric turned into that thing, that abomination, with you looking so small in front of him..."

"I know." 

Astarion moved his head so he could look at your face, "You were right though." 

"Hmmm?" You hummed. 

"This is nice. Gods, when did I get so soft?" He chuckled, the movement of his chest vibrating your head until you joined him. 

Both of your faces were etched with bliss and contentment as you laid in the bed. On this bed where before he had laid awake, willing himself to fall into a trance, convincing himself to keep his distance from you, trying to protect himself from the inevitably of you. 

Now, you both fell asleep like that, still in your regular attire, wrapped in each other's arms with your head buried on his chest.

The stars caressing their moon. 

• • •

The journey towards Baldur's Gate was turbulent and nerve-wracking while also... hopeful. 

The group was buzzing with energy — the anticipation of returning to Baldur's Gate had made some of your companions restless in more ways then one. 

You were all sat for a short rest, relaxing in a patch of long, green grass just off of the dirt road you were traveling on. It was just your group now, the other parties and groups had begun moving at different paces and times until it was just your familiar companions now. 

Astarion was laid out in the grass, his head resting on your lap and your fingers absent-mindedly playing with his soft, white tresses. His eyes were closed, basking in the glow of the sun that was set high in the sky at this time of day. Occasionally the shadows on his face would bounce as his long lashes flickered, opening his eyes to glance at you with a dreamy expression on his face. 

It made your movements stutter each time you noticed it. But the grip he had on your heart — that was steady and true. He had possessed you in a way you still could not articulate, even all these weeks later. 

But you blinked back to reality as Gale's voice broke the silence. "You're a beautiful couple." 

You looked up, a sheepish smile spreading across your face from being noticed. Astarion craned his neck, his red eyes rolling back to look at the wizard before settling back into your lap with a disinterested look crossing his face. 

"Oh, I'm sorry... I'm made things awkward, haven't I?" Gale mumbled, his hands twirling with the blades of grass in front of him. 

You couldn't help the blush that was spreading across your cheeks at the attention. Especially as you realized the rest of your companions were looking over with small smirks. 

Gale continued as you remained silent, "I just meant that... Well, its nice to see my friends so happy. That's all." 

"Thank you, Gale." Astarion drawled, readjusting himself so he laid deeper on your lap. 

The wizard blinked in surprise, "You're welcome. Are you — is it a secret, or?"

"Not a secret, no." The vampire purred with a shake of his head. 

"We are just taking our time." You finished, a soft smile growing on your face to match the one spreading across Astarion's. 

"Hmm, that's nice." Gale trailed off, a wistful expression on his face. 

Before the silence could really settle in again, the rest of the party started a conversation up. 

"Won't be long now until we get to Baldur's Gate." Wyll said, his face hard to read. 

"Are you nervous?" Karlach stretched her long leg, nudging him in the ankle playfully. 

His mouth scrunched and nose crinkled, "I... I don't know how to feel."

"I can't fucking wait! I'll be able to show you guys my old stomping grounds!" The barbarian said excitedly, falling back dramatically into the grass with her limbs spread wide. She addressed you, shouting up to the blue sky, "What about you, Giggles? Excited to see home again?"

"Oh," Your fingers froze, hovering over Astarion's hair. "I had only lived in the city for just under a year. Home will always be in the north."

"The north? I don't think I've heard you speak of your home much." Shadowheart asked quietly, a quizzical look on her face. 

"I, yes— near the Ice Spires." Your mouth twitched.

"You hail from a noble line, yes?" Gale asked. Everyone was eyeing you with curiosity, even Astarion still stretched out on your lap. His red eyes shifting slightly as he studied you. 

You swallowed, painting on a polite smile before speaking, "My father is a Viscount. He is a formidable figure in the region." 

"Ah." The warlock grimaced, his eyes sad. "Why do I get the feeling our stories are more similar than I realize?"

You bristled. "I'm not exiled or anything... It's just been some time. That's all."

"That's all?" 

A humorless laugh escaped you, "I am a second born child. And my older brother is much more obedient and better suited to the game of politics than I am." You couldn't help the sad, bitter smile that spread across your face. The thought of home stung in more ways then one. 

Astarion noticed how tense you had become, his hand squeezing your knee as he pushed himself up with a dramatic huff. "We are never going to get to the city if we sit here lounging all day." 

You shot him a grateful look, and he gave you the slightest nod in recognition as he offered his hand to lift you up. He did so easily, brushing off blades of grass lingering on you both gently. 

"You were the one complaining not long ago about how long we had been walking for!" Gale said, sounding completely exasperated as Wyll helped him up.   

"Me? I said that? I don't think so." The rogue playfully scoffed, shaking his head so his soft curls bounced dramatically. He looked over his shoulder at you with a conspiratorial smile before stretching his hand out for you. His fingers intertwined with yours easily as he pulled you along the dirt path, away from the questioning and burning curiosity of the rest of the party. 

• • •

Your group finally settled down for the night — picking a small clearing just off of the well-worn, dirt path you had been traveling down. Perhaps the last time you would be sleeping in the wilderness. You would be at Wyrm's Crossing by midafternoon tomorrow. 

Astarion had set up your tent on the edge of camp, attempting to give you both some sense of privacy from your busybody companions. He knew they meant well, that they hadn't meant for this afternoon to turn into an interrogation. That, like him, they were just curious to know more about you. As kind and good you were to all of them, you were still somewhat of a mystery. You had revealed the origins of your powers to the group yes, but you rarely spoke about yourself or your home.

Not even to him. 

The vampire had been content to let it lie. He knew it would come with time — and he certainly couldn't make any demands of you. Not after how gracious and patient you had been with him. But he couldn't deny that part of him wanted to know more. Astarion had somehow become an open book with you — revealing and exploring parts of himself that he had buried down so deep that he was surprised he could find them. 

He worried that it all had been about him for so long. His trauma, his past, his goals. That maybe you had kept parts of yourself hidden away, on the back burner for him. 

You had your back turned to him at the moment, the golden flickering of the candles in the tent illuminating the curve of your spine and freckles across your bare skin. Your muscles stretched and tensed beautifully as you lifted your arms over your head —pulling your nightclothes over yourself as you changed in the corner. It was a boundary that was set much earlier, that he had slowly started making less and less strict. 

He wasn't ready for anything more yet — he knew that. But his red eyes couldn't help but roam your figure. He couldn't help the familiar sensation of want twisting low in his stomach, the twitch of his fingers at his side as he imagined running his fingertips over your soft skin again.  

The smile you gave him as you turned around was dazzling, even in the dim light and tight space of the shared tent. You joined him cross-legged in the center of the tent, both of you not quite ready to go to sleep just yet. 

He picked at his nail for a moment, trying to seem nonchalant as he opened his pink mouth to speak. "So... the Ice Spires?"

You raised a single eyebrow, a hard to read look crossing the rest of your features. "Yes?" 

His fingers continued to fidget in front of him. "It's cold... all the time?"

"Not all the time. Our winters can be brutal though." You said with a scrunched nose. 

"Oh, what a lovely sell. I can't wait to go now!" He said sarcastically. 

"Ha." You laughed dryly, before your voice turned wistful. "It's beautiful honestly... I miss it."

The vampire studied your face as you undoubtedly saw visions of your home in your mind's eye. The edges of his lips curved up as he remembered your promise to take him there one day. He broke you out of your daydream with a quiet cough before he spoke again, "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want. But why did you leave there, darling?"

Your eyes flashed to the floor of the tent, your mouth forming a hardline. "Promise me you won't be upset?" Your voice was barely a whisper. 

His eyebrows furrowed together at your reaction. He took two fingers, dipping them under your chin so you would look up at him. "Why would I be upset? You leaving home for whatever reason is why you are here now. With me."

Your eyes softened with his answer, before you nodded. Yet you still licked your lips nervously before speaking, "Well... you know that Selûne told my mother I would be destined for a different path then the life of nobility. My mother agreed to it all those years ago, both my parents knew and yet... they still hoped they could reel it all back in. That enough etiquette and language lessons would shape me into the perfect child they hoped I would be. But it was never me. I tried for them, I really did. Instead I started to fantasize about the people in our history lessons like they were characters in a book, and I spoke too loud and laughed at the wrong moment at dinner." 

Astarion couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he imagined you as a child — your face round and soft with innocence, your brilliant smile with missing teeth. The havoc that you would have caused, racing down wealthy halls as you acted out scenes from your books and danced in an empty ballroom with your melodic laugh echoing in the space. A piece of himself he had long forgotten about twinged inside him. He couldn't remember his own childhood anymore — it was lost to the last two hundred years of darkness. But something warmed in him as he dreamed up what yours was like. 

He snapped back to reality as you spoke again. "But I had a duty. I'm the second born, I wasn't being primed to one day take over for our father and run the keep, but I could be used in other ways. I've known of it since I was twelve."

His white brows furrowed again, "Known what?"

"When I became of age I would be married off to secure wealth and political ties with other territories. I'm engaged... technically." You admitted. 

His eyes dropped immediately to your fingers, the several jewels that adorned them from the moment he met you. He had never thought anything of them — thinking they were an artful display of rings that matched your personality and appearance well. But there it was — a golden ring of much higher quality then the rest, with a large ruby sitting in the center of it. Gods, how had he missed that. 

"Oh my gods. I'm a homewrecker." Then he burst out laughing, his head thrown back and his hands holding his stomach as he howled.

"Astarion, you'll wake up half the camp!" You leaned forward and hissed. 

"I'm sorry, I just —" He let out between gasps of breath, "It's so funny. Of course the person I fall for is to be wed to someone else."

You joined his chuckles, shaking your head. "It is like a cliché plotline from some terrible drama."

"It is! Or like a punchline to some joke. Did you hear the one about the vampire and the fiancé?" You both laughed for a moment, before he clutched onto your hand and squeezed it reassuringly.  

"So you aren't upset?" Your voice a whisper again, uncertainty flooded every word. 

"Upset? Darling, why would I be upset?" 

You huffed out an exasperated breath, "Astarion, I just told you I am betrothed to another person."

"And you are on the other side of the continent from them. Not married. And sitting in my tent. Is this why you left?"

Your eyes widened in surprise, "Yes, we planned it all out actually— my betrothed and I." 

"Really?"

You nodded, "They had also spent the last years troubling over it, attempting to delay it for as long as possible." 

"I'm assuming getting kidnapped by mind flayers was not apart of that plan?" He said with a smirk. 

"Definitely not. I so badly wanted to travel, to see the world outside of our keep I'd known my whole life. So... they insisted to my family that they needed a spouse that was learned and well-traveled. That I could enroll in a college to become a more suitable match."

Astarion raised a white brow, "And that worked?"

"It did. I think my father was so desperate for it all to work out that they just agreed."

"And how did you attending a college lead you to Baldur's Gate so many miles away from home?" 

You let out a dry chuckle, "I will say that I did go to the college like I intended. I lasted a week. Just long enough to purchase supplies and stationary from the college before paying for a spot on the next wagon out of Silverymoon." 

"Stationary?"

"I've been sending letters home for the past year, using stationary from the college so my family believes I'm still there studying and being a model citizen." 

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his lips. "I'm impressed. That's very conniving... I didn't know you had it in you."

You smiled sheepishly, your fingers twisting in your lap. "I'll admit it was a clever idea. I ran out of supplies about a month before the Nautiloid." 

He pursed his lips as he finally understood, "They haven't heard from you since then?"

You shook your head, "No. I imagine my father has sent some of his men to check on me, and they have long discovered that I took back my tuition deposit and left months and months ago." 

"This whole time we were worried about a vampire master storming our camp, when really it could have been a disgruntled father or worried mother finding us?"

A large exhale left your nose as you shook your head, "Oh, my father would never come himself. He would just send his second-best men and a strongly worded letter ordering me back home. My mother though... I can only imagine how she betrayed and worried she feels." 

The vampire squeezed your hand again before running his thumb along the backs of your knuckles. "Why did you never tell me this?" 

"Astarion, the hardship and abuse that you went through...," Your eyes shined with pain, "My story is nothing compared to yours."

"Your story is not nothing." He shook his head, his voice earnest. "Your story is you — and you are everything. Never spare parts of yourself from me." 

"Even the messy parts that years of etiquette lessons couldn't train away?"

He let out a breathy laugh before smiling at you, "Especially those parts, my lovely moon." 

"You have gone soft on me, Starry." You teased before matching his smile. 

• • •

After another day of travel, you stood in the abandoned castle in Wyrm's Crossing, bracing yourself on the stone wall. The skyline of Baldur's Gate could be seen from here, the distant sound of the bell's ringing heard even from here. 

Your party had finally made it — after all of these weeks. You would walk the familiar cobblestone streets of Baldur's Gate tomorrow. The familiar scents and sounds of vendors and citizens, the bustle and crowds would be so different from the wilderness and forests you had been traveling through. 

The group's energy was buzzing as you settled for camp in the abandoned castle — a strange mixture of excitement and nerves. Astarion hadn't hidden his feelings with you — his anxieties and insecurities surfacing with every step closer and closer to the city limits. With every step closer to Cazador and his ritual. Hundreds of different ideas were bouncing around his head, you could tell. 

Yet your confession to him last night was still replaying in your head, especially as your stared at the ring on your left finger — the red gem catching the light. You weren't sure why you wore it anymore. A habit, you guessed. 

The sound of purposeful, shuffling feet announced that you were no longer alone. Craning your neck you looked over to see the man who normally consumed your thoughts, climbing the stone steps that led up to the falling apart battlements you stood on.

"What are you doing up here, darling?" 

"Just taking a moment."  You admitted as you loosed a heavy breath. "And you?"

"Oh, just over pretending to be interested the idle chat by the fire." Astarion waved his hand, before sliding in next to you. He braced his elbows onto the edge looking out over to the skyline. You watched him take a deep steadying breath, his eyebrow crinkled with worry for a moment. 

You fiddled unconsciously with the golden ring on your left hand as you watched him. The movement caught the vampire's attention, his red eyes snapping to it before looking up at you. He chewed the inside of his lip, before speaking, "Can I ask you a question?"

Your stomach tightened with sudden nerves, "Of course."

"This wedding... Your arranged marriage." 

"Hmm?" You hummed. 

His pale throat bobbed as he swallowed, "Would you have gone through with it? If there was no Nautiloid, no tadpole — none of this. Would you have gone through with the arrangement?"

A heavy sigh escaped you as you pushed your elbows off of the stone edge and stood up, "I would have... I would have tried. It felt inevitable before — inescapable."

He shifted around, so he was facing you — standing to his full height and looking you in the eyes. "And now?" He whispered, his long fingers reaching to brush the insides of your wrist lightly.

"Astarion... I never could have imagined any of this. I spent my whole life fantasizing and daydreaming of an escape and grand adventure. Nothing I've dreamed up has ever come close to being with you. I have fought mind flayers and ogres, refused Gods and marched across the country so that we can keep going. So that we can have a chance. I will take my father's disappointment and wrath for ruining his plans for financial security." 

"Heh — We can add him to the list of people we've angered along the way." He joked, but his eyes were glimmering with unspoken emotion after your declaration. 

You studied the handsome man before you, your lips parting slightly as you took him in. He was radiant in the moonlight, his white hair and pale skin shining. The way his usually sharp eyes softened and rounded as he looked at you.

Gods, you loved him. You had known for sometime now that you did. The words had been crawling up your throat, lingering on your tongue and swirling in your mind for days. But you would be patient for him. 

One side of his pink mouth turned up, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Your head cocked to the side, "Like what?"

"You..." He seemed like he was at a loss for words for a moment. He shook his head at himself, before he admitted in a whisper, "They way you look at me... you make me feel like I'm poetry."

"You are, Astarion." You said simply. Courage suddenly flooded through you. You knew you would be fine, no matter how he answered. You wouldn't dare rush him. But you wanted to ask tonight. "May I — May I kiss you?" 

He blinked in surprise before his red eyes flicked down to your lips and he unconsciously licked his own. Then he locked eyes with you, nodding breathlessly. "Yes," He whispered back, his long lashes fluttering. "Yes."

Moving your hands up slowly and gently, your fingertips gripped the side of his strong jaw. You heard his breath sharpen as you moved your face to meet his — slowly, giving him time and space, allowing him to change his mind and pull away. But he didn't. Instead his eyes closed softly, his head tilting towards yours as he waited for you to kiss him. Then your lips locked as your mouth pressed softly against his, carefully as you waited to see if he would kiss you back. A low noise escaped you as you felt his lips press harder against yours, returning the kiss. 

You had long thought of your first kiss with Astarion in the woods near the Druid's Grove all that time ago. You thought you had memorized the sweet taste of him on your lips, the scent of leather lingering from his armor and groans that made the hairs on your arms stand up. 

But this — this was so different. Not practiced, not ritualistic like he so often said. 

This new first kiss was so painfully soft and tender. He tasted like wine, rosemary and honey. His hair softer then you remembered as your finger toyed with the curled tips at the base of his neck. The happiest of sounds escaped him as he parted his lips for you, allowing you to deepen the kiss as your tongue slid across his teeth. You both stood like that for a moment, relishing in the feeling until you both felt dizzy. Your lips stuck together slightly as you pulled away. His forehead was pushed against yours, like he was no longer content to not be touching you. 

Astarion's eyes were ablaze in the moonlight as he looked at you, his mouth falling open as he caught his breath. "Again. Kiss me, again.” “Starry?” You asked, your brow twitched. “Kiss me. Please. I miss it, I've missed you." One of his hands gripped the tip of your chin as you moved your mouth back towards him, halving the movement as he pulled you back in for another kiss. The other intertwining with yours in between you, squeezing your fingers gently. 

His sharp teeth dug into your bottom lip, causing a shudder to run down your spin. "Slow down, my love." Your groaned out.

"I have — weeks of this — to catch up on." His voice was breathless and he continued to interrupt his own words as he pressed lips to yours over and over. 

You pulled away, studying his face — the skin around his mouth pink from kissing, a slight flush crossing his complexion. But his eyes were fixed on you, filled with want and need. "I'm not going anywhere, Astarion. We have time." 

"Good. " He beamed, resting his forehead on yours again as you both breathed each other in. The two of you silhouetted on the crumpling battlements as you held on to each other for a moment longer.  

Read Part VI here

[house-of-mirrors]

💥✨️!!!

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

Make the third act of Nemesis good

To elaborate: involve the parabola base camp like the other 3 ambitions (I mean cmon you literally go there), increase tension with the relickers actually creating conflict cards in your deck, give Cups backstory and stronger motive, and overall make it harder to kill because it very strongly did not want to die so why not invest in more security if it knew you were coming, AND ALSO get somebody to write it that doesn't hate revenge stories 💀

✨️ Out of the comments you’ve received on your fics, what are two or three of your favorites?

Comment on this fic I wrote for @thedeafprophet, asking if Alex is particularly sturdy

Comments on this hurt/comfort fic about the richness of the detail

This comment on Cupbearer from @awordbroken "thank you Orsinio for being here to get batted around like a meat-filled pumpkin"

Basically any comment where people say they were looking forward to an update, reread the fic, or felt an emotional reaction to it. Also I adore when people leave whole paragraphs in the comments, that's like a dessert. They make me feel really good as a writer.

[totallybakedcake]

And back to JJK. Demon slayer? Unfinished anime and how I got into anime..

This is just pure dumb stuff, randomness, and even cringe stuff thrown here, so feel free to skip!

For starters, JJK was one of my first animes. I had been dying to watch it, but I could not watch it because my brother was against it. But eventually, I did watch every episode until the Shibuya arc, and after that, I stopped because there would be too much violence and all that.

This led to my biggest mistake: starting anime and watching spoilers

Spoilers

Naruto was actually my first anime, and I binge-watched so many episodes at once and cried so much. It was super fun, and I even watched so many fillers, but my brother eventually said that season 2 of the series has too much of a serious tone and did not let me. So, what did I do?

Spoil the whole damn anime for me

And then finally, I was going to watch. I watched about another 200 episodes, and then that was the end of my Naruto saga. I know what happens in the war: Boruto, Naruto marrying Hinata, and all the Akatsuki backstory, so I just gave up.

And the same happened with JJK. I saw way too many spoilers, and I still watch the later chapter spoilers too; even JJK ended with me.

I was just going to start the manga from the Shibuya arc yesterday, but then I started Demon Slayer, which I also know the ending of.

The reason I am so into Windbreaker, Kaiju No. 8, Sakamoto Days, Spyx Family, the Millionaire Detective, Buddy Daddies, and even Gakuen Babysitters is because I did watch any spoilers for them.

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

The reason I even got into Quotev, or my first app where I read fanfiction,.

I had an obsession with Yuta from JJK, now that I think about it. I cannot help it; he is just too good, but writing fics about him is kind of awkward to me because of Rika.

It was from my grandmother's phone that I read my first anime fanfiction, It's Pure Love by Whale Crumpet. If you want a good Yuta fic, I would totally say to try this one out, but the author hasn't updated it since 2022, and I feel my heart breaking. Even though they said they would return to quotev, they never did.

The Yuta fic I loved the most was Cupid's Cursed Arrow by Strawberry Belle. Damn,  did I fall hard for this fic. I would tell everyone in my house that Cupid's arrow was updated as I read it; it would give me giggles each time. That fic also hasn't been updated for 5 months.

Honestly I am not a sucker for crossover manga. It has to be super specific to my liking but Euphoria by Sceretstarlight was just too cute. Made me fall harder. Even the author of that fic on quotev is like the real life version of Mitsuri. I love her a lot♥️♥️

It was then a random day where I suddenly got an idea to write a Yuta fic, and I wrote it, rewrote it again, and the rewritten one has ten chapters in my notebooks, which I still have for the memories. I did read it a while ago, and it was terrible, but I had no freaking experience, so what can I do for that?

If anyone does want to read and give me some opinions on that chapter 1, I did upload it in my random ideas thrown here as a quote. You can read that here.

The only original story I have made is Lost in Dreams, which is again on quotev.

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

And for Tumblr, I clicked on the website once and was reading what I thought was a Yuta period cramp comfort, but it required me to sign up and all, so after a while, I did do that, but that fic was a Yuta vampire smut fic, and I ended up not liking it.

I just read fics, I have no idea how to make my own blog, about tags, dashboard, you could follow people and even like there works.

One thing I do know is I had a Sung jinwoo fic reading obsession like I loved reading about him okay. The first Jinwoo fic that stole my heart was by @catboyfics. Hunter is a series and it was the first Jinwoo fic I read and was so so in love with. It was my first non JJK fic I read and it felt different than the others if you know what I mean. I didn't understand how to save or like a fic on tumblr so I lost it and I was super devastated truly I was super duper upset and sad that I spent what 2 hours searching the Jinwoo tag on tumblr and when I did not find it I could have even started crying BUT I found it again and I saved the upload in my folder where I can easily read it and also followed catboyfics. I hope they are alright because they haven't been/ updated their blog in 2 months.. I also have no memory on how I got to know about tumblr but now it is my most used website..

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

That is the current problem with JJK fics, imo; the tags and stories are just almost pure shit. I am not saying bad to the writers; they have fun and they do what they want to do, but seriously, we need more JJK fluff, comfort, taking care of female readers, and overprotective fics. I just stated what I like, but whatever.

I have so much to write, but will I write that? No

Will I write dumb, stupid, and nonsenseful things? YEAH

I feel so stupid writing this but whatever let me rant/write random things for compensation for this horrible day

[coralpolyp]

The Complete Works Vol 1: Finding the Flow

Wide version of the book cover I threw together in Procreate for this fic at the time - there's another version which is arranged to fit a Wattpad cover

Welcome to The Complete Works! This is a two-part archival project I'm doing, where I gather together every piece of unreleased Splatoon writing I've ever done that does not pertain to an ongoing project, and put it all up publicly on AO3, alongside my own personal reflection on it, both over there and over here - what worked, what didn't, why I didn't finish it, and how it influenced what came after it. And I mean everything - full multi-chapter sequences, half-written chapters, plot outlines, one-sentence headcanons, and French revision, it's all here.

Finding the Flow

Started: 9th October 2022 (Earliest dated work in private)/20th December 2022 (First chapter posted to AO3)

Abandoned: 14th February 2023 (Last AO3 update)/29th June 2023 (Final attempt to work on it in private)

The fic itself: AO3

Unused content/Complete Works: AO3

It feels like it's been much longer than it actually has been, but this is the first piece of fanfiction I ever wrote - and the first one I ever gave up on too! I had original writing experience outside of school prior to this, but it was my first time working in a fandom, and my first time posting anything online.

This one was supposed to be a prequel/origin story with Marina as the protagonist, beginning at the end of Splatoon and ending with the beginning of Splatoon 2. I got the urge to start this not long after having watched the absolutely phenomenal Takotsubo Heartbeat, and also having just finished Better Call Saul. It goes without saying that I was in love with the ethos that both stories shared - that of taking intriguing but underdeveloped characters from an existing story, and building an unexpected and compelling backstory for them, which sheds new light on the source material without ever retconning or contradicting it - you never would have imagined that these characters had suffered so much when looking at the source material, because not even the people who created it imagined that - but once you see it it makes too much sense to look away.

Finding the Flow was a flawed, if noble, attempt at picking up what Takotsubo Heartbeat was putting down, and exploring Marina's life as an illegal refugee just trying to have a music career. Maybe I would have succeeded if I finished this one, but when I look back on what I wrote I find it rather hard to read, it's just not very good.

I had a very hard time writing the opening to this one, given how tricky the tone was to nail down - lesbian fluff, xenophobia, break ups, and killing someone don't usually need to occupy the same story, but here we are. I had this one fully plotted, and to this day I can somewhat applaud myself for the overall flow of it when I look back - there was some quite bold and satisfying payoffs, such as the police station scene, the breakup, and the big fight, but even at the time I was acutely aware of the sheer lack of meaningful character arcs outside of Marina herself. I feel like this was before I actually enjoyed writing, and it was more fun to daydream about it in lessons than it was to actually write it. It took me a long time to realise that being an "idea guy" isn't good enough - anyone can do that, the people that get remembered are the people who put in the work to make it real themselves - which still isn't quite as applicable to myself as I'd like it to be.

Once the daydreaming ended, and I burned myself out on caring about Off the Hook, this fic was as good as dead. One of the few subplots this fic actually had ended up being expanded into its own thing, All My Favourite Songs, which I also never finished! I feel like I still occasionally pic plot ideas from this thing's corpse whenever I'm going near similar subject material, and in my head I still treat most of what I had planned for Marina as canonical - not that that matters because she's only had one speaking role in my work since then.

What happens in it:

Marina narrowly escapes from Octo Valley, getting wounded in the process. She journeys aimlessly, (as did I as an author) in search of where the Inklings live, infatuated with the Squid Sisters and their song. To keep herself company (and asa bandaid solution to the fact that there is not a single other character for like 8 chapters), she makes the Squid Sisters her imaginary friends, albeit with their personalities completely wrong as she has never heard them speak before - it is then revealed in a flashback that this tendency towards imaginary friends and other such childlike behaviour is a result of military recruitment at an early age, and premature repression of such tendencies.

She spots the Inkopolis skyline from atop Mount Nantai, but has to hide when an Inkling Girl (Pearl) climbs up, screams a whole bunch, and then leaves.

Marina is fascinated, and regrets not confronting her. She decides to camp out near the observation deck until the girl returns, during which time she records the Ebb and Flow demo on a beat-up keyboard - the only thing she took with her, revealed to have been a gift from her Sergeant - a woman fiercely loyal to the regime, albeit with a more sympathetic and supportive approach to leadership, which brings with it a misguided and self-righteous sense of knowing what's best for everyone, better than they know themselves.

The Octarian forces catch up to Marina, and a firefight breaks out at dusk. She fends them off and retreats down the mountain, accidentally bumping into Pearl again - literally.

What would have happened next:

(This is abridged, the full version is here)

Feeling guilty about her usual abrasive tendencies, Pearl takes the paranoid and distressed person with weird hair speaking a different language home with her to try and help her out, not knowing what Octarians are. Marina plays her the Ebb and Flow tape, and they form a band.

Later, when her Inklish is much better and they're working on their debut album, Marina sees a wanted poster of her own likeness in downtown Inkopolis, put up by someone who is apparently wary of the "Octarian menace". Knowing she is now being hunted down by both her former allies and the people of Inkopolis she is trying to assimilate with causes her a great deal of distress, which Pearl notices, but never gets an adequate or truthful explanation for. She processes her emotions through writing more personal songs and going for long walks at dusk.

During their debut gig in a small lounge, Marina impulsively sings in Octarian on the last song, which gives her a deeper connection to the lyrics and makes her performance incredibly moving. From then on she always sings in Octarian.

The next morning, Marina is arrested, and has a humiliating experience at the police station at the hands of Octarian-hating police officers. The man pressing charges interrogates her personally, and identifies himself as the author of the wanted poster and an audience member of the gig - Craig Cuttlefish. The interrogation is interrupted by his grand-daughter Marie barging in and urging him to drop the case, saying that he's taking his NSS duties way too far. He does so upon learning that Marina likes the Inkantation. Marie sponsors Marina's residency in Inkadia, and they are both given a mountain of paperwork to do.

Marie and Callie take Marina out of for coffee, and offer to kickstart Off the Hook's career - pushing for them to be signed to the same record label as them, recommending them to their producer, Shy-Ho-Shy, and letting them open for their next concert, where they perform their debut single Ebb and Flow, which is released the same day.

While preparing for said concert, Marina discovers a homeless community of Octarian refugees one night - they had followed in Marina's footsteps, but received no support from Inkling Society on arrival. Marina realises that she has nothing to give them, despite her life of luxury, as all of it actually belongs to Pearl - they warn her that she is no better off than them, but she does not understand. When she gets home, Pearl and Marina begin dating. As the relationship goes on, Pearl becomes more uneasy with Marina's inability to tell her who she is and where she comes from.

The relationship is not made public until their second concert. Pearl tries to kiss Marina on the lips on stage, without her prior consent to the stunt, which angers her greatly.

Later, Pearl discovers Marina's paperwork, which includes mention of her having been arrested at one point. Marina still fails to explain anything, and they agree to break up, with the band going on hiatus and Marina leaving the house with nowhere to go.

She returns to the homeless community, which she discovers has been completely wiped out by her former sergeant, who is disgusted by her betrayal of the Octarian regime. Penniless and alone in a individualist society which doesn't want her and has little to no welfare provisions, she almost accepts, but ultimately refuses, doing battle with the sergeant and killing her when left no other choice.

Marina goes on to live a meagre life in hiding, DJing under a pseudonym, producing for Harmony, and crashing at Marie's apartment every night, sleeping in a room that used to belong to Callie, who has now gone missing.

Dissatisfied with her creative output without Marina, and aware of the ggrowing legend around the band's sudden disappearance, Pearl tracks Marina down and Off the Hook is reformed. Together they complete and release their debut album, and are hired to host Inkopolis News.

For more, read Finding the Flow or The Complete Works

[grubus]

Are you ever worried that you’ll eventually lose motivation and momentum to keep writing for SyoNR? I often am unable to finish any fics so I mostly prefer to stick to one shots or 2-4 chapters.

Up until SYoNR, I managed mostly drabbles, oneshots or, if I tried to write multichapter, I lost inspiration for it about 2-3 chapters in.

So yeah, I'm worried! However, the feeling when I write SYoNR is very different. I'm not writing because I'm inspired, but because I'm invested. I am thinking about what I would like to see next, or how to fill up the space before I get to a scene I've looked forward to writing (or have already written)

I also just think it's habit now. The other fics I dropped the moment I didn't feel like it; there are days I don't feel like writing at all, and sometimes I truly don't write at all. But I've gotten into the habit to at least try. I think that's probably the most important part- to just make it a bit of a routine. And also, and I know I keep saying this, to write for yourself rather than what you hope to get from others.

I stopped updating once a week because I started to feel too stressed about it. Two weeks right now is perfect; but one day, maybe I'll go down to 3 weeks because I want to write more than only SYoNR. Well, technically I am writing on more than SYoNR already, but maybe in the future I want to actually put focus on more fics than that. The main reason it's two weeks right now is not because I'm stressed about pleasing others, it's more that I just enjoy the deadline. It's fun to have a goal to achieve!

Point is, as long as I'm doing it for me, and adjust how I do things according to how I feel, then I don't think I'll ever get tired. It also helps that I am like 80% certain of how I will end the fic, plus I have several scenes already written/planned out and I have to keep writing to show those off to others.

I mean, SY's backstory was one of the first things I wrote for the story. I was extremely hyped about the shapeshifting demon, I was excited to write Binghe realizing he's in love, I was SOOOO happy to finally get to the demon invasion. There are so many other twists and turns I'm so excited to get to as well.

Also I am just better at managing chapters now. I have notes, I write up a little summary of each chapter for myself to follow etc.

This got away from me.

Point is, yes, I worry sometimes.

But right now I'm having fun, so it's fine <3

[linka-from-captain-planet]

Fanfic Writer Questions

thanks for the tag @siyurikspakvariisis!

Since I love compartmentalizing, I have 2 AO3 accounts I would consider "active": teefling (BG3 only) and Linka_From_Captain_Planet (Stardew Valley and Arcane) so I'll tally up the results for both so I sound more impressive.

How many works do you have on AO3? teefling: 8 (BG3) LinkaFCP: 24 (18 Arcane, 6 SDV)

What is your total AO3 word count? Teefling: 33,928 LinkaFCP: 209,399 Grand total: 243,327

What fandoms do you write for? Actively, just BG3. I could fall back into Stardew Valley at any moment (still eating up my new farms), but Acane is parked until Season 2 comes out, probably.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? - devil in disguise, snake with blue eyes (Arcane, caitvi) - An Anthology of Trib...ulations (BG3, shadowzel) - when my blue moon turns to gold again (BG3, shadowzel) - Goddess of the Hunt (Arcane, Cait/Brothel Girl) - come knock on this wood, get rocked by this thunder (Arcane, Cait/Sevika) These range from like 600 (high outlier) to 200. Honestly having a high kudos count is sort of embarrassing to me, as a mostly rarepair fan. My ideal amount of kudos is like, 50.

Do you respond to comments? Yes! I try to match the energy and give more detailed replies to more detailed comments, but I'll always respond to say thanks (even if it takes me a while). The only type of comment I might intentionally ignore is one asking for updates.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I think most people would say "when my blue moon turns to gold again" (BG3) because it involves a major character death, but for my taste it's pretty optimistic! I'd say it was "couldn't we reach inside and find that world of me and you" (Arcane), covering my take on Vi's time in prison and finding, and losing, her first love.

What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? "Courtship Traditions of the Stardew Valley: A Case Study", which was the last installment of my Haley Hates Prismatic Shards series. It's my designated tooth-rotting fluff fic.

Do you get hate on fics? Somewhat surprised to say no! I would just delete it/block without acknowledgement if I did.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yep! It really varies by whatever agenda the fic has. Sometimes PWP, but usually still with an elaborate setup/backstory, which I like-- I'm always hornier for a Concept and Why Are They Fingering than the fingering itself. Not to tell on myself, but sometimes I get annoyed at the meager and/or gross offerings whilst trying to cruise a kink tag, and just write my own damn fic. But mostly, I just like to use sex in fics to inform the characters' dynamic in a kind of saucy and gripping way. I wouldn't say it's low-hanging fruit, but definitely a fast track toward a high-emotion dynamic or situationship or whatever it is that I really want to portray. Writing the actual sex part is often a bummer for me.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I lack the whimsy for a proper crossovers (mixing Arcane and League like I do when I want to be horny about Corina Veraza doesn't count). This is why all my fics take place firmly in the original media's universe, and I can't do AUs either.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, and I don't think I really could. I'm happy to bounce ideas around, but actually collaborating on the actual writing would drive me crazy. I was the group project control freak for way too many years of school to do it again.

What's your all-time favorite ship? This is hard to answer as a relentless multishipper who fixates on one fandom at a time. Currently I'm in BG3 and it's Minthara/Florrick. In Arcane, it was Caitlyn/Brothel Girl, and in SDV, it's Leah/Haley.

What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? Realistically... I will probably never finish the Arcane series I started, which was about Vi and her "prison wife" unless I fall ass first into that particular insanity again. I will probably also never update my shadowzel kink ficlet collection.

What are your writing strengths? Concept, mood/atmosphere, POV character voice I'd say.

What are your writing weaknesses? Getting caught up in minutiae that don't really matter but need to be *perfect* before I can move on, being a control freak and over-explaining things because I can't stand the possibility of being misunderstood

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? This is such a random question, but it depends on whether it's a real language and how much dialogue it is. My works take place in fantasy worlds with fantasy characters, so it's whatever. If I'm writing in Minthara or Lae'zel's POV, I throw in commonly-known (to the fandom) drow or gith words with no explanation and usually not even italicized since it's a part of that character's usual diction. If I needed them to have a whole conversation in their tongue, I'd write it in English with italics to set it apart from the 'common' dialogue and prose.

First fandom you wrote for? Stardew Valley was the first fandom I ever published a fic for! But I would write for myself sometimes before that, I think it was probably Zelda (OOT) when I was really young. I didn't write at all between probably 13 and 25.

Favorite fic you've written? Super hard to say. Some of my older writing makes me cringe, but I have a lot of affection for older works that got me into the fandoms that have given me a lot of joy over the past few years. Best I can do is break it down by fandom. For Arcane, it's definitely "venus flytrap". For SDV, I'd say "Maybe Prismatic Shards Are Okay". For BG3, I'm torn between "mirage" (my favorite concept even if I think I could have executed it better) and "hold you like a python".

[chevvy-yates]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Decided it is time for another update so here's a longer post to what I've been up to and stuff that circles around in my head lately.

tagging:

@medtech-mara, @imaginarycyberpunk2023, @itzsassha, @humberg, @kittenchrissy, @rosapexa, @cinnamon-mey, @heywoodvirgin, @dreamskug, @drunkchasind, and everyone who sees and wants to do as well.

No pressure as always!

—

1. CHARACTERS & LORE

Let's begin with sth. first I have on my mind for a while: As this fandom (sadly) seems to fall more and more apart, I would like to know if there are still people interested in reading actual lore content or not. As some of you know my dear friend @nervouswizardcycle and I are continously building up some sort of our own expansion after the main game events with rp/fic, character builds, backstory lore and support by vp and it eats a lot of time. The lack of interactions on tblr during the last few months and in several discord servers has led to me not posting a lot anymore either (beside my mental exhaustion phases that come and go). It seems more active again though, as majority already played Phantom Liberty by now or are right into it, so they slowly come back bc they presumably avoided spoilers. —————— So, here is me wondering how many following my blog are 'really' interested to see me sharing all lore of the boys (including story parts) or does the majority prefer just to see pretty pics and that's it? —————— (I've wanted to add a poll here but it doesn't let me save my post so I might do it in a seperate one a bit later) I know: it's my blog, I post what I like in the first place, and I'll likely continue that way but somehow I would like to know if it's worth the effort of formating and thinking about how the posts could look or if I can take that time to do something else with it instead if there's less interest. So, I would just keep it in my tiny discord server I share with my rp partner(s)/in private chats with those interested bc it's gotten to be a lot and we are still at the very start it feels.

2. SKILLS, CYBERWARE & HUMANITY LOSS

As I'm the type that can't have ocs with no background/lore, I sat down the other day and did a build for each with their skills, wrote down what chrome everyone got (incl. additional c-ware from the lore books plus I'm reading e.g. into what programs my runner twins are likely to make use of). It went this far that my friend used the amount of the game's 'cyberware capacity' as 'humanity loss'. It is used in the lore books/ttrpg anyways. So I've counted all my boys possible capacity* and use it as humanity loss (HL) now which led me to thinking about which one of my ocs goes to get treatment and how often they go to see a MedTech on regular base. I thought I could give them a certain minus amount to reduce the HL for each depending on how much or less c-ware they got — e.g. Thyjs as soldier has most (but all is good Militech chrome) and used to go and still goes regularly so his HL gets a huge reduce — whereas Ryder's gets always nulled no matter how often he gets threatment, because BEAST (rogue AI) eats it away each time (to understand that in full you probably have to know the story). Ry must have most HL loss as he often walks along the edge towards cyberpsychosis, so I'm forced to reduce Thyjs' with most c-ware installed a huge amount. And that's how I made it now. It's probably far away from canon ttrpg as my 'canon cp world' consists of 75% game, 20% lorebooks and 5% own added ideas I haven't seen on the lore yet. And I like it that way I gotta say. On a little side note: It also had me thinking about creating a new support character for the team that could be in fact a MedTech. But I won't do that anytime soon.

* some things might still change as I slowly started playing their playthroughs and skill them for real now. I love each build so far because it's a whole different experience! And playing someone with noe netrunning ability is hell as I was only usedto paly netrunner before.

3. FIC SNIPPET TIME

I decided to give you an insight of what I've roughly written yesterday about Ryder and Thyjs having a talk about how they feel for each other:

“Ik ben eerlijk. I liked that accidental kiss we shared a-and i-ik find je leuk, Ry. Probably more as— a friend is supposed to do.” De Wit instantly starts feeling nauseous and something tightens around his stomach but he needs to get it off of his heavy feeling soul. “I-I guess I have stronger feelings for you than I had expected and it’s confusing me.” He frowns, “It’s not usual for me. Never felt any kind of such an attraction towards other men. I-It’s just you— I think I might be into you, Ryder.” The last sentences came in a mere murmur than spoken and Ryder’s name was only a light whisper. Thyjs didn’t dare to look to his left. He feared he would lose his new gained friend now because he said his stupid thoughts aloud. Instead he continues staring at the distant horizon feeling the lump in his throat only getting heavier. The sun was already half arisen and the sky was painted in a bright orange and yellow fading out into never ending blue. After de Wit seems to have finally finished his long talk, Ryder realizes the pack has fallen out of his hands. He needed to repeat in his mind what Thyjs just told him. Did the man really pour out his heart to him at this very moment? He couldn’t believe it at first. The pale soldier he obviously secretly fell for just told him he was having feelings for him that reach further than friendship? It took him what seemed like an eternity to get out of his frozen state. Ry moves up into a straighter position, still supporting his body with his right forearm, turning more towards Thyjs, who is still watching the rising sun with a rather sad look on his face blinking every once in a while. Eventually Scharfenberg brings up his left hand to reach for the older man’s face and de Wit suddenly feels two fingers under his chin making him look at the younger man again. He sees a tiny smile on those dark lips he caught himself looking at so many times in utter secrecy. That tiny smile that’s usually the base for a brighter even more heartwarming smile baring dangerous fangs who make the man look frightening, but smiling like that? Thyjs often caught himself thinking Ry looked cute with these fangs as well. Ry sees Thyjs’ confusion as his eyes look questioning right back at him. So Ry better says something now. “I-Ich äh—” he clears his throat, “—I don’t know where to start. How to talk feelings in the first place.” Letting Thyjs talk himself off seemed to be right for Ryder and it was worth it, because he thinks it’s the most earnest confession someone has ever made to him, yet he doesn’t know how to answer to all this best. So he decides to place himself into a sitting position, to look the soldier boy straight into the eyes. His gaze gets distracted by Thy’s slightly opened lips for a split second. It is the same situation as earlier downstairs, only that Ry has his fingers still under de Wit’s chin and starts to lead his face towards the other man. Just a few inches are left between them and Thyjs can feel the younger man’s warm breath on his skin. He also has this incredible sight at those beautiful male black eyelashes again the very moment they cast down and then he feels those same lips from before on his own with such a soft pressure that again he closes his eyes in an instant and starts to revel in that same electricity running through him but also the revenant paralyze surrounding him again.

It is just a brief kiss, similar to the one in the apartment downstairs but shyer in its move. As soon as it happened it ended. Ryder opens his eyes afterwards immediately because he fears somehow the man in front of him would get up, step back and turn away but instead he still feels his chin pressed softly against his fingers. It casts another tiny smile onto Ryder’s face as his now racing heart skips a beat or two, seeing that Thyjs didn’t make a move nor a sound. His eyes open now as well and Ry swears he’s never seen heterochromia looking so soft but also surprised at the same time at him like Thyjs does right now. He waits for a reaction but Thyjs just keeps looking at him, lips parting shortly just to close again. “What? — Did that make you that speechless now?” Ry asks with nearly the same surprisement. Thyjs lets out a heavy breath and nods, eyes totally lost looking at him which lets Scharfenberg put on a warm smile. “Want to— try again?” Thyjs swallows his unspoken words that gathered in his throat he couldn’t speak aloud and nods again. Heavier, his lips turning into a smile as well and his eyes are suddenly filled with happiness and relief, like he’s telling Ryder that he cannot wait to have their lips meeting once more and to feel that intense buzz from before as it spreads through his entire body like when he’s powering up electricity. This feeling right now? It’s strong and sends an entirely new sensation through him. Is dat het gevoel van vlinders in je buik? He wonders but doesn’t get much more time to think about it because Ryder choses to lean in for a second time.

It can and probably will be rewritten or changed but I definitely want to have it this way! Thjys starts talking and talking almost doing a monologue instead of a dialogue until he comes to the final point and Ryder wants to respond with words but doesn't know how to (he may find them a bit later) and just does what's best: kiss this soldier. I'll max out this kissing scene for a lot more pages just because I can.

I love the idea of Thyjs as war machine being totally romantic and getting super takative when alone with Ryder. And Ryder definitely is a soft romatic boy, alsways was bu Beast made his life harder to show this side more but Thyjs gets to see it also in private.

4. VP

Since I do more 'actual play the game' now even though I have installed most of all mods back, I rarely do pics atm. If I do, they are just rather nice pics where I try to use the ingame light rather than to spawn spot lights. here's a preview of what comes next:

I have so many ideas I want to put into reality. Especially pics that underline the rp/fic chapters mentioned above. But I'm not going to force myself. I'll see what I can realize for the rest of the year and what gets to be stamped as a New Year's resolution. I'll probably focus on a few blorbo pics this weekend because Ryder's birthday is around the corner (31st October) and Jay's boyfriend Enzolino has just a day prior. So if I can manage, I'll do that in the first place.

Thanks for reading! <3

[spyrkle4]

I'm posting a new fic! And it's Minecraft Story Mode!

Sundown: Witherstorm Arc will be posted tomorrow on Sunday, I'll be updating the fic usually on Sundays, and episodes will be split into several chapters with a couple chapter artworks thrown in there

What's Sundown? Well it's basically me adding an OC (Sunny!) into the story, but things will happen differently than in canon, from characters getting more moments in the spotlight to how having an extra player added into the mix will change how the story will go! (and dw Jesse will still be the main character, if you're worried about her protagonist status being yoinked)

So lil' bit of backstory I had this fic idea for like. years, I actually wrote an old version on ff.net but I didn't like what direction the story went (it felt like I was just copying canon and Sunny was just There so it was deleted), I've been meaning to rewrite this story but I never did and I said I was going to for YEARS until back in September I got the urge to start typing so I did and I just... kept going at it, years of procrastination has made me wired to this thing lmao

If you do decide to give this fic a chance when I do post, tysm! and you're always free to ask me any questions you have about this fic of mine, I'm happy to answer (although I will be vauge on any major spoilers, don't want to ruin those)

[bromcommie]

Hello & Happy Monday!

So...for the WIP tag game...I know I'm supposed to pick the one (1! ONE!) that I find most intriguing, but this is like a whole buffet of intrigue, so maybe I can have two? 👀 1) НОЧНОЙ РАЗГОВОР (FIGURE OUT) <- ngl, the 'figure out' cracked me up. Also, late night conversations? Yes, please!

2) what's a nice nutcase like you doing in a place like astoria 1203 <- this just sounds fun...and possibly like the title could be deliberately misleading

Thank you! <3

Hello helloo, happy Monday to you too! (but also Tuesday now I guess. It's a 2-for-1!)

Thank you for the ask, and thank you for indulging me with two (2! it's gonna be so long!) <3

НОЧНОЙ РАЗГОВОР (FIGURE OUT!!!) - Ooof, this fucking guy. I'm glad my stern instructions to myself in the title there were funny, because I do indeed need to FIGURE this one OUT and it's bugging me. It's essentially another chapter that's a part of a larger work (not naming names not pointing fingers but it's. The Work I'm Having Trouble Updating) and it was written a looong while back, which is why it's now a standalone file. I love the premise but I kinda want to tear it down and rebuild it entirely, mostly because I'm still deciding on whether I like the way I wrote the backstory for it. So. It's fun! It's challenging! It's giving me a migraine! The title's from this song about a tired traveler trying to find his way in the night. It's three conversations (Steve+Nat, Nat+Bucky and Bucky+Steve - although they barely talk at all) that happen in the night after a very not lucid, injured Don't-Call-Me-Bucky who's recently remembered the Red Room and also had a pretty rattling encounter with the code words seeks Natasha out in Europe for [redacted] something as a last resort, but instead accidentally walks straight into Steve who he's been staying away from like the Devil Himself since CATWS. And then basically bleeds all over him. (I am not immune to the wound care trope! However, this is unfortunately not that.) A lot of ugly feelings and defense mechanisms are brought up, some painful memories re: the war and the Red Room are brought up, and nobody's having a good time or really knows how to process jack shit. They all communicate/perceive love&protection in wildly different ways, and while all three dynamics end on some kind of natural conclusion it's still a lot of unfinished, unspoken business and just kind of sad. Hurt no comfort that's necessary for there to be the promise of comfort in the future, if you will. Tbh, I really want to finish/reincorporate this one. But it's just so *screams into paper bag*. Anyway. Snippet:

When Steve wakes up the next morning Bucky’s gone, like he knew he would be. Like a hurricane passing through, the foreknowledge doesn’t make the aftermath any easier. And then what? his own voice from so long ago echoes in his head as he waits for the water for Natasha’s tea to boil in the sunny little kitchenette of the motel’s lobby. 16 hours later, he’s watching the blinding stripe of the sun setting over the East River before the plane maneuvers onto the landing strip at JFK. The hell else? Then we march on, ace. We go home.

2. what's a nice nutcase like you doing in a place like astoria 1203 - oh good, thank god! So this one is a bit more fun, but it's only got a few disjointed half-scenes so far. The title is actually one of the most literal ones on the list - the fic does take place in Astoria, Queens, and it does involves a certain "nutcase". Several, even. They really don't get along, and then they almost do.

(Blame my recent rewatch of the Netflix shows for this one. Man. What a golden age that was.)

Excerpt under the cut:

It was easy to clock the combat training before, sure, but up close this guy’s… Keyed up. Wild-eyed, a little, and not in the twitchy way of the three idiots piled up outside by the ruined water hydrant, not just sheer adrenaline stoked by fear and booze and coke. More dialed-in, purposefully ruthless. Hungry. Getting up with an expression like an enraged bull in spite of the beating he just took. Nutcase, Barnes thinks bleakly. Not that he’s in any position to judge — glass houses, all that, but — “What’re you,” he croaks, “some kind of psycho?” “Says the guy who just mowed down six guys without blinking." The man spits, grimacing at the blood that lands on the stark white of the rooftop like it personally offends him. If he notices the similar spray across his busted face, his clothes, his military-short hair, he doesn't seem to give a damn. "Nice going, by the way— my man got away." "And my man's bleeding out on a fucking pool table downstairs," he grits out. He doesn't have time for this. This whole night has been one giant exercise in unpredictability, and the police sirens echoing off in the distance are problem enough without him having to duke it out over and over with some local homicidal moron who might or might not be HYDRA. "You wanna tell me what that's about?" The man levels an irritated look back at him and then shrugs, dismissive. "I don't play with my food." "Your food had intel I've been hunting for two weeks." "Tough shit. Maybe if you hadn't screwed up your goddamn trig—" His lip curls of its own volition, affronted despite himself. What an appropriate time for his ego to announce it's back from the dead and in the mix. How fun. “The hell I did. I don’t miss.” "Is that right? There's some real screwed up drywall down there that says otherwise." His voice picks up an edge of something dangerous, aiming for threatening and landing on feral as he takes a step closer, and Jesus, can he stay down already? "Unless you did it on purpose to let him know I'm coming because you work for the bastard, in which case lemme tell you, you and me have a whole different problem." "I don't work for anybody," he says, probably with more intensity than strictly necessary. "He was a civillian. I don't kill civillians." The words curl acerbic on his tongue. He doesn't. He doesn't. That, of all things, makes the man laugh, a bitter little thing that sounds like it clawed its way out of his throat, and only barely. Who the fuck is this guy. "Oh Jesus Christ, not this bullshit again— how many of you assholes are running around this place, huh?" he says, gesturing a little wildly at him. "You got a fancy catsuit under that hobo getup, too?" It's Barnes' turn to look at him like he's a few marbles short, which judging by all evidence he very well might be. The guy snorts at his confusion, shaking his head. "If you consider that criminal piece of dog shit a civilian, you’re way more out of your depth than I thought, kid.”

but also:

“Self-righteous, God's sacrificial lamb type-of-shit," he mumbles around the mouthful with distaste, staring off across the bridge. "Got himself a stupid fucking title and everything, if you can believe that. Major pain in my ass.” Barnes hums, considering, before taking a cautious bite of his own sandwich. The thick pile of fatty meat and melted cheese breaks apart in his mouth easy with a sudden, almost overwhelming explosion of flavours, his empty stomach singing praises despite the ache in his bruised jaw as he chews. He never thought he’d say this, but god bless Queens. “Catholic?” Castle grunts an affirmative. “Yeah, I have some experience with that.”

[merionettes]

rubicon ask!!

first off I'm so so delighted that I picked up FE3H last summer and that it led me to finding your writing & especially this fic. what an amazing experience, what a treat with every update, I have all these fun memories now of places I was when I got the update email (and screamed internally every time). a little collection of sense memories colored in.

as for the actual question: very curious about your process. did you have an outline going in? I have to imagine yes (or else you're braver than black friday shoppers). how did you go about structuring this, ie did you have a series of Moments in your head that you wrote around and connected, or did you try to build scenes to fit the arcs you had in mind, or a mix of the two? anything and everything you want to share, I'm 🤲

you're killing me!!! man, thanks so much, seriously. 

as for the actual question, indeed. hahaha. ha. i delayed answering this for so long because it kept devolving into an essay about the emotional experience of writing a novel for the first time. well i give up. this is now two posts. one is the actual answer to your question, only ten times longer than it needs to be. the other is an essay about the emotional experience of writing a novel for the first time. so… caveat lector. 

first part under the cut. ← not kidding about the caveat!!!!!!

i've talked a little about the process before, so i'll piggyback on that post and dig a little more into the differences between the original idea and the finished product, including spoilers i couldn't get into when i'd only posted 55k. ("only." god.)

technically this did start with an outline. technically because at the time i was brand-new to fe3h and hadn't written anything but a few friend-ficlets in about 8 years. thought "skating au!!", spent a fevered weekend outlining all the major scenes, started in on the writing, and…. very quickly realized that i was nowhere near competent enough to actually. write it. "intensely frustrating" does not even scratch the surface, lmao, of what it felt like to have this thing in my head and only be able to produce what felt like the worst clumsiest tritest version of it. very apropos for skating, actually. 

looking back on that outline, it had almost nothing to do with the finished product, especially on felix's side. it didn't have the nationals flounce, the timeskip, training in vancouver, the lake, the nhk trophy sports anime climax, the backstory reveal meltdown. (it did have the redemptive healing free skate.) what, critically, it did have was sylvain's personal arc—burned out, desperate to quit, wants to go to college. it ended at exactly the same place as the actual story, with sylvain and dorothea's final skate together. the last line was one of the earliest things i wrote. 

in other words, even though almost everything between the first and last scene changed WILDLY in the process of writing, i always knew exactly what i was working towards and that was invaluable. 

insert two year timeskip here! during which i would occasionally reopen the skating doc, take a stab at another scene, feel this ominous sense of foreboding, and give up lol. you can thank the 2022 winter olympics for making me get serious, specifically 1) yuzuru hanyu going out in a blaze of bittersweet doomed quad axel glory 2) shoma uno losing to some eighteen year old. i believe my exact words were (consults notes) "anyway time to go back to my fic where i control the narrative and i decide who wins." idk what made this attempt different than any of the others—right time, right inspiration, right circumstances—but this time it caught fire. in uh. in a big way. 

so that's when i wrote what i refer to in that post as a skeleton draft and what i've since come to think of as a storyboard on steroids. this is when felix's arc really took shape, beyond "he is sad… he is mad… he is perfectly positioned to see right through sylvain." the fallout from nationals crystallizing, in particular, was one of the things that snapped felix into place and helped determine the tone and focus of the story overall. (that initial outline had much more of a romcom/classic fwb-to-lovers feel.)

the other thing that did this, of course, was sylvain's narrative voice. when i committed to "burnout who is controlling every single word of every thought to avoid admitting that he is burned out" was when this story became what it is. the voice dictated every single scene, the tone, the shape, what was revealed, what was implied, what was never making it on the page. it led me places i didn't anticipate. it made the cuts for me! cute scene you've got in that outline lol sylvain would never. 

i see past me in that post dancing around the length, lmao. well the ""storyboard"", the skeleton, whatever you want to call it, was over 100k. and yet even then, EVEN WITH 100K ON PAPER, there was still so much i had no fucking clue was coming! felix pushing sylvain on what he wants was there, but sylvain never explained what happened. my oc jm gautier (thanks for nothing, three hopes!!!) was an ominous presence, but he wasn't the final boss. there was no memory of the first time sylvain and dorothea met. (<- insane.) there was no glenn skate. i had to write to discover all of that.

so like—i cannot emphasize how much i grew as a writer through the experience of writing this story. prose, structure, character arcs, thematic arcs. i was harder on myself than i've ever been. and if i hadn't had that end goal in sight i don't know if i would have made it through all those iterations—storyboarding, drafting, rewriting, editing. wanting to deliver that moment powered me through any amount of frustration/exhaustion/bewilderment.

wow this post sounds almost normal. nothing about this experience was normal. which is why you're getting a part 2.

[fanby-fckry]

🍭🎀 for the ask game!♡

Let's Get ((REAL)) fic writer asks

Thank you! <3

🍭 why did you start writing?

When it comes to writing in general, I’ve had a passion for story telling for about as long as I could write.

I remember there was an assignment in like 1st lr 2nd grade where my teacher had the class add “spider legs” to their stories, which were basically strips of paper that you could use to add more details to things without erasing. She used to call my spider legs “elephant legs” because I’d add line after line on every “leg.”

As for fanfiction specifically, I did it out of spite.

I saw someone say that RadioApple could never work because Lucifer likes to tempt people with sex (not canon but ok) and Alastor’s asexual. Plus the power difference would make it unhealth and wrong. :/

And in response, I wrote Tempting Entertainment: the precursor fic to UH3.

So uh, thanks random RadioApple anti from 2019. You changed my life forever, and now I have an ongoing series of RadioAppleSiren kinky queer platonic polycule fanfics that get an insane amount of interaction and comments from people telling me how much they liked my work/how wholesome the unholy 3 are/how my portrayal of Alastor’s aroace-ness.

Also, get fucked because UH3!Alastor sure isn’t.

🎀 give yourself a compliment about your own writing

I need to stop reblogging ask games that have this as a prompt, because beloved mutuals are insistent on sending it every time, and I’m going to run out of nice things to say about my work eventually.

Also, I sent one back to you as revenge but the nice kind. If I have to appreciate my work then so you!

Hmmmmmm what do I actually say about this? And what haven’t I said already?

Oh! I think I’m pretty good at noticing the trends that happen when my characters start “writing themselves” and acting accordingly.

I accidentally wrote UH3!Alastor with a bunch of my own Cluster B traits in addition to the implied canon traits. And while I tried to minimize them for a while for fear of The Discourse™️, eventually I decided it was better to double down and write with my own perspective as a person with a personality disorder in mind.

Recently I came to the realization that UH3!Alastor may have a gender preference for women when it comes to platonic and sensual attraction, which I had kind of assumed wouldn’t happen in this AU, but he did it anyway. I’m gonna be keeping an eye on that, and might be updating his microlabels.

He doesn’t know his own microlabels, but it helps me keep my writing consistent. Previously I’d had him down as panaesthetic, pansensual, and panplatonic but I think he’s actually bisensual and biplatonic. His aesthetic attraction isn’t at all based on gender; meanwhile while he can experience sensual, platonic, and queer platonic attraction to any gender, he seems to have a noticeable difference between women and everybody else.

I blame his father for this. I also blame him for a good portion of the Cluster B symptoms. Wow, I really wanna write some backstory about Alastor’s relationship with his father, because it’s hinted at in UH3 in several places, but it doesn’t come up a lot and I have so many things to say.

Uhh, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, my writing! Complimenting it!

Sometimes my characters write themselves, and I think I do a pretty good job chasing after them and taking notes. :3

[hadassahriv]

Fic Master List: TWEWY

I always feel like everyone who might be interested in my fics has already seen them. But then every once in a while I get new readers who leave wonderful comments, so that is clearly not the case. Everything is housed on AO3, clearly labelled, but this is the master list of my TWEWY fics to date.

Fate and Other Impossibilities (105,596 words) Chapters: 35/35 Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya/Sakuraba Neku Characters: Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya, Sakuraba Neku, Misaki Shiki, Bito "Beat" Daisukenojo, Bito "Rhyme" Raimu, Hanekoma Sanae, Kanade Rindo, Mikagi "Haz" Hazuki, Sakurane Shoka, Furesawa "Fret" Tosai, Usui Nagi Additional Tags: Post-Game(s), Canon Compliant, Conductor Sakuraba Neku, Developing Relationship Summary: Neku's never wanted to be special. He just wants to be. After three years in Shinjuku, that may no longer be possible.

Notes: My love letter to TWEWY and the first fic I wrote after almost 10 years out of fandom. In May 2021, I heard that a TWEWY sequel was coming, so I replayed Final Remix and then, naturally, played Neo. And after beating the game, I really wanted a story that didn't exist. I actually did not originally intend to release it at all, but a few chapters in decided I might as well. And two years later, here we are!

The Life and Death of Joshua Kiryu (3,274 words) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya/Sakuraba Neku Characters: Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya, Sakuraba Neku, Hanekoma Sanae Additional Tags: character backstory, Non-Linear Narrative, Established Relationship, pre- and post-canon, Canon-Typical Talk of Death and Dying Summary: There once was a boy named Yoshiya Kiryu. He died, and then his life began. - Joshua before, during, and after Fate and Other Impossibilities.

Notes: I've written a couple of additional fics within the Fate continuity and this is my non-linear, heavily stylized Joshua piece, highlighting different moments in his life and afterlife. You could read it standalone, but it will be better with context.

Being there together is enough (6,303 words) Chapters: 2/2 Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya/Sakuraba Neku, Eri/Misaki Shiki Characters: Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya, Sakuraba Neku, Misaki Shiki, Bito "Beat" Daisukenojo, Bito "Rhyme" Raimu, Kanade Rindo, Furesawa "Fret" Tosai, Usui Nagi, Sakurane Shoka Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Sequel, Weddings, Romance Summary: Wedding parties, old friends, and happy endings to go around. Sometimes everyone really does get the life they deserve. - Or: six years later

Notes: The third fic set within the Fate continuity. This is the happy ending sequel, light and frothy, and it will be more emotionally satisfying if you have read the story it follows. But I am not here to tell anyone what to do.

Unreal Cities (16,550 words) Chapters: 4/22 Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya/Sakuraba Neku Characters: Sakuraba Neku, Kiryu "Joshua" Yoshiya, Misaki Shiki, Bito "Beat" Daisukenojo, Bito "Rhyme" Raimu, Kanade Rindo, Furesawa "Fret" Tosai, Mikagi "Haz" Hazuki, Usui Nagi, Kariya Koki, Yashiro Uzuki, Hanekoma Sanae Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Conductor Sakuraba Neku, Post-Canon Summary: Three years is a long time to be dead, trapped in an endless loop of a city's final days and trying to understand what happened to it. No one told Neku that going back to his own life would be the hard part.

Notes: And here is my current ongoing fic! Slight canon divergence, rooted in a different take on the Shinjuku years. Eventual Conductor Neku, because that's my niche, but it's a different kind of story than Fate. Updating twice a month, if you want to come along for the ride!