#3066 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dairogo · 2 years

Link

On account of ‘Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day’, I wrote a Behind-the-Scenes about the fic I wrote that means the most to me. A bit of how it changed my writing style, why I think it works, that sort of thing.

When I wrote Order 3066, I was throwing around a lot of things at once. I was returning to writing after a long period of … not. And fanfiction, after a long time away from fandom too, for that matter.

I was rediscovering my identity after becoming a parent – post-natal depression hit me hard, it wasn’t all I expected it to be, and I wasn’t a natural at it the way my mother was. But I finally got a few small hours of baby-free time each week and eased myself back into writing, which is what I wanted to do ever since they started asking that question. I think the first time I said I wanted to be a writer was when I was in kindergarten. I don’t know when I had it pushed into me that “you can’t make a living like that”, but I remember by year six I was instead responding that I wanted to do “something where I don’t have to think”, because I intended to spend my time doing work where I could daydream my stories and still write them when I got home. Excellent advice, by the way – I didn’t end up following it, and I wonder how different my life would be if I had.

So when I was trying to rediscover who I was, as I started seeing cracks of light through the dark first year of parenthood, my instinct was to go towards writing, and to pour the pain I’d been feeling into a fic.

I did a re-read of the manga and, as I read, whenever something occurred to me as a fic idea I typed it into my notes app, later compiling it all into a major document where I separated the ideas into different categories: drabbles/one-shots, story about Ishval and pre-FMA, story post-FMA, post-FMA AU, obligatory FMAHP crossover.

Obviously, “story about Ishval and pre-FMA” is where Order 3066 came in. I took all the best or most cohesive notes and put them together into a headcanon.

My intention for Order 3066 was that I wanted to see how Riza went from being the quiet, idealistic kind of girl in the flashbacks (I know she hardly says anything, but you have to admit there is a difference even just in her expressions), to the stoic woman of the main canon. I wanted to see that transformation, partly because Riza Hawkeye is interesting, but also because I felt like I’d just been through a bit of a reckoning, myself – not anything like Ishval, but a valley in my life in any case – and I wanted to express that a bit. Maybe work out all my tangled feelings a bit, at least to understand them if not to fix them.

At my husband’s recommendation, I read a book about Stalingrad (by Antony Beever) to get an idea of war inside a city, and I used vague recollections from previous books (key among them ‘Japan at War’ by Haruko Taya Cook & Theodore F Cook) to ground the work in a somewhat reasonable understanding of what war is. I researched unit formations and sniper teams and all manner of things to prepare me for writing it.

I’m not going to pretend I was 100% accurate – some things were more than I wanted to go into detail about – but I took what made a decent backdrop to explore the trauma of Ishval.

One of the reasons why I stopped writing, however many years ago, was that I hit some pretty bad writer’s block, and had no incentive to get out of it. I got blocked so badly that I couldn’t bear to keep any writing that wasn’t perfect, and would write a paragraph then delete … then write a sentence and delete … and it got to the point where I’d just be sitting there for ten minutes straight, typing nothing, but trying to reword a paragraph that was probably fine, or that I would have been able to fix if I’d only left it long enough for my brain to catch up with what was icking me out about it. Instead it all just got deleted.

I’m sure many of you writers can relate.

Writing Order 3066, I was writing something I needed to express, and not only did I now have incentive to work on it (to figure out who I was, to deal with my problems, etc.), but I also had much less time to do it in. Instead of having hours of leisure time at my disposal, my free time was now cut up into small chunks – naps – and so I had to relearn how to write.

It actually helped a lot.

Knowing that I had so little time, I just had to accept each word I wrote and come back to it for editing later, and that meant I moved forwards.

Also, there were two neat tricks that I picked up on account of all the times my son woke up earlier than expected:

One: finish your sentence, and [write the plan for the next bit] to come back to later. It meant when I came back it was a bit easier to find my stride again.

Two: if there are any plot-holes, loose ends, things that should come back in later chapters – write it at the bottom of the fic. Every time I opened the fic I got to see them and consider if it was time to return to that idea. I had a handful of names of people who had appeared and who I could bring back for reappearances if I felt I needed to hammer in a point. Jameson from the very first chapter was on there a long time before he got used. Isaac was on there too, of course. The women’s barracks, because when I first brought them in I realised of course the women Riza is rooming with will shape her experience there, but I’ll forget about them because they’re not on missions with Riza – so they had a special spot on the list that I kept there just as a reminder to use them.

I think because of these things, the story ran better. I didn’t often feel like I’d stalled, because I knew where I was headed next, and if my next significant plot-point was a while away and there needed to be a sense of distance between what I’d just written and when it next came up, I could pull up some of my loose ends and address those before we got to the next bit. It meant that any “filler content” wasn’t meaningless. There are no beach episodes in Ishval, after all, but sometimes there are card games.

I’m so glad I wrote this story. It helped me process so many things, describing my own experience of pain through Riza’s experience, and my own PTSD and mental health episodes through Riza’s.

I know it’s a long fic, but I truly do appreciate when someone reads it, and the comments I get on this fic are … well, even if it’s just them angsting over a character with me, it feels like people resonating with a really raw place I was in, and it honestly is comforting.

So, if you’re up for a fic where a young woman asks a lot of questions about war and a young man realises she’s stronger than he is, then here’s one presented in a familiar box. There are twists and turns, and by the end she’s not the same innocent person she was before – but there is light, and hope, and a future ahead.

#fma #fullmetal alchemist #writing #fanfiction #Order 3066 #Riza Hawkeye #trauma #self rec

6 notes · View notes

lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year

Text

Dragon Pt.1

Pairing: Daenerys Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: assassin related stuff

Words: 3066

Summary: She had trusted her Unsullied with her life. That was why when one attacked her with a knife she doesn't have him killed. Instead Daenerys wants to get down to the problem. Only when she removes the Unsullied's helmet she is met with the face of a young girl.

Part 2

The tip of the dagger was mere inches from her chest. Had Daario and Jorah been a second slower in stopping it, Dany was positive she’d be dead. By the hands of one of her own Unsullied. The two men who vied for her attention wrestled the soldier down in an attempt to restrain him. For the odds being two-to-one, the single Unsullied assailant proved to be difficult to hold down. Grey Worm and the others assisted Jorah and Daario in bringing his own man down onto his knees.

“What shall you have me do to him?” Grey Worm turns to his queen. He was surprised that one of his own men would dare to lay a violent hand upon their silver haired queen. From the moment Daenerys had got them out of bondage the Unsullied had been completely devoted to her and would gladly die for her.

Dany was aware of this as well and wanted to know why he had attacked her. These were her sworn men, the only others besides Jorah that she would trust with her life.

Despite them urging her to stay back, Daenerys slowly walked up to the detained Unsullied who had his head held up high. Up close she noticed how small he was compared to the other men in his company. He must’ve been one of the young unblooded ones that she had taken from under the Master’s grasp. She places each of her hands on either side of the metal helmet that all the Unsullied wore and gently slid it up to remove it. She was met with a soft feminine face that held harsh (e/c) eyes. Her would be assassin was a girl. They stared at each other for some time, Dany for some odd reason held captive by those glowering eyes while the other girl keeps her facial features completely void except for the fire in her eyes.

“Your Grace? What should we do? She’s obviously an assassin. Although I must applaud her for easily passing off as an Unsullied.” Hums Daario with slight approval.

Jorah wasn’t as light hearted as Daario as he grabs the young girl’s slender throat. She doesn’t even flinch but her lips curl in a snarl. “Who sent you?”

“Unhand her Jorah.” Daenerys immediately instructs earning a confused look from her bear lord.

His lips part. “But Khaleesi, she nearly killed you.”

“I’m aware of what she almost did. I don’t want to repeat myself.”

Reluctantly he unwraps his meaty hand from her throat and backs away. Still Jorah makes sure to keep his glare trained on the little assassin.

Regarding her for a moment, Dany instructs her men to confine the girl in a cell and have a close eye on her; seeing as she had slipped from their detection to begin with. She made no struggle as they led her away.

Curious, Daario crosses his arms. “And what exactly do you have planned for her?”

“It’s not safe to keep her here.” Jorah insists.

“I’m going to persuade her to join our side. If it’s money she wants we can out pay whoever hired her in the first place. She’s obviously talented. Gave you two quite the fight.”

Chuckling while his counterpart flushes with embarrassment, Daario saunters closer to Daenerys with his usual playful, toothy, grin. “You can’t trust people like her. Of course I’m in the same job field, but I’m different.”

That made her quirk an eyebrow up. “Are you now?”

“Your love is the only payment I require.”

“You’re getting off track!” Snaps Jorah haughtily. “She can’t stay here. Khaleesi, with your kind heart you have won man over. But that won’t always work. Did you see her eyes? Eyes like those belong to someone who has no morals, who can’t be swayed.”

No. Dany had seen something else in those eyes. Something that pulled her in. A sense of familiarity.

Jorah always did have the tendency to see the worst in people. Daenerys wanted to believe that what she saw was something good.

You had been in worst situations. At least there were no rats in your cell. Small blessings you supposed. You groan at the thought of your lost payment. When you escaped you would definitely not get paid. Your benefactor would probably send others to get rid of you so that you wouldn’t utter a word that it was him. Not that you would. . . Unless the price was right.

You would worry about that when you got out of your cell.

No chains or locks could restrain you for long. This was nothing compared to some of the tight binds you found yourself in in Braavos. Even in Volantis where you had dealt in some risky business you were quick and smart enough to escape with all your limbs and your pride. When you caught a glimpse of prostitutes selling themselves in the dirt and grime, dread always made your stomach churn. That could’ve easily had been your fate. There had been numerous times when you were young that had nearly resulted in rape. You had kept your wits though and easily brought your assailant’s life to an end.

Flexing your feet and wrists you examine your surroundings and think of a plan. You refused to be dragon fodder.

You’d wait until a guard opened your cell and grabbed you. They hadn’t thought to check your boots for weapons. In each was a dagger strapped snuggly to the inside. There were pre-made sheaths in the insides of your boots that protected you from the sharp blades. You also had a small pack of needles laced with a fast acting poison hidden away as well.

You were prepared for the Unsullied guards to come back. It couldn’t have taken too long for the Mother of Dragons to decide your fate. If someone had tried to kill you you would want them dead. In fact anyone who had tried to kill you was indeed gone from the living plane. You had seen to that.

Instead it was the queen herself that was illuminated by torchlight. And she was alone.

You could still finish your job. Coax her to open the door and just as you walk out, feign tying your boots when you’re really reaching for your daggers. You would cut off her white hair as proof that you had indeed succeeded in your task.

Breathing slowly to calm your heart rate, you train your eyes on her as she continues to draw closer.

She was astonishingly beautiful, you would give her that. Daenerys Targaryen. With her flawless complexion and stunning lavender eyes you were sure she could easily have any man bend the knee to her regardless of her dragons.

What could she possibly have to say to you? Maybe spit in your face or curse you. You had experienced it all.

Except for. . . “Are you hungry?”

Questioningly you stare at her. You weren’t accustomed to being surprised. To be honest you hardly held any emotion except for anger and you used that when you fought. All emotion had been trained out of you much like the Unsullied. No female castration was performed on you though. Your lady bits didn’t stop you from killing without remorse.

Yet there you were. Surprised and confused.

Daenerys folds her hands in front of you. She had previously spoken in Valyrian as many in Essos spoke a a form of it. When you continued to look at her with unblinking eyes she tried using the Common Tongue of Westeros. Perhaps she thought you hadn’t understood her. “Whoever employed you. . . I can assure you that I have more to offer you than they can. We can discuss it over a meal. . .”

That was the oldest trick in the book. Did she really think you would fall for that? You had invited many to meals that had wound up being poisoned.

Yet if she opened the cell door you’d be able to get to her. You’d finally be able to leave the sweltering deserts that surrounded Meereen and all the other god awful enslaved cities.

“And what can you offer me?” You reply in Valyrian, trying to add interest in your voice. Make her believe that you were playing into her game. She seemed like the trusting type. After all she did stop one of her guards from possibly strangling you. Already you knew she had a kind heart. People with kind hearts didn’t last too long.

One step closer and she put her hand on the wrought iron bars. Daenerys gazed intently at you, trying to read something that you were unsure of. “A place in my guard. A chance to gain glory in Westeros.”

“I care not for glory or a position in your guard.” Folding your arms in front of your chest you go on. “What I care about are riches. Have you any of that, Mother of Dragons?”

“Once I take the Iron Throne you can have as much as your heart desires.”

You doubted that would ever happen. Stories told in taverns you had heard the history of Westeros and how the Valyrians had fled from their crumbled home; claiming and conquering Westeros as their own. Even though she had conquered Slaver’s Bay and Meereen there was so much more that went into being a queen. She was young and thought she could play at being ruler just because she had three dragons and a useless claim.

You hardly cared about her ambitions that were as doomed as Valyria.

Still you would get her to believe anything, as long as she opened the door.

“A castle. With a room filled with gold.”

She moves closer to the lock, her fingers revealing a brass key. You keep your eyes trained on her sparkling eyes though, not willing to let up what your intentions were. “If that is what you desire. It shall be your’s. I only request one thing of you.”

Of course you would have to prove your loyalty. You force an eyebrow up in mock question.

Daenerys takes this as an invitation to go on. “Go back and kill the person who hired you.”

The key was getting closer and closer to the lock.

You try not to hold your breath and force yourself to breathe steadily. “Then it will be done.”

For half a heart beat you feared that she wouldn’t open it, that she didn’t quite believe you. Something in her posture seemed testing. Yet you heard a click as Daenerys inserted the key and turned it.

Standing up you casually stalk toward the now open door. Indeed she was alone. This seemed all too easy for you. You tested the waters by taking one step out, then two until you were in front of her. You realized the two of you were initially the same height. Even in the dull light of the dungeons Daenerys’s hair was incredibly bright, giving her an almost white aura around her face. You were sure she was the most beautiful girl in the entire world. Not that beauty mattered much to you. Once, maybe when you were innocent ( you can’t remember a time when you were though), you had hoped to grow up into a beautiful lady. Fall in love with someone who would take you away and make you happy.

No one could make you happy though. Not even yourself.

Happiness didn’t exist for you.

You had been raised and trained to kill. You were a monstrous being.

That was why you kneeled down to supposedly tie your boots and once your fingers found the concealed daggers you lunged at the beautiful girl.

Her back crashed into the ground and knocked all the air right out of her. She shouldn’t have been so surprised. She should’ve known better. This girl was unpredictable. She should’ve at least brought Jorah with her and have him stand further down in the hall. But she so wanted to prove him wrong. Daenerys had thought she saw something different in the female assassin’s face. Something that told her that what Daario and Jorah had said was wrong. Yet there she was, having stopped the tip of the blade with her palm and feeling the sharp sting radiate throughout her hand. The warm trickle of blood kissed her pale palm as it rolled down to her arm. After all Daenerys had been through she should’ve known better. Not everyone could be converted.

She winces as she tries to wrap her fingers around the blade only further pressing it into her hand. She wanted to cry, to scream out in pain, but she had to try to get the knife out of the skilled hand.

As she turned her watering gaze to the unnamed girl she saw it. The fire. Flames that burned in (e/c) eyes. Fury and the strong drive to kill.

They looked exactly like Drogon’s eyes when he had snapped at her. It had been weeks since she last saw the biggest of her children, but she would never mistake his eyes. Daenerys may have been the blood of the dragon but this girl. . . she was the dragon. She was wasting her life with being a petty assassin.

“You could be so much more. . .” Dany finally found the strength to whisper catching the girl off guard. She clearly saw it as something twitched in her otherwise stoic face. She still pressed her dagger further into Daenery’s already blood drenched hand. “Why. . . Why are you wasting your time living like this? You could be something great.”

Something great.

Like what? A soldier in her crusade? There was nothing greater than being a well known assassin. They whispered your name all throughout Essos and those who knew of you in Westeros dare not even utter your name.

This girl insulted you.

Your nose scrunches in a snarl as you wind your arm back, watching her bleeding hand fall aside.

Her wide eyes stare at you without falter as you notice her chest tremble with evident fear. Full lips part and quiver as she lets out a shaky breath. “You could be more than assassin, taking orders from others. . . You could be a dragon.”

If you had the ability to laugh you would’ve. Westerosi lords and their mascots. They took it too seriously to where they thought they were that specific animal.

“As long as you live like this, no matter how many people you kill or how much you are paid it will never be enough. Just one meaningless task after another. Aren’t you tired? Wouldn’t you rather put your skills to good use and actually do something of merit? Fill your life with something that isn’t pointless. If you allowed yourself to grow you could be a dragon.”

You reel back as she spits out the truth you had feared for quite some time. Every word she said was true. Your life had become a repetitive cycle that you were growing bored of. It was never enough.

Nothing ever filled you.

You doubted even killing the Mother of Dragons wouldn’t satisfy you. You would probably just start another day and look for another kill. You weren’t a dragon but a jackal with a bottomless pit, always roaming the streets and devouring everything in sight.

Uncharacteristically your hands shook as they dropped your daggers. Everything crashed into you. All those years of your father beating all emotion out of you. Of your brothers poisoning you to make you stronger. You would die unhappy and starving just like your father had.

In this time Daenerys sits up and slowly backs away from you yet she doesn’t leave. “Join me and I promise you I can truly give your life meaning. I can help you live to your full potential.”

She offered you her red stained hand.

You slapped it away and ran.

*A FEW WEEKS LATER*

Daenerys hadn’t heard the end of it from Jorah. He fumed when he learned that the prisoner had escaped. Even more so when he saw her wounded hand. Melancholy, Daenerys had ignored Jorah’s worried and sulked quietly. Things had not been going well for her. The Sons of the Harpy had started attacking everyone that supported her. She had also been forced to lock up Viserion and Rhaegal underneath one of Meereen’s great pyramids.

Heart broken and weary, Daenerys had finally decided to choose a Meereenese husband in hopes that it would placate the Sons of the Harpy. She was not looking forward to what had to be done. She was queen though and would have to do things she didn’t want to in order to keep the peace of her people.

Her attention was brought back to the audience chamber where she had been sitting, hearing the complaints of the people. Loud yells pierced through the room before numerous Unsullied came flooding in with a familiar face.

The female assassin.

Daenerys notices Jorah prickle at the sight of her as his hand goes on top of the pommel of his sword. She didn’t think she would ever see her face again.

“Release her.”

“Your Grace. . .”

“I said release her.” She makes sure there’s a bite of authority in her tone. They do so and that’s when she notices a bag hanging off of her hip. She looked even more tiny without parading around in the bulky Unsullied uniform. Her (h/c) hair was pulled out of her face and Dany saw the dark circles that plagued her eyes. This girl had indeed lived a hard life.

Her guards flinch when she reaches into her bag and the ones closest to her turn their spears towards her. She arches her brows, slightly amused as she slowly retrieves a head out and throws it toward Daenerys’ throne. Jorah recoils but Daenerys keeps still.

“The head of the man who wanted you dead.” She says. “You say I can be more than an assassin. Prove it to me.”

The first time in quite a while, Dany smiles. “What is your name?”

“(y/n) (l/n).”

Getting up despite Jorah trying to get her to stay put, Daenerys travels down the steps of her platform, walks around the severed head and to (y/n). She takes off her necklace which had the Targaryen crest of the three headed dragon and pressed it into her hands.

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys targaryen fanfiction #daenerys targaryen fanfic #daenerys targaryen x reader #got #got fanfiction #got fanfic #got fandom #ASoIaF #asoiaf fandom #asoiaf fanfiction #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf reader insert #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #Game of Thrones fandom

441 notes · View notes