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throneofsmut · 17 days

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BOUND IN FLAMES - Part 11

Eris Vanserra × Archeron-Sister- Reader

Description: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

Warnings: Pretty gruesome descriptions of violence and injury and lots of unaliving (i think thats all of it)

Authors Note: i swear i was going to post this part right after part 10 but i couldn't figure out the fight scene for the life of me and then once i did i kept rewriting but i hope you guys like this part and btw im gonna be going back editing the parts that have already been posted

Word Court: 7.5k

****

“How long has Wesley been in Summer?” You ask Raihn as you shift, settling into his side since he was curled up behind you.

Not long. I’ve been tracking him for the past month—

You whirled, your eyes narrowed into slits, “Month!? He’s been here a whole month?”

Yes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Because I wanted to track his movements, his habits before we did anything—before you did anything. Before you did anything reckless.

Crossing your arms, huffing, “Fine. But, tomorrow night I’m going to Summer. With or without you.”

All right, tomorrow night. Raihn agreed, knowing you would leave him behind if you had to.

Settling further into him, titling your face up at the stars—at the night sky. “Raihn, let’s stay here for the night?”

As you wish, Sunshine. He moved, coiling himself closer around you, keeping you warm—safe. Why don’t you want to go back to the manor?

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

His body tensed, Who do I have to kill?

“No one.” You sighed, “me probably.”

What happened? His voice was calm, demanding, the way it always was before he killed someone. Which he had to do a few times when you were growing up, you’ve been hunted by Amarantha since you were in your mother’s womb.

You turned to look at him, “It was my fault. I started it, I—“

I don’t care about what you did. What did the other one do? His blue eyes glinted with the promise of violence.

“Raihn, please… let it go. I’ve had a long day and I just want to rest.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, he just kept watching you. Fine, he relented. Sleep, you’re safe with me.

“Always am.”

You drifted off not long after, his steady breaths lulling you to sleep.

****

The next morning, you made your trek back to the manor. Content to just listen to the birds and trees singing. It was almost as if in greeting as you walked through the Spring Court. Raihn said that they were happy you were walking among them as the heir of Spring.

You were close enough to the garden that you heard Feyre’s tins and brushes clatter to the gravel. Close enough for you to scent her fear.

Without a second thought you ran to her side, Raihn trailing close behind, as she stared at the fountain.

No, not the fountain, but the head spiked to it.

A bleeding High Fae male head—spiked atop the fountain statue of a great heron flapping its wings. The stone was soaked in enough blood to suggest that the head had been fresh when someone had impaled it on the heron’s upraised bill.

Instantly, your eyes scanned the area around you, taking in every detail, looking for any signs of movement. Nothing. Even when you tried scenting who had put the head on the fountain, nothing.

“Feyre,” You said softly so as not to startle her, her hand immediately clamped around your arm so tight you thought she’d break her fingers.

You didn’t need to ask Raihn to check the perimeter—he was already gone as Feyre and you continued to stare at that still-screaming head, the brown eyes bulging, the teeth broken and bloody. No mask—so he wasn’t part of the Spring Court. Anything else about him, you couldn’t discern.

His blood was so bright on the gray stone—his mouth open so vulgarly. You took a step forward and Feyre tried pulling you back, but slammed into something—someone.

She whirled, hands rising out of instinct, but Tamlin’s voice said, “It’s me,” and she stopped cold. Lucien stood beside him, pale and grim.

“Not Autumn Court,” Lucien said. “I don’t recognize him at all.”

Tamlin’s hands clamped on her shoulders as you turned back toward the head. “Neither do I.” A soft, vicious growl laced his words, but no claws pricked her skin as he kept gripping her. His hands tightened, though, while Lucien stepped into the small pool in which the statue stood—striding through the red water until he peered up at the anguished face.

“They branded him behind the ear with a sigil,” Lucien said, swearing. “A mountain with three stars—”

“Night Court,” Tamlin said too quietly.

You tensed. Fuck.

“Why. . . why would they do this?” Feyre asked.

Tamlin let go of her shoulder, coming to stand between you as Lucien climbed the statue to remove the head.

“The Night Court does what it wants,” Tamlin said.“They live by their own codes, their own corrupt morals.”

Your hands curled into fists as you fought to keep your temper in check.

“They’re all sadistic killers,” Lucien added. “They delight in torture of every kind—and would find this sort of stunt to be amusing.”

You dared a step forward, body moving on its own, but Raihn stopped you. Don’t.

You blew out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Willing yourself to relax.

“Amusing, but not a message?” Feyre asked as she scanned the garden.

“Oh, it’s a message,” Lucien said, and she cringed at the thick, wet sounds of flesh and bone on stone as he yanked the head off. You’d both skinned enough animals, but this. . . Tamlin put another hand on her shoulder. “To get in and out of our defenses, to possibly commit the crime nearby, with the blood this fresh. . . ” A splash as Lucien landed in the water again. “It’s exactly what the High Lord of the Night Court would find amusing. The bastard.”

Rhysand. Your uncle.

You gauged the distance between the pool and the house. Sixty, maybe seventy feet. That’s how close they’d come to them. To Feyre. Tamlin brushed a thumb against her shoulder. “You’re still safe here. This was just their idea of a prank.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“This isn’t connected to the blight?” Feyre asked.

“Only in that they know the blight is again awakening—and want us to know they’re circling the Spring Court like vultures, should our wards fall further.” Feyre looked as sick as you all felt, because Tamlin added, “I won’t let that happen.”

You scoffed.

He pinned you with a glare, “Do you not believe me, Y/n?”

Turning your body to face him straight on, you pointed at his mask, “The mask on your face makes it fairly clear that you can’t do a fucking thing against the blight.” He stared at you—fighting to keep his temper in check to not upset Feyre more than she already was—you stared right back. Unflinching. Even as his claws slid free.

Lucien splashed out of the fountain, “They’ll get what’s coming to them soon enough. Hopefully the blight will wreck them, too.” Tamlin growled at Lucien to take care of the head, and the gravel crunched as Lucien departed.

Tamlin’s eyes didn’t leave yours until Feyre crouched to pick up her paints and brushes. He knelt next to her, his hands closed around hers, squeezing. “You’re still safe,” he promised to her again. And you rolled your eyes.

Feyre didn’t say anything, her eyes flicked to you and then back down to her brushes—to her hands that were still shaking.

“It’s court posturing,” Tamlin explained. “The Night Court is deadly, but this was only their lord’s idea of a joke. Attacking anyone here—attacking you—would cause more trouble than it’s worth for him. If the blight truly does harm these lands, and the Night Court enters our borders, we’ll be ready.”

“No you won’t.” You muttered as you turned to leave, following the way Lucien went. He stopped as he heard you approaching. The gravel crunching beneath your feet, giving you away.

“What?”

Nodding at the head in his hands, “Let me see it again.”

“Why?”

“Lucien.” He lifted it so you could get a good look at it, he didn’t look familiar, your nostrils flared slightly once. Twice. “He’s from the Winter Court.” You said matter-of-factly.

Lucien’s brows furrowed as he looked at the head closer—examining it. “How do you know?”

You stared at him, incredulous, “You can’t scent the faint hint of crisp snow on him? It’s barely there but it’s there.”

He sniffed once, twice, then he sighed, shaking his head, “No.” Then he turned his focus on you, his head cocked to the side, sizing you up. “Who-what are you?”

“Nobody important.” Certainly not the “Sun of the Night Court.” Certainly not the heir that was promised to save Prythian—to kill Amarantha. Certainly not Tamlin’s daughter. . . his heir.

Lucien prowled closer until you were nearly chest to chest. “You are so full of shit,” he spat. “Are you a bloodhound or something?”

“Or something,” You shrugged—feigning nonchalance.

“You’re a bad friend.”

“I know.” Your voice came out quieter than you meant as you withstood his withering gaze. He stared at you for a few moments longer before turning on his heel going to get rid of the head as Tamlin asked. You just stood there, watching his figure disappear into the Western Woods.

Whoever was here is gone now and they covered their tracks. There’s not even a scent. Raihn said from wherever he was on the grounds. I can go out further if you want me to.

No, I need you to do something else. Go to the Summer Court and watch Wesley. Don’t do anything, just watch him and the others, and I’ll meet you at the border of Spring and Summer after the sun goes down and we’ll go back together.

All right, don’t do anything stupid till I get back.

You mentally rolled your eyes at him.

****

Making your way to the kitchen that was bustling with fae getting lunch ready. They all murmured greetings when they saw you. A fae male with a bird mask asked if you wanted something to eat before lunch was served or if you wanted something in particular for dessert.

“No, thank you sir. But I’m actually looking for Alis.”

He flushed, bowing his head, “I am no sir, Lady Y/n. I am merely a humble servant—”

Shaking your head, “Doesn’t matter. At least, not to me. You treated me with respect so I did the same, sir.”

“Ben.” He said, a shy smile gracing his lips, “My name is Ben.”

You stuck your hand out, “Y/n—just Y/n. I hate being called Lady.”

Ben laughed but hesitated when he saw your hand, “La— I mean Y/n,” he corrected himself, “my hands are dirty.” And they were in fact covered in blood from a buck he was preparing for lunch.

“A little blood doesn’t bother me,” your hand was still outstretched towards him. Ben’s eyes flickered between your hand and his as if in a silent battle with himself. Then he shook your hand, laughing and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face, “What?” You asked him.

He shook his head, “You’re nothing like I thought you’d be, Princess.” You stiffened at the title—Princess. You don’t know what he must’ve read on your face because he quickly reassured you, “Don’t worry only Alis and I know. We knew your mother. . . she was always kind to us, as are you.” He whispered.

You only nodded.

“Alis is in her room. In the servants quarters in the East Wing of the manor.”

“Thank you, Ben.”

****

As you made your way to Alis’s room, more servants greeted you. Some with a nod, others with a smile. Once you got to the East Wing, you realized you didn’t know which room was hers. You stood in the middle of the hall, trying to listen for her voice, trying to scent her, shaking your head in frustration when you couldn’t.

Then a sentry came out of a room, he had tan skin, tawny eyes and deep rich brown hair. He looked back into the room like he was speaking to someone and a couple seconds later a female’s laugh echoed into the hallway. His face broke out in a grin but when he saw me his brows knitted together and he whispered something too low for you to hear to the female inside the room.

He shut the door and strode towards you. “Are you lost Lady Y/n? Your rooms are located in the—“ He stood less than a foot away from you now.

You were still looking around or trying to at least since the sentry towered over you and his brawny build seemed somehow bulkier in his armor. “West Wing—I know. Where’s Alis’s room?”

He turned and pointed, “Down the hall, take a left, first door on the right.”

You nodded. “Thank you. . .”

“Emmett.” He smiled.

“Thank you, Emmett.”

He bowed his head, “At your service, my lady.” Then he left. You followed his directions, finally finding Alis’s room and knocking.

A few seconds later you heard movement behind her door before she swung it open. She blinked in surprise, “Y/n.”

“I need you to do something for me.” She stepped aside letting you in. “I need you to cover for me.”

Her brows pinched together, her lips pressing into a tight line. “For how long?”

“Just until tonight.”

“Tonight? What are—where are you going?”

“Out.”

She sighed, tilting her head back looking up at the ceiling as she shook her head, “Please don’t tell me you’re going to do something stupid.”

“Of course not,” You grinned.

“Reckless? Dangerous?”

“Well that’s still up for debate.”

“Y/n—“

“Alis, I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t have another choice.”

She was looking at you now. “At least tell me you’re not going alone.”

You shook your head, “Raihn’s coming with me.”

She didn’t say anything for a few minutes before sighing again and rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “All right, fine.”

“Thank you, Alis.”

“You never have to thank me, Princ—Y/n. I’ll always help you. . . Now do you need anything else?”

“From you? No. From the armory? Yes.”

She looked up at the ceiling again, “Cauldron, save me.”

You laughed as you made your way to the door, looking back at her, “Thank you, Alis.” You drawled. “I appreciate you.” She muttered something you chose to ignore.

****

It didn’t take you long to find the armory. It was located near the training grounds, not far from the manor.

You just needed to find some fighting leathers, daggers, boots and anything else you might need. Yet, none of it would feel as familiar as the Illyrian fighting leathers or blades you’d been trained with when you were a child. But you’ve done more with less. At least you still had the two ash daggers that your fathers gifted you on the last solstice you all shared.

There were no other sentries near or in the armory that you could detect except for two High Fae males that were currently sparring on the training grounds. They were too focused on each other to see you slip in through the door. It was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, probably due to a glamour one of the past High Lords placed.

You couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face as you took in the entire armory. The wall directly opposite to the door had a small bench pushed up against it with shelves a couple feet above it. Fully stocked with different sized boots, fighting and training leathers.

One of the other walls was full of different weapons: swords, daggers, knives, battle axes, bows, arrows and shields. The last wall had floor to ceiling shelves that held different types of armor: breastplates, helmets, gauntlets, belts and other accessories.

You made quick work of filling an empty crate that was left near the bench with fighting leathers and boots closest to your size. Two leather gauntlets, a bandolier that could hold several daggers and a sword in the back, and a belt that could hold a battle axe.

Both hands were braced on your hips as you looked at the wall with weapons, trying to pick which ones would be the best. You definitely weren’t going to pick a bow and arrow—it’s not your favorite for close combat. So that left only swords, daggers and battle axes.

A simple battle axe caught your eye. The hilt was wrapped with black leather, there wasn’t anything special about the blade itself but it seemed to gleam brighter than any of the others. You picked it up, feeling the balance of it and its weight as you swung it.

The Illyrian part of you so at peace that you hadn’t even realized you closed your eyes. Until you whipped around, throwing it, so close past two sentries heads that were walking in. The same two sentries that you saw sparring.

They both chuckled and then one in the front spoke.“You missed,” he teased.

You gave them a wicked smirk that always put others on edge and they visibly tensed. “Did I?” Your eyes flicked to the sides of their faces, closest to the door frame, where the axe was embedded.

Both sentries reached a hand up to their faces in unison. To the matching slashes on the left sides of their faces—on their cheeks—that was bleeding. Their eyes widening before they let out amused chuckles. “Not bad, Lady Y/n.” The other one said.

Still smirking, you dipped your chin and made your way towards the door, pulling the axe free before dropping it into the crate. And went right back to picking a few daggers. Some straight bladed ones and some curved all the while feeling the sentries eyes on you. Glancing over your shoulder at them, “Do you two need something?”

“N-no.” They said at the same time.

“All right then.” You went on trying to find the right sword. They were all simple but finely crafted and well taken care of. Reaching for one when one of the sentries cleared his throat, making you stop. Turning around to face them fully. “Yes?”

The taller one of the two cleared his throat again, “We think we know the perfect sword for you.”

You tilted your head taking them both in and you realize they both had the same warm brown eyes and gold hair. Cousins? Maybe even brothers. They seemed familiar and not just because you’ve seen them around the manor, but from before. “Why would you two want to give me a sword?”

“It is yours by right.” The other one said.

You didn’t respond, brows pinching together as you nodded slowly, letting his words sink in.

Wordlessly the taller one of the two reached down and picked up the crated you had filled and walked toward the door. Only looking back to make sure that the other sentry and you were following him. You followed him back toward the barracks—where all the sentries stayed while on the grounds. Far apart enough that you didn’t look like you were all walking together.

Once inside the barracks, a few other sentries greeted them, calling them “Bron” and “Hart”. Some simply nodded while others ignored them completely and perked up when they saw you. Walking all the way to the end of the hall and Bron—the taller one—opened the door on the right and you all entered a room. His room.

He set the crate in his hands down on the bed that was pushed into the corner and got down on his knees, pulling out a trunk from beneath it. Hart went to his side and they both pulled several cloaks from it before finally pulling out a sword—your mother’s sword.

You let out a shuddered breath as Bron held it with both hands. “Why do you have that?” Your voice comes out as a whisper.

“We were both there that day. . . we tried to help but we were too late. We looked for you for days to no avail. This”—he looked down at your mother’s sword—“was the only thing we found.” He explained.

Hart’s voice was tight as he added, “Princess Rhaenyra was kind to us—a friend to us. . . Your fathers too.”

As if in a daze you took a step forward and grabbed her sword. You couldn’t stop the tears that fell down my cheeks as you held it. It was a beautiful sword. Slender and elegant made from Illyrian steel, with a black hilt, a gold cross-guard that was shaped as dragon wings with an amethyst the size of a chicken egg in the pommel. The entire sword had Illyrian runes carved into it for luck and glory.

You looked at them both with a sad smile, “Thank you. Y-you have no idea how much this means to me.”

They both nodded their heads and then placed their right hands over their hearts and kneeled. Then at the same time they spoke. “I swear myself to you. To ward you, Princess Y/n. I shall guard your secrets. Obey your commands. Fight at your side and defend your name and honor. With all my strength and give my blood for yours.”

Confused, you shook your head, “Neither of you have to swear oaths to me. Giving me this sword—my mother’s sword is more than enough.”

“Princess Y/n, it would be the greatest honor of our lives to serve you. The heir that was promised—the “Sun of the Night court.” Hart Replied.

“Please, Princess, allow us this honor.” Bron insisted.

“All right. But, never forget it is also my honor to have you serve me.” They nodded. “Now rise.” They did. And you gently laid your mother’s—your sword in the crate and went to pick it up but Bron’s voice stopped you.”

“Princess—“

“Please don’t call me Princess. The less people that know who I really am the better.” They both nodded again.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Bron?”

“Why do you need all of this?” He asked, gesturing to the crate.

“Because there’s something I need to do in the Summer Court.”

“Would you like us to accompany you?” asked Hart.”

“No. No, it’s better if you both stay here. This is something I need to do alone.”

They bowed their heads, “Of course.”

****

By the time you made it back to your bedroom in the Manor it was mid afternoon and you didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep.

Alis woke you up with a tray of cured meats, cheese and bread for you to eat. With a goblet of fresh water.

“What time is it?” You croaked, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Late afternoon. The sun is going to set soon.” She said after glancing at the windows.

You nodded. Raihn? Even your mental voice sounded thick with sleep.

Yes, sunshine? He answered instantly.

I’ll meet you at the border of the Spring and Summer court after the sun sets.

Be careful. He said.

You too.

You ate in silence while watching Alis lay out the fighting leathers and weapons on your bed. She shook her head, “I don’t like this one bit.”

“What?”

“The idea of you going out. What if you get hurt?”

“I’ll be fine, Alis.” You reassured her. “I always am.”

She grumbled her agreement under her breath making you laugh as she took the empty tray from you. She left, taking the tray back to the kitchen and with a sigh you got up to get dressed.

Sliding on the supple yet tough fighting leathers, designed to provide flexibility and protection during combat. The boots following after. Next was the gauntlets, bandolier and then the belt.

Alis came back in after you had already sheathed your sword on your back and the battle axe on your hip. Now you were sheathing your daggers into the bandolier—three curved ones and three straight ones.

You were going to secure your two ash daggers into your boots when Alis stepped towards you, halting you mid movement. She held two leather thigh sheaths that could connect to a belt, “I had planned to gift this to you on your birthday but it’s in a few days anyway.”

You took it from her hands, taking it in.

There wasn’t anything special about it—except that it was a gift from her—but you could tell it was high quality.

She fidgeted, “I had it made for you—“ You cut off her rambling with a hug. She let out a surprised laugh before wrapping her arms around you too.

“Thank you, Alis.” You pulled away, moving to strap them on and secure them to your belt before sheathing an ash dagger to each thigh.

She tipped her chin and led you to the vanity where she braided your hair back away from your face. When she finished she met your gaze in the mirror and gave you an unsure. “It’s time.”

And surely enough through the reflection of the mirror you could just barely see the curtain drawn window and see that the sun had set. You turned around in the seat, facing her, “What did you tell Feyre?”

“That you weren’t feeling well and that you were going to sleep through the rest of the evening.”

“Good.” You made your way to the balcony doors and opened them, Alis followed behind you but stopped in the doorway. Your hands rested on the railing and without you looking back you said, “Don’t wait up for me.” Then without another word you leapt from the balcony, slipped past the sentries and made your way through the Western Woods.

I’m heading to the border now. You told Raihn mentally.

I’m already here. Be safe, sunshine. He answered.

You jogged into the woods before stopping in a clearing. Waiting, listening in case anyone was around or following you. Once you were satisfied you inhaled a deep breath and when you exhaled you shot through the trees.

Even though the blood spell dulled your senses and blocked your magic, you were still more fae than mortal. In your fae form your senses were sharper—keener than a normal fae’s. More so than a High Lord’s according to your mother.

Your clothed figure was a black streak through the dark and your blades gleaming like stars when they caught in the moonlight. The ground easy beneath my boots. Your immortal body gracefully leaping over rocks, fallen trees and branches, and dodging trees without even thinking. Without a doubt you let your senses guide you.

The smell of oak and moss and living things, the open coolness of the mist passing like a path that you followed. Until you finally made it to the border where the courts of Spring and Summer met not even fifteen minutes later.

Raihn stalked out of the shadows, moving towards you. “Tell me what you know.” A command not a question.

He held your gaze, blue eyes glowing bright in the dark. They set up camp between Adriata and the border. Six soldiers are on watch a mile out from the camp and six other soldiers are sitting out around the fire in front of the tent.

You nodded. “And Wesley?”

In the tent.

“All right.” You only took one step forward before Raihn stopped you, blocking your path with his massive body. “You’re not gonna stop me.” And you went to side step him but he only got in your way again. “What?” You growled.

There’s something else you need to know.

“What?”

I heard Wesley saying he got word that the “Son of the Night Court” was in spring and he was going to send scouts within the hour.

Your face paled. “Fuck. They might not find me but if he finds Feyre they’ll take her.” Amarantha’s going to take her. Kill her. You shook your head, your blood now roaring in your ears. “Raihn, get back to Spring. If anything happens to her—“

It’ll have to happen to me.

Without another word he nuzzled his head into your shoulder and took off back towards Spring. A white blur through the night, through the trees. You took a deep breath willing your head to clear, you needed to focus, Raihn would protect her. It took a couple more deep breaths before your nerves settled and your blood was roaring for different reasons.

Even though you were only quarter Illyrian it was a dominant part of you. Powerful and intense like a storm gathering within you. Before a fight everyone always feels a mix of anticipation and adrenaline wash over them—some embrace it and others fight it, either willingly or unwillingly. You always welcomed it. Instead of it clouding your senses it heightened them allowing you to focus in fights. Allowing you to fight with lethal skill and precision, excelling in every fight.

You let the promise of revenge, bloodshed and death wash over you. Relax you. Letting your parents training take over as you unsheathed two daggers from your bandolier, the feeling of them as familiar as the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat. On silent feet you made your way to the camp's perimeter—to the first soldier on watch and faster than anything had the right to be you stuck the dagger into his throat and twisted.

He died before his body even hit the ground.

You did the same to the five other soldiers—four females and one male— that were on watch. Their blood dripped from your fingertips as you stalked closer to the camp. Standing on the edge of the tree line, you saw five more soldiers sitting around a fire—two females and three males—talking. They still hadn’t noticed you and you scented the air. Nostrils flaring slightly once, twice and you knew Wesley was inside the tent.

Reaching behind your back you unsheathed your sword and moved. Prowling towards them, holding your drawn sword behind your back, the point upwards.

Sunshine. Raihn reached out to you, mind to mind. The manor is secure. Feyre was safe. You hummed your agreement mentally and closed off the bond on your side.

You purposefully let leaves crunch beneath your feet as you neared them and they stopped talking. “Where’s Wesley?” You asked, your voice deathly soft.

One of the Hybern soldiers—a high fae female—tensed. “What do you want with Wes?” She asked as she looked around, no doubt wondering how you got through the soldiers that were supposed to be on watch.

“Where is he?” You growled.

“What. Do. You. Want. With. Him.” She growled right back.

“I heard he’s looking for the Sun of the Night court?”

Another Hybern soldier—a high fae male—flanked her, “You know where he is.”

“She is right here. Looking for him.”

Another soldier—male. “You’re not the son of the Night Court. You’re a mortal girl.” He spat, drawing his sword.

You shrugged, lowering your eyes, jaw clenching. “Semantics.”

They subtly shifted, giving another male soldier with deep brown skin that was holding a crossbow a clear shot at you. In one quick movement he raises it and lets the bolt fly.

You knock aside the bolt with your sword.

Then another soldier—the other female—rushes towards you and you parry her sword, stabbing her straight through the neck.

You parry a second soldier's attack and slice his stomach.

Whirling you stab a third soldier that tried rushing you from behind in the leg. He falls and the second soldier comes at you again, blocking his attack, with the blade of your sword pointed down. Your swords clash and then you twist your wrist and slice his throat. So deep his head is barely attached to his body.

A fourth soldier charges at you and you block his blow and with your left hand you clamp down on his right forearm and bring your sword down on it. Severing his arm from his body. Grabbing his sword from his right hand before it even hits the ground and stabbing it into the chest of the soldier with the crossbow before he can reload it.

Another soldier comes at you with his sword in one hand and a shield in the other. He spreads his arms as he raises his left, bringing down his sword in a wide arc and you duck. Then before he can bash you with his shield you spin and switch your grip on your sword so it’s horizontal and stab through the side of his neck.

You prowl forward, right as the third soldier you had stabbed in the leg charges at you. With his arms raised and you drop to a knee and angle your sword upwards stabbing him through his ribs and into his heart and take his swords.

The female soldier that you spoke to first snarls at you as your swords clash and you spin before striking another blow. She blocks it but with the other sword you stab her through her chest. Impaling her and pinning her to the ground. You take a step back and twist, decapitating her with one swing.

You hear, heavy, sure foot falls as Wesley prowls towards you. Too caught up in slaughtering his soldiers to notice him till now.

He points his sword at you as he charges. You dodge two thrusts and then parry several slashes. You exchange several more blows. Then land a punch to his jaw and drive him back, pinning him to a tree with your sword pressed against his neck. His nostrils flaring—he’s scenting you.

His eyes widened and then narrowed into slits.

“You remember me. Don’t you?” You growl.

He only growls back and stabs you in the stomach with a dagger you didn’t realize he had. He knocks aside your sword. Then he spins and swipes dodging your blows, then he slashes at your back and you bring your own sword behind your back just in time to block it.

You knock his sword away and bring your own down on his shoulder. He spins on his knee and slices your thigh with his dagger. You glare at each other. Then you side step him as he charges, dodging a horizontal swipe, he puts the dagger in his sword hand.

The blades facing in opposite directions. You grab the blade of his dagger as it moves towards your hip and then in one quick motion he pulls it out of your grip. slicing your palm in the process.

You surge forward raining down blows. Wesley blocks a blow with both blades. You rip the sword from his grasp and aim your own sword at his throat. He stands rigid, staring at you with nothing but hate. You toss his sword behind you and lower your sword.

He lunges forward with the dagger and you knock it from his grasp with the pommel of your sword. And with your free hand you grab both his hands and in one fell swoop you bring down your sword in a brutal cut—severing both hands at the wrist. His blood, spraying your boots.

His blood curdling screams fill your ears and the forest around as he falls to his knees. Doubling over in pain. You laugh as his body obviously begins going into shock if the telltale sign of his hyperventilating is anything to go by. You circle around him—a predator about to make the killing blow to their prey.

He whimpers as you force his head up with the blade of your sword under his chin. “Look. At. Me.” You said deathly soft.

Wesley forces his eyes to meet yours. “W-we killed you. All of you.” His voice quivering from pain.

You shook your head, a feral grin on your lips as you loomed over him making him flinch. “You slaughtered a mother and two fathers. . . but you didn't slaughter every one of the Blackfyre’s.” His face pale from blood loss seemed to pale further. “No. That was your mistake.” You taunted. “You should have ripped them all out, root and stem. Leave one dragon alive and the sheep are never safe.“

His body began to shake even more as he took in the murderous look in your eyes. The rage.

“Do you remember what you said to me all those years ago?”

He whimpered, shaking his head.

You gripped his hair, tilting his head back, “I want words,” you snarled.

“N-no.” He stuttered between sobs.

“It was after you took a whip to my back. I could barely stand but I still tried slitting your throat and you dislocated my shoulder disarming me.” You let out a cold bitter humorless laugh. “You said,” leaning down to whisper into his ear, “you lack conviction” and then you tied me back onto the post and whipped me some more.”

“I am so sorry. I was just a soldier following orders.”

“And now you’ll die because you were a soldier just following orders.”

You lifted your sword up in a high arc and Wesley squeezed his eyes shut, murmuring some type of prayer under his breath. Your sword's blade glinted in the moonlight before descending in a swift clean death blow. There was a devastating elegance to the motion but right as it was about land true—

“Y/n!” Lucien called.

You pulled back the blow, barely a hair's breadth away from Wesley’s neck.

He appeared from behind the tent, stopping a couple feet away from Wesley and you. He sounded terrified. It took you a moment to realize he was terrified of you.

“Stop. . .” He pleaded, his voice hoarse.

You didn’t want to stop. Not until Wesley was dead. Not until all of Amarantha’s lieutenants were dead. Not until Amarantha was dead.

“Please, Y/n.”

You looked up and saw his remaining eye was wide, his metal one whirring softly as he looked around. At all the soldiers you slaughter and at Wesley with your sword at his neck. You blinked once and you were in his head, seeing yourself through his eyes.

Your eyes were clear but filled with feral satisfaction. There was still a hint of a wicked feral grin on your lips. And you were covered in blood from head to toe; some of it yours and most of it theirs. You blinked again now seeing through your own eyes.

“We can take him back to spring. Let Tamlin deal with him.” Lucien tried reasoning.

“No. Not good enough.” You raised your sword again.

The emissary took a step forward. “This isn’t going to change what happened.”

“I don’t care. He slaughtered my family.” You half growled—half whispered.

“Can you forgive your enemies?” He tried reasoning again.

“The gods will forgive. My task is to arrange their meeting.”

And this time when your sword arced through the air, the blade struck true. And Wesley’s head fell to the ground near his severed hands before his body did too.

You tilted your face up at the night sky—the stars, a small smile on your lips when you felt a soft warm breeze caress your face. Your eyes closed and it was as if your mother was doing it. You could’ve sworn you heard your parent’s voices in the wind.

Just two more, Sunshine. Your mother said. Only Cahir and Amarantha are left, Sunshine. Your father Declan seemed to say. My brave sweet girl you’re almost done. Your father Callum reassured you.

Just two more.

“Two more what?” Lucien asked cautiously.

You realize you must’ve said it out loud. “Go back to the manor, Lucien.”

Distantly you heard leaves crunching beneath light footfalls in the trees behind you. You didn’t spare him another glance before silently making your way towards the noise. Scenting the air, you smelled a female. Her scent, a crisp and refreshing winter breeze, with hints of frost and pine needles.

It was familiar but you couldn’t place it, so you pulled your battle axe free. The weight of it was a comfort in your hand as you silently continued further into the woods.

But it was almost too quiet so you waited for a minute to just listen. You could hear leaves rustling, a distant river, animals and then a heart beating rapidly. Not an animal's heart but fae. And it was all you could to grab the female by her throat with your free hand and slam her into the ground.

Her hands clawed at the one you wrapped around her neck as she thrashed beneath you. But she stilled when she felt the cool metal of your axe press into her skin. It was dark but the moonlight let you glimpse pale skin, white hair and blue eyes.

Your brows knitting together. “Viviane?”

“Princess?”

“Why were you watching me?”

“I wasn’t.”

Your hand tightened around her throat and you dug your axe deeper drawing a drop of blood. “Bullshit.”

“I didn’t know it was you.”

You slammed her head into the ground.

“I swear I didn’t know,” she grounded out through clenched teeth.

“Liar.”

“Fine. . . I needed to ask you something.”

You stared at her for a couple more seconds before slowly letting go of her throat and getting off of her. “You needed to ask me something,” you repeat.

“Yes.”

You cross your arms. “Well?”

“A high fae male from Winter was found in Spring territory earlier today.” The one spiked to the fountain.

“What about it?”

“Did he have a note on his person?”

“No.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t hidden anywhere on his body?”

You suppress a shudder. “Yes.”

“Y/n did you check? He could have hid—“

“There was no way, no place for him to hide a note. They spiked his head to the fountain.” She visibly flinched. “I don’t know where his body is.” I whispered and she put a hand up to her mouth, stifling a sob. “I’m sorry, Viviane.”

She shook her head. “No. No. No.” Then she reached for me, her hands gripping my shoulders, “This is your fault.”

Your eyes shuttered. “I know.”

“No you don’t know!”

You wrenched her hands from your shoulders, spinning and pinning her against a tree with your forearm. “Trust me. . . I know. I lost people too.” You say with lethal softness and she blinked, seeming to remember that was true.

“I-I’m sorry Princess. . . about your mother and fathers.”

You waved your hand dismissively, “I don’t need to hear this right now,” you only made it a step back towards the Spring Court before she stopped you. “What?” you spat.

“Here.” she placed a silver dagger into your hand. It was elegantly made with a bright sapphire in the pommel. “For besting me,” she explained.

You stared at it and before you could say something she winnowed.

****

The trek back to the manor was miserable. You were sore, tired, thirsty and hungry. Not to mention covered in blood, it was dry and sticky, and you were still bleeding from Wesley stabbing you in the stomach. Your body was probably littered in bruises and minor cuts.

Thankfully, none of the sentries said anything as you strode by with your chin held high, slightly limping.

Bron was by the doors when he saw you and he took a single step before you halted him with a raised hand. Giving him a tight nod as you passed him. And you hoped Feyre was asleep by now.

You barely made it up the steps when you heard her.

Feyre.

“Y/n!” She tried running to you but Lucien stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“I’m fine.” You reassure her.

She scanned you from head to toe, her blue-grey eyes wide and lips slightly parted. “Are you sure? You don’t look fine”.

You nodded. “I’m fine. I swear.”

“Please tell me that isn’t your blood.”

“Not all of it. . . Most of it isn’t anyways.”

You felt him before you heard him—saw him. Raihn. His claws clicked against the marble floors as he made his way to you. Nuzzling his head against you, causing you to let out a hiss of pain from the wound in your stomach. You opened the bond on your side and felt his relief to see you were alive.

I’m all right. You reassured him.

He only let out a soft whine.

You heard a loud, startled gasp from behind you atop the stairs. “Y/n?”

Alis.

Heaving a breath. “I’m fine, Alis.”

Her hands hovered over your body, her lips pursing, “You are certainly not fine.”

You grinned at her. “I need another favor.”

She placed her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed into slits, “What?”

“Can you get me something to eat and some water and bring it up to my room please.”

She huffed. “Fine.”

“Thank you, Alis.”

“But first let me help you up to your room.”

No. I’ll take you. Raihn said.

You waved her off. “Raihn will take me.”

“Fine but let me draw you a bath first.”

“All right.”

Raihn lowered himself all the way down to the marble floors and you stepped over him so a leg was on each side and then he stood. Earning another hiss of pain out of you.

“Y/n?” Feyre called again.

Turning to look at her. “What?”

“What happened?”

You looked at her before your eyes flicked to Lucien then back to her. “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

“Y/n.”

“Soon, Fey.” You promised.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

Taglist: @historygeekqueen @cat-or-kitten @yeeyeebabe @khaleesihavilliard @impossibelle @sleepylunarwolf @cutie232 @meepmeep-318 @belledawnidk @fandomrejects @wasntpriscilla @brandywineeeee @thescooby-gang @annblvd @isa1b2h3 @tele86 @glaciuswduo @laceandsuch @hnyclover @spookyboogyuniverse @kennedy-brooke @minaethrym @dustyinkpages @azzydaddy @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @phoenix666stuff @starryhiraeth @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @esposadomd @st4r-girl-official @poetryinshadows @consultinghuntresshasthetardis @lili-flower03

*If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or to my general taglist, please either reply to this post or send me a message.

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #eris vanserra #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris smut #eris x reader #eris x you #bound in flames

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emo-trash88 · 19 days

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Hii:3 so I've been reading your works and I LOVE them (especially the Ramshackle and Hazbin hotel <3) so I was wondering if yo could write an one shot about Stone with a Male! Reader about what it would be like to sleep with him (you know, cuddles and cuddles and stuff) I have a hc about skipp and vinnie trying to grab the blanket for them while they sleep (obviously not knowing) and i even see them half fighting and pulling the blanket at each other while they sleep and I feel like (of the three) stone is the lightest sleeper so you could say he suffers the most with that so reader help him fall asleep again? I'm sorry if I made it too long but I better leave it until here because then I start to extend more and in fact this is already extending more but my English is not so good and I had to use translator in several parts of this to make sure that if I wrote it well but anyway sorry for making it so long sorry again

-🥸 (I love this emoji omg it looks so silly and goofy and it reminds me of me fHAHSJANAJANJSGDUSIWJAJJ)

Ofc I would love to write this! Also dw about your english, I understood it very well! I couldn't really find a good way to write it in one shot form (I'm so sorry 🙏🙏🙏) but if you want me to try and rewrite it just let me know!

Stone x M! reader

Pronouns: Second person, implied male

Tw: uhhh, too much fluff???

- So I'm gonna preface this by saying I don't think Stone is particularly touch starved(I know a lot of people headcannon him as being touch starved(no shade to them)), he just doesn't like touch very much.

- Like in several scenes we see him tell Skipp to not touch him or to let go off him.

- So I think cuddling would be a kind of thing where it's not often, unless it's like winter time or on of y'all is drunk off your ass.

- But I feel like Stone would be really cold in general.

- Like cold hands, cold feet, cold everything

- So idk if y'all like that but it's the truth.

- That being said, he's probably a blanket hog by accident and it turns into a fucking war just to not freeze to death.

- Also cuddling with him lowkey sucks. Like he's basically a sack of bones, and last time I checked that is not super duper comfortable.

- And then ofc, we have the lovely Vinnie and Skipp.

- They thought it would be silly to take away the blanket y'all were sharing (Cause no amount of alcohol can raise that man's body heat nearly enough to be comfortable)

- He obviously woke up (Because I agree, light sleeper Stone for the win!!!)

- And you wake up to people yelling at 2:00am (sounds just like home)

- But in all, do I think he dislikes cuddling, yes. Do I think he's freezing cold all of the time, yes. Do I think cuddling with him would probably be hella uncomfortable, also yes. But none of that should stop anyone.

- Go cuddle your angsty sickly victorian looking boy to your hearts content (dw I wanna cuddle with him too)

I just realized this lowkey sounds like pure Stone slander, I PROMISE I AM TOO A STONE SIMP I SWEARR 🙏🙏🙏

#ramshackle x reader #ramshackle #stone x reader ramshackle #stone ramshackle #i dont fucking know #how the hell did I write this?

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greenerteacups · 4 months

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Hi! Just wanted to say the latest chapter is lovely & amazing & sweet & had me smiling the whole time! I absolutely love your characterisation of everyone, especially Draco, so it was so so lovely to return to this world & to his thoughts!! with his best friend and crush at malfoy manor no less! All the yearning is already off to a great start hehe I am so excited for the rest of book 5!

Wanted to ask you how has it been for you to write this new book and volume? Has your writing process changed since when you’d first begun taking on a long form project like this?

& also are there any moments or surprises in this book that you’re especially excited about?

sending so much love & gratitude for you and your incredible works 💓

Thank you so much! This is really encouraging, I so appreciate it.

Inasmuch as I can use this metaphor without having kids myself, I sort of see each of the books as a different child. The first one flew out in basically a few weeks of very intensive writing, and it was a total dream — plot, pacing, symbolism, major beats, all fell into place basically without effort. The character stuff was the hardest, as I've written about before, but even then, the glorious part of writing beginnings is it's the most energy you'll ever have for a project, so the lows were pretty soft lows. Book 2, in contrast, I had to drag kicking and screaming by its ankle from under the bottommost mattress of my brain. It's one of my least favorite books (tone problem; COS has killer plot/setting/ingredients for a YA novel, but it's stuck in the doldrums of Harry Potter's well-documented Early-Installment Weirdness, before Cedric Diggory slams the gas and upshifts the whole series into its correct age bracket). More specifically, once I'd gone through and picked out everything in the book that happened because of Lucius, I didn't have a plot — hey alexa how do you rewrite Chamber of Secrets when We Got No Fucking Chamber Of Secrets — and oh by the way, even if you want to do a moody tone/political setup book, remember that your protagonists are still twelve, so if you go too dark or too intense, you'll risk torpedoing your readers' suspension of disbelief. Good luck, Charlie.

Book 3 felt the most like its own novel, if that makes sense? It's the last truly feel-good book of the series; it's a great stand-alone mystery novel with relatively low stakes. Plus you get a bunch of the big series icons: patronuses, dementors, werewolves, Hogsmeade, the Marauders' Map, and time turners arithmancy. It just felt like a good old-fashioned motherfucking romp of a mystery/adventure story, before any of the complex character work and major stakes of the late books come in.

Book 4 was the most fun I've had writing anything maybe ever. I don't even know what it was. Maybe the tournament arc, honestly? Love me a tournament arc. But in any case, I opened every new chapter feeling a tingle of excitement for what I was gonna get to do. Oh, and the romance started, finally, Jesus God (if it feels like a slow burn reading, just imagine what it felt like writing it, when everything takes ten times as long, and you have to figure out how to word the fucker.)

Book 5, in contrast, has felt much less like that tingle of "here we go!" and more like "oh, man, this is gonna be cool." Because this is the arc of the story that composed the original idea for Lionheart, literally years ago, and to be honest, I didn't think I'd get this far! If you'd asked me "do you know that it's going to take you 500,000 words of backstory before you can start writing that concept you're thinking about, and you're going to do it anyway?" I would have said: "absolutely not, strange mind-reader!" But like... I'm here! Finally! And it's... real now? Like, this isn't just a bunch of clips of scenes in my head anymore! That's rad!

That being said, it's definitely been slower than Book 4, because I kept switching back to my outline document to make sure that certain things were set up properly, and that I hadn't lost any of the plot threads or forgotten a minor beat that was vitally important for the story three chapters later. And I had a minor crisis about three months ago when I ripped out about 8 chapters in the first third of the book — basically everything from September to December — because I'd done a readthrough to check pacing (big mistake! never edit while drafting, that's satan talking) and realized I had a missing storyline. Like, there was a whole layer of the story that was just. Missing. Not there. And the existing text really couldn't fit another thread, so instead of taking weeks to pore through and try to sift out what I could save, I needed to factory reset and start over. And I didn't want to! I vividly remember sitting there with my head in my hands, trying not to weep, because I'd decimated 90,000 words of work in a single edit. But it had to be done. Because the story wasn't going to work. And now (hopefully) it will.

And of course, there's still that sense of excitement and exhilaration from before. Always. But whereas Book 4 felt like a delicious chocolate pudding, Book 5 is a medium-rare steak.

(Book 6, so far, is four shots of espresso and a whiskey chaser. FWIW.)

#greenteacup asks #lionheart #lionheart spoilers #dramione

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cripplingoptimism · 1 year

Text

Distractions [3/3]

Gonna wrap this up in 3 parts. Previous here.

Yo, WHAT was happening on Twitter this week?? Every time I opened the app there was a new analysis of the Goddamn couch scene. I didn't think Trigun could hurt me any more and yet here I am in a new spiral over an internet stranger's hot take.

Anywaaaaay, I've had this brainworm way before whatever angst got a hold of Twitter. I've always interpreted Vash and Wolfwood’s relationship as 'right people, wrong time'. But honestly, I love every interpretation of them - platonic, soulmates, lovers, etc. So, through these comics I wanted to show moments during their journey that conveyed the gradual evolution of their relationship (as I head cannon it lmao). Canonically, Vash never gets to tell Wolfwood how he feels and my poor little heart has been in denial about that ever since. So this is my *slight* rewriting of the series of events leading up to Wolfwood's solo journey.

At this point in the manga (ch. 50) I wanted to show that, despite the 7 month time skip, it's like no time has passed between them. They're still comfortable and casual with each other, still seeking the comfort of distractions - Neither of them wanting to shatter the illusion of normalcy in this moment. And I feel Vash would be the first to ask for more when reality comes knocking (through Wolfwood's fist lol).

He knows, even in a best-case scenario, his time with Wolfwood is limited. And while Vash is just as shackled by duty and guilt as Wolfwood, he carries an optimism about him that Wolfwood lacks. He needs Woolfwood to know how he feels so he can live without regret, regardless of the outcome. As such, he takes the leap. Wolfwood, unfortunately, cannot bring himself to share in that optimism. He’s too absorbed in worry about the orphanage, the children and especially Livio. His heart is screaming at him, but he knows he can’t afford to be distracted by his “selfish” desires. So, he rejects Vash by being realistic and hopes he can see that he wants this too, but just can't bear the impending heartbreak due to their circumstances. Vash does see this. He swallows his disappointment and heartbreak, earnestly grateful for the relationship he still has with Wolfwood.

I know my characterization feels like it conflicts with the moment on the couch; Vash can't even look at Wolfwood for that entire scene despite Wolfwood being the one to try and connect with him ("You look better...when you smile."). However, I never saw that moment as Vash rejecting Wolfwood. Not in the traditional sense at least (maybe an inadvertent rejection). Vash wanted more between them (to share his tomorrows), but not like this - not as a deathbed confession. He's heartbroken and grieving and (somewhat selfishly) can't see that Wolfwood just wants to enjoy his last moments with the one person on this planet he can call an equal and a friend.

Speaking of the dreaded couch scene, I don't think I can add anything new to the discourse, but I will say the tragedy for me really lies in all the emotions Wolfwood goes through:

Being at peace with his death ("This is the way you want it?" "Yeah."). It's what he believed he deserved, with all the blood on his hands, and the mutation of his body, he assumed he could never return to his previous life with everyone at the orphanage.

Grieving for his future (confetti). Wolfwood never believed he could be forgiven. The children celebrating his return showed their acceptance of him, welcoming him back regardless of his sins. He was worthy of forgiveness. His guilt prevented him from even entertaining the thought of forgiving himself. There must have been regret in those tears.

Seeking comfort from the one person he grew to truly trust and Vash not being strong enough to give it. I already mentioned this above, but Vash not even being able to look at Wolfwood throughout the entire couch scene tears me up.

From the narrative's perspective, Wolfwood needed to die. And even knowing that, it still absolutely destroyed me (and still does). Not just because he died, but because right before his death, he was given a glimmer of hope - that had he survived the fight with Livio, he would have had a chance at happiness.

Last side note here: I've seen discourse online explaining the entire scene is a metaphor for a wedding and I just wanna say, you'll be hearing from my therapist.

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smilingbuckley · 5 days

Text

Okay, so the

Make me write

Post a few weeks ago helped me a lot with writing and working on fics I probably would've otherwise abandoned. And now I am once again in a writing slump. Soooo I wanna ask you to send an ask with emojis and I'll write a paragraph for each emoji :)

* anonymous asks are turned off, sorry for that but it is to protect myself *

And you can send as many as you want!! Let's see if we can get me to finish one! (Or a chapter)

This time I added a few more WIPs that I either have to rewrite or haven't starter yet but desperate want to.

👶 magically deaged Buck (a witch puts a spell on Buck so now he's a little kid again and Bathena raises him as they try to figure out how to remove the spell.) Bathena, Buddie, multi chapters, 3 chapters already posted back in october, working on chapter 4

💪 self defense fic (s2 AU. Buck got mugged and loses faith in his safety, so Bobby introduces him to Eddie who will teach him self defense. Not Buck isn't just struggling with feeling unsafe but also with finding Eddie, a stranger, attractive) gonna be a longer fic, I think about 3-4K is written? Will be a single chapter.

🫃 Omegaverse fic (Buck always believed he was a beta but then after mating with Eddie, am Alpha, he starts feeling strange. With the help of Bobby, he figures out that his parents lied to him and did an illegal surgery on him when he presented as an Omega to block any Omega hormones. Buck worries because Eddie only dated betas before him and they never talked about having children) Know this is not everyone's cup of tea since it's both onegaverse and mpreg. Not started yet though I have a snippet written down somewhere in my notes. It's about time I write this.

❤️‍🔥 reunion smut (Eddie had been in El Paso for a few months and comes back earlier to surprise Buck) I've had this in the works for months and still haven't finished it, oops? I'm at the smut part soooo I feel like I could finish this soon?

💕 Buck coming out to Chris - idk how I still haven't finished this one, it's supposed to be short lol

👨‍👧 Buck finds out he has a daughter - idk if it will be multiple chapters but it definitely will be a longer fic. I hope around 30k?

👨‍⚕️ Dr. Eddie fic - I love hospital aus so I'm not sure why I haven't written much for it. Maybe I'll end up rewriting what I have and hope it will get my inspo back?

👨‍❤️‍👨 fake dating fic - and the award to the longest wip I have goes to... no not really, the high school au took me longer to finish. Idk why I haven't written much for this because I love the story and it's been in my mind for sooo long. I just need inspiration

💛 Bobby & Buck fic - well, it's also Buck & Chris & Eddie and Buddie. Basically, they respond to a heavy call with a kid that hits hard. Of course Buddie check up on Chris, but Bobby also feels the need to be close to Buck

🧩 Puzzle fic - sweet and fluffy. Eddie gives Buck a puzzle, which confused Buck because Eddie knows that with Buck’s adhd, he's barely capable of spending 10 minutes on it. Even worse, there's no reference picture. Buck sees it as a challenge and slowly works on it, his curiosity getting the better of it. - not started yet

There are a few wips I almost added to this but then I would really be working on too many at once. Soo... once I finish one or two of these, maybe I'll tease them or add them to a post like this. (It's a PTA dads au and a whumpy fic based on a the rookie episode... honestly makes me want to reconsider not doing whumptober this year because it would be perfect)

Might take some time answering all asks, depends on how I'm feeling. Also might not answer in the order of asks sent, BUT I will try to answer everything over the next days

Taglist

@buddieswhvre @diazsdimples @tizniz @steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @jesuiscenseedormir @loveyouanyway @chaosandwolves @mattsire @mel-vaz @inkmortal-trash389 @princess-of-the-snake-pit @nilletellsstories @laundryandtaxesworld @specialbrownieeater @m1kayu @bidisasterevankinard

#911 #evan buckley #buddie #eddie diaz #911 fanfic #buddie fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #911 abc #911 on abc

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xbomboi · 14 days

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Hi, hello, you’re stuff is absolutely amazing and all the praises.

(Seriously everything eah you’ve made so far feels so canon plausible it’s hard to believe, are you planning to make a career out of these skills/have one? You’d do amazing)

Onto a very generic question I would not be surprised might already be sitting in your inbox.

I am aware that your current project is to continue on ever after high with all the cannon (mostly the cartoon I think, but I can assume the books count too? And maybe doll boxes/diaries? It’s a lot).

If there was one subject you would want to rewrite or remove from canon entirely, what would it be (challenge would be to not name the disaster that is epic winter).

And on a lighter note, favorite/stuck-on-repeat part of the series (I’m sorry this ask is so long, Idnk how to shorten things)?

omg no this isn’t too long at all i’m actually so thrilled to be given something this long to look at!

for starters, in terms of continuing ever after high, my thing is that i want to follow the show canon above all, but i do want to conclude a lot of the stuff touched on in external media such as books and dairies etc. though in doing so i’m not going to treat anything that doesn’t come straight from the show as something to abide by completely. because the show and the books and what not have inconsistencies in numerous ways, such as defining what a royal/rebel is, or characterization, or even the novelizations of the specials having alternate tellings of the stories. i don’t even want to really necessarily change anything mentioned in the books when adapting it so much as ADD to the information provided in ways that aid the story in which i aim to tell.

i.e. the evil queen turning raven’s puppy Prince into a bone rat. what about Nevermore? where was she? WHEN was she? well i think the evil queen could have perhaps, upon feeling remorse, secretly gone and sought out a dragon for raven, and brought Nevermore home without telling raven it was her doing, so that she would have a new pet companion.

anywho, as for your actual questions, for the first one, i’m probably gonna have to go with the whole sequence in Way Too Wonderland when they’re going from class to class. see, when i first watched it, i got this feeling they were going to go from class to class and in each one a different girl in the group would demonstrate their strong point in solving how to pass the class.

if not that, i think i’d change who got to go and do the whole storybook page thing in Thronecoming. i think it should have just been the core four + ashlynn there, really. and less of them could have opened the door for more time getting to see briar seeing what raven’s point of view is like when faced with the reality of her story.

on a more basic note i’d just go back and make sure everyone were not introduced to from the start is actually there. at least, there for Legacy Day. they don’t have to talk or do anything, it would just be nice to know they were THERE.

anywho, in regards to your other question, that’s a tough one. i mean, i have a few. basic answer is raven’s Legacy Day declaration. it’s just iconic and a real powerful moment that shapes the narrative. i love it. there’s also pretty much all of briar’s scenes in Thronecoming. (and obviously her snapping at apple moment. that shit’s too funny.)

BUT also when raven signs the real book in Way Too Wonderland and gets that dark magic power up. i’m a sucker for fight scenes and especially ones with extra narrative weight, so i always appreciated that one + the aftermath of it. and when apple declares raven as a hero. it’s great.

thanks for the ask!

#eah #ever after high #raven queen #apple white #briar beauty #ask #ramble #duncontent

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io-lu-art · 5 months

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just a looong ramble analysing and rethinking Rey's character and turning whatever conclusions I get to into my headcanon without changing any plot points in TFA because I don't have the energy for that....

First things first. With everything I write here and publish on my blog from now on I refuse to believe that TROS ever existed. Everyone is free to have their personal opinions as long as they don't harass or hate on anyone, and this is mine. Almost every choice in that movie has left me scarred, even up til now, 4 years after its release. I thought I can ignore it, like any other healthy human being, but - oh boy, I cannot. If you are interested in reading another ramble on that, here's the post.

Since I am writing my own take on what could happen after TLJ (you may call it a fanfiction, I'm gonna call it a fanscript since that's gonna be its format), this post serves the purpose of getting my head clear around what's the deal with Rey, analysing, and lying down a solid foundation for my WIP. The story I'm writing has barely reached the end of Act I (out of III) at the moment I am composing this commentary, and I constantly notice that I get stuck with Rey's character every time I have to think about her for different reasons I will address down below.

I will make some rewrites as I see fit and necessary along the way for her character to make sense to me. All rewrites are in Tumblr's

chat style

This post will be linked to my AO3 fancifction as a reference for people to understand how I treat her character as soon as that one will be finished... *clears her throat* ...ANYWAY-

Let's have a look at Rey, shall we?

Rey's introduction.

When we first meet Rey, there is already a lot we get to learn about her. She's a scavenger. On a pretty much deserted desert planet. Water and food are scarce. She gathers parts during the day to sell them in exchange for food rations.

She has no friends, no family. She's lonely. And has been for quite a while. And yet, though hard, it looks like a pretty peaceful and stable life. If it were significantly different, we would have gotten introduction scenes of her battling some gangs or other scavengers for parts or something. But instead we were provided with beautiful, peaceful cinematography and John Williams' incredible score.

She manages. She manages because she has to and has never known to do otherwise. This on its own is already a very solid introduction. And it becomes even more powerful as we are provided with additional context later on, as she tells BB-8 that she's waiting for her family.

We know who she is, what she does and what she wants. No more questions, right?

Well, this is where it gets confusing, at least for me: there's one shot in Rey's introduction which always leaves me puzzled about her actual wants. It's the moment she puts on the rebel pilot helmet.

Maybe I am reading too much into it, but it feels like it kinda wants to draw parallels to Luke Skywalker in ANH? What exactly is the purpose of this shot? Is she putting on the helmet just for fun? Is it to show that she is still a kid inside? She seems to enjoy herself. Is it to show us that she maybe wants to be a pilot...? The gesture on its own is too little information to imply that, let alone that she already is a very skilled one, so probably no. Then, is it, perhaps, to show us that she dreams of more? Like Luke, who wanted to get off the planet that is "farthest away from the bright center of the universe"?

The interpretations, especially when looking at it in context to the rest of the movie could go on and on and on.

Quick detour.

The reason it works so well with Luke's character is because from the very beginning, with everything he does and says, it is perfectly clear that he doesn't want to stay on Tatooine. It's his only want when we first meet him.

Luke has friends who tell him about the galaxy. He seeks adventure.

And he's very impatient about it.

Everything he says basically SCREAMS how much he hates it there.

Now back to Rey.

Am I expecting Rey to show the same interest in getting off Jakku with the same attitude and level of energy as Luke, should that have been what TFA was going for? No, of course not. They are (supposed to be) two different characters after all. But I do believe that, given the setup, that helmet scene leaves too much room for confusing and unnecessary interpretation. (More so because I am trying my best to avoid nostalgia bait wherever I can.)

I am not denying the fact that she wouldn't have heard about the wider galaxy, that she wouldn't wonder about what it would feel like, being out there. People travel. And with people traveling, so do stories. So if you want to hint at that, do it subtly, all the while keeping the focus on her biggest want.

I might really just be reading too much into it, but still, in my humble opinion, a way to solve this confusion is cutting out her interaction with the pilot helmet completely. Let me demonstrate.

Inside her home we already see this self-made rebel pilot puppet. Just like the puppet lying around, instead of having her pick it up and putting it on,

the helmet remains part of the environment, stuck in the sand. There could even be a close-up on it as Rey puts down her empty plate next to it when she has finished eating if you really want to show it. She then rests her arms on her knees and looks up into the sky, following the ship that has just departed from the far outpost into the high atmosphere until it disappears. Waiting.

What is achieved by changing the interaction with the helmet is that it keeps her wants just as clear as Luke's. Luke wants adventure. She wants her family back. Period.

...I rewatched this scene after writing these paragraphs and yes, I admit, in the end it happens so fast that one could probably just let it pass and interpret it as Rey being very bored and using it as entertainment to wait out the days. But even if it were just that, the effects this little tweak would have on the following scenes is quite interesting to look at nonetheless.

The tweak I am going with from now on: Having her not actively wonder about possible adventures at all. She doesn't believe those stories to actually be true, because she's never allowed herself to. She's never allowed herself to actually want to ever leave Jakku.

What would it mean for her characterisation? It would make her slightly more serious and grounded. And the movie (except for the helmet scene) actually already treats her that way. Notice how she, while fixing BB-8's antenna, takes a moment to look at him before asking:

She's never seen such a droid before. At least not in such good condition. So, of course, she's curious. But when BB-8 says it's classified, she only laughs about it. "Classified? Really? Me too. Big secret," as if to say, haha, yeah, right. She rejects that possibility. And she doesn't bother asking any further, because when she is confronted with the choice to go and explore, she is reminded of her promise to herself, which is that she will wait for her family until they return.

Now, here is where I insert some very subtle "rewriting". When Rey first meets Finn, she is suspicious of him...

...and should actually remain suspicious,

instead of admiring him and falling into this, let's call it, "excited, fangirly smile"...

She doesn't know him. She has no reason to trust him. Instead, the tone of this line should be one that reflects her emotions as it slowly gets to her that those stories she's been hearing about might actually have some truth to them, that there might actually be a wider world out there. So make her be gradually interested.

Huh. This man I just forcefully hit to the ground, a Resistance fighter, knows about BB-8 and his classified information. What are the odds of that?

"So you're with the Resistance?" Rey asks suspiciously, looking down at the man.

The man stands up, brushes the sand and dust off his jacket and answers, "Obviously. Yes, I am. I am with the Resistance."

Rey frowns, "I've never met a Resistance fighter before," scanning him with her eyes. Why would there be any on Jakku? Nothing ever happens here.

"Oh, this is what we look like, some of us. Others look different."

Rey cannot help a little smile at his strange attitude. She looks back to where BB-8 rolled off to. Puzzled, she tells him, "BB-8 says he's on a secret mission. He has to get back to your base..." Even hearing herself pronounce that out loud feels so surreal to her. None of this makes any sense. Why-

"Apparently he has a map that leads to Luke Skywalker and everyone's after it."

What? "Luke Skywalker?" she asks, confounded.

CUT TO ACTION.

Whether she wants it or not, the plot forces her into the stories she's been hearing of. You don't want to believe they are real? They're real, all right. She has no choice but to run and get along. And later, she does get more and more interested, specifically when she meets Han Solo, the legend himself. Her whole beliefs turn upside down. It's exciting and she embraces it. Why? She's made a promise to BB-8 that she will get him home, and those things kinda come hand in hand.

Rey's physicality.

Rey is very fast to jump into action. She doesn't think twice about what she's doing. She just acts. Because that's how she's learned to survive all this time on her own. When she but hears BB-8 struggling in the distant sand dunes the first time they meet, she immediately reacts and goes to help (which also shows how compassionate she is towards people - and droids - in need of help).

And she's incredibly stubborn about it. If I may even word it like this: it's something she carries with pride.

So she's a good fighter. And I have but one request: DO. NOT. FORGET. THAT. HER. FIGHTING. STYLE. IS. ROUGH. AND. DIRTY. AND. HAS. NO. TECHNIQUE. WHATSOEVER. WHILE. THE. STORY. PROGRESSES. OK? Ok. What else? Ah, yes. Piloting. I don't know which of the two aspects has brought more uproar in the SW community, with the addition of the Force to these 2 points making people call her a Mary Sue, her being overpowered and so on. Let's have a look at that.

Rey's piloting skills.

She obviously knows her way around the Falcon. And it's plausible. "This ship hasn't flown in years!" It's been there for quite a while. Maybe she has had the opportunity to sneak onto it once. What about her flying skills? Well, that takeoff definitely had me worried. At this point I am even amazed this ship is still all in one piece. Which has me thinking... just a thought...

While trying to get those TIEs off their tail, Rey damages a visibly big part of the Falcon's exterior. "Ups," she comments, hastily checking the controls. Ok... The ship still flies. All good.

"What was that?" Finn calls from the gunner position, seriously worried for their lives.

"Nothing to worry about!" Rey quickly shouts back. All in all, the flight is messy as hell, and the Falcon needs some heavy repairs. But they still manage to get out.

"Nice shooting!"

"That was some flying! How did you do that?"

"Thanks! I don't know! I've flown some ships, but I've never left the planet."

(This is me reacting to their dialogue in the new context:) Yeah, guys, good work! You've almost destroyed the Falcon in the process, but you're alive, so I guess it's fiiiiiine.

What am I going for here? Adding to their level of expectations, which are... pretty low, and hopefully Rey's likability.

And then, later, Han is horrified of the state his ship is in, "Who did that?" Rey doesn't answer his question, but instead immediately offers her help, "I can fix that for you," feeling a bit ashamed of handling the ship of a legend this carelessly. And Han is... well, Han about it.

When would the Falcon get those repairs, you might ask? Eh, *hand gesture* there's plenty of time on D'Quar for that while they discuss how to blow up the third Deathst- *clears her throat* Starkiller Base. And obviously it's not gonna be Rey doing those repairs.

This addition tones down her abilities, puts more focus on her skills as a scavenger and makes her more relatable. I'd also argue that it puts more weight to her decision to eventually decline Han's offer to join the crew because of her wants. You see, once immersed into the real thing, the stories becoming true, meeting the legends, she becomes genuinely curious. She asks questions. Why did Luke leave? What fight? She gets incredibly excited when Han offers her a job. And yet, despite all, she still wants to go back.

Nevertheless, Rey displays pretty amazing piloting skills under those stressful circumstances on Jakku. After all, flying the Falcon is....

Her instincts are implacable. One might even say that she*

She just isn't aware of it yet. It is not until some scenes with Han and the rathtars later that we get the first hint.

The Force.

Now I might be wrong, but I have a theory, which is that the piloting performance under high pressure on Jakku might have been it. The Awakening.

The Force calls to Rey through Luke's lightsaber. And she listens to it, not knowing what will follow. She experiences the Force vision, and is horrified.

"That lightsaber was Luke's, and his father's before him, and now, it calls to you!"

"I have to get back to Jakku." Again.

Even when Maz tells her, "You already know the truth. Whomever your waiting for on Jakku, they are never coming back,"

she still refuses to believe that.

Tears run down her cheeks

and she shakes her head. No.

"But there's someone who still could."

Rey frowns. What is Maz implying there? "Luke?" she asks and realises what it's leading up to, and doesn't like it. Her emotions are a mess. She gulps back and keeps shaking her head as Maz speaks.

"The belonging you seek is not behind you. It is ahead. I am no Jedi, but I know the Force. [...] The light. Feel it. [...] The lightsaber. Take it."

Rey doesn't want to hear of it. Any of it.

"I am never touching that thing again!"

Rey just witnessed complete horror. She is in denial. Keep in mind her clear wants from the beginning of the movie. Ideally her want for her parents to come back should be replaced by the character fulfilling her needs at the end of her arc. But we're not nearly there yet. What Maz tells her about the Force completely contradicts Rey's experiences. She cannot just accept the truth. And how does she handle it? She runs away. She's terrified.

She wants to go back to the way things were before any of this mess started. But the plot doesn't let her run away that easily. It knows she has to face her fears, one being her fear of the Force and one the fear of perhaps never making it back to Jakku ever again.

It forces her further into these situations, making it impossible for her to get out of them. She's trapped. Literally and figuratively. And fighting her way out won't work this time, the one ability she always relied on to save herself. It's her darkest moment. And if that were not enough, Kylo Ren, this stranger, this man inside that mask, the man from her vision, shoves all her insecurities right into her face.

"And Han Solo." Rey jolts up. Either out of fear of possibly betraying Han and slipping, giving away a location, or out of rage that Kylo has gone too far into her personal space. Either way, this rage gives her some strength to oppose him. "You feel like he's the father you never had. He would have disappointed you."

"Get out of my head!" He backs away for his own reasons, not wanting to think any more of his father, but still holds onto her mind. Rey does all she can to withstand him, and the longer she does, the more time it gives her to understand what is going on.

And Kylo senses it. What he's trying to do here is not working. Concern washes over his face, which makes him lose control over the situation. The connection opens, inviting Rey to tap into his mind. She's inside his head. Now she understands. She understands she can use this power on him, too. So she does.

And there it is. She's strong with the Force.

And that's intentional. Why? For reasons we discover in TLJ and numerous other fanfictions. (TROS? w-what's that-)

She has found a way out of the situation. Now, has she ever heard of Jedi mind tricks? Maybe? But remember what she just discovered: She just tapped into Kylo's mind. So she tries that again on the stormtrooper. Because when she knows how to act, she just does. She's always been confident in her physical abilities and skills. Why would she have to treat this new power any different? And luckily it works, after 3 tries.

And that's fine. Let's move on. Kylo kills Han. Explosions.

Notice this. Even though she knows she now has these new powers, the same powers Kylo has, she still draws her blaster at him after calling him a monster. She acts on emotion and choses the quick, familiar way.

I actually like to believe that Rey really doesn't know what the Force is and how it works, at all. How would she? Yes, Maz did tell her about it, but how do Force-powers manifest in people? She's never seen anyone use it before, upon meeting Kylo Ren. So in every scene she does use it, she just copies Kylo. That's the only reference she has. Remember how proud she is of her physical abilities. And she is so naive that she just goes and tries it for herself, without thinking of whether it will work out or not. And it works out for her. Because, again, she is strong in the Force.

It's true that her flaw, her naivety, is not really addressed in TFA. It never really backlashes on her. And, to be completely honest, I have no idea how to make room for that without some heavier rewrites yet. But maybe it's not necessary. TLJ takes care of that. TFA just introduces us to Rey as a character after all.

Now, is the force-summoned lightsaber making her overpowered? If you interpret it as "Kylo couldn't get that thing out the snow but Rey could," then yes, yes it is. BUT, if you see it as "while Rey is observing the fight, she sees Kylo trying to summon it, so she copies him, the way she copied him with the mind-tapping, and reaches for it the moment Kylo conveniently gets it out of the snow for her," I don't think it is, though I do agree that in order for the second version to be true, the scene happens too fast with too little shots to explain it. *OP takes a breath* So, here is what I suggest:

Kylo reaches out for the lightsaber. SHOT of the lightsaber in the snow, fidgeting slightly. BACK TO Kylo, pulling anew. BACK TO the lightsaber. It gets free. CUT. Another shot of it flying through the air towards the camera.

SHOT on Rey witnessing that - she is already on her feet again - and immediately reaching for it as well, outstretching her arm towards it.

SHOT of Kylo as he feels the momentum of his pull shift and dodges out of the way. The lightsaber flies past him, into Rey's hand.

Rey has always been fast to react to action. So it would make sense for her to be able to do that. Ok. Now to the fight itself.

*sighs* I don't even know where to start. ...One thing's for sure. Kylo at this point is pretty much destroyed emotionally from having killed his father, but he's still big and strong and aggressive in his movements. Rey, on the other hand, kinda seamlessly knows how to handle a lightsaber, which... is definitely not believable at all.

Let's step back for a moment. Why do we have this fight? Rey needs to get Finn and herself out of there and Kylo is pretty much in the way, so she wants to eliminate the problem. And what does Kylo want? Sure, he is interested in Rey and her raw powers which eventually adds up to them being equals in the Force, so he doesn't want to kill her...

But he also wants that lightsaber, doesn't he?

(God, I am looking at this fight to find any clues and I'm just sitting here, elbows on the table, resting my head in my hands, massaging my temples, wondering, "why the hell are there so many cuts in that fight scene?") (I am no expert in fight choreography, so bare with me as I try to make this work.)

Rey is the one who draws first at him.

She has never wielded a lightsaber before, but knows how to handle a staff... so she treats the lightsaber like a staff within its limitations.

Because remember, HER. STYLE. OF. FIGHTING. IS. ROUGH. AND. DIRTY. AND. HAS. NO. TECHNIQUE. WHATSOEVER. So, pretend we have some well thought out choreography in this part.

Kylo blocks her with ease. Rey is frustrated. The lightsaber feels heavy and difficult to handle. It doesn't take long for Kylo to

get her cornered at the edge of the newly formed cliff.

"You need a teacher! I could show you the ways of the Force!" he exclaims.

Rey considers, out of breath, "The Force?" Rey takes a moment as her mind connects the dots. So that's what these new powers are? Kylo watches her, waits for her to make a move. No time for pondering about the Force any more. Rey moves. Kylo LETS her duck and free herself from his block. She runs, backs away from the crater. He follows her. He outstretches his arm. Rey is stuck. She's literally petrified. Again. Kylo draws nearer. He twirls his saber, now holding it backwards (you know, Ahsoka style). "No," she hisses through her teeth, struggling. Heavy breaths. She closes her eyes. When he almost touches her hand holding the lightsaber, "No!" she RESISTS his force-cage and GOES FREE.

Because, you see, even though Maz told her to "close her eyes" and "feel the light", Rey has never done that before, and when under stress, I do believe she would rather choose a quick, familiar way to get out of the situation. The only thing she knows how to do with the Force at this point is to copy or resist Kylo. She wouldn't know how to to draw power from the Force, yet. She'll have plenty of time to learn that from Luke later, should she survive this fight, so we better continue.

Kylo stumbles back as she draws at him. Rey goes for a swing to hit from above, which Kylo manages to block last second, bringing his lighsaber up from behind his back. As their lightsabers are crossed again he quickly reaches for her right hand, which is holding Luke's saber, with his left hand and moves it aside to his right towards the ground, using his crossguard for more momentum to force her down. He steps his left foot accordingly to keep himself stable. Rey cries out from the unexpected movement. They are kinda back to back. His left shoulder against her right one. The position is uncomfortable. He squeezes Rey's wrist. Rey cries out in pain. Then, she realises how close they are.

Time for some close combat, ladies and gentlemen.

She gives in and lets go of the lightsaber, lets it fall to the ground. Kylo releases her to reach for the fallen lightsaber. But before he can pick it up, Rey KICKS his left hand away with her right heel and PUNCHES his JAW with her right elbow from below. Kylo's head rocks back. He stumbles backwards from the harsh impact, causing him to turn his back to her in order to catch himself. Rey summons Luke's lightsaber back into her left hand, and ignites it. When Kylo turns back to his opponent, left and unprotected side first, Rey is ready to stab him in his left shoulder.

Kylo stumbles back some more, she brings her hands together for another strike leftwards, he barely blocks it, he stumbles back some more, it leaves his posture open, Rey strikes again, rightwards, lower this time, wounding his leg, he falls to his knee, leaving Rey the final blow to provide him with his scar.

The reason I started writing this entire ramble in the first place is a conversation I had with my friend which brought up the fact that Rey should be able to beat Kylo by using her rough, unpredictable moves. Shout out to my friend who, bless her, is willing to listen to and survives every one of my sw rants and who pointed this out in the first place!

Is this a good fightscene now? I have no idea. I hope so? I do have it very clear in my head now though, so I might go and have some fun storyboarding it in the nearest future.

You know the rest. The ground splits, she runs to Finn, Chewie picks them up. . . .

There are some more moments which I believe need some tweaks, like the meeting with Leia, which is just so unfair to Chewie, really, but if I go on and on about this, I would end up changing the entire movie, which I do not have the strength for atm. This ramble was supposed to be about Rey and her alone, so I am done here.

I guess in the end Rey does realise her needs and is able to let her wants aside for a bit longer and focus her hope on actually helping the Resistance and get Luke. Hope that, with finding Luke, she will get to understand these new powers. I do feel like the movie could have provided us with a more emotionally rich reactive scene to the fight and her abilities, and generally just more of those, but then, what am I expecting from a JJ Abrams film? We have Rian for that.

My conclusion? I'm bad with conclusions and summaries, so here you have it, my take on Rey by only adding to the existing dialogue, changing some attitudes here and there, adding a scene, and changing the fight sequence at the end and how she treats the Force.

I do have a clearer understanding of her character now, which was the entire purpose of this ramble, so I guess, mission accomplished. Congratulations on having made it till the end. It was a long ride. I did consider splitting this beast into 2 parts, but while writing this, at one point I just decided to fully commit to it.

You are totally free to, of course, agree with me and stay tuned for my WIP fanscript or disagree, never read through this thing ever again, ignore it and leave it to die on Tumblr's graveyard.

Before you ask, because I also considered doing that just for the sake of having fun with GIFs on Tumblr (all text gifs are taken from YARN btw), I will not do a post like this on TLJ, since I have no problems with Rey's character there at all. Props to Rian Johnson at this point, for managing to make sense of her with what TFA gave us.

#rey #rey nobody #the force awakens #the force is strong with this one #character analysis #character rewrite #headcanon #this is my headcanon now #ramble #long ramble #long reads #have i mentioned it's long?#star wars #star wars fanfiction

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hxneyhxrts · 1 year

Text

Rain Soaked || Jake “Hangman” Seresin (part 7-final)

Part 6

note: sorry for holding this part hostage, life has finally settled down and i have stopped rewriting this over and over again. i didn’t want to break this up into multiple pets like i had originally planned, i wanted to just leave it as is. thank you if you still care about this almost a year (oh my GOD) later. love yew xx

warning: brief mention of sex, explicit language, angst

The Exit

Feels like we had matching wounds

But mine’s still black and bruised

And yours is perfectly fine

Gwyn couldn’t bring herself to tell Alec much about what happened at the bar. At least not that night. She knew telling him about James’ behavior and the total disaster that was dinner would only piss him off, and telling him about Jake’s sudden appearance and wandering hands would infuriate him.

She wanted to keep the peace between her coworkers after all.

So when she rolled back home that night, very much alone and confused, she waved off her best friend’s parade of questions, only giving him a “yeah it was fine” and shutting herself into a restless slumber.

Gwyn dreamt of Jake that night, of the way his fingers felt against her waist and stomach and how badly it ached to have him so close and the thought that maybe he only got that close because he had had a few drinks. Had Gwyn become nothing more than the thing he sought out when he was tipsy? Was he even tipsy when he approached her? It wasn’t like Jake Seresin to skip out on drinks when he found himself at a bar, but Gwyn’s traitorous heart sang that she would’ve known if he had been intoxicated.

She awoke with a start when images of his lips pressing against her flushed skin pushed at the edges of her brain and practically electrocuted her. Gwyn dutifully ignored the flash of a notification on her phone telling her that James was messaging her, opting to shower herself into a somewhat presentable state.

When she finally slumped down into one of the stools lining the kitchen bar, Alec had finished plating up some breakfast and pushed it towards her with a knowing smirk. “You gonna tell me about it, or am I gonna have to just assume the worst?”

The food tasted like ash on her tongue, a testament to Alec’s cooking skills (or lack thereof), but the words she choked out tasted even worse. “It was awful.”

Her friend nodded, as if he already knew as much, had guessed just by looking at her. And maybe he had. “Tell me about it,” he prodded gently, while pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Gwyn sighed. “It was like he was competing for the worst first date ever,” she groaned, grimacing at Alec’s laugh. “I’m serious! He was such an ass.”

It felt good to know that if she hated the date, it wasn’t because of her lingering feelings. At the very least, she wasn’t the root of it, she just genuinely did not enjoy herself and wouldn’t have even if the circumstance was different.

Even if she hadn’t still been atrociously in love with Jake Seresin, she would’ve hated it all the same.

Alec, just as she predicted, rolled his eyes through her entire story, offering the occasional scoff when necessary. By the time she had finished (pointedly leaving out the Jake portion of her little tale), her friend’s ears had gone red.

“You’re too pretty for him anyway,” he insisted, and went on his way to wash up their breakfast dishes.

Gwyn wanted to be upset, at least more upset than she was, but all she could conjure was mild disappointment at best. She’d had worse dates, and this one at least brought Jake’s wandering hands along with it.

Pathetic.

Her sad and silly attempt at getting back into dating with someone she figured could maybe do away with her funk had only driven her further into the seemingly never-ending Hangman pit. She wondered how many girls before her had found themselves in the same place, head over heels for the blonde pilot, only to find themselves clawing at clay and mud to pull themselves out of the gaping hole his presence left when he ditched them.

She wondered how many girls would join her in the pit, how many he intended to add to the roster once they went their separate ways. She wondered how large this sad excuse of a sisterhood would grow before Jake decided he was done.

And through it all, the hatred for him and the desperation to have him close, Gwyn could still feel the exact place his fingers had bruised her hips.

—------------------

The weekend passed blissfully slow, as if Gwyn had commanded it to and it was submissive to her will. Days crawled by at a snail’s pace until they dragged her straight into Monday morning, but she was ready. She knew what had happened, and knew Jake was somewhat on the sober side (at least enough to remember the way he had touched her, she hoped), and she had control of the situation.

Saturday was spent going over every single second of the night. When he must have crawled in for her to not notice, how he sounded when he spoke, what he smelled like, how close he had gotten, the feeling of his breath against her ear, everything that made her feel nauseous if she sat on it for too long.

Sunday was for planning.

Sunday morning spurred something in her, a new sense of change and command. After all, she wasn’t the one who had thrown herself all over her ex at a bar while he was on a date with someone else. She hadn’t been the one to make a fool of herself. Jake had acted out of turn, and she would confront him about it. Ask him what his deal was, and cut him loose before she dug that awful pit any deeper.

Well, maybe not the last part, but she’d certainly try.

Gwyn wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to say or do, but she knew something needed to be said. Jake wouldn’t outright apologize for anything or even acknowledge it, but he knew what he did and she needed to hear him say that he knew what happened and that she hadn’t imagined the heat between their bodies.

Or something.

God.

One step at a time.

First, she needed to track him down and ask to speak in private. That much, she could handle, and she wouldn’t think about the conversation to follow until she absolutely had to.

So Gwyn wound her way through the never ending gray corridors of their unit base, occasionally peeking through open doors off to the side to scan the rooms for a tuft of blonde.

“Canadee!”

The booming timbre rang through the hall, and Gwyn felt ice settle in her veins.

Admiral Holt.

She turned reluctantly to find him approaching her with purposeful strides that screamed his rank to anyone who looked at him. “Sir,” she greeted, cursing how small her voice sounded.

“Walk with me.” And he breezed right past her.

Gwyn’s feet struggled to match his bounding strides, taking two steps for each of his, and by the time they swung into an office she assumed was his, she was near panting.

“Sit,” Holt ordered.

The chair felt stiff and worn beneath her, but she would have sat on a bed of nails at that moment if it meant avoiding whatever discussion was about to unfold.

Holt leveled her with a hard stare before breaking the uncomfortable silence. “I was wrong about you.”

Christ.

Okay, then.

Holt barrelled on past her confused look, talking without leaving room for pause. “I’ll admit, I was a little hesitant having you on this mission, considering your experience or lack thereof, but you’ve been nothing but impressive lately. And I’m man enough to know when I was wrong. Just thought I’d share that with you and maybe apologize if I haven’t been as welcoming as you may have deserved.”

Gwyn’s breath felt solid in her throat.

Was Holt complimenting her?

Oh my God, he was complimenting her.

“Oh,” she started dumbly. “Thank you. Sir.”

Holt smiled thinly, as if he didn’t do it often enough to be comfortable. He dropped his head in a curt nod that told her she was dismissed, and Gwyn scrambled for the door.

“You know,” Holt cut her off just as her fingers brushed against the cool brass doorknob. “I thought Seresin was crazy when he brought your name up and pushed for your spot. But I’ll admit, he made a good call.”

His dry chuckle raked against her ears even as they filled with cotton. He had clearly meant it as a passing comment, something to quell the awkward air pushing in at her from all sides, but the words sank her.

Jake.

Jake had picked her for this.

Jake picked her.

“Jake suggested me for this?”

A stupid question to ask considering Holt wasn’t a man who enjoyed repeating himself, but Gwyn had to know. Had to know she hadn’t misheard him.

Holt’s brow furrowed slightly. “Well yes, Seresin was given three spots to fill on his own recommendation, and you were one of those spots,” he trailed off, eyeing her fingers that shook by her sides. “I figured you knew.”

“Right,” Gwyn cleared her throat and plastered on a smile. “Right, sorry, must’ve just slipped my mind. One of those days, you know?”

It was a lousy cover, but Holt accepted it with a nod all the same. She tried to pace her steps to look even and calm, but her nerves were on fire and her skin felt clammy.

Her feet moved without authority or reason, and it was several turns through winding halls before she realized she was stomping.

Jake.

Jake had picked her for this.

Jake had yanked her right out of Top Gun to bring her out here without even telling her it was him who made that call. Hell, had even outright lied about his knowing she would be here.

Heavy footfalls rang out like gunfire through the corridor as her legs worked their way to Jake’s office. And before she could talk herself down on the mountain of hysteria she had dragged herself up the edge of, she was pushing through the heavy metal door.

“You son of a bitch,” she snarled.

Gwyn hadn’t been sure what she was going to say once she saw Jake, but her anger had made the decision for her, nasty words spewing from her lips without her consent.

Good. Maybe she wanted to say these things. Maybe Jake deserved to hear these things.

Jake’s eyes snapped to hers, as did Rooster’s from his place perched on a desk chair across from the sole target of her malice. Bradshaw sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, and practically scrambled to stand.

“I’m gonna go,” he stuttered out to the captain, but Jake’s gaze was trained on her, hard and unflinching. The blonde was nearly yelling before Bradley had even fully closed the door behind him.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” he hissed, rising to his full height, but keeping a safe distance away and leaving his desk to separate them. “You are under no authority to stomp into my office like some petulant brat and start with this again.”

Memories of cornering him in a crowded locker room flooded her, as well as the hushed confession that followed her screaming, and Gwyn hated the way her cheeks warmed for something other than anger then. She wouldn’t allow him that, wouldn’t give him any of her softness.

Not now.

“You gave Holt my name. You enlisted me for this detachment.” The words sounded angry and wild in the way she tossed them at him like an accusation, and she saw the way his eyes wavered, unsteady and unsure. Good. She wanted him as unnerved as her.

Jake’s shoulders were tense, and a rogue muscle in his jaw ticked in time with her pounding heartbeat. His next word was casual and careful in a way that told her he was trying to stay calm. “And?”

“And?!” Gwyn felt hot tears pooling at her waterline, a dam pushing until it found a crack to burst through. “You break up with me for your career, and then have the nerve to drag me away from mine?”

And there it was. That malice that had been festering in her broke and she took long heaving breaths to keep from screaming or crying or both maybe. Jake looked crestfallen, a stupid sort of expression that did nothing for her fury. She felt that horrible nausea that burned creep up along with her rage. He didn’t deserve her kindness, and she would not waste it on him.

“Gwyn,” he started, “I wasn’t trying to-”

“I liked my job,” she insisted, but it didn’t sound convincing even to her own ears. It didn’t do much to convince Jake, either.

With a scoff and an eye roll, he cut back at her in the way that only he ever could. “Like you were ever going to be content just teaching.”

“It wasn’t for you to decide whether I was content or not!” she roared, blood pounding in her ears now. But onwards she pushed. “I was fine! Fine and a lot less angry than I am right now.”

Her hands were shaking, and she watched Jake’s eyes dart to her trembling fingers. She didn’t want him to see them, see how vulnerable she was, so she raised her voice. “Did you think I would drag you away from your precious fucking promotion? That I wouldn’t be happy for you and celebrate it? That I would keep you from it or bring you down? Well you got it! And now you plan on dragging me along behind you at every turn just to prove you can? Just to prove you have authority over me now?” And just because she could, she added, “Or was that your idea of a honeymoon?”

The blonde stilled, eyes widening a fraction and Gwyn dug in ten times harder. Her anger was a cruel and foul thing that had buried itself in her heart and ripped at its walls, pushing her to hurt him the way she hurt.

“I saw the ring. On your phone.” A part of her whispered to stop, let him be and walk away, but the larger, angrier part kept lunging at him while he was wounded. “It’s amazing that you can go from searching for wedding rings to bowing out as soon as a pay raise comes along, huh captain?”

The title was harsh and bitter as it sat in the air between them.

And then Jake snapped.

“See, that’s the fucking problem with you Gwyn. You always think you know everything,” he roared.

Gwyn cowered against the volume and opened her mouth to shout back, but Jake was still going.

“You think I broke up with the only person I’ve ever loved like that for a fucking job? Are you fucking serious? Or are you just that fucking stupid?”

He was stalking towards her now, footsteps calculated and slow, a predator approaching its prey. Gwyn hated how uneasy the motion made her, and nearly bared her teeth.

She had never seen him quite this angry, even at their worst when he was just some jackass coworker who nipped at her heels whenever she got too close. Something had shifted between them, something that wouldn’t be done away now.

“Then what was it, captain? Tell me,” she bit out.

There was a fire in Jake’s eyes, rage like she had never seen in him. “I know you’re new to this field, but when you get a big boy job like the detachment I got called away on, things are a little bigger than the stupid fucking defense missions you’ve been on, let alone playing teacher at Top Gun.”

She bristled at the insult, ready to tear him down, but he barged on as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience at best.

“I lost two men in that mission, both under my direction when they were shot down. Do you have any idea what that’s like?” She didn’t, and he knew that. He was pushing back at her now, blow for blow. “And the sickest part was, all I could think about throughout it all was you. You. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I thought about what I would have done if it had been you out there with me. Or what you would have done if it had been me. And how fucking miserable it would be to be shot down and never have had the privilege of marrying you. Or worse yet, Marrying you, only to leave you lonely when I didn’t make it home. It’s fucking sick, to sit in a hospital waiting room with the family of two men I was supposed to look out for, and only think of you.”

He scrubbed an anxious hand across his face, while Gwyn’s head reeled.

His next blow was so much worse than anything she could have imagined.

“I bought the ring.”

And for reasons she couldn’t fully understand, a small sad part of her quieted as tears pushed at her eyelids harder.

Jake barrelled on, oblivious to the weight he was crushing her under, panting almost as he tore her apart piece by piece. “I bought it almost as soon as I saw it. I knew there was no conceivable future in which I didn’t propose, so I bought it. And I came so close to asking you so many times, but every time I reached for it, I saw them. I saw all the people we’ve almost lost and I couldn’t do it. So I’m sorry if you felt cheated, but don’t walk in here and pretend you know a goddamn thing about what I did or why I left.”

His breathing was ragged and uneven. A flush spread across his cheeks and neck, and Gwyn longed to reach for him.

She didn’t.

Instead, she swallowed and tried to square her shoulders. “Why call me out here?”

A coward’s question, meant to deflect the conversation away from territory so foreign and sad.

Jake laughed, a mocking and disbelieving sound. “Goddamn it, baby, because I wanted to see you. I just-” he threw his hands up, a pained expression crossing his face. “I needed to see you. And selfishly, I thought that maybe you would want to see me too.”

She did. At least a little. But could she admit that, after pulling back the curtain on the ghost that had hung between them for months now?

Another thought burned at the edges of her brain, pulsing hot enough to scorn her. A question she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer to.

A question she didn’t need the answer to, less she punished herself any further.

But she decided she could withstand a bit more torture.

“Where’s the ring?”

Jake's fingers flexed, a subtle twitch that betrayed his nervousness, and answered her. A stone settled in her stomach Jake opened his mouth to speak.

“Gwyn, please-”

“Jake,” she cut him off, voice nearly a whisper. “Where’s the ring?”

He swallowed. Once. Twice.

“In my desk drawer.”

And suddenly, Gwyn could almost feel the tangible and crushing weight of the object, no more than twenty feet away from her. Tucked away against mounds of folders and reports was the very thing she once thought she would have died for. She felt sick, horribly and overwhelmingly sick. Standing so close to so many unanswered questions and hurts, Gwyn felt the room tilt on its side for a second.

“You brought it here.” It sounded like more of a statement than a question, and her tongue dried as she pushed through the questions she was beginning to hate herself for asking. “Why?”

If sullen had taken human form, it would be Jake Seresin, all bright colors and light gone with the heavy press of emotions pulling him down. “I don’t know.”

“Were you-” she swallowed past a lump that had formed, head light and swimming. “Uh… Were you planning to…”

Gwyn couldn’t bring herself to finish the question. Jake looked like he couldn’t have listened to her ask it if she had.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

“That I love you.”

It was too much. The walls had begun pressing in on her and the oxygen in the room had fled with her common sense.

She wanted to tell him she needed a second to breathe, a moment to think, but the words wouldn’t come.

Gwyn left without looking over her shoulder to see his face.

—-------------

Scalding water poured over her shoulders and back, leaving them raw and pink. The shower had been a way to calm her beating heart and scattered brain, but nothing was working. Not the music she had turned up to deafening volumes on the drive home, not the two drinks she had made herself once she chucked her boots off at her front door, and not the steaming water raining over her bowed head.

The ache was so much worse than she could have ever imagined. If she thought Jake leaving was awful, this new pain was an untamed beast of which she had never encountered. It tore her insides to shreds on its claws and made a mess of her. A headache pounded at her temples from the tears she had let fall down the shower drain, and her entire being felt heavy and weary all over.

He had the ring. He brought the ring.

He had wanted her as his wife, had almost asked her. He had wanted her forever. And some part of him still wanted her enough to bring her ring to this detachment.

No. Not her ring. It was just a ring Jake had.

For her.

He hadn’t left for some job. He had kept things from her, yes, but nothing she could ever fault him for.

And if she couldn’t fault him, she had nothing against him.

Nothing to guard herself against him and the ever-present ache that followed her every thought about him.

So it consumed her in small bites, pulling at her nerves until she thought she’d crumble.

Alec walked in long after the water had turned ice cold, raising goosebumps and scattering them across her flesh. He took one knowing look at her and grabbed a towel off the rack to wrap her up in. He ushered her out from the blanket of quiet the shower had smothered her in, and steered her into her bed where he curled both arms around her.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Gwyn didn’t. She didn’t even know if she could.

“I saw Seresin,” Alec went on. “Passed him on my way out. He looks even worse than you do if it’s any consolation.”

It wasn’t. Because she had done that. She had made him that way.

God everything was so awful.

She was awful.

“I think I messed everything up again,” she muttered into the cotton of his shirt.

Alec huffed a laugh into her wet curls. “You have a habit of doing that, my love.”

She pinched him, a small smirk cracking at her dry lips despite the heaviness that still laid against her.

“I’m not a member of the Jake Seresin fan club,” Alec continued, more serious now. “God knows, he could do with a few less people kissing that perfect ass of his. But I don’t think he’s a bad guy. He might even be half decent if you squint hard enough.”

Alec’s hands brushed up and down her spine in soothing strokes, as her breath started to hiccup. His words kept coming, soft and warm, just for her. “He’s not a bad pilot by any measure, not that he’d ever let you forget it. And he’s got a smile that could start and end wars. Did I mention his ass yet?”

Gwyn snorted a laugh, even as her eyes stung. “Where are you going with this?”

Alec’s voice softened, barely more than a whisper. “I’m just saying he’s not half bad.” Fingers drew patterns across her arms, sure and calm. “And that he’d make a good husband if you let him.”

Gwyn jerked back, tears freely flowing down her cheeks now. Alec was staring down at her with a small, private smile, always knowing more than he should. He bumped his nose against hers before speaking again. “Nowhere near what you deserve, of course, but he’d do his best.”

Her hands were shaking against the strong lines of muscle beneath her fingers. Alec had always seen right through her, even now after all the distance and time that had passed. She often thought that maybe in some other universe, they held each other just like this, as lovers instead of friends, and wondered if it would be simpler there. Or if she even wanted that simplicity, when roughness brought her Jake. Alec’s eyes were gazing at her with such tenderness that she almost sobbed.

He squeezed her once more before nudging her towards the edge of the bed.

“Go.”

—-------------------

Jake’s military-issued apartment was an alarmingly short drive from hers, giving her no time or space to collect her thoughts and devise what she wanted to say.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Gwyn found herself face to face with his door, fist raised and poised to knock. She nearly hesitated as she once again found herself short on what to say, but she rapped her knuckles against the wood.

Jake swung the door back almost immediately, a desperate sort of relief washing over his features as he took in the sight of her and her still wet hair. “Gwyn,” he breathed.

She started at the sound of her name on his lips, of how gentle he sounded saying it.

And how badly she missed hearing it.

Silence hung between them, too long and obvious to be anything besides awkward, but Jake was still looking at her with that same fondness that broke her.

“I don’t know what your plans are,” she started, fingers trembling enough to draw his gaze, but this time she let him watch them shake, allowed him to see her vulnerability. Something she would only ever give to him. “I don’t know where you plan on going from here, or what you picture after all of this… Or if I’m in those plans. If you’ll even still have me-”

“Of course I’d have you,” Jake cut in, voice sincere and raw. “I’ll always have you.”

She hiccuped down tears. He’d still have her, even with her everything. Even with his everything.

So that was it. It had been settled.

“You better be a good husband.”

A grin wide enough to split his cheeks broke out across Jake’s mouth, and she watched as his fingers twitched against the door.

“I’ll be the best goddamn husband you’ll ever have.”

She nearly sobbed as she fell into him, smashing her lips against his desperately, like she might die without him. And maybe she would have.

Jake’s hands landed across her back, gripping her shirt and flesh in a bruising grip. His mouth worked fervently against hers, a small mercy considering how horrible she had been to him.

His skin was warm and familiar under her roaming hands, and Gwyn sighed into the kiss and she reacquainted herself with every corner of him.

“Jake,” she moaned as he nipped at the swell of her lips.

The blonde in question groaned against her, pulling at her clothes with a neediness she had missed.

They kissed for what felt like hours, only pulling away for breath when their lungs squeezed. Jake was staring down at her, cheeks flushed and perfect.

“There she is,” he whispered, just for her. “There’s my girl.”

Gwyn seized up and caught his mouth once again.

When she awoke the next morning in a tangle of sheets and naked flesh, she grinned. The weight on her ring finger caught the sunlight pouring in through the window, twinkling as she turned her hand to admire it for the hundredth time since Jake had slid it on her.

They had spent the better part of the night twisted in each other, only settling when exhaustion threatened to undo them at the seams. As Gwyn had curled herself around a pillow she knew was Jake’s favorite, the blonde had slid from beneath the cocoon of blankets and retrieved something from the pocket of his pants that had been messily discarded somewhere near the foot of the bed. When he returned, he had grabbed her hand that had bunched in the soft cotton of his pillow.

He had been smiling when he slid the ring on her finger, the cool metal fitting just perfectly in the way only Jake Seresin could pull off without her knowledge. There hadn’t been a speech, no grand declaration of love and eternity, and she didn’t need one. Not when she could see it in the way he brushed his tired mouth over her knuckles and watched her settle in for bed with a smile that never left him, even in sleep.

Soft snores still filled the room as she pulled herself out of the cage of his arms, only pausing when he grumbled for her to come back. But Gwyn only laughed, pecking his cheek and moving for the bathroom to clean herself up a bit. Her eyes caught sight of the fingerprints scattered and pressed across her hips.

She was only afforded a few minutes of privately admiring her newfound marks before Jake stumbled in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes through barely-concealed yawns. He smiled at her blearily in the reflection of the mirror, and wrapped his arms across her chest posessively.

“Good morning,” she breathed, smiling at him widely and unguarded. Jake smiled back before his eyes softened, the change in his expression almost laughably obvious.

Silence hung for a moment. Then Jake straightened up, a devious glint in those green eyes now.

“Get dressed,” he demanded, stalking away from her to grab a button-up shirt that had been tossed over a chair.

Gwyn’s brow furrowed. “For what? Are we going somewhere?”

“We are,” he smiled, glancing at her as he worked on his buttons. “We’re gonna go get married.”

And like always when it came to Jake Seresin, Gwyn’s breath caught.

“What are you talking about?” she breathed through a laugh.

Jake spun to face her fully, and yanked her close with his hands planted firmly on her hips. “We’re getting married. Today.”

And it sounded so obvious when he said it, that she almost found herself agreeing without reason or argument.

Almost. She couldn’t just let him have it though.

“Jake,” she giggled as he nipped and kissed her neck. “We just got engaged last night.”

“Yes, and I said I’d be a good husband, but I didn’t promise shit about being a good fiance, so we need to get this sorted out pretty quickly.”

Gwyn threw her head back in a full cackle, earning her a toothy grin from the man still clinging to her like she might float away.

Once her laughter died down enough to speak, she pushed one more time for reason. “I don’t have any clothes here. Unless you want to marry me in my pajamas.”

Jake smirked again, a knowing expression, like she was missing out on some inside joke. He pulled away and turned to his dresser, tearing open a drawer and rifling around for a second before turning back around clutching a wad of fabric in his fist.

Her stomach turned, in that sweet way that makes you feel sick with giddy. “My dress,” she breathed.

Because it was her dress, her “date dress” that Alec had mercilessly teased her for. The very same dress she had almost wasted on James, and very well would have had she been able to find it the other night.

Jake at least had the sense to look bashful as he handed it over, and explained in a sheepish tone, “Yeah, I held on to it.”

Gwyn’s brow was still furrowed, racking her brain for the last time she had seen it and if she had ever even taken it with her on her visits to see Jake when he was away. “Held on to it?” she pressed, edging into suspicion.

The blonde scratched at the back of his neck with a nervous laugh before planting his hands on his hips. “Stole it, is probably a better way of putting it,” he admitted. Gwyn leveled him with an unimpressed glare, one without any heat behind it, but that still sent him scrambling to explain nonetheless.

“I just-,” he huffed out, glancing anywhere but at her. “It’s the dress you wore for your twenty-first, and I remember how pretty you looked and I just-”

He paused, blowing out a long breath. “I didn’t want you wearing that for anyone else who might’ve thought the same. I just couldn’t really stomach that. So I snatched it the last time I was in town.”

She wanted to kiss again. And again. And maybe never stop.

Forever.

Without another word, Gwyn excused herself to the bathroom to pull the old garment over her head and comb her hair back into something half-presentable. When she emerged just a few minutes later, Jake was fumbling with his belt, head snapping up at the sight of her. A small grin broke out over his face.

“Hello, Mrs. Seresin.”

Gwyn scoffed, even as her cheeks lit up. “Not yet, Bagman.”

Jake only smiled wider at the nickname, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “Just trying to get a head start, baby.”

Warmth flushed through her chest and face at the endearment in his tone. Jake’s hand found hers and his tone was quiet and edging on serious when he spoke again.

“You sure you want to do this? I really don’t mind waiting if you’d like.”

Gwyn smiled.

“I didn’t have any other plans today anyway.”

BONUS- Gwyn Tells Alec

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman top gun #jake hangman x reader #top gun maverick #rain soaked

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yoditorian · 23 days

Text

Lacuna - The Rewrite - Part 2

din/gn!reader

i split the original chapter into two upon rewriting, which is why the second half is missing

original part 2//series masterlist//main masterlist

word count: 3.1k // warnings: some swears, too many italics, that's literally it tho, still 18+ no babies

“-wiped out, no one survived.”

“Well, someone did.”

They’re arguing, still. And you’ve been delivered five meals since being directed into the small office for questioning. So it’s been at least a day, almost two. Probably. The voices in the hall fade, they must be off to discuss your situation with someone who might be able to make the decision. They’ve already searched you and your pack - already confirmed you’re not a spy for the Empire - so what’s the hold up?

You don’t hear a set of footsteps approaching the door, too wrapped up in your own anxieties about what might happen if they don’t let you in. Which is probably why you jump half a foot in your chair when the door slides open. It reveals a woman, dark hair and sharp features, deep green flight suit tied at her waist. She’s pretty, although she’s clearly not sure what to make of you just yet as she eyes the binders at your wrists.

“What do you do?” She asks, arms folded as she leans against the doorframe. You don’t answer straight away, not sure if it might be some kind of test, but at least she doesn’t look overly annoyed that she has to repeat her question to get an answer.

“Pilot, mechanic, fucking janitor - whatever, honestly.”

“Triple threat,” Her voice is even, but she’s fighting a smile that gives her away immediately. Not a test, then. “What kind of experience you got?”

Shara has to admit that the rumours of a surviving member of the Corellian spy ring had piqued her interest. Jet fuel runs in the blood there, it’s a safe bet that whoever the generals had spent the better part of forty eight hours grilling has more than enough experience to hop straight into a starfighter. And with heavy losses in recent months, pilots are something the Rebellion is desperately short on.

So she isn’t shocked when you start listing every planetside transport, every planet hopper, cargo freighter, gunship, and starfighter you’ve ever worked on or flown. The list is extensive, impressive honestly. It dwarfs the experience of many of her colleagues, and Shara can’t help the thrum of excitement in her veins. Not only are you an experienced pilot, but you’re a mechanic - a scrapper, the rebels need more scrappers. Too many politicians, too many people who are far too used to having every resource in the galaxy at their disposal. It’s a glimmer of hope, she realises, in a night becoming all too dark for anyone’s liking.

“So, you can fly anything?” Shara asks, no longer hiding the wide grin on her face.

“Anything.”

You’ll fit right in, she decides - there and then.

And you do, you slot in like you’ve lived your whole life orbiting Yavin.

They drill you like there’s no tomorrow, you’ve got the deep muscle aches to prove it but it’s thrilling. Your back hurts and it’s everything you ever wanted it to be. Where the Corellian spy ring was all sneaking and secrets, the Rebel base on Yavin IV is a full scale production. Every daylight hour is spent running the same manoeuvres in the main four fighters - before you know it, you could fly any one of them with your eyes closed. Despite the pain and the exhaustion and the repetitive nature of the training, you love it. But you’ve got your eyes on the prize.

A coveted position in one of the primary starfighter squadrons has conveniently opened up, its previous placeholder reassigned, and you’re not the only one who’s sure that the fourth bunk in Green Squadron’s barracks has your name on it.

“I know I don’t see you coming for my track time.” Shara Bey’s voice is loud and clear over the buzz of the hangar, and you can’t keep the smile off your face despite the ache deep in your bones.

“Maybe I am, are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Shara launches herself at you the moment you set your datapad down, a boisterous laugh echoing off the ships. You’re steadily climbing the ranks in training, the years of experience already under your belt make you more confident in the cockpit than the other new recruits and you’re not afraid to pull a stunt or two. A flawless dead drop recovery had earned more than a few nods of approval from some of the qualified pilots. Although the Commander overseeing the recruit training made it clear that it was definitely what landed you with patrol maintenance duty on top of your usual drills in the first place.

“I talked to Draven.” She says, and your stomach flips. You’re leaps and bounds ahead of the other recruits, for sure, but nobody seems to want to sign off on your training. There’s always something about required hours or simulation times or more drills. You’re starting to get the feeling that, while you’ve got enough support from your would-be colleagues, no one in command wants you in the air at all.

“I told you I would!”

“I know, I know. But look, if I ask it’s more like an endorsement.”

“Shara-” You’re talking over one another, but not missing a single word. It’s a talent that leaves the commanding officers astounded more often than not.

“He said he’d think about it, which in command language means no-”

“Tell me there’s a but.”

“But,” She grins widely, “He told me if you get this next info grab done, he’ll put in a good word with my commanders. And my commanders know I’m not going in the air unless you’re at my nine o’clock.”

Shara’s been far more welcoming than just about everyone since the moment she’d rocked up to your interrogation room and asked about your experience. And, over the moon to find you wandering around the halls and out of the binders, she’d spent the whole of your first night curled up in your bunk in the recruit barracks - recounting every little bit of drama she could think of. By the morning, you know who was dating who, who wasn’t happy about it, which crews were rivals, and which held the fastest course runs. Hers, obviously .

You weren’t as forthcoming with your own journey, only mentioning that you’d run with some rebels for a while on your home planet, made a few detours along the way - she didn’t seem too surprised, and you wondered how much of that she knew already. Ran’s voice, still, in the back of your mind reminding you that everybody has an agenda . But her eyes were so open, so kind, you’ve yet to see that slip. Shara Bey might be the first genuinely good person you’ve ever met.

“And Kes’s crew is due to swing by tomorrow, in case you’ve changed your mind.” She winks, although she already knows you well enough to know you won’t take her up on the offer.

It had come up that first night, somewhere along the way, when she’d started lamenting about the pitiful state of the dating pool. Not something she had to worry about anymore, thank God, but a nightmare nowadays if you were after anyone who didn’t have history with someone in their own crew. She was happy to get her boyfriend to set you up with one of his friends - Pathfinders, never on base long enough to establish a history with anyone, fine enough to pass the time, and strong enough to manhandle you a little. If that’s what you’re into.

You’d still been a little wary of sharing too many details about your history, something about how you weren’t interested muttered in the dark over the quiet breathing of the other new recruits. You could only tell her that you didn’t expect to see him again. He’d gone home, you didn’t even know where home was. She’d understood, with an arm around your shoulders and an attentive ear if you ever wanted to share more, although she made it clear that the offer of a muscular pair of emotionally unattached Pathfinder arms was always open.

It’s close to a year since you got scooped up by their spies for asking about the Rebellion, but Shara’s never failed to make it seem like much longer. Like you’ve been best friends, sharing lunches and secrets on the landing pad in the shade of her A-Wing for your whole lives. Even now, she’s looking at you like she knows you - backwards, forwards, sideways, inside out. Truth be told, she kind of does. It’s a closeness you’re sure you’ve never had with anyone, and you know you wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“Someone came here last week having never left his planet before and they put him on the training roster. You’ve logged more flight time than any recruit I’ve ever seen and we didn’t even have to teach you in the first place. I know you’re Draven’s golden child, but he can’t keep you on the ground forever, kid.”

“You can’t call me ‘kid’, I’m older than you.” You laugh, shoving her shoulder with your own.

“You’re ruining the moment.” She winks, pressing a kiss to your temple before she waves at a commander calling her name and makes her way to her ship.

The datapad beeps a reminder from its resting place on your tool trolley, you need to pack for your intel grab. It shouldn’t be a long trip, Draven had assured you, a simple in and out: information in exchange for protection and transport to the base. Protection and transport optional. He makes the hard decisions, you’ve learned during your time running the smaller missions for intelligence. The more important runs get given to rebels like Cassian Andor and the group of mercs you’d seen filing into the command room a few days ago. It was an odd combination, seeing people like that somewhere like this, and you know you shouldn’t have stared but you couldn’t help yourself. Weapons strapped to every empty space on each body, armour and clothes on a number of species from all across the galaxy. One of them had looked jarringly like you, although you hadn’t really gotten a good look at their face before they’d disappeared.

Just this mission, and you’d be in the air next week. Hopefully. It’s enough to get your feet moving towards the barracks to pack.

You only need the basics, a change of clothes and some medkit refills. Just in case. Except there’s still an empty space when you zip it shut, sitting heavy between your neatly folded shirts and the top of the bag, and you keep looking at your blanket. It gets cold in hyperspace, a voice in the back of your mind pipes up, and you decide that’s good enough reason as any to fold it in alongside your supplies. It smells solidly of the clean soap of your bedsheets, his scent - Din’s scent, a mix of metal and warmth - had faded before you even plucked up the courage to go looking for the Rebellion, all those months ago. You still hold it to your nose for a moment, just to check, before it too gets folded and laid in the top of your pack.

Now you’re ready.

Din isn’t overly fond of Nevarro. It’s not an unbearable heat, the dry plains are to thank for that, but he’s not a fan of days where the wind picks up and carries the sulphur of the lava fields under the lip of his helmet. The covert welcomed him back, more or less with open arms - though he’s not sure if their ever-dwindling numbers might have had anything to do with the warm reception. He hadn’t let them go without a cut of his pay for every job he’d done for Ran, always sending something back to the foundlings, so at least he hadn’t totally abandoned them. The Armourer decided he should be their beroya , their bounty hunter, and within days he found himself tracking a quarry in a system he’d never heard of. It was easy, really, to take the skills he’d garnered all his life and apply them to this. Paz had laughed with the familiarity of an old friend and told him that if a skinny thing like Din was their beroya , they were all fucked. So at least no one was openly angry that he’d left them.

The guild rep slides a puck across the table, metal scraping against the stone, and the blue hologram flickers. The human man staring back at him is unassuming, but the notes suggest otherwise. A former senator’s assistant, with strong connections to both the Empire and the Rebellion. Din nods, flicking the puck off and tucking it into his pocket without another word.

His loyalty is to the covert, to the Mandalorians. It always has been and it always will be. This is the way. But one mention of the Rebellion has his mind surging back to thoughts of you. Everything in his life seems to. Every time he sets foot on the Crest all he can see is you, bent double with your head in an access panel and a greasy rag tucked into the back of your pants. He’d see the sun and remember how you always used to turn your face to it, just for a moment, whenever the team ran jobs planetside. You’d never told him where you came from, but Ran had let bits and pieces slip over the years. In the looming shadow of the Razor Crest, Din wonders if you ever made it off the station. If you decided to drop everything and find the rebellion, the way you said you would when you were half asleep on his chest, your mind fucked out and hazy. He hopes you did.

The tracking fob brings him to a semi populated planet, somewhere near the border of the Unknown Regions. Vast swathes of land and water are completely uncolonised, left to nature, only a few cities dotted here and there over the whole planet. The bounty is evidently in possession of some brains, having chosen a mid-sized city to get lost in, and Din is almost disappointed that he knows it won’t take long. Wishes he’d picked a different puck, a little further away. Just to keep his mind occupied and out of more dangerous territories.

He stays vigilant, but pays no mind to the beeping of the fob on his belt. He can steal a moment, he thinks, to take in the area. To live the life of some extravagant explorer in his mind while he does a little recon, the life he might have led before it was cruelly snatched away in seconds on Aq Vetina. The last thing he expects to see when he walks into that crumbling little cantina is you.

Din spins on his heel and is out of the door almost as soon as he enters, slipping down the alley to the side of the building to catch his breath. He’s fairly sure you don’t notice - but his mind is reeling, echoes of the vows he swore as a child and the Armourer’s words swirl in his ears.

His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert. His loyalty is to the covert.

But he only sees you. The way you always had time for him back on the station, how you told the others where they could shove it but always gave him a smile. You went above and beyond to help him without complaint when he asked, only ever got snippy with him when someone else had pissed you off first. He still remembers the way you felt in his hands, how you sounded, how you tasted. He still thinks about it on quiet nights, more often than he should. This is not the place to remember, there’ll be time for that later, although his body needs another minute to be completely convinced.

All he feels is guilt, once the blood comes back up to his brain. Guilt over the covert, over his vows and his creed and his people. But what’s more convincing is the guilt he has over you. Over how he just walked away, left you sleeping, and took the ship you’d spent months working on. Even if you were the one who told him to take it. You’re beautiful, still. Of course you are, you always have been to him.

You notice when he walks in this time.

The sunlight streaming in from a window catches on the glass of his visor and your heart jumps into your throat. You don’t know if he’s spotted you yet, as he takes a seat at a table by the door angled away from you. Logically, you’d say it could be any Mandalorian. But you spent countless hours studying the way he moves, you had to know his gait to know if walking around a corner would get you killed or not. It almost had on more than one occasion. You could recognise his footsteps anywhere.

The untrained eye would think him relaxed, as relaxed as a man in head to toe armour can be, but you know better. There’s a tension in his shoulders, the same he used to get when Xi’an made another move on him with that grating giggle or Qin handled a blaster too roughly. His hand sits on his thigh, fingers splayed, ready to find the smooth contours of his blaster at any moment. Ever the soldier, never quite at ease. Apart from the last time you thought you’d ever see him, it seemed.

He leaves before you’re even done with your drink, sitting there for barely five minutes when he throws a couple of credits on the table for a drink he didn’t buy and stalks out. You sigh and down the rest of your drink, hoping it’ll quell the nausea rising in your stomach. It doesn’t, but you follow him out all the same.

You’re sure you were right behind him, weaving through the slowly emptying streets as the sun sets and the chill of the night begins to settle in, but now he’s nowhere to be found. Until you feel a set of eyes land heavily on your shoulders. You turn, slowly, and catch a glimpse of where he ducked into a narrow alley. The city’s full of them, but you’re certain he hadn’t been there when you passed it.

A long moment passes when you’re swallowed by the shadow of the buildings towering either side of you, a moment where he just watches you. You can’t deny you’re watching him too, carefully surveying his armour for new nicks and scrapes. There’s more than you’d like to admit to caring about.

“What are you doing here?” He breaks the silence, the tension, first. You shrug.

“Working, what are you doing here?”

Din holds a small round disk in his palm, arm stretching out towards you as the holo flickers to life and you’re faced with your contact for the intel drop.

“Working.”

Fuck.

And that’s when a really, really bad idea starts to take shape.

i don't have access to my old taglist forms anymore so feel free to message or drop me an ask if you want to be tagged in future :)

#summary is i love shara bey and i want to be her best friend end of chapter #lacuna #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars fic #the mandalorian fic #liz does words

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lincolndjarin · 5 months

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Best Kept Secret Q&A

contains spoilers for all of bks !!

thank you @znerac for asking these !!

Is there anything you would of written differently? Why, and what would you of done?

the short answer is yes lmao.

the long answer is also yes but with a bunch of explanation. writing bks chapter by chapter and posting as i go is great and also not great for several reasons. getting immediate feedback is always great, and it pushes me to keep writing but it also means that i can't change things once they're written.

if i could the main things i would change would be :

i would rewrite any and all reader descriptions. in the early days of bks it was just a silly story that i wrote for myself. that being said i did my best to write the reader as ambiguous but a lot of my self bled through. very specifically is the fact that i get very very red when i'm embarrassed. i don't know the exact line but there was at one point in dins internal monologue something along the lines of "you blush blah blah blah, he wonders how deep the crimson tint goes." so i would change all of that for sure

on a less serious not i would rewrite all of chapter seven LMAO. i was stressed about six being the first smut chapter and i convinced myself that there needed to be more dirty stuff since i'd already started with it. i am haunted by the chapter seven blowjob. it feels so out of place to me like it's not needed, it's gotta go, i hate it but can do nothing about it.

hypothetically, If a movie/Show director came up to you to make a producion based heavily on BKS, would you take the opportunity?

yes and i would do it lin manuel miranda style by insisting that i play the lead and then i would demand pedro pascal as my counter part (he'll def take it, im convinced that man will do any movie.)

what inspired you to write bks?

a lot of things!!

mostly music, all sorts of songs. when i started it i had also just finished queen charlotte. (if you havent watched queen charlotte and like bks i highly recommend it.) i would say that bks!reader was based on charlotte early on. (i'm also gonna use my favorite line from queen charlotte in the epilouge)

and i just love telling stories. i love making these worlds and the people in them and this was the first time i ever put it into words!!

how do you think writing and posting bks has affected you? Positively, Negatively? What do you think would of changed if you didn't write it?

definitely both but the negatives aren't bad, and the positives make up for it.

bks in it's conception was always intended to be a coping mechanism for me. at the time of it's start my best (and realistically, only) friend was getting ready to move away for college and i realized that he was the only person i ever spent time with and i needed a hobby. i tried a few things until one day writing stuck. the intention was to have something to keep me busy but i ended up really loving it.

there's never been any external negatives, it really is just that i can be hard on myself but at the end of the day it's been a huge point of growth for me.

@knopes-waffles thank you lovey for sending these !!

was there a particular reason that you chose blue as Kodo’s color?

terrible answer to a great question but uhhh no lmao

i just had to pick a color and this is what my fingers typed lol, i knew from the get go that din's favorite color would be green so i had to pick something that wasn't that.

thank you to the anon who sent these !! (i assume these were from the same person bc they came in and the same time!!)

will din and queenie have more babies? or just grogu and their son?

i suppose we'll have to see ;)

(although after bks 28 this is answered haha)

where will they raise the babies? in the cabin?

i think so !! i like to think that they live in the cabin, bks!reader became attached to naboo and bks!din will happily live wherever she is. i also like to think that they travel though. they leave naboo as often as they can, din likes to show his children the galaxy so when they're older they definitely invest in a ship

thank you anon !! luv you !!

what was your absolute favorite scene to write?

there's so many gahhh im gonna try and narrow it down to a top three:

#1 : Chapter 16 - their first kiss

this was a big deal to me, i worked for quite some time on that scene. i had several long conversations with friends about it because i wanted it to have the weight of a scene from bridgerton. i love love love bridgerton, it's my guilty pleasure, and i wanted that scene to make me feel the way bridgerton love confessions make me feel. i needed an "i burn for you" and i had a lot of different versions but i eventually settled on "I ache." because i wanted it to be something that hurt, i think that bks!din is complicated (i sound so pretentious rn im so sorry) in a self hating way that makes even the idea of being happy extremely painful to him and i wanted to get that point across

#2 : Chapter 23 - the markets

the markets in general were always so so fun to write but the lunar markets especially. getting to write them as a normal couple shopping for sex toys was so so so fun, i remember being so exhausted writing this chapter but i loved it so much i just had to finish it.

short story break but i was up until 2 am writing this chapter, it was halfway done and i was supposed to be up at 7 to drive my grandma six hours to visit my aunt for a week. i texted her at 2 and said i was going to bed and i'd see her in the morning, she texted back and said she couldnt sleep so we just got in the car and went. when we got to my aunts i finished the chapter and then passed out lmao, editing it took ages bc i kept falling asleep

#3 : Chapter 3 - reading the smitten paladin

the entire scene where she's trying to not think about din while reading her porn book is always gonna be an all timer for me

(bonus: the epilouge has been very special to me. getting to write a happy ending for these characters that i have put through so much has been extremely healing for me)

thank you @darthbeebles !! <3

Were there any scenes you wrote/wanted to write but had to cut for some reason? I’d love some deleted scenes if you have any <3

so so so many. i will cover most in the little what if thing later this week but the biggest one was a masquerade ball.

i so badly wanted a scene where she was dancing at the ball and there's a masked man who asks for a dance with dark hair and a mask that only covers his eyes and GAH im making myself angry just thinking about it because i just couldn't make it work

i tried it on so many levels, but at the end of the day the climax of the story didn't work if she knew what he looked like. the identity swap twist didn't work as smoothly and after several attempts to work it in i had to scrap it

thank you @raintheegg my beloved for sending this in!!!!

What is your favorite characteristic about bsk!din?

very easily his devotion.

it makes him easy to write bc he has one character goal and it to keep reader as safe and happy as he can manage. it also helped me add in the vague religious themes because he really is just that in love with her right from the start

hi anon !!! thank you for sending this in!!

You don’t have to draw it out if you don’t want, but I’d love to see your vision for inside their closet in BKS!!! It feels like such an important space that I want to understand it exactly how you meant to portray it — 1000 rounds of applause for your writing, it was an incredible journey you took us on 🥲🥲

thank you so so much <3

i wanted to build distinct set pieces in the world, the closet, the nook, the cabin, etc. and the closet was based on my own closet!! i used to sleep in there with all of my pillows and blankets, i have some pics, i don't have any good ones because it's been a few years but these are the ones i found!!

thank you my sweet anon!!

what was the hardest chapter to write?

very easily chapter 26.

i had a very specific vision for it that i'd been working on for months and i wanted it to go over well. the rule i use with plot twists is that it either needs to not be guessed before it happens or it needs to executed in a pleasing enough way that if you did guess it you don't care or you feel accomplished. i couldn't be more proud of how it turned out

thank you anon for the ask !

why is kodo’s fav color blue

i thought about this one again and i did remember that i needed it to be an eye color so it ended up being between grey and blue and i went with blue!!

thank you anon who is definitely not @torizle-blog1

why are you so sexy and hilarious and perfect and awesome

years of practice.

#lincolndjarin #fic : best kept secret

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spearxwind · 5 months

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Hi hello I wanna talk a bit about CD currently but Im not sure if its gonna be too long/negative so I'm gonna put my thoughts under a lid <3

So like. To start off it's really not a secret that I have a lot of trouble when it comes to crafting stories. This has been the case for many years, and will continue to be the case probably forever.

Challenger Deep felt like an exception to this at first, but since starting development on it my life took some turns that made it clear that CD suffers from the same and from different problems

To start with... I started using it as a vehicle for my grief at the start. Talas (especially) and Graves were both used as vehicles for my grief while I was going through stuff the past couple of years, and that inevitably bled through into The Everything.

It's not a bad thing to do this at all mind you (It helped me immensely) but it gave CD a strange foundation for me to build on that now I feel like I am at a major disconnect with, so I would like to build some more foundation around it, so to speak.

I would like to recraft the story (not rewrite it entirely because theres things i rly love, but theres others that I'd like to improve), and a lot of the lore (I feel like I closed my options a bit too much with some of it so I want to make it more expansive too. Part of why I wrote it the way it was was so I could invite friends to make stuff for CD but that did not go over well at all so I think I am going to not do that again). I just havent had the time to work on it properly, and since it's in this state where I feel like I need to "fix" it, I don't feel as passionate about it as last year so at the moment I'm letting it ride and waiting for when I'm excited to work on it again

I would like to add more characters as well and actually do justice writing-wise to the characters that are already in there too.

Also I won't lie, a big part of my investment in CD until recently was my oc ship, with Talas and Hades, and ever since I got into my current relationship I just havent thought much about them at all because I started pretty much actually living all of the shitposts and tropes I'd written and it started making me feel a bit strange to write/draw about that, so I need to fix that as well. See why I feel weird about it and what I can do to stop it and get back to those two

Additionally I've had a redesign of talas and hades' markings in my WIPs for months now. Hades is done, but on Talas' side Im not sure how to add in his bioluminescence pattern because something isnt working for me. I wanted him to be more visibly purble though with said markings. Everything else I really like, its just the glowy pattern (though watch me change the markings anyways bc im an indecesive beast)

Here's a snippet of them:

I wanted them both to have more natural fishy looking markings pretty much

So yeah, that's currently the state of things. I miss it a lot and i rly wanna work on it again proper, maybe now that I've acknowlegded it and made a post about it I will get a second wind like I've gotten before after getting The Gunk out of my chest.

If you read all that thank you I hope you have a swag day <3

#thunderclap #challenger deep #putting this in the tag in the meantime for anyone who might be curious as to why i havent really spoken about it #windyart

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evangelineshifts · 3 months

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I feel like the pjo show isn’t what I thought it would be at all, like they changed a lot of things, didn’t stick with the books(for the most part they tried), didn’t really pace it well(it was either rushed or slow but at the wrong times) and honestly it wasn’t that good to me. I feel like maybe I’m a bad person for thinking that the people playing these characters just aren’t it, liek clarisse for example, she was described to be this tough, unconventionally attractive girl who is (frankly) buff and strong physically but in the show(and no hate to Dior) she’s not buff, she’s not big, she’s skinny and conventionally attractive. And I feel like that’s, disappointing. Like finding girl characters who are not conventionally attractive and/or aren’t skinny/pretty is so hard already and now clarisse is this skinny, conventionally attractive girl and so I’m left with thoughts like “am I the bad guy for feeling this way?” “Is it me who’s the problem?”

so, I just feel like maybe I’m weird for feeling this way. Maybe me thinking(oh Rick said he’d stick by the books so he will) was a stupid thought because he obviously didn’t and whenever I even think of saying ‘this isn’t like the books.’ I can literally taste the massive swarm of people telling me ‘well Rick himself is directing this’ ‘why don’t you like the show it’s literally so good’ ‘you just don’t like it because you’re racist’ and now I’m left with feeling like a bitch and a fool and now I’m getting gaslighting into making myself think that the show did stick by the books and that nothing important changed-🦭

I disagree with the characters part just because I think as long as they embody the essence of the character they’re fine and everyone casted did a really good job at that.

As for everything else I totally agree and tbh I found the show boring. It was only faithful in some aspects but it’s lost its charm. The changes that they made (most of them) make no sense to the plot and seem unnecessary. Somethings that were taken out to make room for new/changed scenes really were just disappointing. The random info dumps that happened had me like ???? Cause half of the stuff isn’t known till like 3-5 books and for good reason. Like learning about May castellen this early literally spun me on my head. And I saw someone talk about how there’s some things that they info dumped about but not enough that you’d be able to understand without reading the books and just general stuff thrown in without explaining significance. And they just took out most everything that made the series lovable. The humor MIXED with the danger, the way things intermingled with the human world (the underworld having an entrance in a recording studio as a nod to the evil in Hollywood, Charon being this fun guy who loves luxurious Italian suits and is underpaid, there being an E-Z line in the underworld. Stuff like that). I know they could fit EVERYTHING in but the stuff that they could’ve put in the they omitted for other stuff just seemed like a sloppy attempt at a rewrite.

And how fast they figured everything out completely threw me off. It takes away the stakes. I understand everyone’s arguments of “ofc they know about the myths and stuff they grew up with it they aren’t dumb” but that’s the thing. In the books the whole point is that they knew about this stuff and they still got caught off guard with the way the monsters adapted to the human world. That and the mist which canonically can affect demigods a bit too. It made it gripping how they had to use their brains to forcefully push through the mist and find a way out. And they are twelve years old on a quest not even a grown man can handle l, they’re stressed, they’re tired, they’re hungry, it makes MORE sense that’d they fuck up a bit and be off their game.

I’m gonna stop before I make this a novel. But I agree it fell flat and it’s very disappointing but kudos to the actors cause they did amazing with what they had to work with.

#evangelineshifts ˖⋆࿐໋₊#🦭 anon #angel messages 🪽✨#reality shifting #shiftblr #desired reality #shifting #quantum jumping #shifting realities #shifters #shifter #shifting to pjo #pjo show crit

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ygodmyy20 · 4 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @toastytoaster22 (finally getting to this I started this and then life happened haha)

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

8 (i just got back into writing in July 2023!)

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 66,608 (it will probably double as I am deep into a long fic right now)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I used to write Puzzleshipping YGO but I’m all in on Mob psycho 100 now.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Just Breathe

Black Sweatshirt (yeaaaaah rising!)

Emotional explosion (surprised this one I thought got the least amount of reads this was my very first mp100 fic)

Float (I love how much this resonated with people)

Blackhole

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! It’s something I take very seriously. No judgement if someone doesn’t respond to my comment on fics! But for me it’s important to respond.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ah. Hm. Blackhole I guess? The ending isn’t angst though it’s just a more intense fic.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think Float is very happy. It makes me smile every time I read it. Also the ending of Cobalt makes me so good. I want to rewrite Cobalt though its missing something. I posted it too soon.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Back in my YGO days I got some but I just ignored it. Usually they were just about me not finishing a fic so….yeah I get it heh

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep. I’m an adult. I can write and enjoy smut.

But in all seriousness I do and I encourage anyone who is hesitant to write about sex, to just do it for yourself if you ever want to. You never have to post it, you can just write what you want and delete it, or keep it for yourself. Or never write about sex at all. I'll just say, getting back into this part of myself after not writing it for years has been so beneficial for my mental health. It helps me process and work through things. And writing gives me the opportunity to do that.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Well not right now, but I do know a lot about a certain mp100xOPM AU by @sodasexual and may or may not write something in that verse one day. Already drawing fanart for it so.... fanfics are likely gonna happen one day!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Uhhhh not that I….know of? (gosh I hope none have...)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Sorta co-wrote something recently that was just for fun. Also @emeraldoodles and I def co-wrote a dragonshipping fic I think when we were in high school? Dunno if I ever posted it tho I can't remember

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Hm. Puzzleshipping is my origin story. But something about Terumob really hits me in a place that I can’t describe. I just adore them.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Hmmm I have a couple one-shots I wanna write and I may not write them all.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I love writing POV descriptions of emotions. And I like to hope I’m good at it. Blackhole is this. It’s a mess of words and descriptions that I can just chew on and I love writing it. I think my recent Terumob oneshots kinda get into that space too. I like to hope that is a strength. But yeah it seems to resonate with people so I think it’s a strength?

I also think dialogue has always come easy to me. I feel like it’s the easiest thing for me to write and I hope it is realistic.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Ah.... I am terrible with consistency. I forget things and sometimes run off down paths. I also repeat myself a lot and like to describe every movement a character makes which can bog down scenes.

I have so written myself into a corner and had to weasel my way out of it hahaha This is why I am trying to talk about my stories more to friends so I DON'T do that again.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I did this a bit but I don’t anymore. It’s just too much mental work for me.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Yugioh.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I think Black Sweatshirt, my current ageswap fic, will be my fav. It’s the most expansive writing I have done probably ever in my life. There are multiple plot lines, scenes that have already made me cry, and an ending that I just cannot wait to share with the world. I hope others enjoy it as much as I do, and I can deliver on this story.

The other one is a series called Safe Space which is a series of one-off stories touching on different emotions Shigeo has to process post-canon. Exploring the gray areas of forgiveness, confessions, grudges, anger, and love. I think I will be writing that on the side as I do other things but I love it to pieces. It means a lot to me and i hope to one day share it.

I'm always nervous to tag others so if you see this, feel free to do it!!

#fic questions #this was fun to do~

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that-one-anxious-mango · 2 years

Text

I’ll Bite Em’

Summary: You’re not having a good day, but Austin comes to the rescue after you give him a bit of panic.

Contents: Tad bit of Angst. With Fluff. Mentions of childhood trauma Use of Pet names. Loyal Doggo. Concerned Partner. Emotional and vulnerable reader. Implied future smut.

Austin Butler x Black! Reader

A/N: HI! And welcome to the Days of Our Love series. I was inspired to start this series by none other than @cevansbrat0007 after throughly enjoying her growing pains series (which is bomb go check it out.) I really liked her style of piecing together one-shots to create one big story universe! It’s super dope! SO I thought I’d give it a try! Hope you like it!

PS This is very first publishing on here. Would love feedback :)

__ _____ __

Today just wasn't your day.

And what did you do on days like these? You put on an old comfy sweater and go sit on your bathroom floor to cry.

That's exactly what you were doing now and had been doing since you'd arrived back to your shared loft about two hours ago.

Although some may think it was probably a peculiar place to come and drown your sorrows, it wasn't for you. Infact, even as a youth and teen growing up whenever you needed a place to just be and let it out, you opted for your bathroom. And maybe that was part in partial to you never having a door on your room as a kid.

Parentals weren't big on privacy.

So the habit just stuck.

And now here you were. Back against the door of your bathroom trying to let out all the days frustrations and quickly clean up your face before Austin got home.

It wasn't that you didn't feel enough comfortable around your boyfriend, or you couldn't cry around him. It was that you didn't really feel comfortable crying around anybody. So, you just wouldn't want him to think you were pushing him away or have him feel offended because you didn't want him to see you like this. It was just a you..thing. Plus, with everything going on with press interviews and preimeres. Why burden the man.

Hell, you'd already practically gave Magnus a heart attack at the way you sobbed when you'd first entered the home and seen the excited pup who was expecting an equally excited human to greet him. Instead, as soon as you had shut front door to the outside world you had broken down against the wall for a bit. Magnus had immediately gone into action jumping your legs and producing tiny barks and whines that you figured translated into, ' Oh my gosh who am I gonna bite ' and ' You dumb human lean down here so I can love! '.

And through hiccupped breaths you'd managed to keep telling the concerned creature that you were fine as he followed you through the house and up the stairs to the bedroom whining all the while listening to your sniffles as you changed out of your clothes.

You then had to practically pry him off your ankles from trying to follow you into the bathroom.

So now he laid faithfully on the other side of the door huffing and whining for to just open the damn door and let his wet kisses and puppy breath fix all your problems.

But you'd be fine.

You just had to finish having your moment and be out before Austin got home at six thirty.

You used your phone to check the time.

5:12

Perfect.

You sighed closing your eyes and leaning you head back in peace.

The peace then lasted all of twenty-five seconds before you heard the chime of the home security system followed your man's voice calling out through the place.

Well, I’ll be damned.

" Hey baby it's me. Baz decided last minute that he wanted to rewrite one of the scenes that was supposed to be shot today. So, it got pushed back and I got to come home early to my best girl and hound." You heard him announce. Right now, he was probably walking into the living room expecting to see you in some type of lounge wear binging an afternoon show with Magnus ideally sitting on your thigh.

And you were right.

As soon as Austin hadn't heard you immediately respond back, he figured you were head deep into a show and didn't hear a word he'd said. It'd had happened a few times.

Setting his keys and belongings on the kitchen island chair he chuckled to himself thinking about what you could possibly be watching today. But instead, he was taken aback to see the empty dark room.

No you. No Magnus either.

Weird. He thought.

But brushed off the thought when he then figured that you may be in your office with your headphones in going over some type of new screen play with a comatose Magnus at your feet.

Making his way there he popped open the door and felt slightly uneasy seeing all the lights off in the seemingly untouched space.

Alright what's going on? He thought.

He knew you had to be home since your car had been in the garage when he'd pulled in. And plus, he couldn't remember you texting him earlier of any plans to be out you had.

Raking his brain in building worry as he climbed the stairs, he called out again, " Sugar mama! Baby, You up here? "

You could hear the slight octave drop in his voice that was laced with slight concern making your eyes begin to water. This is exactly what didn't want. To make him upset.

The closer his footsteps got the tighter your chest felt.

Entering into the room Austin could feel a small bit of relief wash through his body at seeing your belongings spread on the bed and side table.

So where were you?

And then he popped in his head.

Bathroom.

His baby was probably in the shower on second set of your world tour singing to your hearts content while you got clean.

And Austin couldn't wait to be your personal background singer. A small smile returning to his face as he turned the corner of the bedroom to be met with a dreary looking Magnus posted by the door.

His lips set into a line bending down to rub the dog's head in greeting, " Hey bubs? What ya' sitting out here looking so sad for? Huh? You sad because Mama is in the bathroom? " He inquired earning a low whine.

He couldn't help but be affected by the hound's little pout, " Don't worry. I'm gonna go in and we'll both be out in a little bit. Maybe then we can see if we can convince Mama to go on an evening walk with us. How that sound? " He watched the dogs head slightly lift at the mention of a walk.

Grinning Austin patted Magnus's head once more before standing up to knock on the door making you hold in the whimper that wanted to escape your hoarse throat as you hugged your body tighter.

" Y/N. Sweetheart it's just me. " He informed reaching to turn the doorknob, only for a sense of shock to waft in him upon seeing it wouldn't budge. It was locked.

You never locked doors. Ever.

Even when you took time to tend to not so appealing humanly functions, usually at the sound of Austin's feet on the floor you'd just let him know the spot was occupied and you'd soon be out.

So, all this put together with the fact that he didn't hear the faint hum of water cascading at all made his stomach drop and him begin to more aggressively shake the knob.

" Y/N baby you in there? You, okay? Why's the door locked, Sweetheart? C'mon and open it for me." He spoke managing to let a little bit of panic slip out in his tone.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself to reply while trying to hide any sort of out of the ordinary sound in your voice, " Y-yeah baby I'm fine, " you rang back clearing your throat, " I'm just in here cleaning myself up a bit. That's all babe. I'm fine." You finished slowly raising up from the floor to go to the sink to wash the dried tears away and make your eyes as less red and puffy as possible.

Uh Uh. That's not right. Was Austin's immediate thought.

Even though you'd covered up most of the emotion in your talk, Austin could still pick out the parts that slipped making him all the more anxious for you to open the door.

He most definitely needed to see you. Now.

" Okay. But I hear you sound fine every day, and this doesn't sound it. Come and open the door, darling. Would you please. I need to see your face, Y/N. And I think our little guy down here does too." He looked down at Magnus who'd begun to softly paw at the bottom door opening. " Hes out here getting antsier than a bat about to take a driver's test. And I understand the feeling."

From the sink where you were dabbing your eyes you could see the little paws poking underneath the door. And then a tiny huffing nose.

Awe. Your little guy was such a sweetie pie. Always wanting to comfort and love upon you and Austin all the time. He was definitely your cuddle bug. You loved him to death.

Too bad you needed him to beat it. Along with his sweet owner.

" Here I come babe. Just one second." You continued dabbing at your puffy under eyes. Your eyes themselves had slightly dimmed in color but not much. They still looked as if someone had poured faint cherry paint in them.

"Alright. Cause I wanna see those pretty brown eyes baby. Bad." He said thinking about you.

Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck. FUCK.

He's gonna know something’s wrong.

Then your mind shifted.

He already knows.

And you knew that already deep down in your gut.

You could hear his heavy sigh on the other side of the door where he was leaned up against it. Still trying to hold on to the sliver of patience he could hold waiting for you to open it up so he could settle the thumping sensation in his chest. He hadn't really ever seen you like this. Upset before? Sure. Upset like this? Never.

Taking a last look, you wanted to cry then all over again looking at your appearance.

You looked nuts.

You had a scarf over your box braids. One of Austin's long sweaters hung on your body, and you had mix matched poka dot fuzzy socks on. And your eyes looked like someone had squeezed lemons in them. Great! Taking the sleeve of the sweater you brush back a stray tear that left your face as you reached to face the man on the other side.

You settled on doing a countdown to five.

One.

Fuck I don't think I can do this.

Two

I'm pretty sure that I'm gonna hurl.

Three

SHIT SHIT SHIT

Four

He's gonna look so upset I can't take it.

Five

Last chance to abort!

You silenced your thoughts turning the lock and hearing the click signaling it unlocked, you didn't even get a chance to pull the handle before the door was thrusted open revealing your boyfriend leaned against the doorframe with panic written all over his face slightly disheveled.

You could see his body was stiff while his eyes raked your body for any sign of hurt or trouble. But once his eyes finally came back up to your face that was turned away from him staring off to the side. The ache of wanting to be closer thickened in Austin to let his hand find its way to side gently pulling you into his warm chest.

Accepting you wrapped your arms around his midriff proceeding to smush your face into his chest. It felt good to feel his warm body against yours. He snaked his other arms around your waist placing them tightly there as if it was his way of ensuring you weren't going to run off and hide again.

Even though he wanted to ask you a full report of who? what? when? And where?

He could sense you didn't need that right now.

Rather, he held you as close as he could and began backing yourselves up together all the way to the bed. Turning he slowly lowered himself down on the bed bringing you down against him until you both lie still tangled up with each other in safe silence.

He knew one of your favorite things do was just to just lay up like this and just talk. It was one of the ways he figured out to get you to open up earlier in your relationship when you were just starting out. And it didn't matter where either. Bed, Floor, Hammock.

Hell, you guys had laid for hours on the ground of Austin's backyard at his old condo looking up at the black sky sprinkled with stars while you both talked about dreams and such. That was also the night he'd asked you to be his girlfriend.

That night quickly became one of the best one's of his entire life.

That's why it troubled him so to see you like this.

Taking his hand to your back, he used his fingertips to lightly draw circles against you as he pieces together what he was going to say next. Meanwhile you were too busy enjoying being enveloped in his warmth and the melodic thump of his heart.

It was serene.

You could hear the muffled sound in his chest of speech as he started to talk, " Now, " He began, " I don't exactly know what happened today. But I figured tonight I won't pry or make you bring up things that you've been carrying with you all day. You've had enough of that. Hopefully we'll be able to talk about whatever it is over some breakfast tomorrow. " He rubbed your back sensing how more relaxed your body was since he'd started doing it.

" With that being said though, I do want to say that since we've been together, I have noticed that when it comes to things bothering you. You aren't always exactly forthright or quick to tell me, and you sometimes hesitate to come and talk to me. And I don't know if it's because you think I'm too busy, or not interested, which I seriously hope not, or even if you feel scared to come and tell me things. Which I definitely hope isn't true." He listed making you sigh.

A tad bit.

" But with you, God, and that pudgy dog in the corner as my witnesses" He teased earning a small giggle from you which satisfied him, " I want you to know that you are without a shadow of a doubt. THEE. Most important thing in my life. Meaning that no matter where I am or who I'm with you should feel comfortable enough to pick up a phone and call me at the slightest feeling of uncertainty or trouble. Not text, baby. Call. " He emphasized by slightly moving to gently squeeze your shoulder.

“I never wanna see you have to get so worked up to the point to where you feel like you need to lock yourself away from me and everything else. I don’t particularly like that baby.”

" Because everyone around me knows how important you are to me, and I need you to know too! These arms are always ready to be your safe place and I wanna always here for every little thing no matterwhat or where I am." He stated.

Shifting upward a little bit Austin moved so he'd be able to softly cup your chin making you look up to stare into his cobalt eyes that contrasted your carob ones. You could tell that what he was about to say next was important, " I love you, Y/N Y/L/N. That's not changing. And I ain't going nowhere no time soon so I don't care how long it'll take until you fully understand that all of these things I've said to you, I mean it. But trust that one day you won't hesitate, okay?

You nodded not taking your eyes off his. You could feel prickles of water stinging your waterline. What a man.

" Uh Uh, baby. I need to hear your pretty voice say it." The sternness in his voice involuntarily sent a chill down your body.

" Yes, I understand." You spoke making his cheeks break out into a grin.

" Good because the next person you come and tell me is bothering my girl. I'll bite 'em'" He goofed playfully nipping at your exposed cheek. You laughed along with his huskier baritone at the antics.

" Now that we've got this settled. How about we take our hound dog out for a little walk to the Totem to get us a little treat. " He offered brushing his thumb over your burning cheek.

You swore every time he touched you, it was like a match being dragged on your skin. But in the best possible way.

" I'd like that." You agreed.

" Mhmm. And then maybe when we get back, I might have a treat of my own to give you." You proposed pushing you finger to run along his bottom lip.

" I'd like that." He echoed leaning down to capture your lips against his sending you into a fit of giggles once you felt his hands tickle your sides.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x black! reader #dayofourloves #TheMangoWrites #austin butler x black reader

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